Chapter 24
Rosalee trailed Bird from the small alcove as he pushed Kaleb’s chopper to the center of the highway. Kane, the son of a bitch, had managed to catch her scent even in the spring drizzle, masked by the smell of wet dirt, pine and animals. She had hoped the weather would camouflage it. His power had undoubtedly gained strength. Had they ridden another half mile down the road at the speeds they were traveling, Kaleb would’ve encountered the steel cable that strung across the highway and nothing short of a miracle would have kept his head attached to his broad shoulders. While eavesdropping at the clubhouse, Rosalee had heard their plans to head for the Blood ‘n’ Rave. She quickly contacted Bird and set the plan into motion.
So fucking close.
She was beginning to think Kaleb had more lives than a damn cat. Curse his good luck. Sooner or later it was bound to run out. But Rosalee wasn’t about to be dissuaded from her goal. On the contrary, she would see Kaleb dead and then Bird would outlive his usefulness. She watched as he slowly moved the chopper to the center of the highway. The fool! Once her mission here was completed, she’d take the dirtbag’s head herself. Rosalee couldn’t afford to leave loose ends. And Bird was definitely a threat to her exposure. She fed from him, fucked his brains out, and promised to turn him for his help in taking down the president of the Sons of Sangue. Stupid man. She’d not saddle herself with him for all eternity, even if women had the ability to turn humans into vampires. She couldn’t turn Bird if she wanted to. That right belonged to the men of her species, only their DNA could cause the change in a human. Talk about an archaic race. Hell, their damn DNA made women inferior to them.
In the end, Kaleb would die and Kane would pay the ultimate price. He had not only banished her to Italy but acted as though she no longer existed, easily replacing her with that blond detective bitch. She was a primordial, for fuck’s sake, and as such she should be revered. Instead, Kane, the ungrateful ass, thought he could take another in her role as his mate … even went so far as getting Mircea’s blessing. When she was done with Kaleb, she’d take out the little detective next with great pleasure.
Cara Brahnam would be no match for someone of her age. And now that she’d returned to her role as detective, she’d no longer be hiding in Kane’s shadow, making her an easy target. Rosalee would get Kane Tepes’ attention one person at a time until she beat him down and forced him to turn to her in penitence … or death. The choice would be his.
If Kane Tepes did not belong to her, then no one would have him.
“Light it,” Rosalee said.
“With pleasure,” the biker said, a slick smile on his weathered face.
Bird took a small can of lighter fluid from the satchel he carried and squirted the liquid liberally over Kaleb’s beloved bike. Bird took a few steps back, took out a pack of matches, pulled one free, and slid it across the strike plate. The match flitted to life, flickering in the damp wet air. He took the match to the rest in the pack, watching it as the fire began to burn bright, then flicked it toward the motorcycle. The bike burst into flames, quickly engulfing it due to the accelerant. Bird’s face glowed from the light of the fire as he watched it grow in intensity.
Rosalee wished she could stick around to see the look on the younger Tepes’ face when he saw his prized bike blackened and charred. But she couldn’t risk being caught … not today. Soon, she would capture Kaleb unaware and when she did, she’d take his head personally. No more fucking around.
“Time to cut our losses, Bird. Kaleb will live to see another day.”
And with that, the two of them disappeared into the foliage and headed for Bird’s bike, left hidden about a half mile down the road. The quicker she got him away from the scene, the less chance the three Sons would have of catching them. Not that she cared what happened to Bird, but she wanted to be the one to drain his sorry ass dry.
* * *
Kaleb led most of the trek back through the dense Siuslaw National Forest, heading for the small alcove where the bikes were parked. Draven had given them his word to work with them on laying a trap for the rival MC, the Devils, and the cartel that fed them their stash of drugs. With Cara’s help and feeding the feds the right leads, they’d be able to take down those responsible for his nephew’s death … and give Kane the much needed closure. Hell, he needed to avenge Ion’s murder for Suzi as well, not to mention the man Ion had loved. Why the hell hadn’t he seen the signs? Because Ion hadn’t wanted him to and because he used Suzi to hide behind. All these years he had hated Suzi for choosing Ion over him, when in fact she hadn’t.
Pissed? Damn right.
Ion should have taken the blunt of that anger. He should’ve trusted in both him and his father, should’ve known they would have never judged Ion for his preference. Damn! It galled him to think that Ion went to his death thinking so little of them. Kane had a right to know. But for now, he’d keep Ion’s secret and allow Suzi to tell his twin in her own time. He owed her that much.
As they drew nearer to the rest area, the strong stench of lighter fluid, gasoline, and smoke clogged his sinuses, long before the forest provided him a view of the orange glow. The fire crackled, sizzled and popped. Had it not been for the smell of gasoline, Kaleb might be tempted to believe the forest was ablaze.
“What the hell?” Kaleb ducked under a couple of branches and leapt over a large fallen tree as if it were nothing, advancing on whatever had gone up in flames.
A quick glance back showed Kane and Grayson quickly on his trail, obviously detecting the conflagration as well. Dread sat in the pit of his stomach the closer he came to the cause. And just as he cleared the woods, his chopper tank blew. The explosion knocked him off his feet and onto his ass about twenty feet back into the forest covering.
“Jesus,” he blasphemed, his mouth left agape.
Kane pulled him to his feet. “You all right, bro?”
Kaleb stepped back out of the woods and stared at the fire licking the remains of his chopper. Parts littered the tarmac. “Well, if that isn’t a pisser. I will so kill that bitch of yours—”
“Not mine.” Kane followed Kaleb onto the road. “I got rid of that long ago. Looks like she’s made herself your best friend, though.”
“She’s gotten my attention, all right. And the next time I see her, I’ll rip her fucking head off.” Kaleb walked an arc around the charred remains of his chopper as it continued to smolder, his stomach stuck somewhere mid-chest. “I have to hand it to you, Viper. You really know how to pick them.”
Kane smirked. “At least it was your ride.”
“Seriously, Viper?” Kaleb turned and glared at him. “You did not just say that to me? All this anger that bitch is harboring should be aimed at your sorry ass.”
“You killed Alec.”
“You sent the bitch back to her stepfather and then annulled your mating. I think that trumps taking Alec’s head.”
Kane shrugged, not doing a very good job of hiding his humor. He ought to cold-cock the son of a bitch. All this shit should be aimed at Kane. But no, instead she wanted his head. What the hell had he ever done to the spoiled brat to earn her scorn? Alec Funar might have been a primordial, but he was most definitely a douche. She should have thanked him for getting rid of the pompous saddle bag. Instead, here he stood staring at the remains of his beloved chopper.
“So what are we going to do, Hawk?” Grayson asked, chuckling. “You riding bitch with Viper back to the clubhouse? He’s got the extra seat.”
“Fuck you, Gypsy.”
Kaleb was certainly in no mood for his wise ass either as he listened to Grayson chortle at his own joke. He pulled out his cell and called K&K Motorcycle’s land line. After a few rings the phone was picked up.
“K&K,” came Alexander’s deep voice. “What can we do you for?”
“Bring the box truck.” Kaleb damn near growled. “Highway 126, about fifteen minutes out, heading for Florence.”
“What you need with the truck?”
“Just do what you’re told, Xander. Don’t leave me standing here all day either.”
He heard the dark-haired vampire take a deep breath. What the hell did he do? Interrupt his fucking nap?
“Give me a few minutes, got a customer here—”
“You the only one there?” Kaleb’s voice rose in irritation.
“No. Blondy, Wolf and Kinky are in back.”
“Then get one of those losers to take over. Bring me that fucking truck … now!”
Kaleb hit the END of his smartphone, glared at a smiling Kane and Grayson and curbed the urge to chuck the cell phone at them. Fifteen minutes later, the box truck rounded the corner, then rolled to a stop just a few feet away from what was left of his chopper. Not very damn much. He’d kill the bitch for that alone.
Alexander stepped down from the cab of the truck, his dark gaze fixated on the charred cycle. “What the hell happened?”
“Rosalee,” Kaleb grumbled. “Grab the leather gloves from the glove box and let’s get this thing loaded.”
Alexander walked around the cab, opened the door and grabbed the gloves along with the fire extinguisher. Walking over to the center of the road, he aimed the spray nozzle from the canister, pulled the safety pin, then squeezed the lever and dowsed the bike, extinguishing what might be left of heat and flames. Kaleb’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach as he stared at the mess. Gone was the seat, gas tank and damn near everything else. He had the blackened frame, motor… Hell, even the tires had melted to the rims, making them unusable. Part of him wanted to pitch the whole sorry excuse for a chopper and start over. The other part needed to rebuild it, piece by piece because he loved that bike. He’d not allow Rosalee to win this round.
Damn that bitch for drawing breath.
He made a promise right then … he’d see her dead by his own hand or die trying.
* * *
The large, white box truck pulled onto the paved lot of K&K Motorcycles, the wipers on delay swiping at the continuing drizzle. Much the way Kaleb felt. Gloomy and dismal. He supposed he needed to snap out of his present mood. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t rebuild his chopper. Or better yet, create a whole new radical design, but he’d had that Ironhead chopper since 1979. He had made a few restorations over the years, but for the most part, it had remained intact. He hated losing the old girl. Kaleb jumped from the cab after it rolled to a stop, then headed for the back of the motorcycle shop.
Alexander alighted behind him, but went around back of the truck to retrieve the frame and what else was left of it. Kane and Grayson had beaten them back to the shop, their motorcycles parked in the front lot. Using the keypad, Kaleb punched in a series of numbers, waited for the beep, then swung open the back door and waltzed into the parts room, florescent lights illuminating the room. He heard the laughter, long before he saw the five vampires standing in a semi-circle, no doubt sharing humor over the demise of his chopper. Asses. Every single one of them.
“Nobody has anything better to do?” Kaleb rounded the corner of a row of silver racks containing parts and accessories. “Now we pay you to stand around and bullshit?”
“My, aren’t we in a snit.” Grigore flashed him a smile filled with humor. “You don’t pay us enough to begin with, Hawk.”
“There’s the door, Wolf, if you have a better opportunity.”
“Fuck you, Hawk. Viper would just hire me right back.”
“So why not ride your Ironhead chopper back?” Joseph asked, not bothering to contain his humor either. Along with Alexander, he was also one of the quiet ones, never speaking unless he had an opinion on something.
Comedians, all of them.
“Maybe you’d like to rebuild it for me, Kinky?”
“I’ll be glad to detail it out for you, but you know as well as I do, no one would build one to suit your picky ass.”
“What do we have on the floor in the meantime?” Kaleb would need a ride while he rebuilt his chopper.
“Ask Xander. He was the last one in the showroom,” Joseph said.
The back door to the parts room opened and slammed shut, indicating Alexander had brought the frame in. The smell of the burnt parts hung heavy in the room. He needed to take care of this issue with Rosalee. No more fucking around.
Anton walked over to where Alexander set the charred remains and whistled. “Not much left, Hawk. I would’ve had Xander deposit this shit in the Dumpster out back. Ain’t worth saving, if you ask me.”
“No one did, Blondy. Xander, we have anything decent out there? Or did you sell the best bike on the floor to whomever was occupying your time when I called?”
Alexander pulled off the leather gloves and tossed them on one of the stainless steel counters. “Go take your pick. You interrupted a sure sale. We have a showroom full of sweet rides.”
“We going to get that sale back?”
He shrugged. “I suppose she might be back.”
Kaleb’s gaze swung from his chopper’s frame to Alexander. “She?”
Grigore slapped Alexander on the shoulder and laughed. “Xander’s beautician thinks she needs a sweet ride. Right, GQ?”
“Go to hell, Wolf.”
“The lady that gave you that”—Kaleb gestured to Alexander’s newly shorn locks—“now wants to buy a motorcycle?”
“Yeah.” He scratched his nape. “Said she’d like a Sportster.”
“It’s a great bike for a girl, right, Gypsy?” Kaleb asked, looking at Grayson who seemed deep in a conversation with Kane.
“What’s that?”
“I said Xander’s girlfriend is looking for a girly bike. Why not sell her your custom Forty-Eight Sportster?”
“Go to hell, Hawk. I like the smaller bike. I don’t need a big piece of machinery between my legs to compensate for a small dick. I don’t have any complaints in that department, unlike you—”
“I didn’t get any complaints…” Kaleb stopped himself from bringing up Suzi’s name.
He wasn’t sure it was the right time to broach the subject of what the two were or were not doing. He needed to spend more time with her before he started thinking in the long-term, though part of him knew damn well he was being a stubborn ass because he most certainly did not want a future without her. Regardless, that was a conversation he’d reserve at a later time.
“So that’s why the little brunette’s been hanging at the house lately? She’s sniffing at that dick of yours?”
Kaleb crossed the large backroom in very few strides and stuck his finger in Grayson’s chest hard enough to knock him back a few feet. “Suzi Stevens is not up for discussion, Gypsy. Unlike Tamera, whom you’ve found yourself mated to.”
Grayson growled as three pair of eyes trained on the shorter man. Anton, being the Secretary, was the first to speak up. “You hold a church meeting without us, Gypsy?”
“Fuck no. “
“Then what’s this about a mate?”
“The fucking bitch was high as a kite. Not my fault.”
Kaleb said, “You call the clubhouse? See how she’s faring?”
“Why the hell would I care again?”
“I talked to Cara,” Kane spoke up. “She said she’s doing fine, all things considered.”
“Someone want to fill the rest of us in on what the hell is going on?” Anton asked. “Or am I the only one in the dark?”
Kaleb quickly filled the rest of the members of the Sons on what had taken place the night before. Grayson paced the parts room like a caged animal, fidgety and unsettled. Kaleb couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, but it wasn’t like he had gotten saddled with someone like Rosalee. No, Kane had taken that honor. Although to his credit, she wasn’t the crazy bitch she is today until after Kane had scorned her.
Joseph scratched his ear as he tried to fight the rising smirk. But once Anton started laughing, the others followed suit. Aside from Grayson. No, he wasn’t finding humor in his situation at all.
He walked over to Anton and smacked him behind the head. “I wouldn’t laugh, Blondy, seeing as how I’m moving in with you.”
“The hell you are.” His humor shed his face. “Why my house?”
“Because you live in that big old farmhouse all by yourself. You have plenty of room.”
“And your mate?”
Grayson growled low again. “She’s staying at the clubhouse. There’s far too many women there for me these days, let them keep her out of trouble.”
“You know you’re responsible for her,” Kaleb said. “It’s not my job to make sure she makes it through the change and learns the life.”
“No, it’s not. But since you’re the pres, you figure it out.” He turned back to Anton. “Which room is mine?”
“You can have the top floor, bro. I haven’t used it in years.”
“Good. Now if we’re done here, I’ll go grab my things. Anyone needs me, I’ll be at Blondy’s.”
Grayson walked through the swinging doors leading to the showroom and out the front of the shop. The bell to the front door sounded, just before the door slammed closed, signifying the vampire had left the building.
“Damn!” Kaleb broke the silence. “Poor Gypsy.”
Grigore was the first to laugh again, which started a round of guffaws. Once the humor died away, he said, “I can safely say it couldn’t have happened to a better man. Maybe now the rest of us will get some action and he’ll stop hogging all the women to himself.”
“Who said he’ll remain faithful to his mate, Wolf?” Alexander asked. “If it were me, I’d sure as hell wouldn’t. Viper never stayed faithful to his.”
“That’s because Rosalee stopped being my mate when Ion was killed,” Kane said. “I didn’t owe her shit. Cara, on the other hand, has nothing to worry about. I’d never think to break my vow to her.”
“If there was ever a reason to break that vow, Gypsy certainly has one.” Kaleb grimaced. “I’ll not say a word about what he does with his evenings, and I expect the same from all of you. We’re going to cut Gypsy some slack because he didn’t ask for this.”
“So who will be responsible for her?” Joseph asked.
Kane sighed. “Cara will no doubt insist since she’s living under our roof. I suppose that will make Tamera my responsibility as well.”
Kaleb nodded, satisfied with his twin’s answer. “That settles it. Kane and Cara will finish seeing Tamera through her change and she’ll be their responsibility for now. That is until we can figure out what to do with this fucked up messed. Now, I have a bone to pick with a primordial bitch … and for that I need a ride.”
“Go take your pick, boss,” Alexander said. “Just don’t touch the new Seventy-Two Sportster with the Hard Candy Chrome Flake that came in last week.”
Kaleb raised a brow. “You seriously think I’d be caught dead driving a bike with fucking sparkles, Xander?”
His cheeks mottled red. “No, I just wanted to make sure it was still here tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry, GQ … your girlfriend’s bike will still be in the showroom. I doubt any of the Sons would be caught dead on that bike.”