Ryder Page 2

  But dating an American?

  His bike’s license plate had labeled him as such. Uncle Raúl would have her head … or more than likely, the American’s. She couldn’t help wondering what the hottie was doing this far south. What she wouldn’t do for just ten minutes unescorted with him.

  Sergio nodded. “I chased him out of here just before you arrived.”

  Gabby stopped short, her glare landing on him. “You did no such thing.”

  “I did.” He squared his shoulders, not in the least embarrassed for his rude actions. “He’s not welcome here.”

  “Says who?” She raised a perfectly plucked brow. “I run this establishment, Sergio, and I won’t have you chasing away my customers. This isn’t just a hangout for you losers. You got me? I’ve been working damn hard to make a name for this place ever since Uncle Raúl put me in charge. That means customers.”

  “We’re customers.”

  “Real customers, Sergio. Not those on my uncle’s payroll.”

  He shifted his stance, his jaw hardening. “I’m sorry, Gabby.”

  She pointed toward the entrance. “March out there and give that man your apology.”

  Anger flared in the depths of his dark eyes. “I will not.”

  “Sergio?”

  “Maldición, Gabby. Next, you’ll be wanting to unman me. I can’t have tourists coming here and undermining my, Luis’s, or your uncle’s authority.”

  “But you can mine?”

  He gritted his teeth and squared his stance. “You don’t pay my bills, Gabby. I won’t grovel to the gringo.”

  She stomped her foot, then turned and marched toward the kitchen entrance. The driver of the Escalade quickly followed in her footsteps, not allowing her from his sight. For the love of all that was holy. Just once it would be nice to go somewhere without being shadowed.

  This establishment was hers to run and she meant to prove so.

  Sergio had gone too far.

  Just before clearing the double swinging doors to the kitchen, she caught sight of the large man’s lit taillight through the large front window as he slowed to a stop at the exit of the parking lot leading to the road. Not glancing back, he picked up his feet, turned the motorcycle away from town and pulled back on the gas. Thanks to Sergio, she’d likely never see the sexy American again. The thought shouldn’t bother her, but it did. For the first time in a very long time, a man had actually managed to make her heart trip. Now, she was left with nothing more than wicked daydreams and her battery-operated boyfriend, or as she liked to refer to it, B.O.B.

  Deflated, Gabby made her way into the heart of the tavern. Rather than answer any of Sergio’s questions, she left the dumb ass in the dining area and passed through the double doors to bake. Making delicious pastries and cakes had become a favorite pastime of hers. Much better than sitting at home and manicuring her nails. Although she had a privileged upbringing, Gabby was far from a socialite. She much preferred getting her hands dirty and working at her restaurant.

  After grabbing an apron with a Salazar crab printed on the front, she slipped it over her head and tied it loosely behind her back. Using a hair band she had circling her wrist, she pulled her heavy hair off her shoulders and fashioned it into a messy bun atop her head. Wearing her favorite pair of Louboutin’s wasn’t ideal to bake in, but then again, when she had stopped by, baking hadn’t been on her agenda.

  She smiled at the chef. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Señorita, I am honored with your company. Besides, everyone loves your desserts.”

  “Thank you, Francisco. I’m happy to hear my efforts pay off.”

  Once she plucked a mixing bowl from an upper shelf and a bag of flour, Gabby went to work, hoping to purge her thoughts of Mr. Sexy Americano.

  Chapter 2

  “We need to come up with a plan that involves me shooting and Gunner dying.”

  “Fuck you, Ryder.” Gunner jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. His already dark eyes glossed over, taking on the appearance of obsidian marbles, proving that his vampire DNA was seconds away from emerging.

  Guess I pissed off the big guy.

  “Hear me out, Gunner.”

  “What’s your plan? You know we’re here for you, bro.” Grigore planted his backside on the seat of his bike and stretched his long legs, crossing them at the booted ankle. “You’re the boss at this rodeo.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s not going to be my fucking funeral. I plan to stay among the living,” Gunner grumbled. “I may be new to this whole vampire thing, but I’m kind of liking it. Find some other dumbass to kill.”

  “Sorry, Gunner, it has to be someone the cartel isn’t familiar with. That would be you. And since you’re a big guy, it would be far more impressive and work in my favor when I kill you.” Gunner flashed his fangs, but Ryder held up a hand to stall him from going completely loco. “Hear me out. You’ll survive, I promise. It may hurt like hell, but we aren’t ready to ash you … yet,” he added with a smirk.

  Grigore chuckled and placed a palm in the center of Gunner’s chest. “Down, big boy.”

  “I need to earn the respect of Raúl’s soldiers. I’ve been down here a few weeks, stopped by their hangout a couples of times, and even drank their boss under the table a while ago. Let me tell you, that son of a bitch can put down the tequila. But other than the fact I’m white, an American, and I don’t belong? They barely notice me.”

  “What the fuck does that have to do with me eating a bullet?” Gunner curled back his upper lip, his fangs gleaming white in the waning sun. “I signed up to keep an eye on your sorry ass, not to become a bullseye for your target practice.”

  “You show up at their little seaside tavern and cause a ruckus. Be a complete asshole. Pull a gun on one of Raúl’s patsies. I’ll step in, attempt to calm you down”—Ryder shrugged—“then shoot you. Not through the heart, of course.”

  “Then what? It’s not like I’ll really be dead.”

  “You’ll pretend to be, so practice that. These guys aren’t stupid and won’t be easily fooled. I’ll throw your bleeding ass in the trunk of a car with a little help from one of Raúl’s men, then drive you away. They’ll think I mean to bury you so far back in the woods that you’ll become just another missing person.” Ryder looked from Gunner to Grigore. “Thoughts, Wolf?”

  “Where are you going to get the car?” Grigore’s hand indicated the motorcycles sitting in a semi-circle on the dirt lot just outside of La Paz, but far enough off the road not to be seen.

  “I’ll leave that up to you. Find me one with California plates to match the ones we stole for my bike.”

  Grigore chuckled. “You aren’t asking for much.”

  “I need it in a week, tops. I don’t want these assholes forgetting me.”

  “You drank their boss under the table, got on your bike, and rode out of there … without your supposedly drunk ass dumping the cycle, I might add,” Gunner said. “I’d say you got their notice, Ryder.”

  “What’s all this going to prove?” Grigore scratched a spot beneath his ear, obviously skeptical of the idea. “I’m not sold on showing our faces and any of those boys knowing we’re here. What if someone recognizes Gunner?”

  “How?” Ryder asked. “It’s not like they will tie him to me. They believe I’m a Devil from southern California. Gunner’s from Washington. He belonged to the Knights. And you’re not showing your face, Wolf. Even though, I doubt someone would know you.”

  “This is true,” Grigore agreed. “You told them you were a Devil?”

  “I didn’t announce it. I don’t have the Devils cut any longer, as you know. When I arrived here a couple of weeks ago, I stopped in for a drink to get a feel for the place, knowing Raúl’s men used the joint as their hangout. One of them threw his beer at me after a brief exchange, told me to go back north. I took off my shirt and mopped my face. I still have the Devils’ tattoo on my back. I didn’t have to say a word. The fact they think I’m a
Devil was the only thing that didn’t get me thrown out of the joint outright, because the Devils run the cartel’s drugs.”

  Gunner’s brow furrowed. “If you don’t mind me asking, why the fuck do you still wear a Devil’s tattoo?”

  “I’m waiting for Gypsy’s sorry ass to pay for the new tat when I get home.” Ryder raised his T-shirt, showing Gunner an age-old scar marring half his left pec, traveling up to his shoulder. “This body has so much scar tissue I wasn’t sure where the hell the Sons of Sangue tattoo was going to go once I inked over the old Devils’ one.”

  Gunner hissed. “What the fuck happened?”

  “You want the long or short version?”

  “We ain’t got all night,” Grigore groused.

  “The Devils found out I wanted to leave the MC. My girlfriend wasn’t thrilled about me being a part of the club. One day, they told me to meet them, said they had a job that required my help. When I got there, they had doused my girlfriend in gasoline, lit her up. By the time they let go of me, she was engulfed. I tackled her in an attempt to put out the flames, burning myself in the process. I was too late. She died later that day.”

  Moisture gathered in Ryder’s eyes, the pain still raw years later. Every time he looked at the scar in the mirror, he was reminded of the ugliness and the loss. “She was carrying my baby, man.”

  “Fuck me. That sucks, dude.” Gunner shook his head. “Did you kill the man responsible?”

  “Didn’t have to. One of the Sons of Sangues’ mates did me the favor.” Ryder took a deep breath, then slowly released it. “I plan to pay back the debt by helping find the man’s brother, the one who took Viper’s son.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Raúl Trevino Caballero’s killed Ion Tepes, Viper’s kid, because his mate dared to take on the cartel. Rosalee, Viper’s mate at that time, killed Raúl’s brother, the one responsible for my girlfriend’s death. Raúl, in turn, killed Viper’s son. An eye for an eye, if you will.”

  Grigore chimed in. “That’s a story for another day, but it’s the reason Viper and Hawk have waited for the chance to take down Raúl. Brea Gotti, Draven’s mate and goddaughter of Raúl, enlightened us with a way to get closer to the kingpin, through his niece. Speaking of, Ryder, have you met her?”

  Ryder whistled low; just the brief glimpse had tugged at his groin. “Brea was right, the woman is an absolute knockout. I’ve seen her. I didn’t realize who the woman was until I saw the word ‘Gabby’ on the back of her SUV. It looks as though she might have a bodyguard with her at all times.”

  “You make contact?” Grigore asked.

  He shook his head, adding a sly grin. “Apparently, I’m not her type. She barely acknowledged me.”

  Grigore guffawed. “Well, Don Juan, you better figure something out to turn her pretty little head if you want an in and to find out Raúl’s exact location. Brea said it wouldn’t be easy, as he doesn’t stay in one location for very long.”

  “Fuck you, Wolf. I don’t have a problem where the ladies are concerned.”

  “Then why the hell are you still single, pretty boy?”

  “Same reason you are, dumbass.” Ryder shook his head. “Because it’s a choice. I tried that whole ‘couple thing’ once. Remember? It didn’t work out so well for me. And as long as I remain in an MC, I plan to keep it that way. I’ll never put another woman I care about in jeopardy again. This lifestyle is my choice. They shouldn’t have to pay the consequences for it.”

  “Someday, you’ll need to move on, let the past go.”

  “Yeah? What about you, Wolf?” Ryder all but growled. “What about the one you left behind?”

  Grigore stood, grabbed his helmet and straddled his bike, indicating the conversation was over. “We’ll get you that car and meet up in a week. In the meantime, why don’t you figure out a way to get into Gabriela’s good graces and not worry about my love life?”

  “Touchy much?” Ryder asked.

  After snapping the skull cap into place, he started the motorcycle and flipped Ryder the bird. Ryder laughed as Grigore and Gunner circled the dirt lot, leaving him to eat their dust … literally.

  He coughed, waved a hand in front of his face, then lifted his leg and straddled his own bike. Grigore had shut down his question before it even had time to formulate. The man certainly didn’t like bringing up his past, any more than Ryder did. Kicking back his bike stand, he turned the key and started the engine. The bike rumbled to life. Picking up his feet, Ryder exited the dirt lot and drove in the opposite direction., opening up the throttle to speed down the road toward the tavern.

  Time to put Operation Seduce Gabby into motion.

  * * *

  The cell vibrated on the table next to Gabby. She dusted the flour from her hands onto the Salazar’s apron and picked up the phone. She smiled at the name of her best friend staring back at her. Gabby had thought Adriana was still out of town on a short trip north with her fiancé.

  Sliding her finger across the glass to answer, she placed the phone next to her ear. “¿Cómo estás?”

  “Fucking terrific. You?” Gabby noted sarcasm in Adriana’s reply.

  “What did the asshole do this time?”

  “What doesn’t he do? I should’ve listened to you and stayed home.” Gabby heard the sniffle and her heart went out to Adriana. “Pinche idiota. I swear I am nothing more than dirt under the sole of his boot.”

  “Nothing I haven’t said before.” Gabby sighed. “You should start listening to me.”

  “Tu puta. You are no better.”

  “Me?” Gabby laughed. “I haven’t slept with a man in so long, I could hardly be considered a whore.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the sex, sweetie. We both know you need to get laid, your uncle be damned. You’re going to grow that cherry back if you aren’t careful.” Gabby could see the wide grin likely spreading across Adriana’s face. “I’m talking about getting away. You can’t stay cooped up in that fortress forever. You should’ve come with us.”

  “With you and Mateo? Oh, hell, no! Besides, my uncle wouldn’t let me out of the country without at least ten bodyguards shadowing my every move. I wouldn’t put you through that.”

  Gabriela shivered at the thought of one of her uncle’s enemies getting their hands on her. She couldn’t blame Uncle Raúl for watching out for her well-being, except for the fact, had it not been for him, no one would give a damn about her in the first place. She would be able to come and go as she pleased. Why the hell couldn’t she have been born into a typical family? She’d give up all the riches her uncle allowed her just to live a normal life.

  “Gabby? Hello? Are you listening?”

  “I’m sorry, Adriana. What did you say?”

  “I said, how about making your way over to my place so we can share a bottle of wine … or four,” she added with a giggle.

  “And Mateo?”

  “He’s not home. Said he had business with your uncle and would be gone for a few days. I have the apartment to myself. I’m thinking we need a little girl time. Besides, I could use my friend.”

  “Break up with that ass, and you wouldn’t need me.”

  “You know I love him.”

  “Only Lord knows why,” she whispered beneath her breath.

  “What was that, Gabs?”

  “I said give me an hour and I’ll be over. I’m at Salazar’s baking up a storm at the moment.”

  “What the hell did your uncle do this time?”

  Adriana knew Gabby too well. “What doesn’t he do? Besides, I have to tell you about this American I saw today at Salazar’s. He’s muy guapo.”

  “You found someone you consider handsome in La Paz? Seriously?”

  “Why is that so hard to believe?” Sure, Gabriela hadn’t dated in a while…

  “Because Sergio has the serious hots for you and you don’t even blink an eye when he looks your way.”

  “He works for my uncle,” Gabby reminded her. “Luis’s second in comma
nd.”

  “And who better to protect you? He’s tall, muscular, and as you say, muy guapo.”

  “Says you. Me? I’m not interested in anyone who works for my uncle. Or someone who spends more time in front of the mirror than I do.”

  “Then who?”

  “If it wasn’t for causing the poor man trouble, I’d definitely wouldn’t mind looking up Mr. Sexy Americano.”

  “He must’ve been pretty hot if he out-shadows Sergio. Do you know how many women would love to get their hands on that man? Me included.”

  “You have a fiancé.”

  “Semantics.”

  “I don’t want him, Adriana. End of story. If you want to ditch Mateo, Sergio is all yours.”

  Her best friend sighed in defeat. “I’ll uncork the bottles. You get your pretty little ass over here and tell me all about this Americano that actually turned your princess head.”

  “Screw you, Adriana, no princess here.” Gabby laughed at Adriana’s age-old joke about how her uncle catered to her. “There’s not much to tell. Probably just a tourist that I’ll never see again. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  Gabby ended the call and set the cell on the table when Sergio stepped through the swinging doors, as if her conversation had conjured up the frustrating man. Sergio was persistent, if nothing else, and far too arrogant for her tastes. She stifled a groan.

  “What can I do for you, Sergio?” Gabby managed to keep the disdain from her tone. “Don’t you have something better to do? Like work for my uncle? He doesn’t pay you to come back into the kitchen to fraternize with the help.”

  “You’re far from the help, cariño.”

  Sergio skirted the table until he stood just inches from her. Gabby had to fight the urge to take a step back. She wouldn’t show him fear. He pitched one hip against the table edge and braced a hand upon the surface, careful not to touch the flour littering it. His blue short-sleeved work shirt stretched tight across his chest and abs, showcasing his muscular arms. Adriana had been correct in her assessment. On the outside, Sergio had the looks that most women coveted and a body honed by hours in a gym. He never had trouble when it came to women … until her.