Kaleb chuckled, holding his palms up. "Whoa, not interested, bro. Not my type. Now you on the other hand … I was just thinking since Tab—"
"Don't even fucking finish it," Kane growled, clenching his jaw. Lord, he needed to feed. He had rarely gone three days without blood, and the fact he was nearing that timeline now, made his mood swing dark. Finding Tab dead meant he'd have to find communion the hard way. "I'm not your charity, Hawk. Besides, I'm not hard up enough to resort to fucking the law … literally."
Kaleb winked as he sat on the sofa across from Grayson. "Whatever you say, Viper."
Kane poured himself another shot and knocked it back. "She's a fucking cop, Hawk. Don't allow your dick to overrule your head."
Grayson turned his nose up and sniffed the air, as though inhaling a fresh-cut vein. "Bet she has some sweet ass blood."
"You too, Gypsy. Keep your fangs to yourself. Besides, you both know the rules: no one feeds on outsiders. You get a donor from the Rave."
The Blood 'n' Rave was started several years back in Florence by a vampire lifestyler, a term used for a wannabe, giving young impressionable kids and misfits of society a place to hang where they wouldn't be judged by their peers. Psychedelics and Ecstasy ran rampant along with neon colors, glow sticks, and industrial dance music. It was a diverse crowd that drew in the curious. The Blood 'n' Rave soon became the “it” place in Florence. It was easy for real vampires to hide among the lifestylers when so many of the hang-arounds dabbled in blood play. There were also those who knew the real thing existed among them. They began wearing tiny blood-filled vials on a leather cord or chain about their necks, signifying them as willing blood donors. A secret society of donors had been created, only the most trusted allowed in, giving vampires a safe anonymous way to feed.
"Yeah … and that gets fucking old, Viper. We haven't seen anything new at the Blood 'n' Rave in months. What if I want new? I'm not like you. I get bored easily."
"Then go fuck to your heart's content, Gypsy, just don't feed off them. Rules are rules."
"Fuck the rules."
Kane clenched his teeth. His tolerance was definitely wearing thin. "The rules aren't negotiable, nor to be blatantly disrespected. You want them changed, then bring it up at the next church meeting. Put it to a vote. Otherwise, you follow them without question or pay the consequences."
"Fuck you," Grayson grumbled as his boots hit the ground and he stood.
Kane knew the man walked a thin line of control. Grayson never was one to be boxed in by a strict set of rules. He marched to the beat of his own drum. If he felt like acting out, he did and worried about the aftereffect later. Where Kaleb could be irresponsible at times, he still stayed within the boundaries of the MC's rules. Some days, Grayson could be downright reckless and left the club mopping up after him, though no one could ever fault his loyalty. Gypsy was always the first one to back you in a fight and the last one left swinging.
Grayson let out a harrumph and headed for the back of the clubhouse about the time a knock came to the door, stilling all sound within. Even though Kane's instinct was to ignore the call, he knew it was best to get the confrontation over with … the sooner the better. He gave Grayson and Kaleb a look of warning, then headed for the door. He knew before opening it that the female detective stood on the other side. He could smell her and, hungry as he was, she smelled damn good. He had to fight to keep his canines from elongating.
The door swung soundlessly inward as he opened it to the caller. "Detective."
Kane saw the brief flash of anxiety in her eyes when her gaze collided with his before she quickly masked it. She squared her shoulders and tried to appear unfazed. It didn't work, his nostrils flared and he could smell fear on her.
"Kind of late for you to be out and about, isn't it?"
"Normally," she answered. "You going to invite me in?"
"That depends on what you want." Kane could think of all sorts of things he'd like her to reply, but he doubted they’d be of the same mind. "Dare I hope you came to party?"
Detective Brahnam rolled her eyes. "Come on, Mister Tepes. You and I both know we don't hang in the same circles, abide by the same rules."
His smile widened. "Touché. So what brings you to the skids, Detective?"
"Official business, I'm afraid." She held up a small note pad. "I have a few questions to ask you and your friends."
"Well, we wouldn't want to stand in the way of an investigation, now would we? Do come in." He stood back, holding the door for her. "Before you get any more soaked."
The detective stepped under the overhang and glanced back at her black Charger as her partner exited the passenger seat, flapping his phone shut as he jogged toward them. Of course she wouldn't have come on her own. Her, he could have easily tolerated; her partner would no doubt try his patience.
Detective Brahnam didn't wait for a second invitation once Detective Hernandez caught up. They both entered the clubhouse. Kane heard Grayson's growl, no doubt disapproving of her partner's presence as well. Kaleb never left his seat, nor did the smile leave his face. He certainly appeared to be the only one enjoying himself.
Kaleb sniffed the air. "Don't you just smell delicious."
Kane heard Detective Brahnam's slight intake of air, but she didn't allow Kaleb's comment to intimidate her. She walked over to him and nudged his crossed legs from the table until his booted feet thudded against the pine flooring. "Care to answer some questions?"
"I'm an open book." Kaleb chuckled, clearly amused. "Ask away."
"Where were you tonight?"
"I was here all night."
"Alone?"
Kaleb glanced at Kane. "No, the three of us haven't moved. We've been here all night, shooting pool and having a few beers." He turned his dark gaze back to her. "Why?"
"I have witnesses that say otherwise." She glanced at her notebook. "You and Kane were seen on your motorcycles out on North Fork Road earlier tonight. What were you two doing out that way?"
"We were enjoying the scenery."
Her facial expression told Kane she didn't believe Kaleb. Hell, he wouldn't have believed him either. "It's a pretty foggy night out there, and with the promise of rain I doubt your business had to do with sightseeing."
Kaleb laid his arms across the back of the sofa he sat on and crossed his booted feet back on the table. "Doesn't matter what you think, Detective. That's my statement." He used a finger to indicate what she should do. "Go ahead, write it down."
When she didn't do as told, he grabbed the pad and pen from her hand lightning quick. Detective Hernandez made a move, but Cara held out a hand to stop him. Kaleb wrote something on the pad, then handed it back.
As Brahnam read it, she nodded slowly, then looked at Hernandez. "Looks like we're done here. Kaleb Tepes can spell sightseeing. He even signed it. I'm impressed."
Detective Hernandez leaned down, his nose inches from Kaleb's and yet his twin never broke his smile. Kane knew better. He could feel Kaleb simmering beneath the surface with extreme dislike for Hernandez. Had Kaleb wanted to, he could easily kill the detective without breaking a sweat.
"What were you doing on North Fork?"
"Sightseeing," Kaleb reiterated, then winked at the man. "Ask me again, and I'll tell you the same thing. We can do this all night. The pretty lady has my statement. You don't believe that's what I was doing out there, then prove me wrong." The smirk left his face. "Now get the fuck out of my face."
Hernandez wisely backed off and looked to Grayson. "Where were you tonight?"
Grayson put his hands up. "Don't look at me. I just crawled out of bed, man. I'm sure one of the two ladies I woke up beside will corroborate that."
Detective Hernandez wrote down the names Grayson supplied him with and said, “I’ll be sure to do that.”
Kane finally stepped forward, stopping a good distance from both detectives. "Hawk and I were out for a ride, Detectives. You mind telling us what this is about?"
Detective B
rahnam closed the gap between them. She looked up at him. Her clear blue eyes held his gaze. He had to admit Kaleb was correct. The pretty little detective was exactly his type. "We found another body off North Fork Road, near Bender Landing County Park. You boys out by the park tonight?"
"We passed the area."
"Notice anything different? See anyone?"
"As you said, it was foggy."
She narrowed her pretty blue gaze as though trying to assess him. As she tilted her face upwards, his focus landed on the pulse in her neck.
"So why go so far out of your way? There is nothing around for miles."
"Riding. It clears my head. You got anything else you need, Detective?" Kane leaned closer to her ear and whispered, "Because suddenly, I'm ravenous."
A shiver passed through her. He saw it in the slight tremor of her shoulders. "Then we're keeping you," she replied, barely audible.
Kane sniffed the crook of her neck, then said low enough Hernandez couldn't possibly hear, "Unless you're offering."
Detective Brahnam sucked in her breath, stepped back, putting space between them and looked at her partner. "No, we're done … for now." She cleared her throat. "If we have any more questions, we'll be back. So don't leave town."
She started for the door with her partner, then stopped. She turned on a dime, then came back to Kane, her back ramrod straight. She grasped the collar of his tee and yanked him to her face level, causing him to smile. He liked her spunk.
She whispered, "You ever threaten to bite me again, I'll yank those canines out myself." Then she released him, turned back around and headed for the door, where she said, "We'll let ourselves out."
Kane smiled, watching the saucy sway of her ass in jeans that molded to her like a well-worn glove. His palms itched to take a handful.
The door slammed behind them, causing Kane to chuckle.
Hell, not only was he fucking hungry—now he could add horny as hell to his list of ailments.
So Detective Brahnam hadn't forgotten; she knew exactly what he was, no doubt remembering that night as much as he, for likely two very different reasons.
"Are you fucking crazy, Viper?" Kaleb asked as he jumped to his feet, only seconds after the door closed behind the detectives. Kane knew that Kaleb’s and Grayson's acute hearing would have picked up their conversation. He hadn't cared. "What about the rules? If the law finds out about us, they'll definitely blame these drainages on us! If not have us killed on sight!"
Filling his glass again, Kane took the shot, then slammed it on the counter. "Relax, Hawk, she's known about my existence for ten years and hasn't breathed a word."
"How the hell does she know?"
"She came to the Blood 'n' Rave when she was all but a kid."
"So? A lot of people do."
"She caught me in the bathroom having sex with a donor."
Grayson approached the bar, grabbed the bottle of Jack and poured himself a shot, no doubt gloating at Kane's confession. "Oh, that's rich. You broke the rules, Viper? You weren't using good judgment and got caught with your fangs out and your pants down." A hearty chuckle followed his statement, deepening Kane's black mood.
"She hasn't said anything in ten years. She won't now."
Kaleb looked at Kane, obviously not trusting his brother’s assessment. "And what if she does, Viper? She could expose us all."
"I'll take care of it."
"How, bro? How are you going to keep that pretty little detective's mouth shut?"
"I said, I'll take care of it."
No longer in the mood to be in the same company as his MC brothers, he grabbed his leather cut and headed for the door. He needed communion.
Chapter 3
Cara pulled her shirt over her head, disregarding the buttons. Her fingers trembled fiercely; she doubted she'd have managed them anyway. Good thing for her she kept her panic at bay from Joe. The last thing she needed was her partner privy to the affect Kane Tepes had on her. She wasn't about to explain to him what had happened in the ladies room at the Blood 'n' Rave ten years prior. Hell, she couldn't explain it.
Sometimes what the eyes observe cannot always be trusted—Cara knew that from her years on the force. It was the reason witnesses were sequestered and not allowed to talk with each other after a crime. One witness could influence another by their personal perception of the facts.
A few weeks after her hasty exit of the club, she had made the decision to leave behind the entire town, hoping to escape the nightmares that followed her night at the Blood 'n' Rave. But the dreams hadn't diminished. Large dark sulking figures with elongated teeth, and blood smeared mouths haunted her nights, along with snarls, growls and gnashing of teeth. She had always awakened in a pool of sweat, attempting to catch her breath as she convinced herself that vampires weren't real. Cara needed a straight jacket and a long time away, because everyone knew that vampires were a product of fiction. Lucky for her the Oregon State Mental Hospital, where One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest had been filmed ages ago, had been torn down in 2009 or she might surely be on the patient list.
Kane had wanted to frighten her with his growl and canines dripping of blood. And damn if he hadn't gotten the job done. Ten years and she had nearly convinced herself that Kane either didn't exist, of which he had already proven that theory incorrect, or he had purchased a good pair of very sharp molded dental fangs for which to better play the part at the Rave. That and he dabbled in blood-play like a lot of young kids there. Because the fact was: vampires weren’t real.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Ten years and it was as fresh in her mind as if it had happened just yesterday. Cara had gone to the club out of curiosity and a bit of coercion by her best friend, Suzi. The name of the club alone had made her want to steer clear. Besides, Cara had never flirted with drugs and she knew the reputation that raves carried.
"Everyone that's anybody goes there, Cara," Suzi had said in her most convincing whine.
And Cara hated it when Suzi whined because she knew her best friend wouldn't stop until Cara relented. The last time she saw Suzi, just days before heading off to college, Cara noted her friend wearing a small vial of what looked like blood dangling from a black leather cord as a necklace. Lame? Maybe. But definitely strange. Cara hadn't bothered with a final goodbye the day she left. Suzi had immersed herself into a lifestyle Cara wanted no part of. So she had simply packed her bags and driven away.
There was no one to miss Cara except her aging grandfather, and she would stop back from time to time to visit him at the Pleasant Care Nursing Home. She hated placing her grandfather in assisted living care, but at eighty-two with a bad hip, he needed help with about everything and she couldn't trust him to be at home alone while she worked.
Her father, over-worked and mentally abused by the woman he married, died six-months after she had fled town and her alcoholic mother had moved on to abuse some other poor schmuck. Cara’s upbringing could have been a case study for child neglect and abuse. Whenever her mother had gone on one of her drunken binges and meant to take her sucky-ass life out on her only child—one she frequently reminded Cara she hadn't wanted—her father had stepped in. Sometimes a bit too late. He'd been the one to take her to the hospital and lie about how Cara had broken her arm or finger or whatever part of her body that got in the way of her mother's tirades.
"Silly girl was on the swing set and jumped before I could get to her," was just one of the many excuses her father had manufactured.
Leaving had been easy. Coming home had not.
So why had she?
Because regardless of her past, Cara still thought of Pleasant as her home. She preferred life in a small town to that of the city, and she was much closer to her grandfather here. Better to keep an eye on him.
Besides, her mother no longer lived in Pleasant.
Thank the good Lord for small favors. She could be dead for all that Cara cared. And then there was the one unfortunate night in Eugene, one she’d rather pu
t to rest and forget ever happened. Best for all involved, at least that’s what she had been told. It seemed she was always running from something.
Cara unzipped her pants and stepped from them, heading for the bathroom. A cool breeze wafted in through the opened window, the sheer curtains flapping in the breeze. She didn't worry about being seen. Not out here. Cara had chosen the old farm house because her nearest neighbor squatted a half mile down the road. Gooseflesh popped out along her skin, chilling her. A nice long hot shower was in order. Hopefully, it would help her relax her tired muscles and take away the stress of the day.
Kane came to mind, followed by a shudder.
Turning on the bathroom light, she looked in the mirror and pulled the rubber band from her still damp hair. The natural platinum blonde strands fell about her shoulders. Joe had been correct. Her hair color matched that of the recent victims. As well as matched the color of the blonde Kane screwed in the ladies’ room at the Rave. Not that she kept tabs on Kane or gave a rat's ass the type of women he dated, but could Kane be responsible for these recent homicides? At this point she really had nothing to connect him to the murders other than his preference for blondes … and his possible predilection for blood.
Cara's stomach soured. Even while on the force at the Eugene PD, she had seen nothing like these recent crimes. Something untoward had stepped inside Pleasant's limits, something foul and loathsome. Something preying on young blonde women, draining them of every last bit of their blood.
Shedding her under garments, she opened the glass shower door and stepped into the steaming water, allowing it to run down her skin. Vapor rose and gathered around her, fog rolling over the door and misting the room. She couldn't imagine a longer day. This time of the year, darkness came early, making the day seem much later than it actually was. Domestics actually rose this time of year due to depression and isolation that set in over the long gloomy months. With these recent homicides, Cara wasn't sure she was ready for the winter months to begin. She had enough on her plate trying to solve these cases, let alone add crazy spouses into the mix. Everyone knew domestics were some of the worst calls to answer. As a cop, you never knew what you were walking into.
Viper (Sons of Sangue) Page 3
