Gypsy: Sons of Sangue
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Reviews for GYPSY
GYPSY: Sons of Sangue
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
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COPYRIGHT
GYPSY
A Sons of Sangue Novel
Book 3
PATRICIA A. RASEY
© 2015 by Patricia A. Rasey
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. (v1)
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Reviews for GYPSY
“Once again enter the darkly thrilling world of the Sons of Sangue and their rival MCs in the seductive third installment of Patricia A. Rasey’s incredible Sons of Sangue series, chock full of sexy intrigue, suspense, subterfuge and revelation. Ms. Rasey writes a wickedly good paranormal tale that will have you on the edge of your seat and wanting more. After every new book, I wait impatiently for more of these delicious bad boys, and now that even more threads have been added to the world, I am chomping at the bit for book #4. Highly recommended for paranormal romance, romantic suspense, and fans of alpha bad boy bikers far and wide.”
—Chelle, Literal Addiction
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“With one bite, Tamera has created a hurricane of bad blood within the MC and Gypsy’s damned ego just won’t allow for anything to give… Throughout reading Sons of Sangue: Gypsy my heartbeat almost pounded through my chest. Author Patricia A. Rasey’s ability to guide the reader through a gamut of emotions and achieve her end goal is sheer brilliance. Never have I read a tale of two people so governed by emotion. Action is the word from the first word to THE END, which Ms. Rasey knows so well how to write. Gypsy is a turbulent ride with an astonishing finish that cannot be missed.”
—Kimberly Rocha, Book Obsessed Chicks
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“Intensity is an understatement for the hot mess that plagues the Sons of Sangue in Gypsy. Deceit is thick in the air. Brotherhood is tested. Revenge is a must. Sexual tension is taken to a new level. That’s just the beginning. Patricia Rasey has the reader going full throttle into a wicked storm. Action from beginning to end, twists that hit you like a brass knuckled fist and lust building like a bomb waiting to go off...Giving this reader the best book hangover ever. A 2015 top read for me.”
—Deana, Coffee Books Life
~*~
GYPSY: Sons of Sangue
Grayson “Gypsy” Gabor loves the ladies. As a matter of fact, the more the merrier. Life is good. That is until a mishap with a sexy-as-hell redhead leaves them mated. The eldest of vampires, Vlad Tepes, gives him a choice: Keep her or give her up for all eternity to his one-time best friend, Anton.
Tamera Cantrell sets her sights on the Vice President of the Sons of Sangue, Gypsy. But after a night gone wrong, she finds herself caught between one vampire who hates her and one who adores her. Now Tamera’s only got three short months to prove to the one who despises her that he can’t live without her.
Add in one Mexican Cartel, a vindictive primordial vampire, and a rival MC out for blood, and Gypsy has his hands full with club business. When Tamera’s life becomes endangered, Gypsy must act quick or chance losing her forever.
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Dedication
Always...for my readers! Thank you for your patience. I am truly blessed with you.
To my family, for putting up with my crazy hours.
For those of you who put your time in reading, offering comments, and catching my typos. I thank you!
My editor, Catherine Snodgrass, for helping me see what I could not and making Gypsy a better story!
And to John and Tina...for all you do for me!
I love you all!
Acknowledgments
A huge thank you goes to cover artist, Frauke Spanuth, from Croco Designs for creating the Sons of Sangue covers, and making Gypsy gorgeous. To Kimberly Rocha for the photo shoot, and cover model, Bryan Bensivy, for giving Gypsy life.
Thank you all for the beautiful cover!
Chapter 1
“Fuck you.”
Grayson “Gypsy” Gabor leaned back and looked at Anton, whose face remained impassive as if Grayson hadn’t said a word. The two sat astride their bikes, hidden in a small alcove of trees going on four hours now, and Grayson had neared his breaking point.
Anton “Blondy” Balan, his MC brother, was supposed to have his back in all things. Yet, here he sat, thinking to tell Grayson on how he should treat his mate. His mate, damn him. Not Anton’s, nor anyone else’s. One he hadn’t fucking asked for.
The blond vampire turned his head, baring his teeth, fangs emerging, telling Grayson he was far more passionate about the subject than he should be.
“Maybe you should be fucking her instead.”
“And maybe you ought to be minding your own damn business and staying the hell out of mine. Or maybe it’s her that you’re wanting to fuck.”
“Keep your head in the game, Gypsy. We aren’t here to discuss my intentions where your mate is concerned.”
Grayson bared his own fangs in anger. “Exactly. And you’d do well in remembering whose mate she is.”
“Trust me, brother, I haven’t forgotten.”
And just like that, as it had gone over the past nine months since he had acquired the damnable mate, the two roommates fell back into silence. It was a wonder they hadn’t killed each other already.
Nine months down and three to go.
Grayson best make up his mind on what the hell he planned to do with Tamera Cantrell. Fuck her, or give her to Anton. Vlad Tepes, the eldest of all vampires, had given him one year to make that decision. Leave it to the primordial who hadn’t shown his face in over five centuries to pick now to return. Like a noose around his neck, his time was nearing the end. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the road ahead. He still had no idea what the hell he wanted to do. Anton, on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted—Grayson’s mate.
The cool night air caressed his skin as he straddled his bike, though it did little to cool his rising ire. Club business came first. Anton hadn’t misspoken. Grayson needed to keep a level head as they waited for the Devils to rear their ugly mugs. The cloud-filled night aided in their cover. Word on the street was their rival MC might be running drugs through southern Oregon, more specifically the Port of Bookings-Harbor. Being a hundred and fifty plus miles straight south of Florence, the cartel likely thought the Sons of Sangue wouldn’t find out or care.
Regardless of how close it was to the Devils’ territory of California.
So here he and Anton sat astride their Harleys, watching from an alcove just off Highway 101, waiting to see if their snitch was indeed correct and the Devils had ignored their direct order to stay the fuck out of the Sons’ state. Their informant had told them a large shipment of cocaine was being freighted in from Peru sometime after midnight. Grayson intended on camping out until the bastards showed their homely faces. He could give two shits what Anton did. He didn’t need the blond giant as backup, or by his side. Apparently, though, the P felt differently. Kaleb Tepes seemed to pair the two quite often lately, demanding, “You work that shit out. It has no business in the club.”
Which brought his mate to mind.
Tamera.
It sure in the hell would help his situation if she was as beastly as the son of a bitch sitting to his right. Otherwise, he might just send her sorry ass packing to Anton’s and return to his room at the clubhouse. Instead, the fiery redhead took Grayson’s place in his king-sized bed, as well as his fantasies, while he lay on a bed not fit for a child. Good thing he wasn’t as big as one of the Tepes twins or he’d be hanging off the sides of the damn thing.
Anton wasn’t exactly pleased with having Grayson as a roomie either. He was sure the big vamp would much rather have Tamera under his roof and in his bed. Reason enough for Grayson to take his damn time making up his mind what he wanted to do. His only comfort came in knowing that he wasn’t alone in his suffering. Vlad’s command not only affected Grayson, but Anton as well.
Good.
The son of a bitch deserved to suffer. After all, Anton had taken it upon himself and crawled into Grayson’s bed and helped his mate through her change into vampirism, absorbing some of her pain to make the pass over more bearable. It had been Grayson’s duty to see her through, but he had been too furious with the bitch for latching onto his arm and drinking from his fresh wound to even consider her needs.
Ingesting very little vampire blood started the change by altering the blood’s DNA. All donors knew this and were forbidden to do so. How the hell did Tamera skip that part of Donor 101? If a female drank from a male, she became his mate for life. And this was only done at the invitation of the male and after a vote had been taken by the Sons. Adding a female into the fray was club business. It had been the order of things they lived by, a custom which was never questioned. Female vampires weren’t born, they were turned. And it was their mate’s job to see they were protected. For without them, there would be no male vampires birthed, true bloods, only those males deemed worthy of the MC’s trust and brought over to vampirism.
Nine months did little to soften his feelings on the matter of acquiring the undesired mate or the fact Anton had overstepped his boundaries. In hindsight, Grayson knew he should have man-upped, crawled onto the bed and helped Tamera through her change, regardless of how it had all came about. But he had allowed his ego and anger to drive his actions. Without so much as looking back, he had moved out of the clubhouse and into Anton’s farmhouse. He supposed he should be thanking his brother for not turning his back on him. Anton could’ve outright refused him a roof over his head. Instead, as pissed off as they had been with each other, Anton still opened his home to Grayson.
Regardless, his actions couldn’t be undone. Anton had stepped up to the plate and took Grayson’s place and helped Tamera, making himself the good guy and a vampire with honor. Grayson, on the other hand, was an insensitive jackass. Well, que será será. What is to be, will be. In the end, though, it hadn’t mattered who had been there for her. Tamera’s fate lay in Grayson’s hands despite what anyone had to say about the situation. Vlad had allowed Grayson to decide her destiny. She would either be tied to a mate who despised her, or given to Anton who was more than willing to claim her. Part of him wanted to do just that, give her to his roomie and go back to the life he had been so fond of before she came crashing into his.
The other part wanted to fuck her so badly his balls ached with it.
Fuck his life.
Fuck the vampire sitting next to him.
Fuck everyone.
Yeah, that pretty much summed up his attitude. Fuck them all. Grayson didn’t give two shits what any of them thought of him, especially the females residing with their mates under the clubhouse roof. Of course, they would side with his damnable mate. Poor, innocent Tamera. Grayson bit back a growl. Thank goodness Kane “Viper” and Kaleb “Hawk” Tepes refused to take sides. After all, it was their great grandfather, many times over, who had spoken. Vlad Tepes had issued an order, and no one questioned it. Which brought him back to his dilemma, to take Tamera as his mate, or give her to Anton. Unfortunately, he was nowhere nearer to making his decision now than he was then, no matter how much Anton might wish it.
The sound of an approaching Harley Davidson thankfully shifted his focus to the job at hand, where it needed to be. Grayson welcomed the distraction like a balm to his soul. The hair at the base of his neck rose, telling him something wasn’t right. Call it a sixth sense. Most of the vampires had it. A lone Harley’s engine rumbled down the highway. What the hell? They expected at least a half a dozen Devils to show their yellow-bellied selves. As the motorcycle neared, Grayson spied the man sitting astride and leaning into the curve. Shit. This couldn’t be good. Their snitch headed down the highway, right toward the port. Was the man about to rat them out? Grayson swore he’d drain the son of a bitch himself if that were true.
Their informant had told them a large shipment of coke from Peru was waiting to be picked up. Grayson and Anton were to follow the Devils as they delivered the package. Hopefully, the rival MC would then lead them straight to the Mexican cartel and their kingpin—the Sons of Sangue’s real target. Kane and Kaleb had a personal beef with the man for causing the death of Kane’s son, Ion. Even if Kane’s bitch of an ex, Rosalee, had been the real reason behind Ion losing his head, the twins still wanted retribution and wouldn’t stop until the kingpin paid with his own life … or spent what was left of it behind bars.
They had made a deal with the DEA and the Oregon State Police to hand him over, in exchange to keep Draven, the Blood and Rave’s barkeep, free from prosecution for running drugs from his establishment. The Sons had a personal stake in seeing the bar owner out of the fray. He ran the one and only club and donor society that supplied them with their nourishment, allowing the Sons to feed in anonymity. In exchange for the deal the Sons made with the law, Draven had promised to stop peddling drugs from his bar.
Grayson would be only too happy to hand the DEA the kingpin’s head on a platter to save Draven from a life behind bars. The man had become a good friend over the years. No good would come of him stuck in lockup. With a face as pretty as Draven’s, he’d no doubt wind up someone’s bitch. Grayson had made it his personal mission to see this through, if for nothing else than to help out a friend and get the twins’ their retaliation.
Besides, it kept his mind preoccupied.
The engine rumble of the tribal orange CVO Road King grew in volume as it passed their hiding spot, bringing back his focus. Short brown hair brushed the collar of the rider’s motorcycle cut. The three-piece patch on the back of his vest labeled him a Devil. Grayson knew him to be a rogue of the rival MC. Should the man be found out or give up the Sons, the rat would breathe his last breath, either by one of his own MC brothers’ hands or by Grayson’s.
“What the fuck? Isn’t that Ryder Kelley?” Anton said as the red taillight headed down the road. The yellow blinker indicated his direction into the port, just before the taillights brightened. “What do you want to do, VP?”
“We wait, Blondy.”
“Why the fuck would we do that? I want to know why Ryder is here. I can’t get the answer by sitting here on my ass.”
The tips of Anton’s fangs hung just below his upper lip, telling Grayson he had yet to calm down. He needed a levelheaded vamp
ire having his back, not one ruled by emotions. They couldn’t afford any mistakes, not with the Mexican cartel involved. The cartel didn’t build their empire by taking a misstep. Grayson wasn’t about to lose his head over this deal. He happened to be quite fond of it right where it was.
“We don’t know who Ryder is meeting. We can’t chance going in and having the Devils show up, you ass.” Grayson stepped over his bike’s seat. “We’ll approach on foot and stay out of sight until we know what the little snitch is up to.”
“I’d hardly call him little.” Anton punctuated his sarcasm with a smile. “He’s larger than you, Gypsy.”
“He may not be a vampire, but even if he was I could still give him an ass beating with one hand tied behind my back.”
Anton’s chuckle reverberated from his gut. “That’s the Gypsy I know and love.”
Not feeling the humor, Grayson narrowed his heated gaze. “Yeah, where the hell did the Blondy I loved so much go?”
Anton’s mirth quickly dissipated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The man I knew wouldn’t have touched my mate for any reason.”
One dark blond brow rose. “Does that mean you’ve made up your mind?”
“It means keep your large paws off her, asshole.”
Without another word, for fear of saying something he might later regret, Grayson took off running through the thick trees, carefully skirting the road and keeping to the shadows. He could hear Anton’s heavy footfalls not far behind, though he doubted this far from the beaten path the thuds would be detected by any human ear. The vampire’s enhanced hearing could easily pick up the sound of a bug crawling through the weeds or a worm slithering through mud, when a human would be lucky to catch a twig snap among the other forest noises.