Free Rogue (Sons of Sangue Book 4) by Patricia A. Rasey

himself into?
    Joseph’s death could have been a warning to him. After all, it was outside his club they chose to execute the biker. Had the Devils found out about him working with the DEA? Worse yet, the Cartel. He jammed a hand into his over long, black hair and pushed it from his face.
    Fear clogged his throat.
    He was way in over his head and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He supposed if he approached Cara with the idea he wanted out, she’d tell him it was too damn late. He couldn’t blame them. They had invested well over a year and a lot of money going after the La Paz Cartel. Like a wrecking ball set in motion, there was no stopping it until it came crashing to a conclusion. Cara and Kane wanted their retribution on Raúl Trevino Caballero. The DEA wanted the cartel cut off at the knees.
    Draven watched his last patron down his draft and set the empty glass on the table before heading for the door. The bouncer followed the man, prepared to lock the door behind him, finally giving Draven the isolation he desired. He reached for a bottle of Gentleman Jack and meant to drink the whole damn bottle. He wouldn’t need a glass, just a couch to fall onto. Parting the curtains, he started up the stairs when he thought he heard his name.
    He couldn’t be sure he heard anything at all, the feminine sound so tiny and frail. Draven stepped back down the few steps and found a woman no taller than five-foot-two standing in front of the bar. She couldn’t weigh but a hundred pounds soaking wet. Her light brown hair, highlighted blonde, had been shaved damn near to null on one side, the top and left side left long, hanging just past chin level. She had a tiny diamond on her left nostril and the bluest eyes he had ever seen, swimming in tears. Her black mascara spiked from gathering moisture.
    She repeated his name. “You are him, correct?”
    Draven walked and set the bottle of Jack on the bar. Just over the top of her head, he saw Rhett’s questioning look. Draven knew, should he give the bouncer the signal to remove her, the big guy would do his bidding without question.
    More curious what she wanted from him, he waved the bouncer on. “It’s fine, Rhett. Lock up. I’ll see her out.”
    “Have a good night, boss,” he said, then left them alone in the club.
    Draven returned his attention to the woman in front of him. He towered over her with his six-foot-one-inch height, not to mention the platform boots he wore. Reaching down, he quickly unzipped them and kicked them to the side so it brought him slightly closer to her level. Draven had no idea what she wanted with him, though her reasoning wasn’t what kept him from sending her on her way. The woman was a stunner. She had never been in the club before, he would’ve remembered. His sixth sense kicked in, putting him on high alert.
    After all, it was only a few short hours ago Joseph Sala slid down the wall in a pool of blood and brain matter just outside the Blood ‘n’ Rave’s entrance. Another part of him hoped she might be single and looking to hook up. For certain, he could use the release and distraction, not to mention she had his cock standing up and taking notice.
    “What can I do for you…” Draven left the question hang, hoping she’d supply her name. Sweetheart would definitely work, for she was most certainly sweet.
    “I was wondering if you could help me.”
    “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
    “Brea, sir.”
    Draven chuckled. “Stop. You’re ruining the fantasy. No one has ever accused me of being a gentleman. Call me Draven. Or, for that matter, you can call me whatever you want, other than sir. Got a last name?”
    She looked away briefly. For a minute he thought she preferred to keep that part from him. Anonymity. He got it. After all, most didn’t know his last name.
    “Gotti.”
    “As in the John Gotti?” He found himself chuckling for the second time since she appeared before him. “Related to the late