Finding a nearly-empty parking lot adjacent to a public beach, Grayson flipped on his signal and turned in. He pulled into a spot facing the Pacific. Anton and Ryder pulled in beside him, kicked down their center stands and removed their helmets. Grayson cut the engine from his bike and stepped over the seat. After removing his skull cap, he pushed his sunglasses up to the top of his head and stared out across the horizon. The sunset cast the water in fascinating shades of blue and oranges. There wasn’t a more beautiful site in Grayson’s book, barring Tamera Cantrell.
His thoughts returned to the Rave. Fuck, that had been hot. Aside from being a teenager in the back of his mother’s SUV, he couldn’t ever remember rubbing one off as they had in years. Now all he could think about was stripping her of those tight jeans she seemed so overly fond of, and burying himself to the hilt. Problem was, if he wanted her to keep her pretty little head where it was, he needed to stop thinking of getting her horizontal, bent over, standing up, or any other position. Anton would now get those honors.
Fuck!
“Sure is a tranquil night, almost too serene for bloodshed,” Anton said, coming to stand beside him. “So what’s on your mind?”
Grayson looked at Anton, who had his hands locked at his back staring across the horizon. His chest looked more massive from the position he stood in. Two hundred and thirty pounds of pure muscle. Who in their right mind would want to mess with the giant? Grayson loved having him at his back. Most men shrunk away to avoid a fight with just one look at him. In truth, though, Grayson didn’t need him or any of the Sons when it came to a brawl. There wasn’t a battle he couldn’t win on his own. Except maybe the one Vlad started. When the primordial made up his mind, Grayson doubted there would be any changing it. If Tamera was going to keep her head, then he had to come to terms with her belonging to his good friend.
“Catching a wave.” Grayson could sense Ryder’s presence at his back, but to the man’s credit, didn’t stand in line beside the two Sons without an invite. “Instead, we’re here to take out two low-lifes.”
“You sure it wasn’t Tamera?”
Grayson grit his teeth, tamping down his anger. Just when he thought he was starting to like the big vamp again.
“She’s yours, Blondy. Why would I waste my time thinking about someone I gave away?”
“I know about the Rave, Grayson.”
Anton’s voice remained calm. Hell, if Grayson had just been told someone dry-humped his old lady, he’d be handing him a beating, not standing here having a calm conversation about it. He kept his gaze to the ocean, not wanting to see the look of disappointment on Anton’s face. Grayson knew all too well what he felt, much the same as when he had found out Anton helped Tamera through her change.
“I’d say I’m sorry if I were.”
Wait for it. Wait for it.
“I didn’t think as much,” was Anton’s response.
Grayson turned on Anton. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Come again?” One dark blond brow rose. “What the hell do you want me to say, Gypsy?”
“You should be pissed as hell, wanting a piece of my ass. If the roles were switched, I would take it out on your hide.”
Anton’s expression stayed neutral.
“What? You don’t care?”
“I care.” He nodded slowly, his gaze darkening. “You don’t take what’s mine … ever. Do it again, Gypsy, and I’ll give you an ass beating. I won’t warn you a second time. You never touch something that belongs to a brother. So don’t make the mistake a second time.”
Better. Though it still lacked the emotions he might have expected. Part of him even wondered if Anton spoke of his mate or a possession. “Okay.”
“I’m serious, Gypsy.”
“I believe you.” He gave Anton his full attention. “Trust me, I wouldn’t touch a hair on her beautiful head or see harm come to her. I will deal with you laying claim to her. I have no choice. I made my decision. At least with you I have the assurance she’s safe and well taken care of.”
“That’s it?”
Grayson narrowed his gaze. “What more do you want from me?”
“Maybe more of a fight? The Gypsy I know wouldn’t have given up so easily.”
“Let’s just say I’ve been shown what can happen when you don’t follow rules.” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “She’s all yours, Blondy.”
Even if it killed him to say so.
He turned to Ryder, ready to put the conversation to rest … for good. “How close are we?”
“About five miles out. There’s a little dive bar called Hades’ Nest where they hang.” He indicated the sunset over the horizon, only remnants of the orange glow left. “You’ll find them starting to show their faces once the sun disappears. We might want to head out. You’ll want to catch them before they enter the tavern. Otherwise you’ll be taking on more than the boys who did this.” His finger indicated the thin white line left of the fading scar.
Grayson shrugged. “Don’t matter. I could take them all.”
Ryder chuckled. “You could, but save yourself the trouble nonetheless.”
“Besides,” Anton interrupted, “we don’t want to draw attention. The cartel can’t know there’s a war brewing. Not if we still hope to get Draven on the inside and buying their blow. Just because you have demons you want to exorcise, doesn’t mean we need to go in there barrels blazing.”
“Then what the hell are we still doing here being all girly with our chitchatting?” Grayson turned and headed for his bike. He said over his shoulder, “Ryder, you get us there. We’ll take care of the rest.”
* * *
About three blocks from Hades’ Nest, Ryder pulled over upon Grayson’s orders. Any closer and they chanced some of Ryder’s old club members thinking they spotted a ghost. They couldn’t chance his recognition, and blow the cover they came in on. Pulling into a vacant back alley, they cut the engines and removed their helmets. A rat scurried from the Dumpster they parked near with what looked like tonight’s supper.
Grayson took off his sunglasses, threaded the arm through the chin straps of the skull cap and let them dangle. He ran his hands through his overlong hair, and pushed it from his face. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a hair band and made quick work of tying it back into a ponytail. For what he had in mind and if things got hairy, no pun intended, he didn’t need it getting in the way.
He kicked the center stand down, stepped over the seat and looked at Ryder. “You follow us, but stay out of sight. Don’t fuck this up. Once you point out the bastards who tried to take you out, you return to the bikes. Don’t be a hero and don’t get yourself recognized. If I have to, I won’t hesitate to take you out as well should you double cross us.”
“No worries, man. If not for you, I’d be shark bait.”
Ryder stepped over his bike and joined Grayson and Anton as they headed for the mouth of the alley. The streetlights dimly lit the ratty part of town. The low lighting would help aid in their cover. Broken glass crunched beneath their boots. The smell of urine hung heavy in the air. If Grayson were to imagine a place for the Devils to hang their hats, this would be it. The low-lifes cared very little for human life, dealing their drugs to anyone who wanted them, including kids on playgrounds. What he knew of them, it was all about profit.
Bastards weren’t worth their weight in salt.
To get into bed with the Mexican cartel, the Devils’ couldn’t have any regard for their fellow man. Those bastards murdered their way through the backstreets of their own country, instilling fear wherever they went and paying off the locals. The Sons of Sangue couldn’t take them all on. They’d leave that to the government and the DEA. The bastard who took Ion’s head, though, was another story. It was one cartel member the Sons would go to war with.
Grayson looked down the street, seeing no one of interest. They had ventured far off the beaten path and the touristy part of the town. No one with half a brain would walk these stre
ets under the cover of night. Smoke filled the air and tickled his nostrils as they approached Hades’ Nest. A group of five men, wearing Devils’ cuts, stood in a semi-circle, smoking cigarettes and no doubt laughing at crude jokes. It wasn’t long before they used the toe or heel of their boots to put out the butts and head back inside the bar.
The door opened and AC/DC “Highway to Hell” spilled into the streets, muted once again when the door closed behind them. How fitting for what they had in mind.
“Recognize any of them?” he asked Ryder.
Ryder nodded. “All of them.”
“The men we’re looking for?”
He shook his head.
Anton leaned a shoulder against the brick wall of the building they stood adjacent to, settling in for the possible long wait. He crossed his thick arms over his broad chest, his gaze not straying from the front of the tavern. Anton looked as disinterested as a man waiting for an espresso at a coffee shop. Grayson, however, was lit. Anticipation clawed up his spine and he could hardly stand still. He was ready to take on the two assholes as well as the entire tavern full of Devils if need be. He lived for this shit. If the two low-lifes didn’t show, he’d be left damn disappointed, besides the fact of not wanting to stay a second night at the flea-ridden hotel they had left down the road. Grayson would much rather ride up the coast, job done.
Several long, silent moments later, the sound of a couple motorcycles approaching had them backing from the street and away from direct view. Two men rode by slowly, revving their engines as they rounded the corner and headed for the gravel parking lot of Hades’ Nest.
“That’s them,” Ryder said, his voice containing an air of contempt. “Those two bastards are guilty of more than just the attempt on my life. About a year ago, I overheard them talking about a drunk sorority girl, who had left a bar and wandered in their direction. Bad side of town got her more than she bargained for. Fuckers raped her and left her for dead.”
He toed a stone with his boot. “She was found severely beaten, and taken to the emergency room where she died anyway. The pieces of shit got away with it and actually bragged about it.”
“You take her in?”
He nodded. “I came across them just as they delivered a final blow. I was too late. I had to live with the fact I never fingered them for the murder of that poor girl.”
Grayson placed a hand on his shoulder. “Your pain ends here, my friend. Tonight, the Reaper has come to collect penance for their sins. You head back for the bikes. Wait for Blondy and me there.”
Grayson didn’t wait to see if his orders were followed. Instead, he and Anton took to the shadows and headed for the parking lot. They needed to beat the two Devils before they hit the tavern. Faster than the human eye could see, Grayson ran around the back side of Hades’ Nest and headed off the two as they made their way to the entrance. Something said between them had them both chuckling and knocking shoulders. Their crooked gate alluded to the fact they had most likely had one too many drinks.
Grayson preferred untainted blood. Though in their case, he’d delight in drinking them dry.
“Hey, asshole,” Anton called out, drawing their attention.
“Who you calling asshole?” The beefier of the two stopped in his tracks, placing a hand over his eyes and looking into the shadows. “Fucking yellow belly. Show yourself, you fucking panty waist.”
Anton stepped from the corner of the building and into the light. The man’s eyes rounded briefly. “Hey, aren’t you the guy from the wharf where we killed that rat bastard, Ryder?”
“One in the same.”
Anton’s even tone would’ve made most men turn tail and run. This one was either stupid or too drunk to realize the threat in front of him. He’d never stand a chance against the tall blond, vampire or not.
“That makes you a Son.”
Anton smiled coldly. “It does. You know what that makes you?”
He shook his head.
“Dead.”
Before the Devil could utter a retort, Anton advanced and twisted his neck unnaturally. His razor-sharp fangs sank into the man’s carotid. The second one stood wide-eyed and frozen where he stood. His mouth hung slack. Just as he found his motor skills, he turned to run, but Grayson blocked his path.
“Going somewhere?”
“I … I don’t know nothing, man. Seriously, let me go and I won’t say a word.”
Grayson’s menacing fang-filled grin had a wet spot growing on the front of the man’s blue jeans that traveled down his leg. “Like you let the poor sorority girl live? Did she scream for mercy?”
“How…?”
“Or what about Ryder Kelley when you used that hunting blade of yours to damn near take his head?”
“Fuck, man.” The man sputtered, backing as he did. One finger pointed at the heap lying at Anton’s feet. “That was him, I swear.”
“I say it was you.” Grayson advanced slowly. “Remember, I was there.”
Anton wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You see your buddy there?” Grayson asked.
He nodded slowly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
“Take the forty-five from the waistband of your pants and aim it at the twin holes in his neck. Pull the trigger. But don’t worry, he won’t feel a thing.”
“I do as you say and you let me go?”
Grayson smiled again. “Sure.”
The man pulled his gun, aimed, and fired two shots into his buddy’s neck, obliterating not only the holes, but damn near the neck as well. The loud music inside the bar helped cover the sound.
Before he had time to replace the gun back into his waistband, Grayson latched onto his neck, wasting little time draining him. Just before he dropped the bastard, he looked at Anton. He picked the man on the ground up by his shoulder, gun in his dead hand and aimed it at the one in Grayson’s grip. Anton put the dead guy’s finger on the trigger, aimed at the twin holes and fired twice, before dropping him back to the ground.
Grayson dropped the guy in his grip to the gravel, pulled off the latex gloves, then dusted his hands on his leathers. “I do believe our job is done.”
Anton pulled the gloves from his hands, stuffing them in his jeans’ pocket for later disposal. “The world is a better place without those fucks in it. Let’s get the hell out of here before someone alerts the pigs.”
The two sprinted back across the street and made their way back to their bikes.
Ryder leaned against his. “Done?”
“They won’t be fucking any sorority girls.” Grayson pulled the band from his hair and shook it out. “Looks like those two boys had a beef to settle with one another. Damn good shots too. Now, let’s get the hell out of here. This place smells like hell.”
Chapter 16
The Blood ‘n’ Rave was closed, being only nine in the morning. The parking lot was completely empty save for Draven’s dark blue Chevy Camaro. He stood behind the bar looking none too happy having been awakened by Cara’s phone request to meet with her and Detective Hernandez. They hadn’t wanted to risk exposure by interviewing Draven at the S.O again. Their last chitchat with him hadn’t gained them much other than maybe Draven earning the Devils’ trust. Someone had set up Ryder Kelley to take the fall for being a snitch and feeding the Sons information. It had never been about a shipment of drugs.
The knife wielding Devils were dealt swift punishment the night before. Word on the street was, two Devils had a beef with one another, and settled it in Hades’ Nest’s parking lot, their club hang out. Neither lived. No one would lose sleep over the loss, Cara was sure. From their rap sheets, both were long standing criminals with no family who came forward.
Following Cara and Joe’s meeting with Draven four days ago, he had lain low. Cara didn’t much blame him. The men he dealt with eked out death sentences the way some handed out pink slips. Ryder Kelly’s near death at the hands of the Devils had Draven shaking in his boots. Draven had gone to
bed with sociopaths. Cara worried he might run, leaving them back at square one. Dealing X for the Devils was one thing. Their supplier being overseas wasn’t nearly as scary as selling coke from a Mexican cartel. Those fucks meant business and had long memories.
Then there was Joe, who still didn’t fully trust her.
Probably never would as long as she continued to go to bed with one of the Sons. They needed to stop fighting one another, though, and learn to work as a team again. Not sharing what they knew only worked against them. Two minds worked better than one. Telling Joe the story of Kane’s son and the cartel’s involvement had gained her some ground. Joe had kids. He could relate to Kane’s desire to see the bastard dead.
Cara and Joe had parked Hernandez’s Honda about a half mile away and trekked through the woods, then sneaked in the rear entrance once the barkeep arrived.
Draven gabbed the carafe of coffee, then poured each a cup. Cara and Joe sat beside one another on stools, each accepting a fresh cup of java. The bar owner’s hair had been piled on top his head in a makeshift messy bun, obviously opting to pull it up rather than put a comb through it.
“Late night?” Cara smiled, then took the mug to her lips, not feeling the least bit sorry for waking him.
Rubbing a hand down his whiskered cheek, he grumbled. “I got to bed around four.”
She glanced at her wristwatch. “Four hours. That’s got to suck.”
“Thanks for the consideration. Now what can I do for you?”
“How’s the drug business going, Draven?” Joe asked.
He shrugged. “These things take time.”
“They do. But we’ve been at this nine months and we can’t have you running scared now.” Cara placed her mug on the bar top. “We need forward movement. The DEA is breathing down our necks. We promised results. We don’t get them, they’re going to come in here with their own guys. Meaning, they will no longer need us.”
“And? This is a bad thing?”
“They’ll still use you to get to the bad guys, Draven. You’re too far in for them to pull you now.” Cara rubbed her nape. “They won’t need me or Hernandez. I don’t have to tell you how personal this is to Kane and to me. He wants a shot at Raúl Trevino Caballero. I want to give him that. DEA comes in, he’ll be robbed of his chance. You want him pissed at you for not allowing him his retribution? Hernandez here has kids. He understands Kane’s pain. Even he’s willing to bend a few rules, make sure we get first shot at the man. The DEA then comes in and make their arrests. You’re key to the plan, Draven. We need you working this for us, not disappearing on us.”
Gypsy: Sons of Sangue Page 17