Rogue (Sons of Sangue Book 4)

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Rogue (Sons of Sangue Book 4) Page 13

by Patricia A. Rasey


  “He’s my neighbor.” Kimber turned and pushed Chad back toward the wicker chairs. “Whom I’ve slept with. Nothing more. Don’t read more into it.”

  “If you say so.” Chad looked at his watch, then grabbed his keys from the table. “Too bad, I’m due at the library in a half hour anyway.”

  Tena bounced to her feet. “I guess that means time for me to go as well. We’re sharing the afternoon shift. Enjoy the rest of your day off, Kimber. If you happen to meet up with your neighbor again, we want details.”

  Kimber chuckled as she watched them head for their cars, then back out of the driveway. Diesel stepped up to the porch and sat by Kimber’s feet. Her gaze traveled back to Anton’s farmhouse. He appeared briefly, before he walked around the side of his house and let himself into the side door. The other man followed. Chad had been correct about one thing. That man was a beast, causing a sliver of apprehension to travel her spine.

  Patting her thigh, she said, “Come on, Diesel. Dinner time.”

  Without a second glance, Kimber entered her house, Diesel trotting happily beside her and unaware of the possible danger entering their peaceful neck of the woods.

  Chapter 12

  Bobby Bourassa tossed his black duffle bag onto the wood floor with a thud, just inside the back door of Anton’s farmhouse, and gave a cursory glance about the room. He ran a hand through his overlong bangs, pushing the nearly black hair off his forehead and out of his cerulean blue eyes. They were more vivid than Anton’s own blue irises. Bobby wore his hair shaved on each side, but leaving the top lengthy, his bangs long enough to reach his bearded chin. The man could somehow pull off the style, only adding to his beastly look. He was built like a brick shit house. Anton had watched Bobby take on three men at once, not receiving a single punch. He’d gladly have Bobby watching his back in a fight any day of the week.

  Anton walked over to the side lamp by the sectional sofa and turned the switch, lending the dim interior a little light. “This is it. My home away from home. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Anton headed into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed a couple of Buds. He twisted off the caps and tossed them into the trash can, positioned at the end of the counter before heading back into the living room. Bobby had already made himself at home. His black booted feet kicked up on the center coffee table. Pointing the remote at the television, he changed the channel, stopping on a preseason scrimmage of the Oregon Ducks.

  Handing him a beer, Anton sat on the opposite side of the sofa. “You a football fan?”

  Bobby shrugged. “Somewhat. I wouldn’t go out of the way, but if one’s on I’ll watch it. You?”

  “I grew up here, so I like to watch OU games. I guess you could say I’m a Ducks fan.”

  “Your parents still live around here?”

  Anton shook his head. “Died years ago.”

  “Sorry, man.”

  “Don’t be. It’s life.” Anton took a swig of his beer. “I suppose that’s why I keep the farmhouse, though. It’s my last tie to them. You?”

  “My parents don’t give a fuck about me. Kicked me out when I was fourteen.” Bobby tipped back his bottle. “I don’t know if they’re still alive, nor do I care. I wouldn’t walk across the street to visit them.”

  “That’s tough, dude.”

  “I don’t suppose I was easy to live with. I was a punk kid from early on. Once they kicked me out, I bounced around a lot. My friends took me in occasionally, other times I lived on the street. Shortly after I turned twenty-one, I found God. I got ordained online and followed my calling. Once I hit my early thirties, I began losing faith in humanity. I don’t have to tell you there are a lot of hypocrites out there. I got tired of the moneymakers calling the shots, acting like they owned the church.”

  The crowd roared on the television, catching their attention briefly as the Ducks scored. “I met Tank around then.” Bobby continued, “He was about the most honest man I knew. Didn’t pull any punches. He said it like it was, even if at the time it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. After getting to know him over a couple of years, he asked me to join his MC. I left the church and the hypocrites behind. Haven’t looked back.”

  “You still believe in God, Preacher?”

  Bobby rubbed his long beard. Damn thing was impressive. Full and long. “I’ve seen a lot of ugly in my life. It’s mankind I’ve lost faith in. Not God.”

  Anton wasn’t sure he believed in the afterlife. His parents had been believers. He hoped if there was a heaven, they had found it. Men like Tank, he was pretty sure wouldn’t be meeting up with them. His parents were good people. No matter how honest Bobby thought the Devils’ president to be, some sins you couldn’t atone for.

  “That scrawny little barkeep,” Bobby shifted subjects, “you trust him?”

  “Draven?” Anton picked at the label on his bottle. “Fucker’s a weasel. He’s all about making money. So yeah, I trust he’ll do what’s needed to get the job done. The faster he turns over the smack, the more money that’s in it for him. He’ll work hard to move it. But like him? No. I don’t think that has any relevance on his trustworthiness, though. Just my personal preferences.”

  “You think he still might be in bed with the Sons?”

  “I think the Sons cost him a lot of money. It’s safe to say any relationship they may have had was severed along with his drug funds.”

  Bobby tipped back his beer, finishing it. “You’re a standup guy, Rogue. You say Draven’s on the up-and-up, then I’ll take your word for it. I won’t ask again. I could care less about your personal feelings. They don’t count in business decisions. I’m not a fan of all the Devils either. But like them or not, they’ve become my brothers.”

  “That’s where we agree, Preacher.” Anton took the two empty bottles and headed for the kitchen, only to return with two fresh beers. “Just because I became a Devil doesn’t mean I have to like all of the son of a bitches.”

  Bobby took the bottle and settled against the sofa to watch the game. Anton hoped, when the dust finally settled, he could save Bobby from the feds. He wouldn’t mind bringing him on as a Son. The man seemed like he could use a good break in life.

  Anton’s gaze caught a glimpse of the house down the road through the adjacent window, making his pulse kick up a notch. Anton hoped she had noticed his slight acknowledgement as they rode past, small that it had been. He couldn’t afford taking a chance of Bobby knowing about her. Though he believed the man on the up-and-up, he couldn’t chance Bobby mentioning her to Tank.

  She’d looked damn fine standing on her porch, dressed in black leggings and a long white top. He could see the hint of a black bra beneath her blouse, turning his blood hot. Diesel had definitely recognized him as he had bounded down the porch steps and headed toward the country lane. Anton was only too glad he had returned to Kimber’s side and not tried to follow them to the farmhouse, saving Anton from explaining why the neighbor’s dog had a soft spot for him.

  The tall blond man on the porch hadn’t escaped his notice either. Anton planned on asking her who the hell was keeping her company the past couple of days. Hell, her mattress had hardly cooled from them heating up the sheets a few nights ago. She best not be giving the young man false hopes because Anton had no plans of sharing. If the blond had any ideas at all of getting into her pants, Anton would make sure he knew Kimber’s nights were already taken.

  “What kind of action can we expect to find way out here in the middle of fucking nowhere?” Bobby asked, taking Anton’s mind off his desire to head back down the road. “Not that I don’t like your company, Rogue, but I don’t think I can hang out here 24/7. There has to be somewhere we can go that ain’t the Sons’ territory.”

  “We could check out Murphy’s Tavern. It’s a country bar. It’s close enough to the Rave, where we can keep a better eye on Draven. We’ll leave the bikes and cuts here, take my Ford truck. The law hangs at Murphy’s, so the Sons of Sangue steer clear of the joint.”
>
  Bobby looked at his nearly empty bottle and shook the small amount left. “How about we head over there once the sun sets and check out the action. You game?”

  “I’m in. Don’t forget we need to keep a low profile, Preacher. We don’t need to attract the attention of the locals who hang there either.”

  “We’re here to keep an eye on Draven and the Rave, make sure he’s moving the heroin. He isn’t doing his job, then Tank will have yours and my asses.” Bobby ran a hand through his bangs again. “I’m not putting my ass on the line for that little drug dealer.”

  Anton, on the other hand, would. “Let me go shower and catch a few hours of sleep and I’ll be ready to party. You’re welcome to use the shower up the stairs and the bedroom to the right of it. We can head for Murphy’s around ten.”

  “Sounds good, man. The only thing that would make my night better is to find some sweet young thing who would be into my ugly mug.”

  Anton laughed. “I’m sure there might be one little young thing willing to take pity on you.”

  Bobby stood, walked his bottle into the kitchen, and set the empty alongside the others. “I’ll grab my bag, head upstairs, and see you back down here in a few hours. I could use a little shut-eye myself.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Preacher.” He slapped him on the shoulder, then headed for his own room on the other side of the kitchen.

  Anton needed to move smack … a lot of smack if he were to catch the attention of Raúl Trevino Caballero to get him that much desired meeting. The sooner, the better.

  Now that he knew Cara and Hernandez meant to send Grayson’s old lady into the war zone, Anton was going to do everything he could to keep her out of it. No way in hell was he going to have Grayson kicking his ass for her involvement. Cara and Hernandez might have thought it a good idea, but they had yet to meet Tank and Spider.

  * * *

  Tim McGraw’s Live Like You Were Dying filtered through the ceiling speakers. Kimber swayed in her chair, gently in time to the tune. It was one of her favorite country songs and sort of mimicked what she and Anton had been doing since his reappearance in Oregon. Living in the moment. A jukebox, pale blue and red lights circling the glass showcase, sat in the corner of Murphy’s Tavern. If no one plunked quarters into the coin slot, then it had been set for auto play. Kimber had been the one to choose this song and the next three following.

  Tena sipped from her glass of pink moscato, while Kimber opted for an ice cold beer. Occasionally, she enjoyed a beer on tap from a frosty mug, over her go to dry, red wine. Tonight had definitely been a beer night.

  Murphy’s was more her type of crowd, much more so than the Blood ‘n’ Rave. This crowd consisted of mid-twenty to thirty-somethings and up. A few off duty deputies, she recognized, sat at the next table over. The tavern had a safe, warm vibe. Quite the opposite from the Rave.

  When Tena had called, following the evening shift at the library, and suggested they all meet up for a drink, she wouldn’t take a no for an answer. Tena and Chad were bound and determined to get her out of the house. Kimber supposed a night out was better than sitting at home alone. After all, her night had consisted of her sitting in the recliner trying to read, occasionally watching out the side window, in hopes of catching a glimpse of Anton.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t make the short trek to his house. Trouble had followed Anton home. Knowing he hadn’t wanted to introduce her to that side of his life, he wouldn’t be happy if she disregarded his warning.

  Taking a sip of her ice cold beer, wiping away the foam from her upper lip with her bar napkin, Kimber had to admit she was glad her friends had called and talked her into leaving the house. No matter how much she wanted to spend time with Anton, it wasn’t going to happen unless Anton managed to ditch his friend.

  The bar’s owner, Lyle Murphy, had bought them all a round of drinks. Apparently, Tena had gone to high school with his niece Tamera. Last Kimber knew, Tamera lived with one of the Sons of Sangue and had made Lyle a great uncle. Working at the library, Kimber heard all the latest gossip.

  Chad took a sip from his frosty mug, while scouting the room for eye candy. “What about that one?” he nudged Tena with his elbow.

  “Not my type.” Tena shook her head. “He’s more your type.”

  “I won’t argue with you, girlfriend. I wouldn’t mind getting a little rumpy-pumpy with that wolf.”

  “Wolf?” Kimber asked.

  “A gay man who doesn’t act like a queen,” Chad supplied.

  “Oh… How do you know he’s gay?”

  Chad gave Kimber a sideways glance. “You question my gaydar? Honey, did you not just watch his eyes as the man over there with the sweet little ass walked by? No straight man is going to ogle another man’s backside the way he did. I’ll be all over him before the night is over.”

  “I have no doubt.” Tena laughed. “Sad, you pick up far more men than I do.”

  Not because Tena wasn’t attractive. On the contrary, Tena was very cute. She might not be the next Victoria Secret model, being a bit curvier, but Kimber had always thought Tena cut herself short. She wore her blonde hair pixie style, complimenting her almond shaped, chocolate-colored eyes.

  “Oh, my goodness.” Tena gasped, catching Kimber’s attention and drawing it toward the entrance. “Someone please tell me that’s my next meal.”

  The large man walking through the door commanded attention just by making an appearance. He wore a pair of well-worn jeans low on his lean hips. A black leather jacket hugged his top half, with two tan stripes running the length of what looked to be very muscular arms. Beneath the jacket he sported a white T-shirt stretched across a massive chest. Kimber had a hard time looking away, even if he wasn’t her type. He wore his beard long as well as the top of his hair, sporting a severe undercut. His bangs damn near reached his chin.

  Tena all but salivated while Kimber’s heart skipped a beat. She recognized the man as the same one following Anton home earlier in the day, which meant he might be trailing behind. Not that she didn’t want to see him. Quite the opposite. She hoped he followed his friend through the door, even if just for the chance to ogle. Kimber couldn’t help but worry what his reaction to her being there might be. Anton had no doubt planned a night out, and seeing her hadn’t been part of it.

  Thank goodness Kimber had arrived before him. Last thing she wanted was Anton thinking she followed him. Not that she didn’t crave his company, but she’d be damned before she’d make a fool of herself, tripping all over him like a schoolgirl with a crush.

  The large, bearded man walked over to the bar, pulled out a stool and sat, ordering a beer from Lyle. He paid little attention to the rest of the bar patrons, and instead focused on his beer. The tavern door opened a second time, producing Anton. His good looks never failed to catch her breath. By the once-overs he received from the rest of the patrons, half the women in the bar thought him damn hot as well.

  Anton took a brief glance around, his gaze catching hers and holding. He tipped his chin in a barely-there nod before turning and joining his buddy at the bar, giving her his back. Kimber took another sip of her icy brew, hoping to cool her rising libido, knowing the night wouldn’t end with her getting anywhere close to Anton. He had made his desire clear, to keep them a secret.

  If all his brothers looked like the bear of a man who sat beside him, it was no wonder he didn’t want them knowing about her. The large man didn’t appear to be the least bit friendly. As a matter of fact, he looked scary as hell.

  “Isn’t that your neighbor?” Chad asked, bringing her attention back to her coworkers.

  “It is.”

  “He’s super yummy. Too bad he’s a hetty.”

  “Maybe for you.” Tena laughed. “We’re quite happy with them being heterosexual. You keep your eye on the candy you found earlier. Leave Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous to Kimber. I’ll take Mr. Bear-alicious for myself, thank you very much.”

  Kimber chuckled. “Somehow I doubt Anton
’s friend would be happy with the title you just gave him, Tena.”

  “You think?” She winked at Kimber, then stood. “Let’s just see how he reacts.”

  Not giving Kimber a chance to stop her, Tena sauntered toward the bar, causing Kimber to groan. Not her fault. She hoped Anton realized she had nothing to do with her friend’s actions or boldness.

  Chad, oblivious to Kimber’s distress, clapped his hands. “She is good.”

  Kimber’s gaze widened. “Are you not worried?”

  “Why should I be?”

  “That man is an outlaw biker.”

  He shrugged. “Sweetie, Tena can take care of herself. Watch and learn.”

  Tena walked up to bar and stood to the man’s right, the opposite side from Anton. Both men glanced Tena’s way. Kimber could tell by Anton’s expression he was more than a little curious. Instead of giving the men her attention, Tena motioned for Lyle. Leaning in, she whispered something to the owner, causing him to laugh. Anton briefly looked at Kimber, then turned his attention back to the curvy blonde and his buddy, who was now eyeing her from the feet up.

  Tena grabbed her newly poured glass of wine, said something to the man beside her, who responded with a shake of his head and a large grin. Heading back to their table, she added a bit of extra sass in her sway. The big guy threw a ten on the counter, paying Lyle for her drink. Anton laughed, slapping his friend on the shoulder.

  What the heck had Tena said?

  She sat back down at their table, and smiled, seemingly quite pleased with herself. Whatever she had said, caught the man’s attention enough, because he kept peering over his shoulder at her.

  Chad smiled big as could be. “Spill it, girlfriend.”

  Tena took another sip of wine. “Give him a few minutes. He’ll be making his way over.”

  Kimber leaned forward in her chair. “What did you say?”

  “I asked Lyle for a glass of wine and whispered that the big guy would be buying. When the man looked my way, I simply gasped and said, ‘Who let Mr. Bear-alicious in the door?’ I asked if I could buy him a beer. He, instead, insisted on buying mine.”

 

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