Ryder (Sons of Sangue Book 6)

by Patricia A. Rasey

“Why should I care?”

  Ryan chuckled. “Pardon me for saying so, but I think you already established that you do, due to your earlier accusation. I’m her manager. I’ve hired bodyguards for her in the past, but most weren’t worth the money we paid them. Her mother is staking Caitlyn’s life on you. She says that if you agree to go on tour with her daughter, she won’t insist the shows be canceled. I don’t have to tell you, Grigore—”

  “Wolf.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s Wolf. No one calls me Grigore but my mother and Cait. My mom passed quite a few years ago.”

  “Okay, Wolf. We need to put this show on the road. Canceling the shows this late in the game would be detrimental to Caitlyn’s career. We can’t let that happen.”

  He raised a brow. “Wouldn’t it be worse if this crackpot killed her?”

  “Well, of course. But you won’t let that happen.”

  “You’re damn right I won’t.”

  “So you’re saying you’ll do it?”

  What? “No, I … uh … if I don’t, is the tour still happening? Or will her mother put a stop to it?”

  “Her mother quit calling the shots long ago. She’d like to think she could stop her daughter, but Caitlyn’s determined to move forward.”

  Every curse word known to mankind ran through his head. “Stubborn damn woman. When does the tour start?”

  “Next week.”

  “You don’t give a man a lot of time, do you?”

  “As I said, these death threats just came.” His tone lightened. “When can we expect you?”

  “When and where is the first show?”

  “The Progressive Arena in Detroit, Michigan.” Her hometown … their hometown. Baxter rattled off the first date and showtime. “Check in backstage when you get there. I’ll leave your name and be sure you’re given VIP passes and clearance. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “You might regret it once Cait finds out you hired me.”

  “You won’t let her talk you out of helping, will you?”

  “Hell, no. If someone wants to kill Cait, they’re going to have to go through me.”

  Grigore didn’t wait for a response, hitting the red END button. Well, ain’t that just the shits. He stood, tossed his phone to the leather sofa and ran both hands through his shoulder-length hair, pushing it from his eyes and smiled. He couldn’t wait to see Cait’s reaction when she found out that Grigore Lupie was about to stick to her like fucking duct tape.

  After walking to the bar sink, Grigore turned on the cold water and splashed his face with it, then grabbed a hand towel as the door to the clubhouse opened. He ran the cotton down his face, then dried his hands, seeing a dejected Ryder enter the room.

  Ryder’s lips turned down, his gaze haunted. He likely would’ve headed straight for his room and slammed the door if Grigore hadn’t stopped him. Even though Ryder didn’t seem to be in any mood for a conversation, Grigore wasn’t about to let him off that easy.

  “Welcome home.” Grigore braced his hands on the counter. Ryder looked as if he were about to ignore him. No such luck. “How was the ride?”

  “Not in the mood, Wolf.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  Ryder stopped, pinning him with a glare. “Do I look like I do?”

  “Too fucking bad.” He reached for the bottle of Jack and placed it on the counter between them. “Have a drink with me, then if you still don’t feel like talking, go sulk in your room. I’m here to tell you it won’t help.”

  Ryder grabbed the bottle of whiskey, unscrewed the cap and downed a fourth of the bottle. “There. Happy? I still don’t feel like talking.”

  “It fucking sucks, dude. I get it.”

  One of Ryder’s brows arched. “Do you?”

  “I may not have been through the same thing as you, but letting her go, you did the right thing.”

  “How the fuck would you know?” Ryder took another healthy swig from the bottle.

  “Because I left someone behind years ago. I wish I hadn’t. But the best damn thing for her? I wasn’t it.”

  Ryder took a deep breath, then sat on the bar stool. “How do you get past it, move on?”

  “One day at a time, dude. I don’t have a better answer than that.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Grigore took the bottle, poured himself a couple of fingers into the tumbler, then handed it back. “She went on without me, made a name for herself.”

  “Would I know the name?”

  “Cait Summers. Most know her as just Caitlyn.”

  “The pop star? Are you shitting me?”

  Grigore shook his head and grinned. “I loved her. Fuck … still do. But as long as I was around, she wasn’t going anywhere. I was holding her back. She was too afraid to do anything that didn’t include me, so I left.”

  “You did tell her goodbye, right? Why you were leaving?”

  “Nope.” He took a sip of the amber liquid. “I wouldn’t have had the balls to walk out if she cried. So we made love, she fell asleep in my arms, then I left. I haven’t talked to her since.”

  “That’s fucking cold.”

  “Yeah, well, enough about me. You think Gabriela will come around?”

  He leaned his chin on his palm, elbow braced on the bar. “She hates me, and rightly so. I used her to get to her uncle. That’s inexcusable. I couldn’t ask her to forgive me.”

  “So you just left?”

  “No, she did.” Ryder looked tired, as if he had been run through a ringer. “She said if I loved her, I’d let her go. So, I did, man. I turned my back and let her walk away.”

  Grigore took another sip of the Jack. “If she loves you, she’ll come find you. Gabriela has to know the kind of man her uncle was. We did her a fucking favor. We gave her her freedom.”

  “She won’t see it that way.”

  Grigore placed a hand on Ryder’s shoulder. “Give her time, Ryder. I have a feeling she’ll come looking for you.”

  His brow pinched. “Why didn’t Caitlyn come looking for you?”

  “Because I’m an asshole.” Grigore shrugged. “Besides, she likely found some other jerk more worthy of her love.”

  “Maybe Gabby will find someone else.”

  Grigore held up his glass and clinked the bottle Ryder held. “Na … you’re one of the good ones, Ryder. Gabby will see that.”

  Chapter 22

  Two weeks had passed since his return home from Mexico. Two miserable fucking weeks. The Sons of Sangue had since paid their final respects in a memorial to Peter, sending him off in grand fashion. The party had gone well into the night. Peter would have approved. The following day, Grigore had mounted his motorcycle and made tracks for Detroit. He had no idea when he’d return, telling Ryder he’d keep in touch. Seemed the big guy had a heart beneath all that muscle, hair, and tattoos after all.

  Ryder’s heart, on the other hand, hurt like hell, missing Gabby so much it nearly crippled him. He seemed in a constant state of self-pity. In the past he had suffered loss, taking months to move forward. But this … he was fucking miserable knowing Gabby was out there and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about winning her back. She’d never forgive his deception, not that he could blame her.

  Scrubbing a hand down his razor-stubbled face, having recently shaven off the beard and cut his hair back to his normal shorter preference, he blew out a steady stream of air. Ryder deserved her contempt and more. Hell, he was responsible for the upheaval of her life. Gabby had been left without family.

  He couldn’t help wondering how she was faring, hoping she was doing okay, wishing he was there to comfort her, knowing she’d never allow it. Maybe one day, her hate for him would diminish.

  Who was he kidding? From her standpoint, there was no explanation that would make what he did okay. Gabby’s hatred for him would not likely subside.

  Their parting was no doubt for the best. She didn’t need him, likely never would have. Gabby was used to riches
well beyond his grasp. And him? He didn’t need a mate. There were plenty of women at the Blood ’n’ Rave willing to share his bed. So why hadn’t any of them appealed to him since his return?

  Time heals all wounds.

  Bullshit.

  Whoever coined that phrase must have been an idiot, that or never loved someone more than life itself. Ryder doubted he’d ever get past losing Gabriela Trevino Caballero. If there was truly one special person out there for everyone, Gabby was it for him. He had known it from the moment he had first kissed her. She had knocked him flat on his ass and had stolen his heart from the get-go.

  Not that he regretted it.

  Loving her was the one thing he had done right.

  Ryder took a few bottles of Jack from the cupboard, placing them on a large wooden serving tray, adding some cut-glass tumblers, and carried the tray into the meeting room. The clubhouse had been eerily quiet with Grigore gone and Ryder the only resident the past couple of weeks. He figured everyone was likely avoiding his sulky ass.

  Talk about a Debby Downer.

  Today’s church meeting was actually the bright spot in his day. He was getting tired of staring at the four walls since K&K Motorcycles was closed, being a Sunday. Lately, Ryder had poured himself into work at the shop, learning some custom work from Kaleb, coming home long enough to catch a few hours’ sleep, then heading back. He found he liked the craft and enjoyed the camaraderie with the guys. He, Kaleb, and Grayson had worked long hours on the latest custom commissioned by an A-List actor. Word on the street was no one did better custom work, increasing their workload.

  Ryder wasn’t about to complain. He hated idle time. Even surfing didn’t appeal to him at the moment, thus turning down offer to head out to Grayson’s on the coast.

  After setting down the tray, he took his seat at the table. A glance at the clock told him the men would be arriving soon. Ryder poured himself a glass of the whiskey and knocked it back, savoring the burn. If he repeated the statement that he didn’t want a mate enough times, maybe he’d actually begin to believe it. In truth, if she walked through the clubhouse door at that moment, he’d get on his knees and beg her to forgive him, to take him for all of eternity.

  A chuckle left his throat.

  That would be a cold day in hell.

  The outside door opened. Kaleb and Kane’s boots thudded against the wood as they approached the meeting room. Ryder’s scenting ability had improved, laying truth to his primordial proficiency. He had actually scented the twins about a half mile down the road. Their laughter drifted into the room before they did, each slapping Ryder on the shoulder before taking their seats.

  Kane oddly sat at the head of the table, while Kaleb stood behind. They each took a tumbler and poured themselves a glassful of the Gentleman Jack. It didn’t take long for the table to fill with the remaining Sons. Conversation bubbled about the room, mostly centering on Raúl and his demise. The consensus seemed to be that everyone was glad to put the chapter behind and move forward, Kane in particular.

  A large smile stretched his face. “Since you’re all here, rather than having you gossiping like hens behind my back, I’m just going to put this out there. I’m happy to say Cara and I are officially ready to start a family.”

  Kaleb returned his grin. “About damn time, bro. Stefan needs a cousin or two to play with.”

  “From what I hear, Hawk, Suzi plans on you guys supplying the second part of the ‘or two’ part. Cara and I will start with one for now.”

  He laughed, not in the least bothered by Kane’s statement. “Yeah, well … happy mate, happy life.”

  Grayson rolled his gaze. “You idiot, that doesn’t even rhyme.”

  Ryder looked around the table at his brothers, glad to see most were happily mated, though he wasn’t about to join that club. Without Gabby, not likely ever.

  Kaleb whistled, gaining everyone’s attention, and the room quieted. “Let’s get this meeting started, shall we? I invited the women and children here for a little celebration, should the vote go the way I think it will.”

  “Just what are we voting on, Hawk?” Bobby asked.

  Kaleb took a slow gander around the room, then placed his hands on Kane’s shoulders. “I want to step down from being president, let Viper take back the reins.”

  “What about you?” Anton asked.

  “I want to put it to a vote that we all resume our previous positions before I took over as president. That means I’ll once again be VP … if Gypsy’s okay with that.”

  Discussion among the men began anew. Ryder didn’t see an angry man among them. In fact, they all seemed pleased with the proposition.

  Kane looked at Grayson. “You okay with that, Gypsy?”

  “Hell, yeah.” He nodded. “More time for me to surf and spend with my family. I’m just surprised. Never thought I’d see the day you give up the throne, though, Kaleb.”

  “I need to get back to building customs. It’s what I love doing. Besides, we have a lot of work coming our way. We’ll all need to get our hands dirty while Kane handles the business side of things.” Stepping back from his twin, he continued, “I motion that Kane returns to the rightful head of the Sons of Sangue, I go back to being VP, and so on.”

  “I’ll second the motion,” Anton said.

  Within seconds, all ayes were counted, and not a single “nay” was heard. The buzz of conversation grew again, with everyone seemingly happy with the outcome. Ryder tipped his nose upward, scenting the arrival of another vampire, one much more powerful than any other vampire in the room. Moments later, the double doors swung open and Vlad strode into the room as if he was expected.

  “Boys, we have a problem.” Vlad Tepes’s presence damn near filled the room, silencing the men. Some gaped at his unexpected appearance. “Now that I have everyone’s undivided attention, I’m here to say that my brother has given me the slip. And unfortunately, Mircea is gunning for my grandsons.”

  Kane lifted a skeptical dark brow, obviously still taking the sting personally that he had failed to take out Mircea when he had the chance. “If he shows his face? Do I need to call you?”

  “You have my permission, Kane, to do whatever is necessary to stop him. Mircea knew what the consequences would be if he left my … care.”

  Squaring his shoulders and hardening his square jaw, Vlad took his wrist to his mouth and ripped open a vein with his fangs. He held his arm out to Kane. “I am giving you and Kaleb my primordial blood. Should the son of a bitch come to Oregon snooping around, you both have my permission to end his miserable life. With primordial blood running through your veins, I’m ensuring that he won’t have the upper hand … not this time.”

  Kane stood and took Vlad’s wrist in his hand. “Are you sure? Hawk and I already have your blood running through our veins, grandfather.”

  “Through birth, yes. But it isn’t primordial blood. Drink and you will be equal to me, and one day be just as powerful.”

  Without hesitation, Kane took Vlad’s wrist to his mouth, sinking his fangs and drafting from the vein, then licking the remains from his lips. Vlad offered the same to Kaleb.

  Once finished, Kaleb asked, “Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  “Not a clue. I haven’t been able to get a lead. I have my men looking for him. He won’t make it easy. He’s taken my servant Nina with him, and, like a mole, has probably gone underground. Hard telling when he will surface.”

  “I’m sure he’ll try to blindside us, but we’ll be waiting,” said Kane.

  “He’ll no doubt use his blood to turn the maid, meaning you’ll also have a primordial bitch on your hands. He’s a loose cannon. I had hoped I could change him. Unfortunately, I was wrong. Take them both out, boys … unless I get to them first. If that’s the case, there won’t be anything left of either of them to find.”

  With that, Vlad breezed from the room. The man never stayed in one place overlong, probably out of self-preservation. Ryder almost pitied Vlad’s brot
her. Mircea and Nina didn’t stand a chance against the Tepes crew. Add in Ryder, Draven, and Brea all with primordial blood, not to mention the fact that the rest of the Sons of Sangue were looking to take him down, and it would be damn suicidal for Mircea to show his face here.

  Excitement coursed through the room, everyone thrilled with the idea of taking out Vlad’s ungrateful kin. Kane resumed order around the table, striking the mallet against the plate.

  “Other than changing the patches on our vests, do we have any other business to discuss?”

  When no one spoke, Kane continued. “Then this meeting is adjourned. Call the women and let’s get this fucking party started.”

  This time the chatter thankfully centered around Mircea, instead of Raúl. Ryder wasn’t in the mood to discuss Gabriela’s uncle, or his demise. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t up for partying at all.

  Kane grabbed the remaining bottles of whiskey, leading the men from the meeting room and into the main living area of the clubhouse. Ryder remained seated, a tumbler in his hand. There really wasn’t a way to avoid the festivities since he technically lived here. Maybe they wouldn’t notice his absence in the main room.

  Extending his legs, he crossed his feet at the ankles and leaned back in the chair. Quite frankly, he wasn’t ready to be part of any celebrations including the mates and their sons. Christ, he was a selfish bastard, but it was a painful reminder of what he’d never have.

  He took a sip of whiskey. Maybe he ought to go to the Rave and hang out for a spell. It certainly held more appeal than the goings-on here. He was just about to do so when another familiar scent caught his attention, one that awakened all of his senses,

  No. Fucking. Way.

  His imagination had to be playing tricks. Ryder stood, walked into the living area, and headed for the exit like a man possessed.

  Before the knock even came, he opened the door, finding Gabriela standing on the stoop, hand raised.

  Her gaze widened and she gasped.

  Wetting her lips with her cute little tongue that he knew all too well, she squared her shoulders. “You didn’t call.”

  Ryder’s breath stuck in his throat. Had he suddenly become prone to hallucinations? If so, he didn’t want to stop the fantasy. Seeing her standing in front of him was a dream come true.