Mircea tried to use Stefan to send him on a wild goose chase. Stefan meant nothing to Mircea, other than another annoying descendant of Vlad’s. No, his true target would be Kane. Kane had been the one to take what Mircea considered his, not to mention he blamed him for Rosalee’s death. He might think to hurt Kane through his mate, to see him suffer, but his real issue had always been with Vlad’s eldest descendant.
Arriving behind Kane’s house, Vlad masked his scent with the coming storm, something Mircea had never bothered to learn. His brother much preferred instilling fear in other vampires, letting them know he was near. In truth, Mircea had gone soft, lazing about his stone fortress back in Italy, never really having a reason to leave. He preferred to be doted upon by his servants.
Mircea may have loved Rosalee, but his bitch of a stepdaughter never respected him. Had she listened to her maker, she might still have her head. Her obsession with Kane had gotten her killed.
Mircea stood a few hundred feet from him, watching the house. He squatted beneath a pine, his back against the bark, having no idea Vlad stood so close. Mircea was probably biding his time. If he didn’t catch Kane unaware, Vlad would bank on his great grandson taking Mircea in a fight. Which meant his brother would want to take Kane after his mate left the house. Mircea would always take the path of least resistance.
“Brother.”
Mircea damn near jumped out of his skin at the sound of Vlad’s voice.
Vlad could have easily taken his head, ended his miserable existence, but his damn sentimental side in hoping his brother could yet be redeemed kept him from doing so. Mircea was, after all, his last living sibling.
Mircea turned on him, quickly schooling his expression. “I thought you’d be guarding Kaleb’s baby. Foolish to leave him alone.”
“Even more so to leave my eldest grandson unprotected.” He arched one brow. The wind picked up, whipping his long black hair across his face. “You’re a fool if you thought for a second I’d follow your shell game.”
An evil smile crossed his lips. “So you now… What? Take my head?”
“Foolish as I may be, I had hoped I’d talk some sense into you.”
“And what, dear brother, would you like from me?”
Vlad reached out, lightning quick, and gripped his brother by the throat, squeezing his windpipe. His hyoid bone snapped beneath the pressure. Good thing for his brother’s vampire DNA. He’d heal soon enough.
“The States have nothing for you. Return to Italy.”
“And do what?” Mircea wheezed. “You’ve taken my reason for returning.”
“Rosalee was never to be yours. You were a fool to think so.” Vlad tightened his grip, earning him a squeal from Mircea. “Find another reason. Quit sitting on your ass and find a new plaything.”
“Why would I do that?” he croaked.
“To keep me from killing you, you ass. Threaten what’s mine and I’ll see you don’t live to sire another descendant. I’m giving you a chance to carry on your lineage.”
He released his hold and Mircea stumbled back. His hand went to his throat. “Why not end me now? Obviously, I came here to kill your beloved Kane.”
Vlad clenched his teeth, biting back his anger. His fury would do him no good. “I don’t doubt why you’re here. But I do doubt your skill. You’ll never get close enough to my grandson. I won’t allow it. And even if you managed to get by me, you underestimate Kane’s strength and skill. I’m offering you a last chance. Take it and live.”
Mircea glanced at the back of the house. He rolled his neck, his hyoid bone probably already healing. “Even if I do as you ask, I’ll return one day to kill him. You know that as sure as I’m standing here.”
Vlad sighed. “And that is the day I will kill you.”
With a wink, Mircea turned and sped through the forest, his answering cackle taunting him every step of the way. Why the hell he allowed Mircea to live, he didn’t know. Vlad was sure he’d one day live to regret his decision. Glancing back at his great grandson’s house, he knew for now they’d be safe. Tomorrow would be a new day. If he couldn’t convince Mircea to return to Italy, then his broken hyoid bone would be the least of his brother’s worries.
* * *
Anton strode into the clubhouse meeting room, the estranged year draining away. A feeling of peace and serenity washed over him as his gaze took in his brothers sitting around the big table. Contentment filled him now that the gig was almost up. He may not have completed the entire mission, but he hoped what he had to give would be enough.
Kaleb sat at the head of the table, Kane by his side. Cara leaned against the back wall beside Tamera, who sat on a bar stool, while Grayson sat opposite of Kane. Ryder, Grigore, and Alexander were also in attendance, their expressions unlike the last time he had seen them.
Anton had come home.
Pulling out a chair, the legs scraping the wooden floor, Anton took a seat. He laid his large hands atop the table and smiled. Damn, it had been too long since he last sat at the oak table. Too fucking long, if you asked him. He was ready to end this case once and for all, and get his life back.
Cara tucked her phone into her back pocket and leaned forward, bracing her hands on the table and glared at him. “How the hell did you fuck this up so badly, Blondy?”
“Are you fucking serious?” Anton growled. “Go to hell, Cara.”
Kane cleared his throat. “Don’t make me hand you your ass, Blondy.”
“Sorry, Cara. No disrespect meant.” Anton rubbed his nape. He might not be happy with her at the moment, but that didn’t mean he didn’t regard her position. “But you can’t lay this on my doorstep. You sent Tamera to Santa Barbara without checking with me. She couldn’t get a hold of Viper.”
“Not my fault, man.” Kane growled. “My cell’s reception was crappy. I was near enough, but Tamera wouldn’t have known that.”
“No, she didn’t.” Anton returned his attention to Cara. “As soon as Tamera called I headed south, even though I knew it would piss off Tank.”
Cara lips thinned. “You did, but the plan was for you to be there.”
“Tank ordered me to Florence.” Anton’s ire rose, heating his vision. “You know I had to follow his order.”
“You should’ve called me.”
Which is where Anton went wrong. He should have found time. “We went over this. I was with Preacher.”
Cara righted herself, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. “Tamera told me no one was talking about who took out Kinky?”
“Correct. Tank told me yesterday they had nothing to do with it.” He glanced around the table at his MC brothers. Some of the members looked at him with indifference, while others seemed to sympathize with his position. “He told me it went deeper than club rivalries. That if I wanted to keep Tamera alive, I should make sure she drops it.”
“It meaning who killed Kinky?” Kaleb sat forward in his chair. “You think Tank knows who ordered the hit?”
Anton nodded. “My gut tells me he knows.”
“You think he’ll talk?” Grayson asked.
“Not a chance in hell. I’m not exactly on his good side at the moment.”
“And why would that be?” Kaleb stood and walked to the door, telling one of the prospects to bring them whiskey and glasses. When he returned, displeasure filled his gaze. Aimed at him or the whole situation, Anton wasn’t sure. “One year and you couldn’t manage to earn his trust?”
Anton shook his head and chuckled, the humor misplaced on him. “Oh, I had his respect all right. Right up until I handed his VP an ass beating before I left. I don’t think Tamera playing nosy reporter helped my case any.”
“Agreed,” Tamera said. “I probably didn’t. This isn’t Blondy’s fault.”
Tamera had been there, seen the Devils at their finest. They were a crude bunch of law-breaking bikers who held little regard for human life.
Anton glanced back at Cara. “There’s a shipment of heroin coming in tomorrow along
the Siuslaw River. Tank’s supposed to call me with the details. Preacher and I are to accompany Draven to the pickup point. I’ll pass along the details to you as I get them. You can call in the DEA. After that I’m done. I suggest you get Draven the hell out as well. Without me, he won’t be safe. The Devils may have respected me at one time, but they’ve never held Draven in high regard. He means nothing more to them than someone to move their drugs. Which is why Preacher and I have been ordered to accompany him.”
Cara pulled out a chair at the table and sat, ignoring the rule about women not being allowed to sit at the meeting table. After all, she had called the meeting. “We haven’t caught Raúl Trevino Caballero. That was part of the deal.”
“It was, but you won’t catch him through this case.” Anton shifted in his seat. “After a year of being under, I’m no closer than when I started. I’ll help you get your revenge on Raúl, just as everyone here will no doubt assist you and Kane. But it isn’t going to happen with the Devils. I have enough evidence to take down most of them. It’s going to have to be enough.”
Cara looked at Kane. “It’s okay, mia bella. We’ll wait for another day.”
Giving her attention back to Anton, she said, “You give us the location where the heroin is landing tomorrow and I’ll turn it over to Captain Melchor and the DEA. Then we walk away. I can’t say I’ll be sad to see Robbie go.”
“What about Preacher?” Anton had to know his friend would walk too.
“What about him?”
“You keep him out of this, Cara. The man doesn’t deserve to go down with the rest of the Devils. He’s one of the good guys.”
“You get me the information. We’ll come up with a plan to get Preacher out of there before the DEA gets there.”
“You think he’s Sons material, Blondy?” Kaleb asked.
“I do.” Anton leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his chest. “Not sure what he’d think about becoming a vampire, though.”
“Your call, Blondy.” Kaleb glanced around at the Sons ringing the table. “If you think he’s worthy, we could use another good man. You bring him to the table, the Sons will vote on patching him over.”
“Thanks, P. I appreciate that.”
“It’s the least we could do.”
Kaleb stood as the prospects brought the whiskey to the table on a wooden tray, along with enough rocks tumblers. He passed out glasses, then handed the bottle of Gentleman Jack to Kane. They each poured a couple of fingers of the amber liquid and passed the bottle onto the next man.
“Let me first say,” Kaleb stated, “that I’m still pretty furious at being kept in the dark about your undercover work. I think I speak for everyone here when I say I apologize for treating you like the shit-head traitor we all thought you to be.”
Damn, but it felt good to hear the club P saying he screwed up, even if he couldn’t be faulted. “I knew what I was getting into.”
Kaleb glared at Cara. “This is on Cara for not trusting us to have your back.”
“Hawk—”
Kaleb cut off Kane from defending her actions. “I’ll have my say, Viper. From here on out, anything like this comes up again, you best bring it to the table. Viper and I will decide collectively if it needs to be kept from the club. Am I clear?”
“I did it for the good of the case, Hawk. It wasn’t about your ego. It was about keeping Draven and Blondy alive.”
One of Kaleb’s brows rose. “Viper?”
“Let’s hope a situation like this doesn’t arise again.” Kane reached over and squeezed Cara’s thigh. “But if it does, I’ll make sure you’re included, Hawk. You’re club P and as so, you had the right to know.”
“Kane is correct. I owe you an apology. All of you. I should’ve trusted you to keep Blondy’s secret. Instead, I caused hard feelings within the Sons. It won’t happen again.” Cara glanced around the room, making eye contact with them all before stopping on Kaleb. “Hawk, you get to know what’s going on from here on out. Providing you don’t keep anything from Kane either. You need to realize Kane’s got your back and I’m not your enemy. Kane was against me not telling you about Blondy.”
“Thank you, Cara.” Kaleb, dropped the matter and obviously satisfied, picked up his glass and held it in front of him. “This matter is done. Let us toast to having Blondy back among us.”
“Hear, hear,” Grayson said, raising his glass, along with the rest of the Sons.
“Salute,” Kane said, and the others followed suit.
Anton downed the amber liquid and set his glass back on the table. “Glad to be home. Now let’s get this show on the road tomorrow and hand these son of a bitches over to the DEA.”
“Glad to have you back,” Alexander said, followed by the rest of the Sons at the table welcoming his return.
Damn, but it felt good to be home.
Chapter 23
Anton glanced at his watch as Bobby, Draven, and he pulled into the designated pickup point along the Siuslaw River. Tank hadn’t given them a lot of notice when he’d called about an hour before the drop was to happen. He hoped his call to Cara bought the DEA enough time to set up around the perimeter. There would be no second chances. Once the money transferred hands and the drugs were given to Draven, the DEA would swoop in and all hell would break loose.
DEA special agents had also been sent south to Santa Barbara. Once the exchange was completed, the special agents would be given the green light. The major players from the Devils would be apprehended and taken into custody. First to go down? Spider and Tank. No two were more deserving.
Anton’s job now was to get Bobby Bourassa out of the picture before the drugs traded hands. Better yet, before the boat ever docked. Cara promised to keep his name from the reports. He’d be given the opportunity to start over, a new life. Anton thought he’d be a great asset to the Sons of Sangue, but something told Anton he wasn’t about to embrace the vampire lifestyle any more than Kimber might.
Faith.
The one thing Anton ran short on these days. The ugly truth that he preferred her artery over a thick juicy steak, might just have her packing her bags, selling her house, and leaving behind her blood-sucking neighbor. If she couldn’t handle the truth, then Anton would have no choice but to let her go. He’d be forced to hypnotize her into forgetting everything they had done together. He wasn’t cruel enough to leave her with regrets over a love that wasn’t to be.
Anton took in a deep breath, then blew out a steady stream.
Time to get the show on the road.
The three alighted from their bikes, under his directive, and headed for the docks. Anton had purposely parked the motorcycles out of sight from the pickup point. He’d send Bobby back to the bikes on a fool’s mission before the vessel ever arrived. With any luck, Bobby would be miles down the road before the DEA descended and arrested Anton, Draven, and the entire boat’s crew. Once at the sheriff’s office, and word came of Tank and Spider’s arrest, then Draven and he would be free to go.
Following his release, he’d contact Bobby, hoping his MC brother might see reason. Anton was giving him a shot at a better life, whether that included the Sons of Sangue or not. Hopefully one free of the Devils, though.
Reaching the dock, Draven fidgeted like a mouse in a snake tank. His gaze continued to look toward the mouth of the river. The envelope with the DEA’s cash was tucked into the inside pocket of Draven’s black leather jacket, Anton having put it there himself. The barkeep’s hand patted the breast pocket, no doubt making sure he hadn’t dropped it on the ride.
Anton did a quick sweep with his gaze of the area, hoping the feds had yet to arrive. It was all in the timing. He needed Bobby free of the area.
Shoving his hands into his jean pockets, Anton cursed. “Fuck. Preacher, I need you to do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“I must’ve I dropped my phone back at the rest stop where we all met earlier. I made a phone call.” Anton rubbed his nape and grimaced. �
��I don’t answer when Tank calls, I’m dead. Can you make a quick trip back there and see if you can find it? I’ll stay here with Draven, just in case the boat arrives.”
Bobby raised a brow. “Why don’t I watch him and you go back find your own damn cell?”
“Draven doesn’t trust you, man. I’ve known him longer.”
Bobby looked at Draven, who shrugged. “No offense. I’m not trusting all this money to someone I barely know. I’ve known Rogue for a few years. I’ll take my chances with him.”
Draven had been filled in earlier on Anton’s undercover work and how the sting was to go down. He did his part perfectly. Bobby grumbled something about it being a bad time for clumsiness before heading for the motorcycles. Moments later, Anton heard the bike’s engine, followed by the tires spinning gravel. He caught site of Bobby heading down the dirt path leading to the road. Mission accomplished.
“Let’s hope the DEA gets here before the boat arrives. Preacher should still be gone. And if he’s smart,” Anton continued, “he’ll see the place swarming with cops when he returns and hightail it the hell out of here.”
“I doubt he’d be stupid enough to stick around.” Draven pulled the envelope from his breast pocket and slapped it against his palm. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. “Too bad we have to hand all this cash over.”
“Don’t even think about it, Draven.” The two fell into a moment of silence before Anton asked, “Everything okay with you?
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. You tell me. Last couple of times I’ve been around you, you’ve been jumpy as hell, man.”
His gaze stayed on the river. “Nothing to worry about here. Just want this damn case over with like you.”
Anton clapped his shoulder. “Then let’s get this over with.”
Moments later, the boat’s engine caught Anton’s attention, long before the bow came into view. It made its slow trek around the bend. Anton glanced about, his keen sight picking up a couple of special agents moving into position. Luckily, no stray pedestrians lurked about. The gloomy day, with the threat of rain, likely kept most away. Bobby may have passed some of the special agents on his way out. He wasn’t wearing colors, and since he wouldn’t be here during the drop, they’d have no reason to suspect a man on a motorcycle. “Showtime.”
Rogue (Sons of Sangue Book 4) Page 24