by Laura Kaye
“Oh, yes, oh, please,” she said, so close but hanging there on the edge. Way off in the distance of her awareness, engines roared and fans cheered and people walked out to their cars. But all Cora knew was Slider’s grip and his breath and his cock inside her.
“Taking me so good,” he growled, his hips smacking hers.
“Please,” she moaned as the friction wound her higher and higher.
“Please what?” he asked, sucking on her earlobe.
“Put your hand between my legs,” she whispered, too desperate to feel any self-consciousness about telling him exactly what she needed.
His fingers were there in a heartbeat, circling her clit and coating her with her own arousal. “That what you need?”
“Yes. God, Slider.” Cora ground back against him as much as she could, but he held her so deliciously tight that mostly she had to just take him. And that was everything she wanted to do.
“Want you to come, Cora. ’Cause I’m gonna be right there with you.”
The urgency in his voice was what did it. She hung on the knife’s edge for one more second, and then she was falling, flying, floating. Moaning his name on the night air, her breath fogged the metal of the roof, an apparition of ecstasy that disappeared way too soon.
“Fuuuck,” Slider groaned, his jerking cock buried to the hilt inside her. He withdrew most of the way and then filled her up again. And once more. “Jesus, I’m still coming.”
“Yeah, give me all of it.” And, man, what she wouldn’t give to be able to feel the claiming mark of his come inside her, skin against skin . . .
But just then, she soaked in the pleasure they’d shared as his head fell against hers. His grip turned into a warm embrace that felt like love in a touch. For a long moment, they just were. Together.
Cora unleashed a long, satisfied exhale. “I love this car.”
Slider chuckled so hard it turned into an outright laugh, and then she was laughing too—at the ridiculousness of what she’d said and in delight at his still too-rare laughter. They were still chuckling as they righted their clothes, got in her red baby, and drove up the mountain to the clubhouse.
The lot was already pretty full, but at least she wasn’t too late. Five after ten didn’t seem bad for having had such an earth-shattering orgasm.
Slider grasped her hand as she reached for her door, tugging her to him for one last contact before they had to try to keep their hands to themselves again. His kiss was a deep, lingering affair that made it clear he was in no hurry to part from her. But more bikes pulled in, and they resolved themselves to a few last hours of being good.
Cora didn’t know if it was easier or harder after they’d just been so bad.
Inside, music, voices, and laughter greeted them as they wound through the lounge and the mess hall to find Bunny, Haven, and Alexa in the kitchen. All three looked up when Cora walked in, and then all three did double takes as Slider came in immediately after her.
“Hey, how can I help?” Cora asked.
“Put me to work, too, if you want,” Slider said, his voice quiet and a little reserved.
Cora could feel her friends’ surprise—and almost hear the million questions pinging around in their heads—but of course they didn’t let on a thing with Slider, and happily asked for his help to carry the heavy Crock-Pots of meatballs and chili out to the mess hall tables. Race night parties were always buffet style, as usually there were too many people to try to seat them all.
Soon, beyond the immediate din of the music, the night went quieter, a sign that the races had ended. Within fifteen minutes, the clubhouse was rocking as race-goers filtered in, grabbed food, drank at the bar, and generally raised hell.
Cora loved the atmosphere of this place, even its rowdier, grittier side. Because it seemed so real. People who knew who they were and what they valued and weren’t afraid to live their lives by their own rules.
She got the appeal of the Raven Riders. She truly did. And that was to say nothing of how much she admired the protective mission they’d embraced on top of it all.
For the next hour, she and Slider parted as she hung with the girls and he sought out the boys and his brothers. Laughing and talking and teasing and joking, for the first time in her life, Cora felt normal. Accepted. A part of something so much bigger than her—friendships, a relationship, a community. She thought about pulling Haven aside to tell her about Slider and what her dad had done, but tonight she just wanted to be.
When Slider found her again, she was still with the girls drinking wine around the kitchen table. “Hey Cora, can I steal you away for a minute?”
She didn’t miss the way Haven’s eyes bugged in a something’s going on and you’ll be telling me ALL look that made Cora bite back a grin, and then she was following Slider through the clubhouse and all the way to Dare’s office in the back hallway. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But I wanted you to share what you witnessed earlier with some of the guys.”
“Wow, do you think the Ravens can help find out something about this dogfighting?” she asked, hope snaking through her belly.
Slider stopped just before opening Dare’s door. “Sweetheart, the Ravens have got ears, eyes, and friends just about everywhere. Never forget that.”
“Good to know,” she said.
He nodded and opened the door.
Chapter 18
Cora walked into a room full of the entire Ravens’ board. Well, everyone except Jagger.
Dare, Maverick, Phoenix, and Caine waited for them as she and Slider closed themselves inside Dare’s small office. The guys were laid back and totally friendly, but Cora didn’t think she was imagining the current of tension under the surface.
And then, of all people, Caine McKannon was the one to speak first. “Cora, we need to know exactly what you saw and heard. Don’t leave anything out.” This wasn’t Cora’s first interaction with the Ravens’ most intimidating member. He’d been her and Haven’s point of contact for creating their new identities when they’d at first thought they’d be relocated away from the club. But with each new interaction, Caine never seemed even a little more approachable or knowable. And it wasn’t just his pitch-black hair always covered in a black skullcap, or his fathomless ice-blue eyes, or the gauges in his ears, or the miles of ink that covered even his throat.
It was something untouchable inside him.
So she rushed to give him exactly what he asked for, starting with hearing the barking dog, and ending with watching the men’s blue truck drive away and calling the shelter.
They let her speak without interrupting, Slider right by her side, a silent wall of strength and support. And then Caine traded looks with the other men that made her ask, “Do you know something about this dogfighting ring or these men?”
Caine nodded. “There’s a gang up north of the county. Worst of the worst. I’d heard rumors the past few months that they’d gotten into it. Earlier today, I confirmed it.” He nodded to a sheet of paper on the corner of Dare’s desk, and Cora picked it up.
It was an invitation to something called the Crew’s Cross. The details were sparse. Just a town’s name, a date, and a time for next Saturday night. “How do you know this is for a dogfight?” she asked.
Dare gave a troubled sigh where he sat in the chair behind his cluttered desk. “Because dogfights aren’t widely publicized. No one just happens upon one. You have to seek it out, earn the organizers’ trust or be referred, and then get invited. Sometimes they don’t even share the location information until the day of because they move around.” Cora guessed that’s why no street address appeared on the sheet.
Caine nodded. “I found a guy who got me an in, plus two.” No doubt there was a very interesting story there, but in typical Caine style, that was all he said.
“You mentioned hearing about this the past few months,” Cora said, musing out loud. “My director said the increased incidences of finding these injured dogs has been the past
few months, too.”
“That’s no coincidence,” Slider said, and all the other men agreed.
“Cora,” Caine said. “Slider said you took pictures. Can I see them?”
She handed over her phone. “I’m sorry they’re not that great. I was . . . kinda shaking.” She felt a little pitiful admitting that in front of all these big, tough guys. Slider put his hand on her lower back as if to soothe her, and it worked.
Eyeing the images one by one, Caine didn’t look up and he didn’t miss a beat. “Given that the Crew was involved, that just proves that your fight-or-flight instincts were working.”
Coming from a man who seemed scared by absolutely nothing, that felt like some pretty high praise.
“Anything useful?” Maverick asked, leaning against a file cabinet with his arms crossed over his big chest.
Caine gave a single shake. “We’re going to need them enhanced.”
“Shit,” Slider said on a frustrated sigh that was almost a growl. “With a fight coming up next weekend, we’re going to need that work done fast.”
“Marz?” Phoenix asked, looking at Dare. Now there was a name Cora hadn’t heard in months, but it was one she recalled fondly. Derek “Marz” DiMarzio had been one of the first friendly faces Cora really remembered after she and Haven had been rescued from a gang in Baltimore that had intended to sell them to God only knew who. The car they’d fled Georgia in had broken down, and the repair service that’d shown up hadn’t been legit. Not that she and Haven had realized in time . . .
But Marz was part of a small, elite ex-military team that had rescued them and taken them back to their headquarters—a seedy-looking warehouse that housed Baltimore’s Hard Ink Tattoo. He’d been kind and compassionate and careful with them, letting them know that they were safe and that no one would hurt them. It was almost hard to believe all that had happened less than six months ago.
Dare nodded at Phoenix’s suggestion. “Probably too late tonight, but shoot me copies and I’ll call him first thing in the morning.”
“You mind me forwarding these?” Caine asked Cora, gesturing to her phone.
“No. Of course not. Whatever I can do I want to do,” she said, leaning back into Slider’s touch. She was so glad he was at her side.
Phoenix shifted in the chair where he sat, his gaze settling on Dare. “Why don’t you see if Marz can also scan some of the traffic cameras around that industrial park? Maybe he can pick up the vehicle Cora saw.”
“That’s smart,” Maverick said, deep blue eyes flashing. “In fact, if we’re getting the Hard Ink team involved again, maybe it’s time we brought them in on our other situation, too. Maybe Marz can access information about some of Slater’s people that the PI has been investigating and help him piece together relationships and associations. We gotta get our guy some help if we’re gonna crack this. Slater was too fucking dirty, which means our investigator is going to get lost in the weeds of all his corruption looking for the one thing we want—the names of who dumped the shit that framed the club and put Jagger in jail.”
Frustration rolled off of Mav in a nearly physical wave, and Cora knew exactly why. Alexa. Grant had framed the Ravens to try to blackmail Alexa into marrying him when she’d left him a few weeks before their wedding day. He’d promised that the longer she delayed obeying him, the worse the consequences would be.
Which was how Jagger landed in jail, Alexa had gotten burn scars on her hands, and her mother ended up in a coma. Grant had paid with his life for two of those, and it’d been the result of his own actions. But someone still had to pay for the third. And Cora didn’t blame these men one bit for making sure someone did.
“Okay, I’ll talk to them about that, too,” Dare said.
“If we’re going to this dogfight next weekend, I want in,” Slider said, a lethal tone in his voice Cora had never heard before.
“You sure about that?” Dare asked, tilting his head.
Slider stepped forward, shoulders tight, fists clenched, as if bracing for a fight. “Me going makes sense. We can’t walk in there as the Ravens, because no way do we want to be on the Crew’s radar as dicking around in their business.”
Caine’s icy eyes flashed. “That right there is for damn sure. Word on the street is that the Crew’s events usually run four fights at a time and draw well over a hundred people, but the more down low, the better.”
“There you go. Dare and Maverick are too well-known around town, so they’re out,” Slider continued. “Caine’s invitation said he could bring two more. It should be the three of us.” He pointed to Caine and Phoenix. “Caine is the master of keeping his shit tight, so they won’t know him as a Raven. As Road Captain, Phoenix is out of the area a good amount of time, so that gives him some cover. And, fuck, the only good thing about my shirking off my responsibilities around here the past two years might be there’s no chance in hell any outsider would know I’m a member.”
“Damn glad that’s all over now, man,” Maverick said. “’Cause it’s good to have you back.”
“Hear fucking hear,” Phoenix said.
“Slider’s got the plan right there,” Caine said, his gaze approving.
Cora was so glad to witness Slider reconnecting with his brothers, but she truly hated the idea of them going to something organized and attended by such questionable—not to mention criminal—people, especially if this 301 Crew was as bad as Caine said. “Exactly how dangerous is attending that fight going to be?”
Slider turned to her, his pale gaze more frankly aggressive than she’d ever seen it before. “We can handle ourselves. And we’ll just be there to observe, so not very.”
Not very seemed like way too much for her taste, but she knew there was no talking them out of this. “Okay, so what can I do?” Cora asked.
They all spoke over each other at once.
“You did your part, Cora,” Dare said.
“We’ll take it from here,” Maverick agreed.
“You can’t chance messing with the Crew, Cora,” Phoenix said.
“Steer clear of the whole damn thing,” Caine growled.
And Slider hammered the point home by taking her by the arms and pulling her close. Even though the words were sweet, his tone was filled with steel. “You gotta keep out of this, Cora, and trust us to handle it. I didn’t find this with you only to chance losing you. We got this.”
She nearly held her breath. Did Slider realize what he’d just revealed to his brothers?
As if he’d read her mind, he nodded. “I don’t care who’s listening right now. I need you to promise. Go to the shelter. Do your job, of course. You hear anything, sure, pass it along. But otherwise, promise me: leave the rest of this to us.”
He’d just claimed her in front of his closest friends, and it lodged a knot of emotion so tightly in her throat it took her a moment to answer. Finally, she nodded. “I promise, Slider. I won’t go after any of this on my own.”
Cora had the house to herself the next morning because Slider had taken the boys out to spend some time with them—and to tell them about their relationship.
She was equally excited and nervous, which meant she needed to keep busy before she drove herself crazy.
Slider had asked her to work on refreshing the house—and he’d even given her a budget for it, so Cora walked through the old farmhouse with an eye toward what she might do. Pad and paper in hand, she made notes. She jotted down new sheer curtains and comfy throw pillows for the living room. Perhaps a new slipcover for the couch and chair? Cora had always loved colored glass, and the front of the house got such amazing light—maybe she’d find some decorative bottles or sun catchers to add color to the room.
There wasn’t as much she could do in the kitchen, so she decided to choose a bright accent color and find scatter rugs, placemats, and some other things to add a little fun.
In the family room, she’d just made a note to pick up a soft area rug when there was a knock at the front door. The surprise of
it startled her, because in all the time she’d lived here, no one had ever come here who wasn’t expected. Slider didn’t have friends—or, at least, not before recently, and he didn’t order anything that got delivered.
Curious, she opened the front door.
And found a county sheriff standing there.
“Can I help you, Officer?” she asked, her eyes going to the name tag pinned to the shirt of his uniform. Sheriff Curt Davis. Medium height, medium build, with brown hair and eyes and an average face, there was nothing especially interesting about him. Except that he’d been the one who arrested Jagger and Dare at the clubhouse that day, and Cora knew the Ravens didn’t like him but didn’t know much about why. And now he was here.
“Are you Cora Campbell?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, her body filling the gap between the door and the frame.
“I’m with the sheriff’s office and I’m following up on the statement you provided to animal control yesterday. Can I come in, Miss Campbell?”
Her gut told her to say no, but that seemed kind of silly when he was doing what she hoped the police would do—investigate the dog abuse and fighting that had been landing way too many injured animals at the shelter. In fact, maybe this was a good thing. So she stepped back and opened the door wider. “Sure, come on in.”
He did, removing his hat and peering around as he stepped into the living room. “Isn’t this the house of Sam Evans?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m his nanny,” she said, not liking something in his tone. “So what did you want to know? I gave a full statement to the officers yesterday and forwarded them all the pictures I took.”
He didn’t ask to sit, and she didn’t offer. Getting out a black leather notebook, he stood poised to take notes. “I’d like to hear it all from the beginning myself, miss.”
“Oh, okay. Well . . .” She recounted the story for what was the third or fourth time in the past twenty-four hours, making sure to highlight everything about the men and the truck that she could remember. He took some occasional notes, seemingly all business, but there was something about the way he slanted his gaze at her that made Cora uncomfortable.
