Gypsy: Sons of Sangue

by Patricia A. Rasey

  * * *

  Tamera blinked her eyes. Dim light filtering through the boarded up windows shot shards of pain through her already aching head. Her hands were now cuffed behind her back with thick, cold steel cuffs. Thick enough she had no chance of breaking through them either. She yanked at them several times to no avail. Her ankle chain was attached to a pillar in the center of the room where Rosalee had left her.

  Cuts on her wrists drained her blood slowly. Tamera could feel the fluid running down her hands and through her fingers, leaving her in a weakened state. Just as the gashes began to heal, Rosalee made her way back to Tamera, butcher knife in hand to reopen the wounds.

  “Your mate should be here any minute,” Rosalee informed her, no doubt thrilled with the turn of events. “Fool that he is, he called from your phone.”

  Tamera hung her head, wondering how long before Grayson made his appearance. Now neither would walk away. The primordial bitch had been alive much longer than Grayson, meaning he wouldn’t stand a chance against her strength. After Rosalee took his life, she would take Tamera’s. Her short life as an immortal was about to end. Without Grayson, though, she gladly embraced the idea of death.

  How the hell had she thought this could ever end any other way? Tamera chuckled. The crazy witch wouldn’t stop until she had killed them all. Her hatred ran thicker than blood. Tamera doubted an ounce of humanity could be found in her cold, black soul.

  Footfalls sounded on the tiled floor before Rosalee came back into view. “What on earth has you laughing? Your mate is about to breathe his last breath, and you sit here cackling like a fool?”

  Her found humor rankled Rosalee, but for some reason, she couldn’t stop. Rosalee bared her fangs as she stepped forward, raised her hand, and slapped her hard across the face again, splitting her lip. Tamera’s head jerked to the side, blood flying from her mouth. Tamera slipped her tongue out, tasting the metallic flavor of her own blood.

  “If it makes you feel better, bitch, do it again. Whatever floats your boat. What the hell do I care? I’ll be dead soon anyway.”

  Rosalee raised her hand and slapped her against the temple once more. Blackness nearly engulfed her again. She shook her head and took a deep breath to keep from passing out. Tamera needed to stay lucid, if for nothing more than a chance to apologize to Grayson. She owed him as much. Why the hell hadn’t she confided in him long ago? Maybe they could’ve come up with some sort of a plan.

  Tamera shook off the fog trying to claim her as Rosalee struck her again, this time shattering her nose. Blood ran down her lips and chin. Grayson needed to take Rosalee by surprise, or she’d live to see another day, destroying more lives. Tamera’s gaze took in the butcher knife she had used on Rosalee, lying on the nearby table. If she could somehow scoot toward it…

  The sound of an approaching motorcycle caught their attention. The primordial bitch turned her back and headed for the front of the building. Tamera tried hopping her chair toward the table. If she could somehow get the knife to Grayson.

  Before the chair ever got close enough, a loud crash hit the front of the building, followed by an explosion, shaking the building on its creaky foundation. The smell of gasoline and smoke rent the air.

  “What the fuck?” came from Rosalee. “The stupid shit drove his bike right into the fucking building.”

  The crazed bitch stopped just feet from Tamera. Flames licked the old wood behind her, damn near creating a glowing halo of heat about her head. Hell, maybe they’d all burn alive.

  “Time to die.” Rosalee bared her fangs. “I can’t,” was all she got out before Grayson wrapped one arm about her chest. The other held a nine-inch, razor-sharp hunting blade to her throat.

  A trickle of dark red blood ran down her neck, trailing between her rising cleavage. Tamera wanted to smile, but damn her lip hurt. One wrong move on Rosalee’s part and Grayson would sink the blade deep into her throat.

  “What’s stopping you, boy?” the primordial hissed. “You know if you hesitate, you’re going to have that fucking blade buried to the hilt in your own chest. Your heart will stop dead before you ever hit the floor. I’ll send your little mate to hell with you.”

  He pressed the knife deeper into her throat, picking up the flow of blood. “I’d rather watch you die slowly, bitch. My mate and I? We’re walking the fuck out of here.”

  Grayson’s obsidian gaze took in Tamera’s wounds. His answering growl proved he wasn’t happy about Rosalee’s little power play. Tamera thought she must look like a vampire punching bag.

  “I’d tell you to say your prayers, Rosalee, but I doubt they’ll help where you’re going.”

  Grayson increased the pressure on the knife, ready to end the witch’s life, when the word “Boy,” came from out of the darkness. Vlad Tepes stepped from the shadows. “Put the knife down.” His tone left no doubt his order was meant to be followed.

  “No.” Grayson’s jaw tightened.

  Before her mate could voice another argument, his hunting knife slid across the tiled floor and slammed into the inflamed baseboard several feet away. Damn, Tamera hadn’t even seen Vlad move. Rosalee now stood trapped within Vlad’s thick arms, a smug look on her face having been saved from certain death.

  Tamera kicked at her chains. The unfairness of some stupid ancient rule would allow Rosalee and her black heart to live another day.

  Grayson bared his teeth. “Save her now, and just save her for me another day, Grandpa. Because she will one day die at my hand.”

  “You, my boy…” Vlad’s full vampire self took over. Tamera shivered. The ruler was a fierce sight to behold. Hell, he gave Rosalee a run for her money. It was a wonder Grayson hadn’t wet himself. Yep, Grandpa wins the Scary as Fuck contest. “You know the rules.”

  “Fuck the rules,” Grayson replied, looking almost as frightening as Vlad. You go, baby. “I let her live and we have no peace.”

  “You take her head,” he growled loud enough to make Tamera’s ears ring, “and I have to take yours.”

  Rosalee struggled in Vlad’s tight grasp, gaining nothing. “Let me go, you old fool. My stepfather will see you punished.”

  “My brother is a spineless idiot, you spoiled brat.”

  Grayson clenched his fists at his side. Tamera could almost see his fury radiating from him. Rosalee didn’t deserve to draw breath. Why the hell couldn’t the old fart see that?

  “I will kill her, Vlad,” Grayson hissed. “You have my promise.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. For you, my boy, are not allowed to take a primordial’s life.”

  Before Grayson could argue, Vlad twisted his hands and ripped Rosalee’s head clean from her shoulders. Her lifeless body dropped to his feet. Her head dropped with a sickening thud to the floor. Tamera bit back the rising bile.

  Jesus!

  “But I, on the other hand, have every right.” Vlad rolled his neck and shoulders as if taking her head was all in a day’s work. “Stupid fool couldn’t follow orders. She should’ve stayed in Italy.”

  Grayson scratched his nape and grimaced. “Can’t say I’m sorry to see her go.”

  “No one’s going to cry over her death.” Vlad pushed her head, with his booted foot, a few more feet from the body as if to keep it from reattaching itself. “We best get the hell out of here before the whole place goes up in flames. Let it burn to the ground with her in it.”

  Heat from the crackling fire warmed her clothes and heated her flesh. Flames licked the walls, coming closer, reaching out to them like fingers of death. It occurred to her she was still very much shackled. She yanked at her binds. Vlad reached down, grabbed the chains and snapped them as if they were no thicker and bothersome than threads.

  Stepping around Tamera, he slapped Grayson on the shoulder. “Quit gapping, boy. Rosalee’s most definitely dead. Now take care of your mate. Make sure she stays the hell out of trouble this time. I’d hate to have to come back here and have to clean up another mess of hers.”

  �
�She won’t give you cause, sir.”

  “And Grayson?”

  His gaze went from Tamera, back to Vlad’s. “Yes?”

  “I’m not your grandfather. Call me Grandpa again, I won’t let it slide. Understand?”

  “Completely.”

  “Good, now I have a brother to see.” Not waiting for a response, Vlad turned and walked right into the fire.

  Tamera stared after him, stunned the flames had enveloped him completely. He had literally disappeared right into the raging conflagration. Grayson approached, grabbed her bound hands and pulled her to her feet, gaining back her attention.

  “We need to get the hell out of here.”

  Tamera could only nod. His eyes, having returned to their beautiful blue state, took in her cuts and broken nose. The concern she saw in the azure depths warmed her heart. Tears slipped down her cheeks, stinging the healing wounds. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t hate her after all.

  Chapter 29

  Cara sat at the table in the conference room of the Sheriff’s Office, wanting to be anywhere else at the moment. Robbie Melchor had called the meeting. She and Hernandez were to be in attendance, no excuses. Seemed he was best at trying to piss off others. Some things never changed.

  Robbie was still an arrogant prick.

  Hearing her grandfather had passed a few days prior hadn’t mattered to him one iota. He wanted an update on the case and where they stood with Draven, the Devils, and the blow. Cara had just laid her grandfather to rest the day before, so she certainly was in no mood to put up with Captain Melchor. If Joe would leave her alone with the fuck, she’d gladly drain him.

  Cara shook her head. Or so she wished. She could never do the deed, even knowing how much she despised the little weasel. Unfortunately, she had sworn to protect life, not take it. Fantasies would have to suffice.

  “Where the fuck are we, Brahnam? I know you met with Draven. I saw you leaving the Rave in the middle of the afternoon a few days ago. You had plenty of time to call in with a report.”

  She had not been careful enough if Robbie had spied her. Mistakes like that could cost Draven or Anton their lives. “Having me followed?”

  “If I have to. You don’t come to me, I have every right to come to you.”

  “My grandfather passed away!”

  Robbie leaned down, just inches from her face. His offensive breath damn near gagged her. “No excuse for not reporting. You want to tell me what you have on the case so far?”

  Cara blew out her breath, curbing her anger. She certainly couldn’t turn vampire on him. “I would appreciate it if you would back the hell up, sir.” She nearly spat the last word.

  It damn near killed her to show the man any amount of respect. He didn’t deserve it and sure in the hell never earned it.

  Joe cleared his throat, gaining Melchor’s attention from Cara. “Draven called the impromptu meeting, Captain. Cara called me and I couldn’t meet her, forcing her to go alone. She told me to call you and I failed to do my job.”

  Cara hadn’t called anyone, hadn’t even informed Joe until after she met with Draven. She owed him for lying for her and taking the heat.

  Robbie stood and glared at Joe. “You two are a piece of work. If we manage to get the job done, it will be by a fucking miracle.”

  “Look”—Joe stood, walked over to Robbie and stopped just inches from his face—“you mind your fucking manners or I’ll personally go to your boss, the DEA, or anyone who will listen, and have you replaced on this case. Fact is, Captain, we don’t need you. You”—he jabbed his finger in Robbie’s sternum—“need us so you can impress your boss and maybe work your way up the asshole ladder. We may answer to you, so you can take the facts as you have them back to the DEA, but I can bypass you any day I want. DEA still gets the same result. You’re expendable, Captain. Don’t forget it. Now, you either play nice with Brahnam here, or I’ll gladly carry through with my threats.”

  Robbie’s face actually turned purple. Cara almost stood and applauded. “Care to test your theory of my worthiness, Hernandez?”

  “Any day you’re ready.”

  Captain Melchor stewed silently for about a minute, his gaze boring into Joe, who appeared unmoved. “I don’t suppose we’re going to get anywhere issuing threats. I apologize for stepping out of line.”

  A hint of a smile landed on Joe’s ruggedly handsome face. “Apology accepted. Now maybe we can get down to business. Cara,” Joe turned to her, “you want to tell Captain Melchor where we are in the case?”

  Cara smiled at Joe, thankful for him taking the pressure from her. Her grandfather’s loss had damn near crippled her. Robbie wasn’t someone she was ready to deal with. Cara supposed she had one thing to be thankful for, though, Rosalee’s demise. When Grayson and Tamera had returned with the news of Vlad taking Kane’s ex’s head, Cara had wept. To say she was thrilled she and Kane would no longer have to look over their shoulders for when Rosalee might next turn up was an understatement.

  Keeping her mind on the job she could handle.

  Cara filled Melchor in on how the Devils had finally taken Draven at his word. They were about to provide him with some serious cocaine. “So you can see why we’ve been so quiet. We couldn’t afford mistakes. It’s your job now to provide us the cash from the DEA.”

  Robbie paced the floor, hands clasped behind his back. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “No cash, no deal,” Cara said. “This whole operation will go into the shitter.”

  He stopped and looked down at her. “Will you be able to provide us with Raúl Trevino Caballero?”

  “It’s our hope that if Draven gains their trust by running enough of the coke and increasing his distribution, he’ll get the introductions. We need him to appear a major player.”

  “So how much we talking?”

  “They’re starting him small, to see if he can move it.” Cara straightened in her seat. Their entire case hinged on whether the funds would be available to them. “We’re talking 500k worth of blow.”

  “Five hundred thousand? You call that small, Brahnam?”

  “Considering it’s a multi-billion dollar industry in Mexico and that Raúl Trevino Caballero is one of La Paz’s billionaires and major players, it’s peanuts. He’s a hero down there. They’ll protect their own. In order to land this kingpin, we need him on US soil,” Joe said. “I’ve been doing my homework on this guy. I want him bad.”

  “So does the DEA.” Robbie took a seat at the table. “I’ll make some phone calls and see about getting you the cash.”

  “Great.” Excitement coursed through Cara. She’d gladly pour everything she had into the case, if for nothing more than to help her move forward without the man who helped raise her. “Then we have a deal. You get us the money, and we’ll get the cash to Draven. We have us a sting, boys. Let’s cut these men off at the knees.”

  Cara’s thoughts turned to Anton, who had gone undercover, riding with the Sons of Sangue’s rival MC. She sure in the hell hoped he was ready. A bust like this wouldn’t happen overnight. It could, in fact, take years. For Anton’s sake, she certainly hoped that wasn’t the case. Riding with the Devils, and fooling his brothers into believing he had defected, no doubt weighed heavy on him. His brothers, the Sons, were stunned at his having forsaken them.

  To them, Blondy no longer existed.

  Wearing a rival patch, Rogue as he now called himself, made his bed with the Devils. He had lost the girl, lost his best friend, lost his alliance with the Sons, and now rode as their enemy.

  Rogue had nothing to lose now but his life.

  * * *

  His mate lay on her back, her head slightly elevated by pillows as her vivid green eyes looked down on his. Grayson lay alongside her slender legs, one of his arms draped over her center, his chin lightly resting on her abdomen in the afterglow of what was another epic round of sex. Tamera had more stamina, and tricks up her sleeve, than all of his past multiple partners put together.

  Wha
t the hell would he ever need another woman for?

  Tamera chuckled. “You look mighty pleased.”

  Grayson’s smile no doubt covered his face. “I can’t believe I wasted nine months on my stubborn pride when I could have been having this every night. What the hell was I thinking?”

  Her face sobered. “Not your fault, Gypsy. Don’t beat yourself up. I wasn’t exactly honest.”

  “No.” His mood clouded. “But looking back on the whole ordeal, once you agreed with Rosalee’s plan, there was no escape for you. Had you not followed her orders, she would’ve killed you outright and likely Stefan as well. What choice did you have? Although, you should have told me about her earlier,” he added with a wink.

  Tamera couldn’t argue with him. She ran a hand through his longish hair. “I should have tried, even if you weren’t speaking to me.”

  He placed a kiss on her naked abdomen. “I’m sorry, il mio dolce rossa. I was an ass. I should’ve helped you through the change, not…”

  “Don’t.” Tamera gripped the hair on the top of his head and pulled back lightly so he was forced to look at her. “I won’t allow you to beat yourself up over this either … or him. I’m just as dumfounded as you. It was his plan to make you jealous, in hopes you’d come around and want me back. I thought we were on the same page. This complete turnaround…” She paused and he knew she mourned over the loss of a friend. “I don’t understand what’s gotten into him. What snapped?”

  Grayson couldn’t help but note each of them avoided using Anton’s name. His betrayal wounded them deeply. He had a hard time accepting that, Anton, of all people, would go rogue. How fitting he would change his name since he had turned his back on every one of them.

  “Maybe he was never honest with himself in his willingness to give you up.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “I’m sorry you lost your brother over me.”

  “His choice, il mio dolce rossa. You were never his to have.”