by Laura Kaye
Beep beep beep. Cora’s phone dropped the call.
Dare raked at his hair and paced the room, agitation rolling off him.
“You really don’t have to censor what you say around me, you know,” Sam said, crossing his arms.
Dare and Maverick chuckled. “You say that, but we’d prefer your father didn’t want to kick our butts for teaching you bad habits,” Maverick said with a wink.
Just in case Slider might be able to receive it, Cora shot off a text. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms and look in your eyes so I can tell you in person how much I love you. Because I do. xo
The storm they must’ve been driving through finally hit Dare’s house, and he and Haven went around lowering some of the windows where the rain came in. But the sound was soothing and almost lulling, and Cora enjoyed it as she sat in a big comfy chair by the front window.
Headlights swung across the front of the house a moment before the sound of an engine drifted in on the breeze. Cora was up out of her chair in a flash, her face pressed to the window. “It’s them. They’re back,” she said, and then she ran out onto the front porch just as Slider was jogging up the sidewalk. She rushed out into the soft rain and jumped into his arms.
He held her to him so tight, and his mouth found hers. It felt like the first time she’d been able to take a deep breath in hours, the relief of holding him again was so strong. “I missed you. I love you,” she said.
“God, sweetheart, I love you, too,” he said. “Come on, let’s get in out of the rain.”
“I’m so proud of you,” she said as they jogged up the steps. “You guys really did it.”
Inside, they all gathered around Dare’s living room as Slider, Phoenix, and Caine spent the next half hour recounting what they’d seen. Cora’s belly flip-flopped to think of what they witnessed in that place, and she’d gasped out loud when they described how Dominic cut them off as they were leaving. Would the past never stop coming for them?
“You’re sure neither Davis nor Dominic recognized you?” Dare asked.
“We went over this ourselves,” Phoenix said. “No way Dominic would’ve let us leave if he had, and none of us ever got close enough to Davis for him to have any reason to notice us.”
Caine nodded. “It was as clean as it could be, considering.”
“I texted Martin on the way home,” Slider said, “but not surprisingly he hasn’t replied yet.”
“No doubt he’s got his hands full after the raid,” Maverick said, “but let’s keep trying him. I want the full details.”
Dare nodded and sagged in his chair. “I need some whiskey.” The men chuckled and agreed, then relocated to the kitchen at the back of the big open space.
“Can we go home soon, Dad?” Sam asked, his voice tired.
“Yeah, buddy. In just a little bit,” Slider said from where he stood at the big island.
Cora stretched and got up out of her seat. “We’re gonna sleep good tonight, aren’t we, Sam?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said.
“I hope the rain lasts all night,” she said, going to the front window and leaning against the sill. Sam joined her, and she smiled at his reflection in the glass. “I want to open our windows at home . . . and . . .”
As she watched, a truck passed the house, hit its brakes, and backed up. A blue truck. Dread rolled through her, sudden and sharp. “You guys!” Cora yelled. “Davis is here!”
Which was the last thing she knew as the bullets shattered the world around her.
Chapter 24
Slider saw it all unfold in slow motion. As in a dream, or a nightmare.
Him turning as Cora called out.
A voice shouting in the night. “This is for the Iron Cross, you Raven pieces of shit!”
A hail of automatic gunfire hitting the front of the house, shattering glass, ricocheting around the room.
Slider yelling Cora’s name. Oh, Jesus, she was right in front of the window.
She turned, grabbed Sam, pushed him to the floor.
And then all of a sudden, time was a runaway train, speeding so fast Slider could hardly keep up. Screaming, crying, shouting, diving. Were they still shooting? Slider couldn’t tell for the buzzing in his head. He pulled his weapon from the small of his back and went to the edge of the window, but the brake lights were already moving away, and Caine was running across Dare’s front yard, firing as their attackers retreated.
Seconds had passed at most, but Slider couldn’t breathe for needing to get to Cora and Sam. He went to the floor next to where she was curled around his son. “Cora, are you okay?” Ignoring the glass under his knees, he put his hand on her back. “Sweetheart, are you okay? Sam?”
“Christ, who’s hurt?” Dare yelled, all kinds of commotion happening around Slider that he couldn’t even track.
Because Cora and Sam weren’t responding. Why weren’t they responding? Slider turned Cora over . . . and found the whole left side of her sweater soaked with blood. He couldn’t tell where she’d been hit through the thick fabric, but his hands went to her anyway. “Jesus, Cora! Oh, God. Oh, no. Somebody call nine-one-one!” Slider didn’t even know what he was saying, he was horror and devastation personified, especially when she still didn’t respond.
Sam moaned. “Dad?”
“Sam, thank God!” Slider cried, torn between these two people he loved. He reached for him before he noticed the blood covering his own hand. Cora’s blood.
“I got Sam,” Alexa said, crawling up to them and examining the boy. “It’s his arm.”
“Dad? Is it over?” Sam said, his voice a raw scrape, his shirt streaked red.
Lifting Cora’s sweater, Slider tried to assess her wounds, but the material was so fucking thick and he feared jostling her too much trying to take it off. “Yeah, buddy,” he managed. “Hang in there. You’re gonna be okay. I promise.” When his brave little boy gave a shaky nod through his shock and tears, Slider called, “Scissors. I need scissors. And towels.”
“Is Cora okay?” Sam asked, panic lacing into his voice for the first time.
“Yeah,” Slider managed. “She’s strong. She’s a fighter. You hear me, sweetheart? You’re a fighter. Damnit.” His own voice cracked, because he wasn’t sure which of them he was trying to convince.
“That’s right,” Alexa said, the words wobbly as she pressed her hands to Sam’s arm. “She is. She’s gonna be okay.”
After what was probably seconds but seemed like hours, someone finally brought him everything he needed, and Slider didn’t even know who. And then he was cutting off Cora’s sweater to find two gunshots to her left arm, a shot to her side, and a fourth through her upper chest, high enough to almost be her shoulder. Shaking and pleading, he pressed towels to the most serious wounds. Because, Jesus fuck, she had more of them than he could even address. Nonono this is not happening. Please, God. I just found her.
“Sam’s arm is bandaged,” Alexa said, grasping a clean towel. “Is it okay if I put pressure on Cora’s?”
God, Alexa was his angel tonight. “Please,” he rasped. The word wasn’t even all the way out of his mouth before Al was right there, her hands helping to staunch the flow.
Maverick crouched beside him, his face a mask of rage and shock. “Ambulances are ten minutes out. Can I help here?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” Slider said, his mind reeling. Ten minutes felt like a lifetime. “I don’t know what else to do.” The admission was like a knife to the heart.
Mav’s blue eyes burned. “Just hang in there and keep doing what you’re doing. Haven and Caine are also hit. But we’re going to get everyone the help they need.”
“Haven, too?” Slider rasped, knowing how much that would tear Cora up. But before he let Mav respond, he gasped. “Ben! Where’s Ben?” How the hell had it taken his head so long to think to ask?
Grasping his shoulder, Maverick looked him in the eye. “Phoenix has him upstairs. He’s fine. And the club’s on its way.” Dark meaning hu
ng on the words. They were going to fix this. And thank fuck the clubhouse was so close.
But Slider shook his head, grief raging inside him. “Go. Go now. Go get those fuckers before they get away, Maverick. This does not get to happen!” he shouted, Cora’s blood starting to soak through the towels. “You know they’ll just keep coming if you don’t.”
“I know, man, but I’m not leaving you all unprotected.”
As if Mav’s words beckoned their brothers, a monstrous roar sounded out in the night. The sound of two dozen motorcycles descending like the hounds of hell.
“We’re covered. Now, go,” Slider growled, part of him wishing he could be the one to wring the life from Dominic’s and Davis’s necks with his bare hands. But if he couldn’t do it, his brothers would. “And make them pay, Maverick! Make them fucking pay.”
People came and went. Voices shouted and talked. But Slider had a hard time keeping track of anything besides Cora and Sam after that. Cora, who lay far too still. And Sam, who’d pulled himself into a sitting position as he held the towel tied around his left arm.
“Cora,” he cried. “She saved me.”
“I know, buddy,” Slider said, his hands pressed to Cora’s worst wounds as if he could maybe hold her in this world with his skin and his bones alone. “I know. How you doing? You’re being so damn brave, Sam.”
“I don’t feel brave,” the boy said, shaking his head and trying to rein in his tears.
“That just proves how brave you really are,” Slider said, filled with a tragic, wrenching pride in his son’s courage in the face of all this chaos. “And we’re gonna save Cora. Don’t you worry.” But Slider didn’t know if he believed the words. There was so much blood. And she was so still. And her skin was so pale. How did this happen? How the fuck did this happen? Martin had them. They saw the police turn into the road that led to that barn. How the fuck did this happen?
A small moan. Then another. Cora’s head turned and her eyelids fluttered.
“Cora!” Sam cried. “She’s moving!”
“Can you hear me?” Slider asked, dangerous hope flaring through him. “Oh, God, Cora. Tell me you hear me.”
Her lips barely moved. “Sli . . .”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he said, leaning close, his heart torn between breaking and flying. “I’m right here.”
Her eyelids lifted heavily, her gaze not tracking. Still, seeing that beautiful green again nearly slayed him. “S-Sam. O-kay?”
Aw, God, his heart. His heart was never going to survive this. She’d been hit four times, and her first thought was for Slider’s son. “Yeah, sweetheart, he’s right here. He’s gonna be fine.”
Sam came closer. “I’m here, too, Cora. It’s okay,” he said through silent tears. “Everything’s okay. I love you, Cora.” Alexa gently squeezed Sam’s good shoulder and he sagged into her embrace. “She has to be okay.”
“She will,” Alexa managed. “She’s one of the strongest people I know.”
And it was true, except . . . the blood, and the stillness, and the paleness. But at least she was awake. “Keep talking to me, Cora. Keep talking.”
But she didn’t say any more.
“Ambulance is here,” someone yelled, making Slider realize for the first time that colored lights from outside flashed on the ruined interior walls of Dare’s living room and kitchen. “Make way.”
The paramedics came in with their big kits. Multiple teams. And cops, too. The house was crawling with people. When had all of them even gotten there?
A man and a woman knelt down next to Slider. The woman examined Sam’s arm, and Slider said, “That’s my son, Sam. He’s almost eleven. Take good care of him.”
“I will,” the woman said with a small smile.
“Sir,” the man said. “Let me take over now. I’ll take good care of her, too, I promise.”
“She’s everything,” Slider said.
“I know, sir. Let me assess her so I can help.”
Slider sat back and removed his hands from her, and it felt so fucking wrong not to be touching her, not to feel her heat, not to feel her pulse against his skin. What if he never got to feel any of that again? He scrambled to her other side, out of the way but still close, so he could tell her over and over. “I love you, Cora. I love you. Fight this. Fight for us. I love you.”
They took Cora straight into surgery. Haven, too. Yet Slider felt like he must be the one whose heart was open on the table. The only thing that kept him sane at all was being with Sam in his little room in the ER.
The bullet had gone straight through the meat of Sam’s bicep, missing the bone entirely. It was good news, and the doctor assured Slider that Sam would make a full recovery.
“You were very brave tonight, Sam,” Slider said, trying to give him the attention he deserved, trying to force his focus to remain right here in the moment with his son. “I’m only sorry you ever had to experience something like that.”
Sam shook his head. “Cora was the brave one. She warned us. She knocked me down. It would’ve been so much worse without what she did.”
The kid wasn’t wrong, and it made Slider’s heart clench so hard he couldn’t catch his breath, so he just nodded.
“Everything would be so much worse without Cora,” Sam said, his voice cracking on her name and tears falling. “Dad, I love her.” Sam’s whole face crumpled and a sob ripped out of him.
Slider sat on the bed and pulled his son into his arms. “I know, Sam. I know. We just gotta stay strong for her now. She needs us, you know?”
Crying, Sam clutched at Slider’s shoulder with his good hand and nodded his head. “I know. This is m-my f-fault,” he wailed.
The sound of the boy’s pain threatened to break what was left of Slider’s heart. “No, Sam. Nothing about this was your fault.”
“If she hadn’t tried to protect me . . .”
“That was all Cora,” Slider said, feeling the truth of it down deep. “That’s just who she is. You couldn’t have kept her from protecting you.”
“But Mom was my fault,” Sam rasped.
The shock of the subject change was so abrupt, Slider almost felt like he’d walked into a pole. “What?”
“Mom . . . you’re gonna hate me.” Sam heaved a shaky breath, then another, and another, trying to calm his tears.
Coming from his son, and knowing how his own father had felt about him, that word was like a kick in the gut. Slider leaned down to look his son in the eyes, needing him to know, needing him to believe. “I could never, ever hate you. What would I possibly have to be mad at you about? Your mom had cancer, Sammy.” He hadn’t used the nickname in years, since before Kim died, but it felt right, just then.
“I . . . I knew . . . about Mom,” he said, his voice shaking so much his teeth almost chattered.
“Knew what . . . ?” Slider’s gut twisted as realization dawned. “What did you know? You can tell me. I promise I won’t get mad.”
Sam’s eyes were so shattered when he looked up. “I knew about the man she saw. I caught them, once. And once after that she took me to see him.”
White-hot rage curled in Slider’s chest. Not at Sam, but at Kim. For her infidelity, for the years he’d lost to his shame and grief, for her planning to leave their kids. And now for this—for putting the knowledge of her betrayal on her son’s too-small, too-young, too-innocent shoulders. Slider blew out a breath. “None of that was your fault, either, Sam. Those were choices your mom made that she never should’ve laid on you.”
“B-but I . . . I should’ve told you, Dad. And I’m so, so sorry I didn’t.” His tears started again.
Slider gently cradled Sam’s head against his chest and pressed a kiss to his hair. “You listen to me, Sam. I love you. Nothing could ever change that. You don’t owe me any apologies, and you never should’ve felt like you had to choose between us. I’m sorry.”
Sam’s good arm came around him tight. “I love you, Dad, so much.”
When was the last
time Sam had hugged him, talked to him about how he felt, or told him he loved him? It was like some wall had come down between them, and Slider was going to make sure it never, ever went back up.
“I love you, too.” God, how light Slider’s heart would be if only Cora were okay, too.
“Did you know I interviewed Cora for school?” Sam whispered after a long while.
“Oh yeah?”
“Know what she told me?”
Slider forced a deep breath. “What’s that, Sammy?”
“That in five years she hoped she’d be in college, married, own a dog, and maybe even be a mom.” Sam lifted his gaze to Slider’s, and those little brown eyes were entirely open with want. “If she . . . if she’s okay, after this . . . maybe we could be the ones . . .” He shrugged with his good shoulder.
Slider heard what Sam didn’t say just then, because he’d said it once before.
Cora should have a family.
Slider gave a quick nod and blinked away the sudden sting behind his eyes. Because his boys wanted Cora Campbell in their lives as much as Slider did. “Yeah,” he managed, his heart torn between hope and despair. “Yeah, maybe we could.”
Drained and drowsy from the pain meds, Sam fell asleep not much later.
So Slider slipped out and stopped at the nurses’ station. “Any word on Cora Campbell in surgery yet?” But there wasn’t. “How about Haven Randall?” No news on her, either. Slider had learned that Haven had been hit in the shoulder, too, so the two best friends were going to have matching scars. Someday, a long, long time from now, he might find some humor in that. Hell, Cora would probably find the humor even sooner.
But not him. Not today.
A few rooms down, he knocked on a door, and found Caine sitting in bed, his left arm bandaged from wrist to elbow, Phoenix at his side. A bullet had passed straight through Caine’s wrist, yet Slider distinctly recalled seeing him run after the truck in the seconds after the shooting. It was one of the few clear memories he had that wasn’t directly associated with Cora and Sam.
