“Everyone in position?” Kaleb whispered into the mic.
Once all affirmations arrived, Kaleb looked at his brother. Kane’s smile was scary as fuck, making Grigore glad he wasn’t going to be on the receiving end of Kane’s unleashed temper. “You ready to put an end to this, bro?”
“More than ready,” Kane replied, his tone thick due to the massive fangs filling his mouth. “Let’s get that motherfucker.”
Grigore had the best men for the job by his side. It was time to take out some of Mexico’s lowlifes. “Let’s roll.”
The first alarm sounded as one of their men entered the estate from a different side. Kaleb looked at Kane, then smashed his fist through the window of the door, setting off another wail. Getting a grip on the window frame, Kane and Kaleb yanked the steel door from its hinges. Metal scraped metal and alarms grew in volume as their men entered from all sides.
Stepping into the hall, Grigore heard booted feet running above them. He could tell by his surroundings that they had entered through the servants’ quarters. As Kane and Kaleb headed for the stairs, Grigore manned the front of the house, his gaze taking in the area, seeing no one about.
Where the fuck was everyone?
He tipped his nose to the ceiling, smelling the first of human blood being spilled. Screams sounded over the sirens. Grigore skirted the interior hall, keeping an eye on the rooms, making sure he left no one alive behind. His nose picked up the scent of a human ahead. Quickly casing the rooms as he moved down the hall, he then entered a massive pristine kitchen. A robust man in chef’s garb cowered in the far corner near the ovens.
Grigore growled, earning a scream from the man. “You want to stay and fight, or you do want to walk out alive, amigo?”
“Alive, señ … señor.”
The scent of urine and the wet spot on the man’s trousers told Grigore he wasn’t a threat. He framed the man’s cheeks with his palms, quickly hypnotizing him, sending him running out the door and likely off the estate. Grigore canvassed the rest of the rooms, finding no other humans, then took the steps to the first floor where most of the activity could be heard. And to his dismay, was already starting to die down. His brothers had a handle on this area of the estate. Damn, he was missing all the action.
Grigore took the stairs four at a time to the top floor to check on the twins. The real action would be with the kingpin. Raúl’s best men would be guarding him, though Grigore seriously doubted they would’ve been a match for the Tepes brothers. Clearing the stairwell, he rounded the corner and was hit square in the face by the butt of a gun, snapping back his head and breaking his nose.
“Motherfucker!”
Grigore grabbed the guy by his bulletproof vest and threw him down the stairwell. Judging by the angle of the guy’s neck, it wasn’t necessary to go after him. Grigore pinched the bridge of his nose and jerked it into place, hearing the tiny bones and cartilage snap. The healing would be swift, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch.
Grigore headed for the room at the end of the wide hall. Neither seeing nor hearing anyone else alive in his path, he followed the sound of Kane and Kaleb’s voices. Someone screamed like a little bitch, Grigore betting on that being Raúl since he could now scent the bastard. As he passed several open doors, he spotted dead soldiers along the way, no doubt the work of the twins.
Grigore stopped just shy of entering what looked to be a massive master suite. After taking a quick look down the empty hallway, noting he hadn’t been followed, he ducked into the room. This motherfucker had spent a small fortune on lavish decorations. Grigore bet he could feed an entire community on the cost of the ornate items in this room alone.
Raúl screamed again, bringing Grigore’s focus to the en-suite beyond the sitting area. He jogged to the opened door. Kane held Raúl high off the marble floor, his throat firmly in his grasp. The kingpin’s face mottled purple. At present, Raúl didn’t look like a man responsible for the deaths of thousands. Instead, he looked like a sniveling coward, vampire or no. His obsidian eyes damn near popped out of his head. Blood ran from already healing cuts, proof of the beating Kane had likely already given him.
And Kane? He appeared ready to snap the motherfucker’s neck. Maybe Raúl should’ve thought of that when he’d ordered Kane’s only son to be murdered, even if it was in payment for Rosalee killing his brother. Raúl’s mistake was making Ion pay for the sins of his mother.
It’s well past the time to put this shit to rest.
Kaleb stood to the side, hip cocked against the nearby counter, arms folded across his chest, smiling, clearly enjoying the show. The rest of the house grew quiet as the alarms cut short, no doubt one of the Sons, likely Constantine, having had enough of the ear-piercing screech.
“Today you die,” Kane growled, baring his fangs.
“I’ll give you money … anything! Just ask,” Raúl sniveled, his arms and legs flailing.
Kane’s answering laugh echoed through the massive bathroom. “You have nothing of value I’d want. You already took the one thing from me of any worth. For that, I’m giving you a one-way ticket to hell, motherfucker.”
“Son of a fucking bitch,” came across their collective earpieces.
Kaleb’s smile left his face and Kane’s arm wavered, Raúl jostling in his grip. Kaleb touched the mic on the earpiece. “What is it?”
“It’s Lightning, man,” came Peter’s shaken voice.
“What about him, Rocker?” Grigore growled, not having a good feeling about what might have happened to Constantine.
“Motherfucker! His head’s blown clean off.”
Grigore roared. Anguish gripped his chest and damn near stopped his breathing. “Where the fuck are you?”
“Level two, man.”
“And the fuck responsible?”
“Dead. I already took him out.” Agony laced Peter’s tone. The two men had been like brothers since they had prospected together. “Looks like Lightning got caught with his back unprotected when he silenced the alarms.”
“Bring his body,” Kaleb said.
“On my way.” The intercom cut short.
Grigore looked at Kaleb. “What do we do with him?”
“As much as I hate to say it, we’ll have to ash him with this fuck.”
Grigore hardened his jaw. “Lightning deserves better. I’ll personally carry his body back to Oregon.”
“Be realistic, Wolf. We can’t take his body with us. How the hell would you get him across the border? We need to finish this and get the fuck out. We all agreed, in and out.”
Grigore knew Kaleb was correct, but that didn’t make swallowing the bitter pill any easier. They couldn’t be seen with Constantine’s headless body. The fucking police in Mexico worked for Raúl. They’d have a heyday with the Sons. The longer they spent here, the better the chances of getting caught in the melee.
“Then finish this and let’s get the fuck out of here,” Grigore growled.
Kane’s lips thinned. Without another word, he twisted Raúl’s head from his body with his bare hands. Blood splattered and Raúl’s scream cut short. Kane strode to the four-person spa tub and dropped the head next to the body with a thud. Peter came skidding to a halt and gently laid Constantine’s body and head onto Raúl’s. Tears streamed down his comrade’s face.
Motherfucker!
Grigore grabbed the can of gas one of his Washington brothers had brought. They all circled the tub, distress and heartbreak in their gazes.
“I’ll drink to you when we get home, Lightning! You didn’t deserve this, brother.”
Grigore poured the gas over the bodies and tossed in a match. The accelerant caught and flames climbed toward the ceiling, the heat nearly unbearable. Grigore was the last to back away. If the son of a bitch who took out Constantine wasn’t already dead, he would’ve made the fuck suffer a good long time. His death had been too fucking easy.
“Let’s get on the road before we have more of these moles to deal with.” Kaleb placed a
hand on Kane’s shoulder. “We good?”
Kane’s black gaze looked at each one of the men. “Lightning is on me. I failed him in my need for revenge.”
“Fuck, Viper,” Grigore said. “This ain’t on you, brother. You know as well as I do nothing is guaranteed in any mission. Let’s get the hell out of here, bro, and back on the road. I, for one, am ready to get back to Oregon.”
With one last look at the conflagration crawling up the curtains and wall, the crew walked to the patio, jumped the four stories to the grass, and hit the ground running.
* * *
Gabriela sat up, unsure of her surroundings. It wasn’t the same hotel room she had shared with Ryder. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t a hotel at all. Judging by the salt-scented breeze fluttering through the curtains on the open window, she guessed it to be a small cottage by the ocean. Swinging her legs to the side of the full-sized bed, her head swam with memories.
What the hell?
Fangs?
Bending forward, she gulped in large amounts of air, hoping to stave off rising nausea. Images of Luis flipping backward over the railing, Sergio’s head hanging at an odd angle, blood on her hands from the cut on her forehead, Ryder standing on the balcony rail as if had just leaped four stories, all came back in stark HD reality. Maybe the knock on her head had been worse than she thought, causing her to hallucinate.
Surely, the fangs are the product of my dreams.
Right?
Vampires weren’t real.
Gabby righted herself as nausea began to subside. She glanced around the room. The bedroom bore a bed, nightstand, and small dresser. The only door led to what looked like a small sitting room. Standing slowly, making sure she wouldn’t pass out again, Gabby made her way to the door. The living area connected with a kitchenette. A bathroom stood adjacent to the bedroom, its door also open, proving she was alone.
Where was Ryder?
Leaving the bedroom, she was drawn forward by a breeze from the cabin’s open door fluttering her dress. Sunlight streamed through the screen facing the ocean. Gabby stopped short of going onto the deck, spotting Ryder with a cell phone to his ear, pacing the white sand of the beach. He turned as if sensing her, concern visible in his gaze. He quickly pocketed the phone and headed for the cabin.
No fangs. No black marbles for eyes. His face was as handsome as ever. The wallop to her head must have knocked her senseless. And yet, the fangs? The memory of them was almost too real to dismiss.
“You’re up.” Ryder looked at her, something in his gaze amiss. “I was worried about you.”
“Who were you talking to?”
“No one. I didn’t get an answer.”
Gabriela opened the screen and stepped onto the small front porch, the breeze shifting through her hair. She tucked the stray strands behind her ear. “Where are we?”
“An hour up the coast, about a mile outside of Todos Santos. With Sergio and Luis dead, I couldn’t take the chance of your uncle’s men finding us again.”
“So that really happened?”
He nodded but added nothing, eyeing her with caution.
Moisture gathered in her eyes. “Uncle Raúl won’t stop. Maybe you should take me home.”
“Is that what you want?”
She bit the inside of her lip, trying her damnedest to hold the tears at bay. Of course, she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to stay with Ryder. Well, at least she thought she did until the fangs came to mind again. Gabby shook her head, telling herself it had to have been part of a dream. But if Sergio and Luis’s deaths had been real? With Ryder confirming as much, maybe it hadn’t been a hallucination after all. Gabby wasn’t sure what she wanted, nor did she know any longer what was real or a figment of her imagination.
“What I don’t want is you dead, Ryder. If Luis and Sergio had come looking for me, it’s only a matter of time before my uncle sends more soldiers. He’ll be furious his top two men were killed. Not to mention the two you killed earlier. He’ll stop at nothing.”
He nodded but again stayed strangely quiet.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“What is it, ángel?”
“Are vampires real?”
Ryder stared at her for so long, that for a moment, she didn’t think he’d answer. Maybe he thought her certifiable. Hell, the idea of vampires being real was certainly insane in her book.
“What do you remember, Gabby?”
“I remember Sergio and Luis fighting and Luis falling to his death. I remember Sergio plotting to kill you and blaming you for Luis’s death.” She paused, looking at the wooden decking, toying with a knot in the wood with her big toe. “I remember seeing you on the balcony railing, and being unsure of how you got there.”
She glanced up. “I remember you looking different, and yet you were still you. But mostly? I remember your fangs. Tell me I’m crazy, Ryder.”
Ryder peered down the beach to several other cottages squatting along the coast. Families milled about, playing in the surf, kids making sandcastles. He grimaced, then looked back at her.
“You aren’t crazy, ángel.”
She sucked in oxygen. “You’re a vampire? Then you’re dead? And that’s why the bullet to your chest didn’t kill you.”
He smiled, though it wasn’t the smile she had grown accustomed to. This one seemed tinged with sadness, as if he knew they had no future. And maybe they didn’t. Maybe she needed to do what was best for both of them and go home. So why did her heart hurt so damn bad?
“I’m not dead, nor do I sparkle in the sunlight. I don’t have rotting flesh and I don’t sleep in coffins during the day. Sunlight”—his hands indicated the daylight—“doesn’t turn me ash, though I may burn easier than most, and garlic does nothing for me. That’s all part of the fictional vampire you’ve read about.”
“You drink blood?”
He nodded. “It’s what keeps me alive.”
Gabby rubbed the side of her neck. “Have you…?”
One of his brows shot up. “I assure you, I haven’t taken any of yours. I would have asked your permission first, Gabby.”
“We made love.”
“We did.” His smile grew a bit naughty. “As I recall, you did give your permission for that and you quite enjoyed yourself.”
She couldn’t argue. “Then where do you get your blood?”
“For the most part, we have donors. Women who belong to a society that gladly offers us sustenance.”
“You don’t kill them … do you?”
“There is no need to drain them. We take only what we need. Trust me, it doesn’t hurt them in the least. As a matter of fact, it can be quite pleasurable.”
“Do you eat regular food?”
He shrugged. “I can and even enjoy it, but it does nothing for me. I have to drink blood if I’m to stay alive.”
She nodded again, not sure she fully understood. There was just too much to process and her head was already spinning. “Are there others?”
“Yes. From where I come from.”
“Does anyone else know about you?”
He rubbed a hand down his jaw. She could tell he wasn’t comfortable with her questions even if he answered them. “No one other than the donors who are sworn to secrecy. If others knew, we would be hunted down and killed. Think about it, Gabby. Even now you look at me differently. You fear me and you have to know that I would never harm you.”
Gabby thought about it. Ryder was still the same man she had fallen in love with. The only difference was the whole vampirism thing. Well, to be honest, that was a pretty big thing.
“Where do we go from here?”
“That’s up to you, ángel. You can either go home once it’s safe … or you can come with me to Oregon. Either way, I’m not safe here. You said yourself that Raúl will stop at nothing to see me dead.”
She tugged her lower lip between her teeth, torn with doing what was right and what she wanted. While her heart chose Ryder, her head knew he’d never
be safe with her. They would always need to be one step ahead of her uncle. It would never end.
“I should probably go home.”
His face darkened and his lips turned down. Surely her admission hadn’t wounded him, had it? Was it possible he loved her, too?
“As you wish. I’ll see that you get home safely.”
“What do you want, Ryder?”
He tilted his head toward the sandy deck beneath his feet, hiding his expression. “What I want is to keep you safe. That’s all that really matters to me.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
He glanced up and crossed the distance between them. She could see in the way he looked at her that he cared. But did that mean love?
“If I knew I could keep you safe from your uncle … fuck, Gabby, I’d never let you go. But at this moment, I can’t promise you that. I can promise, though, that I’d die trying.”
“See? And that’s why I can’t go with you. Like it or not, Ryder, and as crazy as it all seems with this whole vampire thing, I’ve fallen in love with you. I can’t go with you and allow my uncle or his men to harm you. Maybe, once I talk to Uncle Raúl…”
“You have to know, ángel, he won’t change his mind about me, not for you or anyone.”
She nodded, knowing Ryder was correct. Her only way to protect him was to leave him. “Then I need to go home. But before I find a way back to La Paz, tell me … do you love me?”
Ryder looked at her as if he meant to deny her. But instead, he gripped the back of her head and slanted his lips over hers, kissing her in what felt like desperation. And yet, it still wasn’t an admission. Gabby clung to his arms, hating with every fiber of her being that she may never see him again. She kissed him with passion and need. Vampire or not, she still loved this man.
When he set her away, tears streamed down her face. Gabby wished things could be different, wished her guardian was anyone but the man who had raised her.
Instead of making a fool of herself and begging Ryder to go on the run with her, she asked, “Can I borrow your cell? I’ll make arrangements for someone to come pick me up in town.”
Ryder (Sons of Sangue Book 6) Page 19