Authors: Patricia A. Rasey
And she did, but she had to ask anyway. “Have you ever killed anyone?”
“Yes, a man. Never a woman.” He paused, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come. Then he said, “And not because I’m a vampire. One of the Sons’ old ladies had wandered away at a biker rally. Not the smartest thing to do, but she didn’t fear being hurt as no one with a lick of sense would touch someone belonging to us, but she was attacked. The man beat the shit out of her after he fucked her in every way possible. He left her for dead, thought the Sons would never find out. She lived for a short while, long enough to tell us who did it. It’s not pretty what I did to the man. So don’t ask. Just know he no longer draws a breath. If I’ve killed, Mia Bella, and I have, it’s always justly deserved. Does that shock you?”
“No.”
“Does it frighten you?”
“You scare the living hell out of me, Viper.”
“Why?”
“Not because you’ve taken a life. Not because of what you are. But because I fear one day you’ll be correct and I won’t be able to resist you.”
Kane stepped closer, his hand palming her cheek. “Lord, I hope not,” he whispered and lowered his head, his lips claiming hers.
It wasn’t a sweet, chaste kiss, but a total possession of her mouth. His kiss told her what his body desired, leaving no doubt where they were headed if she allowed him to continue. Just thinking about Kane doing to her what she had only dared to dream, numbed her limbs. Her grip slipped on her Merlot she had brought with her from the club and the glass fell to the tiled end table, shattering. Cara gasped, stepped back from Kane and reached for the broken shards, the pieces cutting into the flesh of her palm in her clumsiness. Red blood oozed from the wound and ran down her palm and between her fingers. Kane seized the injured hand before she could snatch it back and took it to his lips. His tongue wrapped each finger, licking the red fluid before moving to the deep cut on her palm.
Cara’s heart beat heavy in her chest, not from fright but from a craving so strong it scared the hell out of her. The act of Kane suckling her blood was ecstasy in its purest form. The sweet sting of the wound as his tongue touched it caused her to suck in more air as her legs threatened to give out. She had to get as far away from Kane as possible before she did something incredibly stupid like draping herself around a vampire and telling him to take what he hungered for.
Problem was, she wasn’t certain if he’d fuck her or bite her.
That last thought had her snatching her hand from his clasp, cradling it to her chest, and running from the room, not stopping or looking back until she reached the safety of her car. Cara sat heavily into the driver seat, willing her breath to return to normal before considering the depth of the wound. Surely, she’d need to get stitches. But when she opened her palm, holding it near the interior lamps of her car for a better view, only a thin red line remained. The wound had miraculously closed.
* * *
“Alec, you stupid idiot! You fucking imbecile!” came the irate screech through his cell as he pulled the phone from his ear. How dare she resort to name-calling after all he had done. And for what? Love?
Hardly
, he snorted! Maybe a few good pieces of ass.
“Careful, darling. I might be tempted to come back to Italy tonight and allow you to clean up your own fucking mess.”
“How stupid of you to threaten the woman detective! I want to destroy everything Kane Tepes has worked for. I don’t want him knowing a moment’s peace. The goal here is to take him down, get his brothers to start questioning him as the Sheriff’s Office closes in on their number one suspect. I want them to turn on him, remove his Pres patch, toss him as a member. They need to be convinced he’s guilty, going off the deep end and draining these women. The Sons will never believe he threatened that lady detective when he trails her like a dog looking for a bitch in heat!”
He could hear her intake of breath, could easily imagine her standing there, hands on hips, glaring at the ceiling, wanting to wring his regal neck.
“Look, what I did will make the cops think the President of the Sons wants this all to go away, which would mean that Kane would want Brahnam dead. And hopefully, his brothers will draw the same conclusion. The end result will be the same: Kane will be exiled, and you’ll be once again happy. If that is indeed possible.”
He knew she paced the large expansive bedroom they shared, fuming that he hadn’t followed her every directive, daring to set out on a plan of his own devising. She fascinated yet frustrated him to no end. He had committed to memory her every nuance, the way she ate, the way she moved, the little temper tantrums she threw. No love was shared between them, only the shared desire for power.
Together they were a force to be reckoned with. Any vampire would fear them, and rightly so. They were both primordials, originals, but Rosalee came from the very loins of Vlad Tepes’ brother’s last wife, making her the much stronger of the two. Vlad’s offspring hadn’t been so lucky, their blood watered down over the years, leaving Kane and Kaleb the closest living relatives, many years removed. Alec had been turned by one of Vlad Tepes’ now dead spawns, which gave him the title original, though he was not an actual relative on the Tepes’ family tree.
So for the time being, he humored Rosalee. After all, the perks were well worth it. No one fucked with, or like, Rosalee. The woman was an animal in the sack and out of it. He usually bore the claw marks to prove it. And when Rosalee wanted something, she could become downright insatiable. He grew hard just thinking about fucking her from behind, his fangs buried deep into the flesh of her shoulder.
Rosalee wanted Kane Tepes ruined, so much so it bordered on the obsessive. He could care less the reasoning behind it, just knowing Kane and Rosalee were once an item, was enough for him. Alec could have easily come to the states and ended the bastard’s life upon his first sighting, But Rosalee had expressed her desire that he live. The younger vampire was no match for a primordial. His powers well-surpassed that of Kane’s, but Rosalee had been adamant about making the bastard squirm. Who was he to deny her the pleasure? Besides, killing Kane was too easy. He’d rather watch him suffer.
“Alec? Are you listening to me?” came the shrill accusation, bringing his focus back to the phone call. “You know how I can’t stand it when you aren’t paying attention.”
He rolled his eyes and released his breath. She could be exasperating at times. “My dear Rosalee. Of course I am listening. You want Kane Tepes disrespected and ruined. What more do I need to know?”
She harrumphed.
“Look, how about you don’t worry about what methods I use and I won’t question your reasoning? I’ll see that Kane Tepes loses everything he holds dear in life and you can finally feel vindicated.”
Chapter 9
Lord, what the hell had he done?
Drinking from a non-donor was strictly forbidden and against club rules. Technically speaking, it was just a taste, nothing of real substance. At least that’s what Kane tried to convince himself. If the rest of his brothers found out, there would be certain consequences. Rules had been put in place to protect his kind. And since first laying eyes on Cara some ten years back, he had been breaking those rules. Starting with allowing her to remember what she had witnessed in the bathroom at the Rave. He should have hypnotized her, taken her memory of him away … but after following her into the night, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Kane wanted her to remember. The Sons had recently found out about that slight and allowed it to pass without penance, likely since Cara had kept their secret thus far. That and his promise to make sure she continued to keep it.
If they found out he had tasted her blood, suckled the wound, they’d be forced to call a meeting. President or not, his actions should have disciplinary actions. Kane had been reckless and he should be held accountable, as any other member would be. For now, he’d stay quiet about his latest discrepancy, keep his fangs to himself, and stay the hell away from Detective Brahnam. Because one small sample of her exotic blood had him craving another sip like wine to a wino.
“We got issues, Viper,” Alexander said as he entered the clubhouse meeting room where Kane sat by himself at the large table that sat fourteen, staring out the double-paned window overlooking the Siuslaw River.
He shook off his musings and looked up, the hair at his nape bristling. Something told him whatever Alexander had to say wasn’t going to be good. “What’s the problem, Xander?”
Raking a hand through his long black hair, Alexander stopped before the long wooden, hand-carved table, leaning forward and bracing his hands on the worn wood. “Knights are in town.”
Kane’s brows knit together as he stood. His nape continued to tingle, a trait he and his brother shared when trouble lurked around the corner. The Knights were a rival club and had not asked for permission to enter the Sons territory. No doubt the Knights were up to no good.
“What the hell are they doing in Pleasant? And why am I just now hearing about this?” he roared. Kane overreacted due to his earlier musings. But at the moment he didn’t give two shits who was on the receiving end of his morose mood.
Alexander stood, crossing his arms over his massive chest. “What do you mean? I’m telling you now.”
“We should have known well before the Knights hit town. Who was on watch? What the fuck are we getting? Lax? I want to know when they cross the fucking state border.”
The six-foot tall biker ran a hand through his black hair again, looking as though he wanted to tell Kane to go fuck himself, but thought better of it. “I’ll grab Blondy, Wheezer, and Kinky. We’ll ride out and see what they’re up to.”
“Where the hell is my brother?”
Alexander cleared his throat, clearly agitated by Kane’s tirade. “I’m not sure. Last I knew, I wasn’t his keeper.”
Kane walked around the desk and pushed the curtains further aside, peering out at the cloudless night. A sliver of the moon stared back at him and reflected off the rolling river. Damn it, he knew exactly where Hawk was, likely ramming into some willing bitch. “I saw him earlier at the Rave.”
Kane allowed the curtain to fall back into place as he turned and looked at his comrade. “I’ll go.”
“We need to retrieve, Hawk … the Sons’ business is top priority. He’ll want to be there.”
“We aren’t sure what the hell the Knights are up to yet. The five of us will ride out. Go get Blondy, Kinky and Wheezer. Tell them to meet me out front.”
“Hawk would want to be there. He’s VP.”
“He’s twenty minutes out at best. I’m not waiting for him. Are you questioning my judgment?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then get the other three and meet out front in five.”
Alexander nodded, then trotted out of the office. Kane saw the excitement in the younger vampire’s eyes. The Sons were always ready for a good fight, especially if it meant spilled blood. Kane’s eyes warmed at the thought, but it wasn’t the Knights’ blood he desired. Damn the little detective to hell for making him desire something taboo.
“Shit,” Kane cursed as he grabbed his cut off the back of the chair and shoved his arms into his vest. Tonight he’d have answers or bloodshed. One or the other. And given his present mood, he’d much rather have the latter.
* * *
The wind rustled Kane’s hair beneath his skull cap as he leaned into the curves of Highway 126 at a high rate of speed, heading past Cox Creek to the outskirts of town. His motorcycle cut flapped behind him, the unseasonable warm weather dampening his tank, molding it to his sweat-slicked back. Anger simmered beneath his skin … furious that the Knights would dare to disrespect the club’s domain, annoyed that Kaleb wasn’t at his right side and indubitably getting a piece of ass, and mostly pissed at himself for even allowing his desire for Cara to become a cock block to him in the first place.
Christ, he was spoiling for a good fight.
He hoped to hell the Knights didn’t have a good reason for crossing into Sons’ territory, giving him the excuse to throw the first punch. The rival MC had been spotted gassing up at Riley’s Gas Station and Dairy Mart on the edge of town. An adjacent picnic area had been set up for patrons, complete with shelter house, awnings and tables. Those tables were where they found the Knights lounging. As he drove into the parking area, gravel crunching beneath his tires, Kane wondered what the hell brought them to Pleasant. His brothers’ Harleys followed him into the lot.
Kane brought his bike to a stop, kicked his centerstand down, and easily stepped over the seat of his bike. He took his skull cap off and let it dangle from the handle bars as the president of the Knights rose to greet him. The rest of the Knights stayed their positions. There were ten in all, leaving the Sons out-numbered at the moment. Kane wouldn’t think twice about picking a quarrel with two to one odds. He knew their strength outmatched the Knights and they didn’t stand a chance should a fight break out. Kane narrowed his gaze, stopped before the six-foot-two president and crossed his arms over his chest. The pres sported weathered, tanned skin, no doubt from spending hours on the road and leading a hard life of alcohol abuse. His mouth made a grim slit across his face, barely noticeable through the heavy dark-red beard that reached the center of his chest. The Knights were a long way from their home turf of Seattle, Washington, about three-hundred-and-fifty miles south of it.
“Mind telling me your business in Pleasant?” Kane asked, not really caring about the reason. Truth was Pleasant was Sons’ territory and to come here without permission meant you were looking to scrap. Kane would be all too happy to oblige.
“I don’t want trouble,” the president said, one hand toying with the tail of his long beard, which looked pretty grimed from the road. Kane wondered about the last time the man had graced a shower.
“If you’re just passing through, then I suggest you get back on your motorcycles and keep moving. Next time you’re in the area, I advise circling Pleasant or I might not be so courteous.”
A smile split the muscular man’s beard. Kane knew by his size he’d be a worthy opponent, though the man wouldn’t stand a fighting chance with Kane’s enhanced strength.
“I need a favor.”
“A favor?” One of Kane’s brows arched north. Being a rival gang, Kane had serious doubts he’d want to grant it. “What could you possibly want from the Sons?”
“We have some guns coming in via Florence. We need your permission to cross through Pleasant on a monthly basis. You’re a straight shot for us from Interstate 5 to Florence. It’s the easiest and quickest route.”
“So you want our permission to run guns through our town?” Kane chuckled, then looked at his men still seated on their motorcycles behind him. None of them so much as smiled. He sobered his expression and returned his attention to the Knight. “You are either incredibly stupid or extremely vain to think we would allow you to bring that kind of trouble across our doorsteps.”
“Hear me out.”
“I’m listening.”
“We need to run through your town. Allow it and run a distraction, and I’ll see you profit.”
Kane didn’t need the added attention of the Knights driving through Pleasant monthly, not to mention the law taking notice and come down on the Sons for not holding up their end of the bargain of keeping all illegal activity and violence outside city limits. The Knights no doubted counted on the Sons’ relationship with the locals to get them to turn the other cheek.
“So what’s in it for us?”
“Ten percent.”
Kane chuckled again, rubbing his temple with the tip of his middle finger. “Not even worth my time. Besides, you’re potentially bringing violence within our city’s limits, which we promised to keep out of Pleasant. That directly breaks our agreement with the Sheriff’s Office.”
The man was low-balling him and Kane knew it.
“Fifteen percent and we’ll stay off the main streets.”
The added income would be beneficial to the Sons as well as give them an alliance with the Knights, should they need one.
“Forty percent and you don’t ride through Pleasant, but around it. You keep to the outskirts and don’t ride before midnight.”
The cover of night would be more beneficial to the Sons. Daylight posed too many problems and would draw unwanted attention.
“Forty-percent is bullshit and you know it.”
“You came here asking for my help.”
The president rubbed his beard as he stared at the gravel beneath his boots for long moments. Kane wasn’t about to back down. His was a take-it-or-leave-it kind of offer. The income would be a bonus and a lucrative deal without much effort on their part, but he wasn’t about to borrow trouble for little benefit.
Kane closed the gap, forcing the shorter man to gaze up, his expression grim. The rest of the Knights stood, ready to hit the dirt should the red-bearded man give the order. Behind Kane, the gravel crunched as his brothers left their Harleys and stood at his back.
“Don’t insult me by offering less than forty percent. You want to run guns near Pleasant, then you’ll give me what I ask. And,” he paused, knowing the next request wouldn’t be as easily won, “you give your allegiance to the Sons.”
“Hell no.” The man spat at Kane’s feet, then wiped the remaining spittle off his beard with the back of his hand. “The Knights will not align themselves with any other MC.”
Kane shrugged, turned his back and headed for his Fat Bob. “Suit yourself.”
“The Knights aren’t a puppet club.”
Turning on his heel, Kane retraced his steps, leaving mere inches between their noses. “I’m not giving you a choice. You run guns through my territory, then you agree to an allegiance. Nothing happens with the Knights that doesn’t go through the Sons first. In return, the Sons will have your back as well. If you don’t agree, then you best not be seen in Pleasant or Oregon for that matter. Oregon is our state. No MC rides through it without our consent or an allegiance to us. If that makes you a puppet club, then consider yourselves lucky. Otherwise, no deal and you won’t be running your guns through Oregon.”
“At a mighty high price.”
“It’s a high risk. We may have the Sheriff’s Office keeping out of our business, but the state dicks don’t look the other way where we’re concerned. So if you don’t like it, then take your business elsewhere and stay the hell out of Oregon or we will go to war over this.”
The president glared at Kane for a moment, then said, “Other than forty percent, what’s in this for you? Why the fuck do you want our allegiance to you?”
“We have an issue that may become a problem down the road.” Kane wasn’t about to tell him about the primordial, but they might need an extra hand keeping an eye on things … or better yet an eye on Cara. Like it or not, her life had been threatened and Kane couldn’t keep her in his sights twenty-four-seven. “Should we need your help, you’ll be there, no questions asked.”
After a long pause, Kane thought the man might reject him outright when he stuck out his hand. “The name is Red. You have my word that the Knights will be in allegiance with the Sons. You need us, you call.”
“The name’s Viper.” Kane shook his hand. “You run your guns at night and skirt the city. We’ll make sure the Sheriff’s Office turns a blind eye. After every run, I’ll expect the forty percent in cash. Should you run into trouble,” he withdrew a card from his motorcycle cut breast pocket and handed it to Red, “you call this number. You double cross me and you die. Don’t make the mistake of playing me or the Sons for a fool.”
“You have my word,” Red said, tucking the card in his vest pocket, handing Kane one of his own.
With that, Red turned and headed for his Harley, motioning for the Knights to follow suit. Kane and his brothers watched the MC ride back down Highway 126, their rockers, the circular patches on their cuts that told other bikers their MC affiliation and what chapter they belonged to, and taillights fading into the distance. Kane turned, headed for his Fat Bob, swung a leg over the seat and looked at Anton.