Ride Wild

by Laura Kaye

  Sam returned first to the kitchen, and Slider was grateful for the interference.

  “Finish your homework?” he asked his boy.

  “Yeah,” Sam said, throwing a shy smile at Cora—who was suddenly blushing a beautiful, brilliant cherry red that made Slider pull a double take. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but then the whirlwind that was his six-year-old came into the kitchen, and, after a couple of quick good-byes, Cora was bustling them both out the front door for the bus.

  The house resoundingly quiet now, he glanced out the front door. And found Cora walking up the driveway while holding the boys’ hands—both of them, even Sam, who hadn’t offered or sought a hug in . . . well, just over two years. The kids’ laughter reached him even from this distance, their body language relaxed, happy, and open despite the fact that the gray morning had turned drizzly.

  Damn, there was no denying this woman was good with them. Even more, she was good for them. Much better than the older neighbor lady had been, with her smoking and bad knees and dislike of noise.

  Slider had gotten lucky finding Cora. Once, he might’ve thought that she’d come along right when they needed her, as if the universe had personally done him a solid by dropping Cora Campbell in the Ravens’ lap. But Slider didn’t believe in luck or fate or divine providence, and he knew one day, Cora would leave him, too.

  Everybody did.

  They were just using each other in the meantime.

  Been there, done that, got the motherfucking T-shirt.

  When Cora returned five minutes later, he stood at the kitchen counter chugging a glass of water.

  “So, I’ll get changed,” she said, thumbing over her shoulder. He gave her a nod and tried not to let his gaze connect the rain droplets that darkened her sweatshirt and slicked the exposed skin of her legs. “But I wanted to mention that we need to go grocery shopping.”

  We. The word was a total sucker punch.

  And it made him need to get her the hell out of his house. At least for a few hours. Because the only we Slider did now was the kind he’d created with his own blood. “I’ll get on it.”

  She didn’t leave to get dressed like he expected her to. Instead, she lingered, then finally said, “I know you’re on again tonight and need to sleep. Maybe . . . I could get Bunny to take me and we’ll drop everything off here later.”

  “That’s okay,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Or, if it’s easier, I could even hang here today and you could take me when you wake up. God knows I don’t have anywhere special I need to be, so it wouldn’t be a problem . . .”

  He pictured her staying in his house in a sudden flash of images—her making lunch, her cuddled into the corner of the couch watching TV, her stepping out of the bathroom, hair wet from a shower, and the sweet-smelling scent of her lotion trailing after her . . . Twin reactions coursed through him. A yearning for the companionship of another adult sharing his space and his life. And a kneejerk fight-or-flight hell no that both left him unsettled and pissed him off.

  All of which meant she had to go. Now.

  “Jesus, I said I’ll take care of it. I don’t need you.” Something akin to panic had the words coming out more harshly than he’d intended, and his brain was already scrambling to clean up the mess his mouth had made. “To do it, I mean. I don’t need you for shopping. Okay? I got it.”

  “Right. Of course,” she said, backing out of the room, green eyes flashing with an emotion he couldn’t name.

  Annnd he was a giant asshole. He scrubbed his face on a long sigh and waited for her to come back so he could drive her home. And apologize.

  He waited. And waited.

  What the hell?

  “Uh, Cora, you ready?” he called out, making sure his tone lacked the frustration he felt with himself. Two-plus years of withdrawing from the world around him had left him all kinds of rusty at interacting like a normal human being.

  When there was no response, he waited a few more minutes. Guilt a weight on his shoulders, Slider finally went back down the hall toward the family room, where she slept on the couch because she’d long ago refused his offer to use his bed on nights when he wasn’t home. The downstairs bathroom was empty. And so was the family room. A creeping apprehension squeezed his chest when he noticed that her bag was gone and the blankets she used were back in their neat little stack, too.

  No. No, no. Shit.

  His gaze lifted to the door to the back porch, and that was when he knew.

  She’d left.

  He’d been an asshole, and she’d left. And now she was out on the street.

  Sonofabitch.

  Slider imagined telling Sam and Ben that Cora wasn’t coming anymore, that he’d upset her and chased her away, and something close to horror flashed through his gut. He had to fix this. He had to fix it now.

  Chapter 2

  I don’t need you . . .

  The words were dickish, but that wasn’t why Cora had gotten the hell out of there.

  She’d grown up hearing one variation after another of that from her father.

  You think I need you around? I don’t need your shit. I need you here about as much as I need another hole in my head. On and on and on.

  And then . . . that night.

  She’d thrown it back in her father’s face.

  I thought you didn’t need me, Dad. Remember that?

  Backing her into her bedroom, the one still decorated in teenagerish pinks and purples, he’d leered at her, his words slurred by alcohol. Maybe I need you for this . . .

  The memory had broadsided her out of nowhere, stealing her breath and making her panicky until she’d felt like she might crawl out of her skin. No way could she have faced Slider that way, so she’d thrown on a pair of jeans, jammed everything into her backpack, and fled out the back door and up the driveway to the rural road in front of the Evans house.

  It was maybe two miles to the racetrack that the Raven Riders owned and operated as their main business venture, and maybe a half mile up the mountain from the track to the clubhouse Cora called home. Walking wouldn’t have been that big of a deal if it hadn’t been raining. But what had been a drizzle fifteen minutes ago was now a steady and cold autumn rain that was going to leave her soaked before too long.

  Fine. Whatever. She’d survived worse.

  But five minutes later, it was as if the universe was sticking out its tongue at her, because the skies erupted into a downpour.

  Walking faster, she pulled out her cell and debated, then shot off a text to Phoenix, her go-to guy when she needed something with no questions asked. Any chance you’re around for a pickup?

  One minute passed, then another. The sound of a car’s engine approached, and Cora stepped into the wet weeds on the edge of the road to make sure she was out of the way. Stupid driver didn’t even swerve to give her a little leeway. She frowned down at her cell. Phoenix was usually quick to respond, but it wasn’t even eight in the morning.

  On a sigh, she wrote to Haven next, fully aware there would be all kinds of questions asked. I know it’s early, but any chance someone is around who could come get me?

  Her phone rang immediately. That was a best friend for you. “Hey,” Cora said by way of answering.

  “Where are you? Are you okay?” Haven asked, her words a little hard to hear with the rain pounding the ground.

  “I’m . . .” She looked at the tall stalks of corn growing in the field along the right. There was no answer she’d give that was going to make Haven believe she was okay. “I decided to walk home, but then it started raining.”

  Silence. Like Haven was trying to sort out all the ways that her answer was weird, because, well, it was weird. “You’re walking? Why are you walking?”

  On a sigh, Cora decided to brazen it out. “Just felt like it,” she said instead of telling the truth. But she didn’t want to have to explain her panic attack . . . because then she’d have to explain the memories that’d caused it. And Haven didn�
�t know about any of that. It was a secret Cora hadn’t shared with another soul. At first, she’d kept what’d happened to herself out of shame and the desire to focus on just getting away from their evil fathers, not to mention the gut-deep belief that Haven’s home situation was so bad—and had been for such a long time—that Cora didn’t want to give her one more thing about which to worry. Now, all that was behind them and Haven was happy. Really happy, with Dare. And the last thing Cora wanted to do was mar that happiness with her own problems.

  Problems that were all in the past now that her father was dead. And the ironic thing about his death? He’d died helping Haven’s father try to kidnap Haven, but hadn’t tried to nab Cora while he was at it. What kind of fucked up did she have to be that, on some seriously twisted level, it bothered her that he hadn’t wanted her back, too? When the last thing she’d wanted was to ever see him again . . .

  “Are you still there?” Haven was asking.

  The words snapped Cora from her spiraling thoughts, which was when she heard another car engine approaching behind her. “Yeah, sorry, car’s coming.” She stepped into the weeds again.

  “Dare’s gonna come get you. Tell him where you are,” she said, not waiting for Cora to answer.

  “Cora,” he said in that serious-as-a-heart-attack way he had. “What’s going on?” But she didn’t have a chance to answer, because just then, Slider’s pickup truck came alongside her, the passenger window down.

  “Cora, get in,” Slider called out, crawling along beside her as she kept walking.

  For a moment, Cora felt trapped between the two men, which in another situation she might’ve found funny or arousing or both.

  “Um, hey,” she said, not really sure which of the men she was talking to . . . because she was surprised as hell that Slider had come after her.

  “Where are you?” Dare asked through the cell.

  Slider’s icy green eyes bored into her. “Get in. This isn’t safe.”

  “With Slider,” she mumbled unthinkingly.

  “Slider’s there?” Dare asked, all kinds of other questions in his tone. “You still need me?”

  The truck had been rolling beside her, but now it jerked to a stop. Slider got out, left the driver’s door open, and stalked around the front of the old Chevy. She stepped back as he came at her, until her spine bumped into the faded blue metal next to the passenger door. “I guess not, Dare, thanks,” she managed.

  Nailing her with a stare that made her suddenly warm despite the chilly rain, Slider took the phone from her hand and pressed it to his ear. “Dare?” Pause. “I have her.” Pause. “Yeah, I’m fucking sure.” He signed off the call and tossed the phone through the open window and onto the passenger seat.

  And then it was just the two of them. Standing nearly chest to chest in a downpour. Not speaking. Not moving. And Cora felt torn between the desire to hug him for coming after her and hit him for provoking the anxiety she managed to keep battened down tight ninety-nine percent of the time.

  “I was a dick,” he said.

  “Yep,” she agreed.

  He stared at her for another long moment. “I’m kinda fucked up over here, Cora.”

  Her lips almost twitched in humor, but she bit back the impulse, because those seven words were quite possibly the most honest, personal thing he’d said to her in three months of working for him. And it felt . . . important, like some wall had come down between them. Or, at least, started to. “I know, but on some level, aren’t we all?”

  He didn’t answer, but what he did say still hit her square in the chest. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to my boys in years. I don’t want to mess that up for them. I’m sorry if I have.”

  “You haven’t,” she said, shaking her head, rain catching on her eyelashes as she peered up at him. “But don’t do it again.”

  Slider gave a single nod, then leaned forward, his face coming close and then pausing a hairsbreadth away. For a moment, Cora was sure he was going to kiss her, but then he grasped the handle and yanked open the squeaking door. “Now get in.”

  Shaking a little—from the chilly rain, she told herself—she climbed onto the old bench seat. The rain had plastered Slider’s T-shirt to his chest, giving her a pretty clear view of the lean, muscular frame beneath. And she found herself wondering what kissing him might be like. How hard his body would be against hers. How far she’d have to tilt back her head to meet his mouth. How ticklish his whiskers would be against her lips.

  The wondering made her shiver.

  He slammed his door and frowned at her. “You okay?”

  “I’m wet, cold, and irritated, but sure. I’m great,” she said defensively. Because she was still a little miffed at him for making her freak out—and for making her feel curious about kissing him.

  Just a little curious. Hardly at all, really.

  Damnit.

  The corner of his mouth lifted. Not much, but the movement was there. And it made Cora stare. Because the change in his face, small and fleeting though it had been, made the corner of his eye crinkle a little, too. “Well, I think I can help with two of those,” he said, putting the truck in gear and swinging a hard U-turn.

  “Wait, where are we going? The clubhouse is the other way.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, slanting her another glance. All the amusement was gone this time, though, and in its place was something intense she couldn’t name. “I’m taking you home.”

  Slider wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing taking Cora back to his house. But after his words had chased her away, potentially endangered her, and caused her to get drenched, he couldn’t not bring her home.

  She’d just looked so lost, so young, so . . . fucking pretty pressed up against his truck. Green eyes like jewels, bright blond hair turned dark from the rain, wet lips like candy he’d wanted to taste. For a split second, the urge had been so damn strong he wasn’t sure how he’d resisted.

  Which was probably a reason to take her back to the Ravens’ clubhouse. To put some distance between them.

  Instead, his gut demanded he take care. Of her.

  Just a little quid pro quo for how good she’d been taking care of his kids these past three months. That’s all it was. Nothing more.

  It took only a few minutes before he parked the truck and both of them were getting out in the rain and dashing into the house. Then they stood dripping on his living room floor, staring at each other, chests rising and falling from the sprint across the yard.

  A sudden urge sucker punched Slider. To take Cora in his arms, press her against the door, and claim her with his mouth while his hands stripped her bare of the sodden clothes. And then he’d carry her to the shower and warm both of them up with the hot water before making them even hotter when he took her to his bed . . .

  The idea—the sheer clarity of it in his head—nearly took him to his knees. Because if it’d been a damn long time since Slider had felt anything besides anger and emptiness, it’d been even longer since he’d felt the soul-deep lust suddenly scorching through his blood.

  “So,” he said, because the unusual emotions were short-circuiting his brain.

  “So . . . are you going to sleep?” she asked.

  “Oh. Yeah. I should . . . do that.” He thumbed toward the staircase and tried not to imagine what it would feel like if she came with him. Christ, this was why he’d been trying to keep her at arm’s length all these months. “And then if you’re still open to it, we’ll do a grocery run.”

  “Yeah, of course,” she said. “Do you mind if I throw my clothes in the dryer?”

  He shook his head and took a step backward toward the staircase. Because now her words were very unhelpfully adding her nudity into his runaway thoughts. “All you’ve done for my boys,” he said, emphasizing that for his own good. She’s here for my boys. She’s here for my boys. “Consider yourself welcome to use anything in the house, Cora. Always.”

  With a nod, he turned and climbed the steps, not loo
king back and not pausing until he was in his blinds-darkened bedroom with the door closed between his newly awakened libido and the beautiful blonde standing in his living room. And then he stripped down until he wore nothing but his ink, leaving his wet clothes in a pile on the old hardwoods, and sprawled facedown in bed.

  He wasn’t aware of falling asleep. He wasn’t aware of anything, actually.

  Until a commotion jolted him awake, his heart racing, his brain disoriented.

  Cora was at the side of his bed, her mouth moving, her hand on his arm, her expression filled with bad news his mind wasn’t quite processing.

  “—wake up, Slider,” she was saying. “School called. Ben’s on his way to the hospital. There was an accident on the playground.”

  He shoved upward onto his arms. “What?”

  “Ben. He’s hurt,” she said. “They’re taking him to Frederick Memorial Hospital.”

  Not Ben, Slider thought, flying out of bed and tearing clothes out of his dresser. Not his innocent little alligator. “Jesus Christ,” he growled in frustration and desperation as he struggled into a pair of jeans. He turned when he finally got them up over his ass. “What else did they say, Cora? How is he hurt?”

  For a moment she just stood there staring at him, mouth wide and eyes wider, like maybe he’d grown three heads while he was asleep, which was when he realized he’d just walked across the room butt-ass naked. “Um,” she finally said, blinking out of her surprise. “They, um, said he fell from the monkey bars and that he’d lost consciousness but was awake when the ambulance came. Other than that, I’m not sure how bad it is, Slider. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head and tried to focus as he jammed his feet into a pair of boots and stuffed his arms into a T-shirt. Only one thing mattered here. Ben, being okay. God, he had to be okay. “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Wait. Me?” she asked, hugging herself. For the first time, the gesture made him notice that she was wearing one of his T-shirts. And, possibly, nothing else. The white cotton V-neck hung wide on her shoulders and long on her body, the hem hitting her just low enough to make it unclear whether she wore panties. Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have been able to think of anything else but the picture of her that way, in his clothes, in his room . . .