Rogue (Sons of Sangue Book 4) (2 page)

He scratched his whiskered chin. “I doubt he’ll be too happy to hear you left these boys on their own.”

“They aren’t fucking kindergartners. You tell them boys if they give me cause, I’ll give them a beat down when I return.”

“What do you want me to tell Tank?”

“I don’t give a fuck. For all I care, you can tell him I have a piece of ass I need to attend to.” Which brought one woman to the forefront of his mind.

Kimber James
.

All legs and tits large enough to make a grown man’s mouth water.

He always had been a breast man, and Kimber certainly had more than her fare share.
Pillows from heaven.
Too bad she’d no doubt rather take on a pit of vipers than bed his sorry ass again.

He shook his head at the injustice.

Being Mr. Nice Guy had gotten him on the fast track to nowhere.

His former best friend hated him and had mated with the one woman Anton thought he could be happy spending the rest of his days with. Tamera Cantrell, though, wasn’t meant for Anton as much as he might’ve envisioned at one time. She belonged with Grayson “Gypsy” Gabor, no matter how much Anton had hoped otherwise.

Which brought him back to Kimber James.

The last time Anton had seen her, he had all but run her cute little derriere out of his house, while she cursed the ground beneath his feet. The motorcycle cut he wore over his white tank weighed heavy, damning him for the very thing she detested.

Her parting words mocked him.
“Too bad. I really thought you might be one of the good guys.”

Yeah, well so did he. Anton turned the key to his motorcycle and gassed the engine. With a final nod to Bobby, he turned the big bike around in the parking lot and aimed it north. With any luck, he’d leave California behind in a few short hours and be back on familiar turf.

First stop?
The Blood ‘n’ Rave. He could certainly use one of the blood donors the barkeep, Draven, had hand selected for the secret society that fed the Sons of Sangue. He’d have to use the back door to keep any of his fellow MC brothers from seeing him. Even though his entire life at the moment was a ruse, the rest of his brothers actually believed him to be a traitor.

Tightening his hands on the rubber grips of his sixteen inch ape hangers, he pulled back on the gas and buried the needle of his speedometer. The taller handlebars aided in a more comfortable ride for someone of his height. Comfort was certainly key with the long ride he had ahead of him. Anton planned to lay his head on his pillow at his farmhouse on the coast before the sun rose over the Pacific.

* * *

The faint, familiar sound of a motorcycle approaching caught Kimber James’s attention as she watered her soft pink heirloom roses she had cultivated off her back porch. She couldn’t help the ache sneaking up and taking a hold of her heart. At one time she had fashioned herself very much in like with the large blond mechanic. So much so, she had easily fallen into his arms.
Not to mention his king-sized bed.
In truth, it hadn’t taken much effort on his part to seduce her.

Too bad she had been nothing more than one night’s entertainment.

Lord, she hated regrets.

Anton Balan was a crude, foul-mouthed biker. She had no business entertaining fantasies with him as the major player. And a player he was. He had played her like a violin.

Kimber couldn’t help the small smile from surfacing at the remembrance. Okay, so she had thoroughly enjoyed every moment spent in his bed. Anton had been a consummate lover. He had taken his time to make sure she had enjoyed the act, if not more so than he had. A blush warmed her cheeks. Not that she had a lot of experience with men. He certainly hadn’t been her first, but he
had
been the only man to have ever given her the big O.

Too bad he turned out to be someone she was better off not associating with, because she wouldn’t have minded a repeat performance. Anton Balan was a walking, talking sex machine who knew his way around the bedroom. Just thinking about his hands on her flesh sent a shiver down her spine and an ache to her groin.

Now all she had left were memories.

But oh, what good memories they were.

Following Anton’s send-off a little over a year ago, she had tried dating again, slept with a couple of men, but neither had measured up to the sizzling hot blond biker, leaving her with more regrets.

Damn the man for giving her a night she couldn’t wipe from her memory, no matter how she had tried. He’d become the world’s biggest asshole. So instead of winding up with a long list of failed dates, she poured herself into her job as head librarian at the Florence Library. At twenty-eight, she had plenty of time to find a man … once she managed to purge her gorgeous neighbor from said fantasies. Envisioning his handsome face and gym-perfect body while he sat astride his Harley Davidson wasn’t helping matters. Put simply, the man oozed sex from every pore.

Unable to curb her curiosity, she shut off the water and skirted her rose garden. Clearing the side of the house, Kimber caught sight of the large man astride his bike just as he turned into his driveway. Even as far away as she stood, she didn’t miss the slight turn of his head, as if he had felt her presence. Another shiver washed over her. Sun rays glinted off his aviator style sunglasses.

No sense hiding the fact she had been spying. Instead of waving, though, she gave him her back and returned to the garden. She couldn’t help the quickening of her pulse, but she damn well could keep from doing anything about it.

Just as she reached for her watering hose, her phone rang.

Kimber jogged up the back porch steps and grabbed her cell lying on the table to her patio set. At a glance, she saw it was one of her coworkers, making her wonder if everything at work was okay. She certainly hoped Tena wasn’t calling to ask her to take her shift. Even though Kimber would oblige, as usual, she had been looking forward to the long weekend.

“Hey, Tena.” Kimber brushed her wet hand on her jeans. “What’s up?”

“I have a huge favor to ask.”

“Let me get dressed. I can be at the library within the half hour.”

“What? Oh, no.” She heard Tena chuckle. “I’m already here and just about to clock in. That’s not why I called.”

Kimber’s brow creased. Tena didn’t normally call her out of the blue unless it was work related. “What can I do for you then?”

“There’s this guy I met. He’s hot as hell.”

“That’s awesome, Tena.” Kimber chuckled. Her younger colleague seemed to find a “hot as hell” guy monthly, though this was the first time she had called Kimber about it. “So what does this have to do with me?”

She heard the hesitation in Tena’s voice and couldn’t help thinking she wasn’t going to like what the younger girl was about to ask. “The Blood ‘n’ Rave is the place to be on the weekends. And … everyone’s busy tonight…”

“Except for me,” Kimber finished for her. Was she truly that much of an introvert?

“You have to admit, Kimber, you rarely go out in the evenings. It’s not like us girls and Chad haven’t invited you before, but you say no more than you say yes.”

Yep, she had definitely become an introvert.

Kimber had gone only on a rare occasion to the nightclubs with her coworkers, and Chad, being in favor of the same sex, loved to hang with the girls from work. The Blood ‘n’ Rave, though, pushed the boundaries of where she was willing to go for a drink. Murphy’s Tavern was more her style. From her knowledge, most of those hanging at the Blood ‘n’ Rave were either ravers or the local outlaws, Sons of Sangue. Which brought Anton back to the forefront of her thoughts. The Sons of Sangue were a rival gang of the Devils. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about running into her sexy-as-sin neighbor while at the nightclub.

“Kimber?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Tena. I don’t know.”

“Please? I don’t want to go alone and I know he’ll be there.” Her sympathetic tone had Kimber already caving to the request.

Damn
.

Kimber needed to learn the word
no
. Even when it came to work, everyone knew to ask her if they wanted to call off. Her coworkers took advantage of her regularly, not that she really minded. Kimber loved her job. There was nothing better than the smell and feel of books. They had kept her company many lonely nights. Took her places she couldn’t otherwise afford to travel.

“Pretty please?” Tena broke into her reverie. “This might be the future mister to my missus. You wouldn’t want to be the reason I missed meeting Mister Forever-and-Always, would you?”

Kimber took a deep breath before slowly releasing it, knowing she would no doubt regret —
damn them regrets
— her decision. Not wanting to stand in the way of what could be true love, unlikely as it was, she sighed. “What time?”

“Oh, Kimber, I could kiss you.” Tena giggled. Kimber could easily imagine her dancing about the library’s break room. “After work. I can meet you in the parking lot at nine.”

“You best not leave me standing.”

“I’ll be there. Promise.”

Kimber smiled in spite of her reluctance to go within a hundred yards of the place. “Now if I can figure out what to wear.”

“Just don’t wear white. You’ll glow like a beacon under the black lights. Okay, got to get to work. See you at nine,” Tena said and the cell went dead.

She laid the phone on the table and stared at it for long moments. Kimber stifled a groan. Those regrets were already settling in.

The setting sun cast an orange glow over the horizon as Anton pulled his bike to a stop on the gravel lot located behind the Blood ‘n’ Rave and killed the engine. Being shortly after nine, ravers were starting to pour into the nightclub. The muffled sounds of industrial music spilled into the parking lot, the loud bass thumping against his chest. He used his boot heel to kick down the kickstand before disembarking.

A sense of nostalgia washed over him.

He missed coming here, hanging with his brothers and the camaraderie they shared. His heart weighed heavy. Pulling off his skull cap, he hung the helmet from one of the handle grips and finger-combed his still-damp hair. Anton looked across the lot and the many cars illuminated by the streetlights, wishing like hell he could turn back time. He couldn’t help wonder if this job hadn’t cost him far too much. He still would’ve agreed to help Cara, for that he held no contrition, but not to keep the secret from his brothers.

Had he been able to turn back the clock, he wouldn’t agree to keep the MC in the dark. Their hate of him was almost too much to bear. Not to mention they actually thought him capable of such a betrayal.

Upon arrival to his home turf, Anton had headed straight for his farmhouse in much need of a shower, removing the grime and dust from his long ride up the coast, and for a fresh set of clothes. He had felt her presence the moment he hit his driveway as surely as if her fingers had tickled up his spine, raising the goose flesh on his arms. Kimber James had stood at the corner of her house, her gaze locking with his. Instead of acknowledging his return, she had simply given him her back and walked out of sight around the corner of her quaint little farmhouse. Not even so much as a wave.

Anton grimaced.

Good.

No matter what his libido might have to say about the little librarian, she was off-limits. He had a job to do and he’d see it through to the end. Anton wasn’t about to put Kimber in danger with the cartel or the Devils because he desired to have her long legs wrapping his waist. If the men he now associated with even so much as got wind he was working with the cops, they wouldn’t hesitate to go after someone he cared about.

Like it or not, Kimber definitely fell into that category.

Which was reason enough to keep his distance.

No way in hell could he travel down that road with someone who didn’t know of vampires’ existence, not to mention that according to Sons of Sangue law she was not mate material. Only donors could become mates. Using his key to unlock the back door of the Rave, Anton stepped into the dim interior of the storeroom, his eyes easily adjusting. Draven had thought it best if Anton used the rear entrance to steer clear of the Sons — the barkeep no more privy to his undercover work than the rest of his brethren. Cara had made it clear, for all those involved, the less who knew about his involvement, the safer everyone would be. Draven was the highest risk, since the Devils wouldn’t think twice about taking him out. Being mortal, he wouldn’t stand a chance should they decide he had outlived his usefulness.

Anton’s keen senses kicked in the minute he cleared the door. He scented Alexander and Grigore just beyond the door leading to the bar. They no doubt lounged there, knocking back whiskeys, which meant they were well aware Anton had arrived. He needn’t have to worry. They had been in the building at the same moment many times before. The Sons may not like him much at the moment, but they wouldn’t be cruel enough to deny him communion.

Over the past year, Anton had to rely on Draven either bringing donors down the coast, or making the long trek back, which wasn’t always the ideal situation. On occasion, he had used an outsider for nourishment, having to resort to hypnotism to wipe their memories clean of the intimate act. He much preferred using donors. Taking someone’s blood without their permission didn’t sit right with him. Though color it any way he like, survival was animalistic. One needed food to remain among the living and at times he had to resort to whatever means necessary. Anton had to make do with the situation presented to him, and traveling home to Oregon every three to four days would have raised suspicion with the Devils.