Ryder (Sons of Sangue Book 6)

by Patricia A. Rasey

  Sergio took several steps back, giving every man in the joint a clear shot. Ryder had to act or fuck up this mission royally with Gunner winding up dead for real.

  Ryder pulled out his Sig Sauer, sticking it against Gunner’s spine. Careful where he aimed, the shot would blossom from the front, looking like a heart shot, when in fact, Ryder would just miss the vital organ. Gunner would crumble to the floor after the bullet traveled through him. If Ryder aimed it just right, it would go straight through the front window, missing any other person.

  Eyes widened around the room and guns lowered. Maybe not all of them, but it was a sign they trusted Ryder to take care of his friend. Respect would hopefully come when he took out Gunner, rather than side with him.

  He pulled the trigger.

  Gunner jerked, staggering forward as the exiting bullet shot through the window, missing anyone else in its path. Gunner dropped his gun. It thudded against the floor next to his feet. He turned slowly to look at Ryder, his hands covered the gaping wound on his chest, blood seeping through his fingers, before he collapsed.

  * * *

  Gabriela faltered backward, gasping, her hand flattening against her chest in the exact spot where the man was bleeding out. She had watched in horror through the square window on the swinging door as Ryder shot Gunner in cold blood. Sure, the taller man had held a gun on Sergio, but her uncle’s goons would’ve protected the arrogant ass. It hadn’t been necessary for Ryder to step up and do so. Not to mention, the two men had arrived together, the dying man having bought Ryder a drink, the same man she had met at the dance club with Ryder.

  What sort of person did that?

  A damn cold one.

  Spotting Ryder by the bar, she had been about to exit the kitchen, let her presence be known. Gabby had been worried what Sergio might do, figuring she needed to keep a close eye on things. Sure as the sun would shine, Sergio had approached the two before she’d had a chance to stop him from causing a scene. All of this could’ve been avoided had Sergio heeded her warning the last time he chased Ryder from the premises.

  Now, she had a man bleeding out on her restaurant floor.

  Gabby needed to call for an ambulance, hoping she wasn’t too late to save the man’s life. Cell phone in hand, she pushed through the kitchen door. Ryder turned his head in her direction. He had hunkered down to check for the man’s pulse. His face blanched.

  “Is he…?” Gabby asked, stopping just shy of the pooling blood.

  Ryder gave a quick nod, his mouth a stern slash across his handsome face. “Put down the cell, Gabby. There’s no help for him.”

  “We can’t leave him here.” Her voice trembled. “We have to—”

  Sergio approached, a quick glance at the dead man. “He’s right, Gabriela. We take care of our own. You know we don’t bring in the authorities. Go back to the kitchen and mind your own business.”

  Her mouth gaped as she glanced from Sergio to Ryder, who all but dismissed her with a turn of his head. He was no different than the men who worked for her uncle, dashing her hopes that he was somehow better.

  Gabby licked her dry lips, glancing at the bullet hole in the front window. She squared her shoulders. “I take it that will be fixed?”

  “Before the night is over.” Sergio laid a palm on her shoulder. She shook it off. “Go back to the kitchen where you belong, Gabriela. Let us handle this.”

  Anger rose up her spine and heated her cheeks. “This is my restaurant.”

  “No.” Sergio’s grin could only be described as evil. “It belongs to your uncle.”

  He was correct, of course, but the comment was like tossing gasoline on an already raging fire. Her uncle may own the place, but Gabriela had taken pride in running it the last couple of years. With a final glare in Ryder’s direction, she turned on her heel and hurried off.

  She heard Ryder’s deep timbre say, “He’s my friend. I’ll see that he’s taken care of.”

  “Make sure no one finds his grave,” Sergio instructed. “When you get back, we’ll talk.”

  She left the main room and entered her sanctuary. Francisco looked at her with pity. He knew what kind of man Raúl was, knew the type of men who frequented the restaurant. But even so, it was the first time a man had been killed in the establishment. Until now, Gabby had managed to keep the violence from entering her domain.

  Ryder had brought the violence to her doorstep.

  He was at fault.

  Placing a hand over her lips, she let out a shaky breath. He was no better than Sergio. How the hell had she been so wrong? Gabriela had always prided herself on being a good judge of character. And yet Ryder had blinded her to his true nature.

  She pulled the apron over her head and tossed it to the flour-coated table. “I have to get out of here.”

  “You go ahead, señorita. I’ll clean up.”

  “Thank you, Francisco. And out there…” She couldn’t even bring herself to ask who would clean up the carnage.

  “You head out and don’t worry yourself. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Gabriela crossed the floor and hugged the chef before kissing his cheek. “Gracias,” she said, grabbing her purse from the back counter.

  Taking a final look at the swinging doors leading to the front of the tavern, Gabby opened the back door, welcoming the warm breeze caressing her skin. Once outside, she sucked in much-needed oxygen.

  He is no different.

  Straightening her spine and her resolve, she vowed to stay away from him. Gabriela headed for the Escalade, her insides still shaking. Antonio opened the rear passenger door and assisted her crawling into the cool interior, where she sank against the dark leather. Her driver walked around the vehicle and settled himself behind the wheel. After starting the SUV and pulling the gearshift into drive, they circled the back lot before heading around the side of Salazar’s, just in time to see the dead man slung over Ryder’s shoulder. With no more than a quick sympathetic glance in her direction, he popped the trunk of a beat-up sedan and tossed in the body.

  “Where to, Miss Gabriela?”

  “Home, Antonio. And please, don’t tell anyone where I have gone. I’ll be in no mood for company.”

  He gave her a quick nod. “Home it is. Your uncle will be pleased to see you.”

  Her gaze jerked to the rearview mirror. “Uncle Raúl is there?”

  The driver smiled. “Sí, señorita.”

  Chapter 9

  “Well, dear brother, are the rumors I’m hearing from my staff true?”

  Mircea smiled, one that told Vlad Tepes that his sibling was about to feed him a line of bullshit. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Vlad slammed the door to Mircea’s room/temporary confinement. The walls shook from the force, causing the picture frames to rattle against the plaster.

  “I traveled back here because someone tried to claw their way out of this room.” Vlad jabbed a finger toward the far corner where the pristine wall looked as if a sledgehammer had been taken to it. “You realize the walls in this room have been reinforced so that not even I could break through them? The plaster is nothing but a facade. Who the hell is going to pay for the repairs?”

  Mircea chuckled, his eyes rolling damn near to the back of his head. “Dramatic much?”

  “Me?” Vlad roared, causing the picture frames to shudder again.

  “It’s not like you can’t afford the renovations.”

  “If only it were a mere remodel, not damage to my home, you ass.” Breathe. Lord, but he wanted to tear his brother’s head clean from his shoulders. “If the accommodations aren’t to your liking—”

  “Seriously?” It became Mircea’s turn to raise the roof. The high pitch in his tone rang in Vlad’s ears. “If you’re so worried about your precious fortress, then let me the hell out of here.”

  “It’s not that fucking easy and you know it.”

  “Tell me why you continue to hold me hostage when all I wish to do is return to my home in Italy and live out
my life in peace.”

  Vlad chuckled, feeling none of the humor. “So, you’re saying you have no desire to hunt down my kin and eliminate them one-by-one?”

  Mircea shrugged. “I do owe you, brother. You stole my lovely Rosalee from me.”

  “I ended her life because she was a bitch. And besides, she wasn’t your blood daughter to begin with.”

  “No. Thank heaven for that.” Mircea reached for an opened bottle of wine and poured himself a half glass. After swirling the contents, he brought the crystal to his lips and downed the entire glass in one gulp. “But she would’ve made me a beautiful mate in time.”

  Vlad shook his head. “She wouldn’t have been faithful to you on the best of days. Arm candy, maybe. But a bitch is still a bitch. Surely, you know that.”

  Pouring himself another glass, he neither agreed nor disagreed. Vlad would’ve been better off allowing his grandson, Kane, to take this one’s life. For some reason, though, he had felt the need to spare his brother. Now, he was stuck with the insufferable ass.

  “I should’ve let you die, you arrogant fool.”

  One of Mircea’s brows arched. “And you think your grandson could have done the job? You merely spared his life.”

  “Normally, I might’ve agreed with you, given your primordial strength. But never underestimate the power of my blood, Mircea. My money was on Kane that day.”

  Mircea set down his stemless glass with a thud, red wine spilling over the edge, splattering to the table. Vlad was reminded of blood, the very blood he was tempted to spill of the man standing before him.

  Fangs jutted beneath his brother’s upper lip as his eyes blackened over. Mircea’s face not only contorted with the vampire springing forth, but with his mounting rage. A mighty roar escaped his lips, one surely loud enough to be heard well beyond the room had it not been soundproofed. Vlad had pissed off his brother yet again, but he wasn’t about to apologize for it. Mircea needed to know where he sat on the food chain, well beneath Vlad’s grandsons.

  “Your grandsons wouldn’t stand a chance against me. That is why you have me locked up in here like a common criminal.”

  “Because you wouldn’t fight fair.” Vlad heavily sighed. “Which is why you’ll continue to sit in here, trying your damnedest to claw your way out. When you tire of this ridiculous vendetta, I’ll let you go. Today you have proven quite the opposite. You’re still gunning for my relatives and I simply can’t allow that.”

  Mircea’s glare would have chilled a lesser opponent. “You’re saying I’m stuck here?”

  “Yes. Tear down the plaster if you must, but you aren’t getting out of here.”

  “I’ll find a way.”

  Vlad laughed, this time the humor tickling him. “You will try, I’m sure. Mark my words, Mircea, you’ll die in here first if I have to withhold sustenance from you.”

  Mircea’s grin was pure evil. “You wouldn’t have bothered saving me from Kane’s wrath only to starve me to death.”

  “True, but then I thought there was something worth saving.” Vlad took out a key and unbolted the self-locking door. “Today, I’m not so sure. Think about that if you ever want to leave this room again.”

  Vlad walked out, slamming the door behind him, snuffing Mircea’s cry of outrage. What the hell was he going to do with him? Vlad needed to make a decision soon. He couldn’t keep Mircea behind lock and key forever.

  * * *

  “How much farther?” Ryder heard the mumbled words from the trunk of the sedan.

  He supposed Gunner was tired of being cramped in the small space. Good thing for him the sedan was older, thus making the trunk larger than on most of the newer models.

  “Only a couple more miles. You’ll need to feign being dead a while longer. We got company.”

  “Who the fuck?”

  “We have a tail. Apparently, Luis sent a few of his goons to make sure I finish the job.”

  “I texted Wolf,” Gunner said. “He’ll be out of sight when we arrive at the predetermined spot.”

  “Good. I promise not to bury you too deep, and with any luck, the two jerks won’t leave their air-conditioned car for fear I’ll make them help dig.”

  He heard Gunner chuckle just before he turned down the dirt and gravel road, heading farther into the woods. Ryder drove about three miles before he stopped at a particularly dense thicket. Rolling to a halt, he glanced in his rearview mirror, noting the second vehicle stayed dozens of yards back.

  “Looks like we’re in luck. Our eyes stopped far enough back to keep us in view, not close enough for me to enlist their help.”

  Ryder didn’t wait for a response. After exiting the car, he popped the trunk. Gunner lay curled and unmoving. Picked picked up his brother with little effort, though putting on a pretense of a struggle. After all, a man of his size should have trouble lifting one of Gunner’s girth, especially when the body was dead weight.

  Spotting a defoliated area, Ryder dropped Gunner to the ground with a thud. Points to the big guy for not so much as grunting. Ryder returned to the sedan and extracted a shovel before closing the trunk, rocking the car on its threadbare tires. Ryder chuckled with a shake of his head. He might just grow attached to the beat-up piece of shit.

  Not bothering to acknowledge Luis’s lackeys, he put shovel to dirt and started clearing away debris. He took his time, and after about an hour in the insufferable heat, he rolled Gunner into the shallow grave and began quickly covering him with dirt. He had wasted enough time. Finished, he patted the small mound with his shovel, then tossed dried leaves onto the surface, camouflaging the newly dug area.

  Just as he was about to walk away, his vampire hearing picked up Grigore’s whisper. “About fucking time.”

  Ryder resisted the urge to smile and headed back to the sedan. He popped the trunk again, tossed in the shovel, then closed the lid. Crawling behind the wheel of the car, he started the engine, then did a three-point turn to aim the sedan in the direction they had come. Passing the second car, he saluted the men before heading down the road.

  * * *

  Conversation died when Ryder walked through the door of Salazar’s. Luis stayed seated, his expression schooled, while Sergio approached him in a slow, confident stride. Ryder had been uncertain the type of reception he’d receive, their actions giving nothing away.

  The goons assigned to follow him walked through the door. The hairs rose on the back of his neck, his vampire DNA shimmering just beneath the surface and at the ready should all hell break loose. Sergio said nothing to the two. They simply nodded, then headed for the bar, where the bartender immediately offered a couple of beers. The good news? They had arrived too quickly to have investigated the grave.

  His heart slowed its beat, no longer feeling as though every man in the place was about to draw on him. If they were, he’d already be dead. Ryder glanced around the room, most of the men going back to their meals, drinks, and conversation, leaving Sergio and him to the business at hand. At least that was Ryder’s hope, an open invitation to join them.

  His gaze flitted to the swinging kitchen doors as a smaller guy in chef’s garb came through to speak to one of the waitresses. Ryder’s heart panged, knowing Gabriela had come through those same doors and witnessed the crime he wasn’t exactly guilty of, no doubt thinking the worst of him. Things couldn’t be more fucked up where she was concerned. Hearing what he had done secondhand would have been one thing, but seeing him kill a man in cold blood was another. While by appearances it looked as if he had possibly gained the trust and respect of men he disliked, he had lost the same from Gabriela.

  And that sucked.

  Sergio clapped a hand on Ryder’s shoulder, giving him no time to spare Gabby another thought.

  Keep your head in the game.

  “I owe you a drink, amigo,” Sergio said.

  “You owe me nothing.”

  Ryder shook off the man’s touch. Appearing too eager could foil his attempt to further win the man over. The fac
t remained, they weren’t friends. Not by a long shot. And these men were suspicious by nature.

  “You killed your amigo to save my life. And yet I get the feeling you don’t like me.”

  He shrugged. “He wasn’t my friend. More like an acquaintance. We met several weeks ago when I came to Mexico. We had drinks, hung out a few times.”

  “Why are you here, amigo?”

  “I told you before. I’m looking for work.”

  Sergio walked him to the bar, spoke to the bartender in Spanish, and ordered them both a michelada. “You drink them? There’s a bit of a kick.”

  “Never had one.”

  He smiled as two Bloody Mary-looking drinks were set in front of them. Sergio held up his glass. “You will like. Salud.”

  Ryder clicked glasses with him, then took the rim to his lips, taking a good swallow. The shit was spicy, he’d give him that much. But with the mix of beer, he found he liked it. Somehow the mix jelled well.

  “It’s good. Gracias.”

  “De Nada.” Sergio set down his glass and turned toward Ryder. “Now tell me why you came to Mexico looking for work. Surely, there are jobs where you came from.”

  Ryder knew his answer hinged on whether he’d be shown the door or not. “I left town to get away from old memories. I figured new scenery might help.”

  “What are you running away from, amigo?”

  Ryder leaned his forearms on the bar, cupping the glass between his palms. “My girlfriend died because of me. The reminder was killing me. So I left.”

  “How did she die?”

  “Fire.” Ryder pulled his T-shirt off his shoulder, revealing the ugly scar. “I tried to save her. I was too late.”

  One of Sergio’s dark brows arched. “You set the fire?”

  “Fuck, no. I was in a motorcycle club. I wanted to leave. Apparently, they decided to teach me a lesson.”

  “Which club?”

  “The Devils. I’m sure you’re aware of them. We ran drugs for La Paz cartel.”