Tena stood on the back deck, looking out over the beach. Kids played ankle-deep in the surf while parents sat in their beach chairs. One man tossed a ball for his dog, who loped off down the sand to retrieve it. A couple of teenagers used tie-dyed colored bodyboards to bob about the waves, staying close enough to the shore they could probably touch the bottom from where they floated.
Placing a hand over her eyes, she looked up the beach. Tena supposed she could walk the coast and wind up down by Bobby’s cottage in less than ten minutes if she were so inclined. Which of course, she wasn’t. She was perfectly content with her own slice of the coast, even if her heart was in disagreement.
Chad exited their rental and came up to stand behind her. Tena looked briefly over her shoulder, then did a double take. “Oh, no you didn’t!”
Pulling out the top waistband of his Speedo, he snapped it back into place with a chuckle. Not that he didn’t have a body most women would die to get a hold of. But the Speedo? Seriously?
“Perfectly acceptable bathing suit, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t. And please tell me you brought something else.”
His grin widened as he started off toward the ocean with an exaggerated swagger. He didn’t get far before he squealed like a girl and cursed up a blue streak, high-stepping it back for the deck. “Flip-flops,” she heard him say as he dashed by her. “Damn sand is like walking on coals.”
Moments later, he reemerged caring a beach towel, flip-flops on his feet, and sunglasses perched on his nose. “You coming, girlfriend? We could both work on our tans.”
Tena couldn’t help but laugh as he sashayed away, that little strip of nylon material barely covering his crack. Reaching a spot no one had yet to claim, he unfolded the towel and laid it on the sand, his backside stuck up in the air and aimed at her. She shook her head. Chad clearly had no shame.
Hurrying into the studio, she tossed clothes aside in her suitcase until she came up with the conservative tank style, two-piece bathing suit. She left the string bikini buried, having no real reason now to wear it, having purchased it last minute with Bobby in mind.
Time for her to have a little fun and forget about Mr. Bear-alicious and what he might be up to ten minutes down the coast. No sense allowing her overactive imagination to go down that road and cause her more heartache.
Best she keep her toes in her own damn sand.
Chapter 5
A cool ocean breeze fluttered the floral curtains and dropped the inside temperature of the room by several degrees, doing little for his heated flesh. Bobby lay naked on his back, one arm beneath his head, listening to the waves crash against the beach. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop the black thoughts from forming, accusing him of being a heartless fuck. Sleep escaped him the past few hours. He prayed Tena found a motel with a vacancy and wasn’t spending the night in her car. Christ, he had been insensitive.
Even if it had been for her own good.
Tena wouldn’t see it that way.
Restlessness and concern made it impossible to lie still another second, staring at the plastered ceiling. If anything happened to Tena, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for chasing her off. He’d only wanted to keep her at arm’s length, not have her take off.
Bobby let out a deep breath and pushed his overlong bangs from his face. Swinging his legs to the side of the bed, he grabbed the board shorts hanging over the footboard and stepped into them. He secured the ties at his waist, then headed for the cottage’s living area.
Silence thankfully greeted him. He was in no mood for small talk with Ivy. Heading for the door, he prayed a long walk along the surf would calm his fretfulness. His bare feet padded over the wooden walkway, leading across the dunes. The cool night breeze feathered over his heated flesh, but it did little to cool the anger he harbored for his careless actions.
Hands on hips, he stopped by the edge of the water and stared at the horizon. His acute hearing easily picked up the nightlife a few blocks away, disturbing his quietude. Given a different set of circumstances, he would’ve been right in the thick of things, knocking back beers and looking for a sexy young thing to fuck.
Tonight, the noise of the partygoers was more of an annoyance.
Picking up a pebble, he tossed it into the surf, damn tempted to follow its path and swim until the ocean claimed him. However, Bobby had never been a coward and he wasn’t about to become one now. Facing life head-on had always been more his style. Vampirism hadn’t changed that. He was a survivor, and damn his fucked up DNA, he wasn’t about to give up now.
The full moon white-crested the waves crashing along the sand and washing over his feet. The wind tousled his hair and kicked up the surf, mimicking the turmoil roiling inside him. Taking a deep breath of the fresh ocean water, he rolled his neck and hoped to alleviate the tension.
No such luck.
It had been a mistake coming here.
Bobby had never been one to run from anything. Yet here he stood, an entire continent away from his MC brothers who had embraced him—the Sons of Sangue. Hell, he should’ve given them the chance to teach him the ropes.
Vampire.
Christ, it had seemed worse than a death sentence.
His new life was in direct opposition to the one he had left in the past. He had been a pastor, for crying out loud. Not once had he lost his faith in God, though his belief in the goodness of mankind had certainly wavered, his reason for leaving the ministry. Being part of the Devils MC had only solidified his view on the human race. Too many who had labeled themselves Christian became damn liars and hypocrites the minute they passed through the church doors and shed their Sunday clothes like the skin of a snake.
Maybe that’s why he had been drawn to the MC life.
No pretenses, no false illusions.
They dealt their own form of swift justice for sins committed against the club.
Leaving the Devils had been imminent, though. Bobby wasn’t sure why he had stayed with the ragtag bunch of criminals as long as he had, other than it being the closest thing he had ever had to a family. The sense of belonging swallowed up the loneliness that came hand-in-hand with being passed around the foster care system.
All that had changed in the fraction of the time it took for a finger to pull the trigger.
The carnage and bloodshed from the night in the cafe teased his memories as he looked across the black horizon. Everything had happened swiftly. Anton Balan crossed the parking lot of the restaurant, his appearance menacing and scary as fuck. Long white fangs extended beyond his full lips. Black pupils swelled and consumed his eyes. Anton had easily taken out both men guarding the door, dropping them dead where they stood.
Blood splattered the glass.
Fear, like he had never known, had gripped his gut and rooted him to the floor. Bobby had stared at the carnage in disbelief, praying to wake up from the nightmare unraveling before him.
Lord, he had been responsible for kidnapping Anton’s girlfriend and luring him to the cafe. Sure it had been on the order of the Devils’ president, though he doubted at the moment it would make a lick of difference to the monster before him.
Anton had yanked open the steel and glass doors with ease, taking out the scrawny biker named Spike with little effort. The biker dropped to the floor. Turning his attention to the club P, Tank had taken Anton by surprise, getting a lucky shot off and hitting the vampire in the gut. Bobby had sprung into action and tackled Tank before he could get a second shot off, taking a bullet to his own neck as a result. The last thing he recalled before blackness consumed him was Anton’s fangs sinking into Tank’s neck. He awoke some time later at the Sons of Sangue clubhouse, being informed he was now the very thing that had walked into the cafe and taken out every life in the place with ease.
What the fuck?
He hadn’t asked for immortality, yet here he stood. A freak of nature. At least, he wasn’t expected to prey on victims, to feed on the blood of the innocent. The Sons of San
gue had provided their own food bank in the way of the donor society, those that knew about the vampires and willingly offered up an artery. The donors wore a small vial of vampire blood around their neck, signifying they were a part of the secret society and thus food for those who sported fangs.
Bobby shook his head, feeling as if he stepped into some sort of twilight zone.
A sound caught his notice and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. A woman’s voice … a plea? Bobby peered down the beach, his newly gained night vision easily cutting through the darkness. The sand yawned before him, dark and deserted. He had almost convinced himself he had imagined the sound when a scream rent the air.
Springing into action, Bobby took off down the beach, sand kicking up behind him as his vampire speed ate up the distance. His nostrils flared, detecting the scent of fear. Slowing his pace, he looked between the houses, bushes, and fences when he heard another sound, this one muffled as if someone now held a hand over the woman’s lips. Bobby’s adrenaline elevated and his eyes heated. He needed to keep his emotions in check or risk his vampire DNA taking over.
The scent of human blood hung heavy in the damp night air, heightening his senses. Shit! His fangs punched through his gums. The muscles in his face grew taut over the changing bone structure. Too late. The tang of the spilled plasma had awakened the monster.
Fuck the consequences! A woman needed help.
Bobby noted movement just beyond a row of hedges, heard the discernable sound of a blade piercing flesh, over and over. Easily clearing the trimmed, six-foot height of the bushes in a single leap, Bobby landed a few feet shy of a large man. He was bent over a nearly unconscious female, ready to plunge the large bloodied hunting knife back into her chest. The man’s crazed focus turned to Bobby.
His eyes rounded. “Jesus Christ! What the hell are you?”
“The fucking Grim Reaper, asshole, come to collect your soul.”
Before the man could udder a confession, Bobby gripped him one-handed by the throat and lifted him from the nearly dying woman. The knife dropped from the man’s hand. He gasped for air, his hands clutching at the one gripping his throat like a vice. Bobby tossed him like a rag doll to the cement patio several feet away. The man, more of a monster than the one who stood before him, didn’t stand a chance. Bobby closed the distance in a blink of an eye. His fangs pierced the man’s carotid seconds before he ripped it from his throat.
Bobby felt no remorse as the man’s hands covered the gash and his life gurgled from him. A tiny moan from the woman lying near the bushes brought his focus around, telling him she still lived and there was a chance yet to save her. Blood covered her chest and arms and he had no idea how long she had or if she’d live. He’d need to act and fast. He bent down and scooped the tiny woman into his arms and headed for the street.
Ogunquit Beach wasn’t far from US-1, where he had spotted a hospital sign heading north. Wasting no time, he sprinted down Beach Street and took to the highway. What would’ve been easily a forty-minute walk for a mere mortal, Bobby made it in a little under six minutes by foot. He skirted the rounded emergency entrance and laid the woman gently on the tarmac, far enough away from the security cameras that they would be useless in identifying him. He pulled the woman’s phone he had noted tucked into her back pocket, swiped it open, and thanked the good Lord for no lock code. A quick swipe through the apps he found White Pages loaded.
A few seconds later, he had the emergency number for the hospital and dialed. After telling the woman on the phone where to find the critically injured woman, he used her shirt to wipe his prints from the phone and left it laying on top of her. He had barely cleared the side of the building when he heard the whoosh of the doors opening, with a sudden flurry of activity. Whoever she was, she’d be well-cared for. Hopefully, he wasn’t too late.
Moments later, he entered the beach house. The lights flipped on, damn near blinding him. “What the fuck?” He shielded his eyes.
Ivy’s mouth gaped. “What the hell happened?”
Bobby didn’t suppose a stroll on the beach would begin to explain his whereabouts, not with blood rimming his mouth and soiling his clothes.
Chapter 6
“Chad!” Tena shrieked as she ran through the tiny rental, skidding to a halt when she reached him. “Wake up!”
She shook the sofa bed, damn near rolling her roomy onto the floor. His eyes popped open, and in his haste to sit, he flopped to the floor. Promptly gaining his footing, Chad gaped at her open-mouthed, clearly wondering if she had lost her marbles.
Maybe she had.
The bloodshed!
Her limbs shook and her fingers trembled.
“Call 911!” Tena’s chest heaved, fighting for breath. “Where’s my phone? Where’s yours? We need to get the hell out of here.”
Chad skirted the bed and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Breathe, Tena. Come on,” he coaxed, “take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”
She drew in a few shaky breaths, attempting to calm her racing heart. Trying to remain on her feet, Tena placed a hand on a side table when her knees threatened to buckle. What the hell had she just seen? “I think I’m going to puke.”
Chad grabbed a small wastebasket and shoved it at her. Tena leaned over the green plastic bucket and emptied what little she had in her stomach. Handing her a wet washcloth, he asked, “Better?”
Tena pointed a shaking finger to the door facing the back patio and line of bushes separating their rental from the beach. “There’s a dead man on our patio.”
“What?” Chad yelped, his brow furrowing. “Girl, are you playing with me?”
She shook her head, tears leaking from her eyes. “I heard muffled screams. You were sawing logs and wouldn’t wake up when I shook you. So I crawled out of bed and walked to the sliding doors. It was dark, but it looked like someone was picking up something near the hedge, a body maybe”—she fanned her face with her hand—“I can’t be sure, and then whoever or whatever it was disappeared around the bushes. That’s when I saw the dead man on the patio. Oh, dear God.”
Chad motioned for Tena to sit. She complied. Another minute and she would’ve collapsed. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, Tena covered her face with her hands and sucked in much needed oxygen. The mattress dipped. Chad took a seat beside her and drew her against his side, placing a kiss on the top of her head.
Tena wiped the moisture from her face and looked at her coworker. He pulled a tissue from the side table box and handed it to her. She took it to her nose and blew, needing to get a handle on herself. They had yet to call the police.
“What if…” Tena gasped, jumped up, and ran to the door. “Call 911, Chad.”
Sliding open the patio door, Tena ran across the short distance and dropped to her knees, landing in the congealing blood pooling by the man. Sightless eyes stared heavenward. Her fingers trembling, she reached out and touched the pulse point of his wrist. Her entire body shook and her stomach threatened to heave again. Tena jerked back her hand and scooted away from the dead body.
Chad stepped outside, his cell dangling from his hand. “Jesus … Is he?”
Tena nodded, scrubbing her hands vigorously on her bloodied pajama bottoms. “I couldn’t get a pulse. Did you call the police?”
“I did.” Chad stared at the bloodied corpse laying inches from her knees. “What the hell happened?”
Tena shook her head again and swallowed, trying damn hard to calm her roiling stomach. “I have no clue, but it looks like someone or something took a huge chunk from his neck.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. Tena stood and backed up, her gaze frozen on the dead man. Not like he was about to get up and walk away. She rubbed her hands on her arms, attempting to ward off the chill. She wanted nothing more than to step beneath a showerhead and let the hot water wash away the events. Not that it would help. The night would be forever burned into her memory.
A sliver of moonlight glinted on a metal object near the
man’s feet. Tena moved closer to get a better look, her hands now tucked under her arms. What looked to be a fishing knife, with a long serrated blade and green rubber handle, laid at his feet. Tena knew better than to touch it, just in case it was used in the murder of the man.
She thought about the man she’d seen running off. The murderer was out there somewhere. Her gaze flitted about the backyard, unable to see anything beyond the line of shrubs. Her heart slammed against her ribs. The hair at her nape rose and goose flesh popped out on her skin.
“Get back inside, Chad.”
“What? The cops are almost here.”
Tena backed up, her eyes trained on the corner of the bushes. “Just do as I say.”
Chad stepped into the small rental, followed quickly by Tena. She turned the lock, then stood back from the glass on the door, keeping her gaze trained on the bushes.
“What the hell, Tena?”
“What if the killer is still out there? I can’t see beyond the hedge to the beach. For all we know, he could’ve been standing there watching us.”
“Well, I would think with the approaching sirens, he’d be long gone by now if that were the case.”
Even though Chad was doubtlessly correct, Tena couldn’t pull her gaze away from the locked door, looking for any kind of movement beyond the glass doors. When the first police officer arrived on the scene and knocked on the glass, Tena damn near jumped from her skin. She quickly walked to the door, turned the lock and opened the door. While one officer stood before her, she noted another checking out the body. He knelt down, careful not to step in anything, and appeared to check for a pulse. He stood, stepped back, then started to walk the perimeter, obviously mindful of where he stepped.
The whole night seemed surreal, from the questions, to the crime scene unit now securing the backyard, to the coroner’s office hauling off the corpse. Tena felt as if she had somehow stepped into a glass bubble. Her ears buzzed and exhaustion blanketed her. If she were allowed, she would’ve laid down and easily slept well into the next day. Instead, she was told they needed her to go to the police station for further questions and to preserve evidence. She wasn’t allowed to change clothes or shower, said evidence. Chad, however, could bring a change of clothes to the station for her to change into, but her pajamas would be confiscated.
Preacher: Sons of Sangue Page 3