Rogue (Sons of Sangue Book 4) (9 page)

“What can I do for you…” Draven left the question hang, hoping she’d supply her name. Sweetheart would definitely work, for she was most certainly sweet.

“I was wondering if you could help me.”

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Brea, sir.”

Draven chuckled. “Stop. You’re ruining the fantasy. No one has ever accused me of being a gentleman. Call me Draven. Or, for that matter,
you
can call me whatever you want, other than sir. Got a last name?”

She looked away briefly. For a minute he thought she preferred to keep that part from him.
Anonymity.
He got it. After all, most didn’t know his last name.

“Gotti.”

“As in
the
John Gotti?” He found himself chuckling for the second time since she appeared before him. “Related to the late mobster, are you?”

She didn’t hide from the accusation meant as a joke. Instead, she looked him in the eye, her icy gaze holding his captive and answering his question.

Seriously?

Ah hell, what did he really care who her relatives were as long as she followed him up the stairs. Damn, he wanted to fuck this one in the worst way.

“My father’s father was a brother. They were in the family business together. My father took over when my great Uncle John died. I was never a part of it, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

What the hell. He only lived once. Why not live dangerously? After all, he was already in bed with the cartel. Add to that, fucking a mobster’s daughter. How much more trouble could he possibly get into? Draven noted the five stainless rings piercing each of her ears, three in the lower lobes and two higher up in the cartilage, making him ponder over the possibility she might have hidden ones. The pressure on the front of his already tight jeans increased. He couldn’t help wonder what she might think of his
Prince Albert
, the ring piercing his penis.

“What can I do for you, doll?” Her blue eyes rimmed black. His term of endearment apparently didn’t set well. “You’d prefer sweetheart?”

“Neither, if you must know. Look … Draven, I’m not here looking to get laid.”

“My loss.” Blunt and to the point. He liked that about her. Draven leaned back against the counter behind the bar and crossed his arms over his chest. “Want to tell me why you’re here at closing and why I shouldn’t just see you to the door?”

She blew out an unsteady breath. Something bothered her. He hadn’t noticed the trembling of her hands until now. Her arrival had actually taken the edge off his own case of nerves.

“I’m looking for someone. He didn’t come home tonight when he said he’d be early.”

Draven shrugged. “Guys lie all the time.”

“Not this one … not to me.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Brea worried her lip. He could tell she harbored secrets and warred with how much to reveal.

Leaning forward again, he braced his hands on the bar. “Look, Brea, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me who you’re looking for. You’re the one who sought me out, so obviously you think I can help.”

“Joseph Sala.” Moisture gathered in her eyes. “People call him Kinky.”

Her admission damn near knocked the breath right out of him. “How do you know Kinky?”

“You’re the one who provides donors for the vampires, correct?”

Damn, she knew more than she should for someone not a part of the society of women he recruited. “You want to tell me how you know about them?”

“Joseph told me if I were ever to get into trouble, I needed to come find you. That you would take care of me. He trusted you.”

“I’m not anyone’s babysitter. Not even someone as smokin’ hot as you, sweetheart.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

Her gaze narrowed and her irises turned black.
Shit!
An illusion due to the low lighting to be sure. Only vampire’s eyes became obsidian in appearance. “So what do you want from me?”

“Tell me where I can find Joseph and I’ll be on my way. He told me he was coming here. Did he go to the clubhouse?”

Draven grimaced. “You could say that.”

“What do you mean? He’s either there or he’s not.” She narrowed her gaze. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it. What’s happened, Draven?”

“You might want to take a seat first.”

“Tell me.” Her voice shook.

“Sweetheart, before I tell you anything, I need to know how you knew Joseph.”

“You can’t tell anyone.” Her slender legs had appeared ready to give out. She pulled out a stool and sat. When Draven nodded, she continued, “Joseph Sala is my mate.”

“You’re a vampire.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. Her eyes had given her away, even if he had at first refused to see it.

She leaned forward, placing her chin onto her palms, her elbows atop the bar. He could tell she was damn close to becoming a sobbing mess. “You can’t tell anyone, especially the Sons. Joseph would get into all kinds of trouble.”

“They don’t know?” Which explained why he had never seen her before and why Joseph frequently requested donors in pairs. Here he had thought the vampire liked his women in multiples, much like Grayson Gabor had before his mate came along and turned him into a family man.

She shook her head. “Joseph never told them. He was sure he’d never get the Sons’ permission to turn me, nor their approval of him and I being together.”

“Why?”

Draven was pretty sure if Joseph Sala had wanted a mate, the Sons would’ve approved unless they feared the woman would out them. After all, they had accepted Cara Brahnam, who wasn’t a part of the donor society and she was a detective for the sheriff’s office.

“I was pretty young when we met.”

“How young?”

“Seventeen. And before you jump to conclusions, Joseph never touched me until five years later. And even then, I had to seduce him.”

“You were twenty-two and Joseph was…”

“Ninety-five.”

“Only a couple of years difference.” Draven shook his head at the absurdity. Only a vampire would get so lucky at that age. “How did you become mated?”

“You already know Joseph was a pretty private man.” She toyed with the chipped black polish on her fingers, keeping her gaze from his. “He hung with the Sons, but they never came to our house. That’s because of me.”

“There would’ve been repercussions to be sure.”

“It’s my fault.” She glanced back up. “I loved him and I couldn’t bear to be without him. I begged him to turn me. I wanted to be with him the rest of our lives.”

“So why not go to the Sons? Ask for permission?”

Brea took in a deep breath. “I’m a Gotti.”

Draven rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. A sense of foreboding washed over him. He was pretty sure at this point, anything more she had to say wasn’t going to be good. After all, her secret was big enough that Joseph chose to keep her and their mating from his brethren, the men he trusted with his life. Apparently not entrusting them with Brea’s.

“And?”

“My father and grandfather got into business with the La Paz Cartel after my Uncle John passed away.”

Draven stepped back, every curse word he had ever learned tumbled from his lips. “Your grandfather knows Raúl Trevino Caballero?”

She nodded. “He’s been a guest at my family home many times over the years.”

“You’ve met him?”

Tears fell from her lashes. “He’s my godfather.”

He wiped a hand down his mouth and chin. “Fuck me.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a phrase.” Draven grasped the bottle of Jack and poured them each a tumbler. “I think we could both use this.”

Brea took the offered glass to her lips and quickly downed the amber liquid. She slid the emptied tumbler toward him. “Can I please have another?”

Draven quickly obliged. “Kinky knew all about this?”

Again, she nodded before downing another glass full. “That’s why he never introduced me to the Sons. They wouldn’t have given us permission to mate. That or he worried they would use my connection to bring down my godfather.”

“How long were the two of you mated?”

“Three years.” Her lips turned down, no doubt detecting his slip for the second time in referring to Joseph and their mating in the past tense.

“What’s happened, Draven? I can feel it in my bones. Something is not sitting right in here.” She tapped her sternum with his fingers.

“Kinky was gunned down tonight, Brea.” He gripped her hand on top the bar. “I’m sorry. Whoever did it knew what they were doing. He didn’t stand a chance. It was a kill shot.”

Brea’s lower lip trembled and more tears fell. “No. No…” She shook her head. Shaking fingers covered her lips. Her nose leaked. As he reached for a bar napkin she wailed, the sound cutting straight to his heart.

Draven knew, at that moment, he would do anything to protect the slight woman. No one could know of her existence. If the Sons found out, they would no doubt mate her to one of the single vampires or prospects. Women vampires were revered. Only through them were new male vampires born into population. They were to be protected at all costs and mated. Why Draven refused to let another mate with her, he wasn’t sure. But he’d be damned if he’d allow them to use her family connections to get close to her godfather. They wanted Raúl Trevino Caballero, then they could damn well do it on their own.

Or with his help
.

His job with the Devils and the cartel was far from over. Adding Brea into his already complicated life probably wasn’t the wisest of decisions. If Cara found out he harbored her, she’d be livid. If the Sons found out, they’d likely want his balls. If Brea found out he was working with the DEA to bring down her godfather, she’d no doubt take her chances on her own, leaving him and his fucked up mess in the dust.

Draven would be damned before he’d leave Brea Gotti to face this on her own or allow the Sons to use her in their desire to seek revenge. Joseph Sala entrusted her care to him for a reason. He wasn’t about to let the fallen vampire down.

No one would find out about Brea, even if he had to turn his back on the entire sting that had been set into motion over a year ago and disappear, taking her with him. Draven wasn’t about to allow harm to come to the sobbing mess before him. Walking around the bar, he pulled Brea from the stool and into his arms, smoothing a hand down her back.

“I’m so sorry about Joseph, sweetheart, but everything will be all right,” he whispered, placing a tender kiss atop her head. “I’ll make sure of it. You and your secrets will be safe with me.”

The cool night breeze ruffled Kimber’s crushed voile sheers, causing goose flesh to pop out along the flesh of her forearms. The fresh scent of salt air tickled her nose, the rocky Pacific coast not much more than a stone’s throw away. This far from town, she needn’t worry about leaving her windows open. Rarely did anyone travel down the one-lane road. She headed for the stairs, ready to call it a night. A late one at that. Following her mother’s regular Sunday fried chicken and twice-baked potatoes dinner, she had returned home and grabbed the latest novel of one of her favorite authors. Hours later, she found herself dozing in her recliner by the opened porch window, only to be awakened by the living room clock striking three. Four hours had passed and she now had a bit of kink in her neck as a result.

Thank goodness she worked the afternoon shift the following day and didn’t have to worry about crawling out of bed at the crack of dawn. She’d pull down her room-darkening shades and sleep until noon if she pleased. Kimber had been glad for the few hours of peace and quiet, after the last couple of days she had spent in the company of her neighbor.

She stepped onto the landing of the stairs, pulled back the curtains and glanced out the window facing Anton’s home. This late at night only blackness yawned back at her. The biker’s house sat a short distance away, completely dark. Either Anton had called it a night himself and gone to bed some time ago, or maybe he had already headed back down the coast to California.

The latter made her heart pang.

The thought of not seeing him for possibly months again shouldn’t bother her, but it did. More than she’d like to admit. He had looked damn fine sitting on her porch, conversing with her as if it were an everyday occurrence. She certainly wouldn’t mind his visits becoming more regular. The company had been nice, the view even better. Kimber thought maybe come morning, if Anton were still in Oregon, she’d invite him over for a little home cooking and a glass of wine or two one night this week … just as friends, of course.

The ache settling low in her abdomen and between her thighs called her a liar. She might fool Anton, but she wasn’t kidding herself. Her brain said friend. The rest of her, though, wanted more. Kimber might not like the idea of him packing his satchels and heading south, but she couldn’t be trusted around him either. Wicked thoughts took over her fantasies. In truth, it wouldn’t take much persuasion on his part to get her naked again.

Letting the drapes fall back into place, she headed for her master bedroom down the short hall. Knowing, for whatever reason, he also desired her wasn’t helping matters. Kimber walked through her bedroom door and flipped on the light in the en suite bathroom. The sudden illumination momentarily blinded her.