Rogue (Sons of Sangue Book 4) (35 page)

“I’ll tell my bartender to keep an eye on things—”

She shook her head. “Not even him, Draven.”

If they were to disappear, then they had to do so tonight, before anyone came looking for either of them. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Who will be my donor? You?”

He fought the urge to groan. “Yes, until we find you someone on the road you can hypnotize.”

Brea’s lips arched ever so slightly. “You hate feeding me that much?”

“Not when I’m wanting to fuck your brains out.” He pulled her to her feet. A quick glance at the clock told him the sun had already set. No one would see their hasty exit. “Let’s get on the road. We’ll decide where to once we put a lot of miles between us and Pleasant.”

“We can’t leave a paper trail. How will we live?”

“No problem.”

He walked over to a framed movie poster of Easy Rider and moved it. Quickly working the dial, he opened the safe. Draven grabbed several bands of hundreds, counting out a hundred thousand. He never little trust in banks. Opening a leather satchel, he deposited the money and closed the safe, replacing the movie poster back in its place.

Placing the strap over his shoulder, he turned to her and grabbed his keys from the desk. “Ready”

Brea took his offered hand and intertwined their fingers. “Kinky would thank you.”

He smiled, leaned down, and kissed her temple. “Not if I caved to my desires, he wouldn’t.”

Opening the back door, Draven took a quick glance in both directions before pulling her through the exit after him. He opened the car door and she slid into the leather seat on the passenger side, fastening her seat belt. Draven quickly skirted the car, climbed in behind the driver’s wheel, and started the engine. Putting the car into drive, they headed for the back drive on the lot. Good thing he filled his Camaro up with gas earlier, because he didn’t plan to stop until Oregon was far behind.

Hopefully, they’d have a solid plan before Raúl ever caught up with them.

The farmhouse was completely dark when Anton arrived home, not a single light glowed in any of the windows. He had noted the same as he drove by Kimber’s place moments ago. After being released from the sheriff’s office early in the afternoon, Anton had stopped by the clubhouse. Too damn much time had passed since he had been welcome and he had needed to unwind. Nothing like tossing back a few whiskeys with his brothers and letting the past year melt away. Kaleb had presented him with a new cut and patches.

Damn, but it felt good to be wearing Sons of Sangue colors again.

He noted his back door had been left unlocked, though not unusual this far out from town. Often times, Anton left it unsecured if he were making short trips. No one ever bothered the place. He couldn’t help but wonder if Bobby had packed his stuff and headed out, without so much as a word.

He hadn’t seen or heard from him since the early morning. Anton had trying calling his cell a few times, but the man was not answering his phone. Word had it the feds were still looking for Tank — the last Devil involved in the transportation and selling of the heroin to be apprehended. Cara had asked Anton and Draven to lie low until the Devils’ president was taken into custody. Anton wasn’t all that worried. Tank wouldn’t think about crossing over into Oregon territory without his MC to back him up.

No, he was more than likely on the run and several states away.

Walking into the kitchen, Anton flipped the light switch when the cell in his pocket trilled. He pulled out the phone, seeing Bobby’s name.

About damn time
.

Anton hit
TALK
. “I’ve been worried about you, man. Talk to me.”

“You sold out the Devils, dude. Not cool.”

“They were going to sell those drugs to school kids. Tell me that didn’t bother you, Preacher.” Silence greeted his comment. Anton didn’t need confirmation. He knew Bobby hated the idea. “Where the hell are you at?”

“Where you need to be apparently.” Shuffling sounds greeted him before he heard Bobby say, “Talk.”

The hairs at his nape rose.

“Anton, don’t do what they say—” Kimber said before she was cut off. Anton picked up on the sound of a struggle. His heart climbed up his throat.

“You need to come rescue your girlfriend, Rogue.”

“What the fuck are you doing with Kimber?” His fangs immediately punched through his gums. “You harm her—”

“You get your ass to the border, bring Tank his money or drugs, and he’ll let her walk.”

“You know fucking well I can’t do that, Preacher. I don’t have either. And unless you have some brilliant plan to get those things from the DEA, it isn’t going to happen.” Anton growled, his vampire self fully surfacing. “How about you bring her back here and I allow you and Tank to live?”

More shuffling could be heard, just before a loud crack, followed by Kimber crying out.

“What the—”
Jesus!
He was going to kill someone before the day was finished.

“Listen, man.” Preacher gained his attention. “We’re at the border. Little cafe off 101 called Last Stop Diner, just past Winchuck River.”

“I know the one,” Anton all but hissed, just before the line went dead.

He cursed a blue streak, attempting to reconnect the call to Bobby. No answer. Anton grit his teeth, feeling the ache all the way to his temples. It would take a miracle not to kill the lot of them when he got down there. He’d have to fight the urge with Kimber present. No good would come of him ripping the fuckers apart, limb from limb. If he gave into his desire for blood, it would only ensure he’d lose Kimber for good.

Just as he reached his bike, his cell vibrated in his hand. Anton answered the call. “This better be good, Preacher. Time’s a wasting.”

“Just get your ass down here, Rogue. I’ll make sure she stays safe.” The line went silent for a moment, then Bobby came back on. “I fucked up, man. I should’ve waited for you to be sprung and listened to your side. Instead, I followed Tank’s orders. He’s gone off the deep end.”

“What’s his plan?”

“I thought he just wanted to get his money back. After all it’s his ass on the line with the La Paz cartel. I understand that. Fuck, Rogue, I’m sorry. He’s planning on killing you and Kimber both. No survivors. And me too, for all I know.”

“Where’s he at now?”

“Sitting in a booth at the back of the diner. Cocksure. Look, I can’t be gone too long before my absence raises questions. Just get here as soon as you can and I’ll do what I can to get you and your woman out of here alive.”

“How many?”

“Tank and three others. Two are guarding the entrance. The other one is with him in the cafe.”

“Get back inside, Preacher. Don’t let that fuck touch her again.” Anton tasted his own blood as he bit down, his fangs puncturing the soft flesh of his inner lip. “I can be there in less than two hours if I don’t pass any cops along the way. Make sure she stays safe.”

“With my life,” he heard, just before the cell went silent.

Anton grabbed his helmet and shoved it onto his head. If Tank harmed one hair on Kimber’s head, the piece of shit wouldn’t live to see tomorrow.
Fuck that.
Tank wasn’t about to see tomorrow regardless.

* * *

Rain poured from the heavens. Mud, pine, and the scent of fresh rain wafted to his nose. Cara had left fifteen minutes prior. Kane sure in the hell hoped she pulled over if she hadn’t yet made it to the clubhouse. Visibility would be poor at best.

The downpour worked in his favor. He had sent Cara on an errand in hopes of flushing out Mircea. Had he told his mate about it, she never would’ve left him alone. Kane knew with the promise of heavy rains he’d be able to sneak up on Mircea before the jackass tried to blindside him.

If his distant relative gave him reason, Kane was prepared to take his ass down, regardless of what Vlad might think about it. He was not about to spend the next how many years looking over his shoulder and worrying about what Mircea might do to his mate. The primordial was just vindictive enough to take out Cara as a way of punishing Kane. And all because his crazy ass stepdaughter hadn’t listened to the point she pissed off the granddaddy of them all.

Vlad Tepes took shit from no one.

Least of all his brother’s stepdaughter.

He hadn’t thought twice about removing her head from her body. Something told him Mircea would be an entirely different story. After all, he was Vlad’s last living sibling. If Kane were to guess, he’d bet Vlad would do everything he could to spare the white belly’s life.

Not Kane.

He’d just as soon wipe the earth of the bastard and not have to ever worry about his threat again. It was time for the man to pay the piper. Kane wasn’t about to allow him to cause any more trouble with him, his mate, or his brothers a day longer.

Stepping around a large evergreen, he spotted Mircea standing beneath the protection of an overhang of one of the outer lying buildings behind his house, telling Kane he’d watched Cara leave. His sixth sense had told him Mircea had been out there watching, waiting, biding his time. And the hair raising at his nape had been correct. Kane had exited through the front and skirted the house through the surrounding woods. The rains easily masked his scent.

Ever since Cara had thought she scented a primordial behind the house, Kane had known the man watched and waited, biding his time. Kane hadn’t taken it lightly, even though he led Cara to believe he had. He was no fool and wasn’t about to take Mircea for one either.

Pulling a large hunting knife out of the sheath at the side of his pants, Kane waited for the perfect moment. His hair plastered to his head. Water collected on his lashes and dripped into his eyes. Mircea, the smug bastard, not once looked behind him. He was too focused on the back door in hopes Kane would exit. Mircea had no clue of the threat so close behind. In a matter of seconds, Kane would have his arm banding his chest and the knife at the old man’s throat.

Say your prayers, motherfucker. Better yet … save them. They won’t help you where you’re going.

Kane slipped into the clearing, careful not to alert Mircea with his footfalls. The rain pinged off the metal awning over his head. It wouldn’t be likely, he’d hear Kane’s approach even if he made a hell of a racket. The downpour definitely blessed him.

Just before he reached Mircea, the primordial turned his head. Too fucking late. Kane wrapped one arm about his chest, pinning his arms to his side, the other hand holding the razor sharp knife to the primordial’s neck. Kane’s fangs filled his mouth. Anger rolled off him in waves. He was a hairsbreadth away from slicing the elder’s throat.

To hell with what Vlad thought.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Mircea?” he hissed, close to the old man’s ear, increasing the pressure of the blade.

A trickle of blood skirted down his flesh before the wound quickly began healing itself. “Apparently, the same thing you’re here to do.”

“You lose, Mircea. You should’ve stayed in Italy.”

The elder didn’t bother testing Kane’s strength. Maybe he was waiting for the right opportunity. Too bad. Kane wasn’t about to give him one.

“You best do what you came out here to do, boy.”

“Or what?”

“Or your little mate will come home to find you without a head. You don’t act now, mark my words, I will.”

Just as Kane was about to do as Mircea suggested, Vlad strolled out of the forest as if he had all the time in the world. His black gaze fixed on the knife and his fangs told Kane the ruler was anything but calm.

“Put down the knife, Kane.”

It wasn’t a request. Vlad had issued him an order. To disobey would most certainly earn him retribution, no matter how much Mircea deserved to have his head separated from his neck.

Kane released him with a curse and shoved Mircea in Vlad’s direction. The rain continued to fall. Water ran from the woods and muddied the ground they stood on, making their footing precarious. Kane stayed beneath the awning, while Mircea and Vlad stood just beyond.

His grandfather fisted the back of Mircea’s shirt, keeping him from fleeing as the coward no doubt was wont to do. “Mircea’s my problem. And as such, I’ll take care of him.”

“To do what? Send him back to Italy?” Kane laughed, feeling none of the humor. “You know as well as I do that as soon as he’s out of your sight, he’ll be back. This little thing between him and me is far from over.”

Vlad bared his teeth. Great Grandfather was not used to being challenged. “You’ll take his life no more than I’ll allow him to take yours. He’s the last of my living siblings, Kane. He lives until I say otherwise. Have I made myself clear? Or do you dare challenge me again?”

Kane grit his teeth, hating that he had no other choice but abide by Vlad’s wishes. Why the hell couldn’t he go back to his damn island already? He growled his defeat. “I won’t challenge you, Grandfather. Until he disobeys your orders again, that is. Then all bets are off.”

“Vlad—” was all Mircea got out before Vlad turned, hit his sternum with the heel of his palm, and sent him flying across the yard. His back slammed against the trunk of a tree. Mircea crumbled to the base, groaning from the impact and most likely broken bones.