Viper (4 page)

When she didn't do as told, he grabbed the pad and pen from her hand lightning quick. Detective Hernandez made a move, but Cara held out a hand to stop him. Kaleb wrote something on the pad, then handed it back.

As Brahnam read it, she nodded slowly, then looked at Hernandez. "Looks like we're done here. Kaleb Tepes can spell sightseeing. He even signed it. I'm impressed."

Detective Hernandez leaned down, his nose inches from Kaleb's and yet his twin never broke his smile. Kane knew better. He could feel Kaleb simmering beneath the surface with extreme dislike for Hernandez. Had Kaleb wanted to, he could easily kill the detective without breaking a sweat.

"What were you doing on North Fork?"

"Sightseeing," Kaleb reiterated, then winked at the man. "Ask me again, and I'll tell you the same thing. We can do this all night. The pretty lady has my statement. You don't believe that's what I was doing out there, then prove me wrong." The smirk left his face. "Now get the fuck out of my face."

Hernandez wisely backed off and looked to Grayson. "Where were you tonight?"

Grayson put his hands up. "Don't look at me. I just crawled out of bed, man. I'm sure one of the two ladies I woke up beside will corroborate that."

Detective Hernandez wrote down the names Grayson supplied him with and said, “I’ll be sure to do that.”

Kane finally stepped forward, stopping a good distance from both detectives. "Hawk and I were out for a ride, Detectives. You mind telling us what this is about?"

Detective Brahnam closed the gap between them. She looked up at him. Her clear blue eyes held his gaze. He had to admit Kaleb was correct. The pretty little detective was exactly his type. "We found another body off North Fork Road, near Bender Landing County Park. You boys out by the park tonight?"

"We passed the area."

"Notice anything different? See anyone?"

"As you said, it was foggy."

She narrowed her pretty blue gaze as though trying to assess him. As she tilted her face upwards, his focus landed on the pulse in her neck.

"So why go so far out of your way? There is nothing around for miles."

"Riding. It clears my head. You got anything else you need, Detective?" Kane leaned closer to her ear and whispered, "Because suddenly, I'm ravenous."

A shiver passed through her. He saw it in the slight tremor of her shoulders. "Then we're keeping you," she replied, barely audible.

Kane sniffed the crook of her neck, then said low enough Hernandez couldn't possibly hear, "Unless you're offering."

Detective Brahnam sucked in her breath, stepped back, putting space between them and looked at her partner. "No, we're done … for now." She cleared her throat. "If we have any more questions, we'll be back. So don't leave town."

She started for the door with her partner, then stopped. She turned on a dime, then came back to Kane, her back ramrod straight. She grasped the collar of his tee and yanked him to her face level, causing him to smile. He liked her spunk.

She whispered, "You ever threaten to bite me again, I'll yank those canines out myself." Then she released him, turned back around and headed for the door, where she said, "We'll let ourselves out."

Kane smiled, watching the saucy sway of her ass in jeans that molded to her like a well-worn glove. His palms itched to take a handful.

The door slammed behind them, causing Kane to chuckle.

Hell, not only was he fucking hungry—now he could add horny as hell to his list of ailments.

So Detective Brahnam hadn't forgotten; she knew exactly what he was, no doubt remembering that night as much as he, for likely two very different reasons.

"Are you fucking crazy, Viper?" Kaleb asked as he jumped to his feet, only seconds after the door closed behind the detectives. Kane knew that Kaleb’s and Grayson's acute hearing would have picked up their conversation. He hadn't cared. "What about the rules? If the law finds out about us, they'll definitely blame these drainages on us! If not have us killed on sight!"

Filling his glass again, Kane took the shot, then slammed it on the counter. "Relax, Hawk, she's known about my existence for ten years and hasn't breathed a word."

"How the hell does she know?"

"She came to the Blood 'n' Rave when she was all but a kid."

"So? A lot of people do."

"She caught me in the bathroom having sex with a donor."

Grayson approached the bar, grabbed the bottle of Jack and poured himself a shot, no doubt gloating at Kane's confession. "Oh, that's rich. You broke the rules, Viper? You weren't using good judgment and got caught with your fangs out and your pants down." A hearty chuckle followed his statement, deepening Kane's black mood.

"She hasn't said anything in ten years. She won't now."

Kaleb looked at Kane, obviously not trusting his brother’s assessment. "And what if she does, Viper? She could expose us all."

"I'll take care of it."

"How, bro? How are you going to keep that pretty little detective's mouth shut?"

"I said, I'll take care of it."

No longer in the mood to be in the same company as his MC brothers, he grabbed his leather cut and headed for the door. He needed communion.

Chapter 3

Cara pulled her shirt over her head, disregarding the buttons. Her fingers trembled fiercely; she doubted she'd have managed them anyway. Good thing for her she kept her panic at bay from Joe. The last thing she needed was her partner privy to the affect Kane Tepes had on her. She wasn't about to explain to him what had happened in the ladies room at the Blood 'n' Rave ten years prior. Hell,
she
couldn't explain it.

Sometimes what the eyes observe cannot always be trusted—Cara knew that from her years on the force. It was the reason witnesses were sequestered and not allowed to talk with each other after a crime. One witness could influence another by their personal perception of the facts.

A few weeks after her hasty exit of the club, she had made the decision to leave behind the entire town, hoping to escape the nightmares that followed her night at the Blood 'n' Rave. But the dreams hadn't diminished. Large dark sulking figures with elongated teeth, and blood smeared mouths haunted her nights, along with snarls, growls and gnashing of teeth. She had always awakened in a pool of sweat, attempting to catch her breath as she convinced herself that vampires weren't real. Cara needed a straight jacket and a long time away, because everyone knew that vampires were a product of fiction. Lucky for her the Oregon State Mental Hospital, where One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest had been filmed ages ago, had been torn down in 2009 or she might surely be on the patient list.

Kane had wanted to frighten her with his growl and canines dripping of blood. And damn if he hadn't gotten the job done. Ten years and she had nearly convinced herself that Kane either didn't exist, of which he had already proven that theory incorrect, or he had purchased a good pair of very sharp molded dental fangs for which to better play the part at the Rave. That and he dabbled in blood-play like a lot of young kids there. Because the fact was: vampires weren’t real.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Ten years and it was as fresh in her mind as if it had happened just yesterday. Cara had gone to the club out of curiosity and a bit of coercion by her best friend, Suzi. The name of the club alone had made her want to steer clear. Besides, Cara had never flirted with drugs and she knew the reputation that raves carried.

"Everyone that's anybody goes there, Cara," Suzi had said in her most convincing whine.

And Cara hated it when Suzi whined because she knew her best friend wouldn't stop until Cara relented. The last time she saw Suzi, just days before heading off to college, Cara noted her friend wearing a small vial of what looked like blood dangling from a black leather cord as a necklace. Lame? Maybe. But definitely strange. Cara hadn't bothered with a final goodbye the day she left. Suzi had immersed herself into a lifestyle Cara wanted no part of. So she had simply packed her bags and driven away.

There was no one to miss Cara except her aging grandfather, and she would stop back from time to time to visit him at the Pleasant Care Nursing Home. She hated placing her grandfather in assisted living care, but at eighty-two with a bad hip, he needed help with about everything and she couldn't trust him to be at home alone while she worked.

Her father, over-worked and mentally abused by the woman he married, died six-months after she had fled town and her alcoholic mother had moved on to abuse some other poor schmuck. Cara’s upbringing could have been a case study for child neglect and abuse. Whenever her mother had gone on one of her drunken binges and meant to take her sucky-ass life out on her only child—one she frequently reminded Cara she hadn't wanted—her father had stepped in. Sometimes a bit too late. He'd been the one to take her to the hospital and lie about how Cara had broken her arm or finger or whatever part of her body that got in the way of her mother's tirades.

"Silly girl was on the swing set and jumped before I could get to her," was just one of the many excuses her father had manufactured.

Leaving had been easy. Coming home had not.

So why had she?

Because regardless of her past, Cara still thought of Pleasant as her home. She preferred life in a small town to that of the city, and she was much closer to her grandfather here. Better to keep an eye on him.

Besides, her mother no longer lived in Pleasant.

Thank the good Lord for small favors. She could be dead for all that Cara cared. And then there was the one unfortunate night in Eugene, one she’d rather put to rest and forget ever happened. Best for all involved, at least that’s what she had been told. It seemed she was always running from something.

Cara unzipped her pants and stepped from them, heading for the bathroom. A cool breeze wafted in through the opened window, the sheer curtains flapping in the breeze. She didn't worry about being seen. Not out here. Cara had chosen the old farm house because her nearest neighbor squatted a half mile down the road. Gooseflesh popped out along her skin, chilling her. A nice long hot shower was in order. Hopefully, it would help her relax her tired muscles and take away the stress of the day.

Kane came to mind, followed by a shudder.

Turning on the bathroom light, she looked in the mirror and pulled the rubber band from her still damp hair. The natural platinum blonde strands fell about her shoulders. Joe had been correct. Her hair color matched that of the recent victims. As well as matched the color of the blonde Kane screwed in the ladies’ room at the Rave. Not that she kept tabs on Kane or gave a rat's ass the type of women he dated, but could Kane be responsible for these recent homicides? At this point she really had nothing to connect him to the murders other than his preference for blondes … and his possible predilection for blood.

Cara's stomach soured. Even while on the force at the Eugene PD, she had seen nothing like these recent crimes. Something untoward had stepped inside Pleasant's limits, something foul and loathsome. Something preying on young blonde women, draining them of every last bit of their blood.

Shedding her under garments, she opened the glass shower door and stepped into the steaming water, allowing it to run down her skin. Vapor rose and gathered around her, fog rolling over the door and misting the room. She couldn't imagine a longer day. This time of the year, darkness came early, making the day seem much later than it actually was. Domestics actually rose this time of year due to depression and isolation that set in over the long gloomy months. With these recent homicides, Cara wasn't sure she was ready for the winter months to begin. She had enough on her plate trying to solve these cases, let alone add crazy spouses into the mix. Everyone knew domestics were some of the worst calls to answer. As a cop, you never knew what you were walking into.

Cara sighed, wishing the heated water would wash her worries down the drain, along with her thoughts of Kane Tepes. She didn't need the complications his presence in her life would most certainly cause. The perfect night would include making a batch of hot chocolate, grabbing a novel, and crawling into bed. But she knew nothing would stop her rolling thoughts. Once her head hit the pillow and the lights went out, her mind would replay the case, as well as its possible connection to Kane. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, the man was pretty pleasing to the eye. She chuckled. Pleasing to the eye didn't do him justice. The man was downright sinful.

Reaching for the shampoo, she lathered her hair, massaging her scalp, then rinsed the soap from the strands. Suds slid down her body and over her breasts. Her nipples tightened, teasing her, aching for a caress … Kane's caress.

Her eyes flew open.

Where the hell had that thought come from?

Maybe Joe had been correct and she did need to get laid. Her imagination had started to take a turn for the dangerous. Since moving back to the small town, Cara hadn't bothered with a relationship. Didn't have time for one. In her experience a relationship took far too much time and energy for very little return. Even in her ten years in Eugene, at college and on the force, she hadn't dated a man for longer than a few months. None of them held her attention long enough to get serious, and most were more interested in getting drunk and going to bars. A piece of ass was just something they did after last call at the bar. No need to add complicated emotions into the equation.

Cara had little interest in sex when it didn't come in the form of a relationship. Call her old-fashioned. So after a few horrible tries at a relationship—one she refused to acknowledge because it had ended so badly—and a few bumbling mishaps in the sack, Cara swore off men and concentrated on her career. She figured she had a long life ahead of her to worry about family, babies and all that stuff she wasn't likely cut out for anyway.

Kane's image flitted before her. Not the one from her nightmares, but the man she encountered mere hours ago. He had been dark, brooding and angry. The angry she understood. The S.O. had targeted the Sons of Sangue since the very first dumped body. Each of them had been questioned at length and made to feel guilty … maybe not of the crimes in question, but the Sheriff’s Office knew the OMC were guilty of something. They always were. So they treated them like reprobates. Maybe the S.O. was looking to hang these crimes on someone … anyone, and the Sons of Sangue seemed like a good target. At least that had been the view the Sons had taken. And she couldn't blame them. They didn't have squat for suspects. If Kane was indeed innocent of the homicides, then he no doubt had reason to be furious with her and the Sheriff’s Office.

And an angry Kane was an intoxicating image.

With a lathered bath scrunchy, Cara ran the soap down her chest and over her sensitized breasts. Her breath caught, her nipples puckered, and a slow warm ache pooled between her thighs. Her heartbeat thudded heavy against her rib cage as she thought of Kane's large, muscular body. His chiseled frame looked like he lifted weights daily. She'd certainly like to run her hands down the solid ridges of his abs. Leaning back against the cool shower tiles, she allowed her hands to roam farther, heading south over her taut stomach. Lord, she hadn't felt a stirring of lust in years. She hadn't even allowed herself the pleasure of an orgasm. Cara had tried self-pleasure a handful of times, but it always left her unfulfilled and wanting. Her face heated at the thought of allowing herself the guilty pleasure now. Since when had she stopped thinking of Kane as anything but a nightmare?

His dark looks intrigued her, called to her as her hand drifted lower, wondering what it would feel like to have his hands skim her flesh and slide between her thighs. The ache grew. Her breath drew short.

The telephone jangled.

Shit!

Cara dropped the scrunchy, cursing herself for the notion of even thinking to pleasure herself. She quickly rinsed off, opened the door and grabbed a towel. Served her right. She had no business whatsoever daydreaming about Kane Tepes … even if he was about the sexiest thing to ever land in Pleasant.

Grabbing the bedroom phone, she paced in front of the opened window. The chilled air cooled her heated skin. And, Lord, did she need cooling off.

"Hello," she answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey, Brahnam. What's up?"

Cara smiled. "What are you calling for at this hour, Hernandez?"

"This hour? Hell, Brahnam, it's barely eight-thirty. Some of us guys from the office are up to Murphy's for a beer. Why don't you join us?"

"I appreciate the offer, but I just got out of the shower. I was going to retire early and read."

"Christ, Brahnam, you're a candidate for sainthood! Now get your cute little fanny up here. I'll have a beer waiting."

Before she could decline the line went dead, causing her to chuckle.

Guess her plans for the night just got changed.

* * *

His body shook with unrequited desire. The vision in the window had his cock standing at full attention. Lust and hunger pumped through his veins, causing his fangs to lengthen and his eyes to sharpen in the darkened forest behind her house where he stood, hidden by the cover of night and surrounding trees. His animalistic nature demanded he act; his humanity kept his feet glued to the pine needle flooring.

Not a sound could be heard; not a cricket chirped. They sensed a predator among them, where she had not a clue of the danger that lurked just beyond her view. The air hung heavy with humidity and smelled of oncoming rain. Another scent drifted along the cool night breeze, one he couldn’t quite catch, but nonetheless there. Probably nothing more than a rotting corpse of some critter of the forest.

His curiosity and desire to seek this woman out proved her to be his weakness, more than he cared to admit. His body demanded nourishment, yet feeding off the detective was completely out of the question. Not if he respected his brothers and his duty to the club as president.

So why the fuck was he standing here acting like a damned peeping Tom?

Hands in pocket, he stared up at her window. Because he hadn't wanted a woman with this ferocity in a long time. Getting a piece of ass had never been a problem. Being in the Sons of Sangue, not to mention wearing the president’s patch, had women throwing themselves at him. Any given night, he had his pick of hardbodies. But biker bitches were a way of release to him, nothing more. Kane had no need for an ol' lady. He had tried that once in his hundred-plus-years existence and it hadn't ended well. He had yet to forgive her. Hell, Kane hadn't forgotten or forgiven himself for not arriving in time. She had been banished to Italy, back to her stepfather, and he hadn’t heard from her since.