Ride Wild

by Laura Kaye

  “Hey,” Slider said. “How are you feeling?”

  “It’s not serious,” Caine said. “How are Cora and Sam?”

  “Sam’s fine. Sleeping. No word on Cora and Haven.” Slider blew out a breath, his every movement like walking through molasses. “What happened after?”

  Phoenix rose, his expression more serious than Slider had ever seen it during all the years they’d known each other. “Maverick, Caine, and I took care of it. It’s over. It’s done. We made it look like Dominic and Davis turned on each other, and Martin will make sure that’s how the scene report reads, too.”

  It was a hollow sort of satisfaction. Slider couldn’t take any pleasure from it. But he did at least draw a measure of relief. “Good.”

  “Fuck, Slider,” Phoenix said, gripping the rail of Caine’s bed. “This is all my goddamn fault. Dominic made me. The fucker. He made me and I didn’t know it.”

  Caine cleared his throat. “That’s how Dominic and Davis got out before the police arrived. They were already leaving before the shit hit the fan at the fight.”

  Slider’s brow cranked down, confusion swamping him. “But we didn’t have a tail. We looked. Repeatedly.”

  Shaking his head, Caine grimaced. “They didn’t follow us. They wanted to catch us off guard. Davis was drowning in gambling debt to Dominic and had been for years, so when the guy recognized us, Davis bargained to show him where we live. He tried your house, and then Phoenix’s, and then finally Dare’s, figuring we might come back to report.”

  “He told you all this?” Slider asked.

  “Men say a lot of things when it’s their time to die.” Caine nailed him with a lethal stare. “Including that Dominic was the last of the Iron Cross fuckers to survive.” Slider nodded. At least there was that.

  Phoenix hung his head, his shoulders tight with anger. “I’m just so fucking sorry.”

  Slider rubbed the back of his neck and blew out an exhausted breath. He wasn’t letting one more person he cared about live with guilt and grief for things that weren’t their fault. So he went to Phoenix and put an arm around his brother’s shoulders, even though he had so very little solace left to give. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. We didn’t know. None of us did. With Dominic in play, if it hadn’t have been tonight, it would’ve been another time. Or it would’ve been Davis instead. Either way, this disaster had our name on it no matter what we did. It was a matter of when, not if.”

  Slider believed that, he did, but he didn’t feel remotely okay about it with Cora still fighting for her life. What the hell was taking so long anyway?

  Besides the four fucking gunshot wounds.

  Sonofabitch.

  Caine nodded. “He’s right, Creed. This wasn’t your fault.”

  Phoenix scrubbed his hands over his face, not refuting, but not accepting, either.

  Slider ground the heels of his hands against his eyes. He felt ancient. What the hell time was it anyway? Not that he’d be able to sleep until he knew Cora was okay. Still, he retrieved his phone from his back pocket to see that it was just after midnight—and that he had a text.

  He almost ignored it. Until he saw who it was from.

  Cora.

  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

  Fist to his mouth, he was barely able to restrain a sob. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna head out to the waiting room. See who’s there. See if I can find Dare. Need anything?” Slider managed. Both men shook their heads, and Phoenix dropped back into his chair on a troubled sigh.

  On the way out, he read Cora’s message again. And again. God, Cora. Pull through this and tell me now. To my face. So I can say it back. But please don’t leave me with this text and nothing else. He forced a deep breath and swallowed down the agony of his fear as he made his way through the maze of the emergency department.

  Pushing through the double doors, Slider came to a halt. Because the waiting room was absolutely packed. There was a sea of men in Ravens cuts, and dozens of other people besides. Dare and Bunny and Maverick and Alexa and Ben, sweet Ben, who ran into his arms as Slider lifted him to his chest and held him so damn tight.

  “Sam’s sleeping,” he said to Ben, to everyone. “He’s doing okay.”

  “No word on the girls,” Dare said, his voice like sandpaper, his whole demeanor like he was a breath away from being wrecked. And Slider got it, he really fucking did.

  “I know,” Slider said. “But they’re gonna get through this.” They hugged each other then, two old friends sharing the same unbearable pain and facing the same impossible loss.

  “Yes, they are,” Bunny said. “Those two are fighters. So don’t you do anything but plan how you’re going to take care of them when they’re out of here. That goes for both of you,” Bunny said, her eyes so glassy she was hard to look at. Because Slider was hanging on by a very thin thread.

  But he nodded, appreciating the hell out of the sentiment, and praying to God with everything that he had that Bunny was right.

  “Everything else is taken care of,” Maverick said, his eyes raw, blue fire.

  Slider nodded, too gutted to care the way he should. “I know. Thank you for handling it.”

  “Families of Cora Campbell and Haven Randall?” a woman’s voice called.

  About fifty people stood up.

  And, damn, how Cora would’ve loved seeing that. Please let me be able to tell her.

  Slider and Dare rushed to where two doctors stood side by side, one woman and one man. A few others came with them, but Slider was too focused to care who heard the news as long as it was good.

  “We’re all here for both of them,” Dare said. “Please just tell us.”

  The woman started. “Haven’s surgery went entirely by the book. Her clavicle was broken, and we were able to repair it and the soft tissue around it. She’s in recovery and resting comfortably.”

  Dare braced his hands against his knees. “Thank God,” he said. And Slider shared the sentiment down deep.

  “And Cora?” he asked.

  Nodding, the male doctor said, “They’re just finishing up now, but we knew we had a waiting room anxious to hear. All in all, she was very lucky. The most serious of the wounds were the two in her chest and abdomen. She suffered a broken rib and a punctured lung, which we were able to repair. The shot to her upper chest broke another rib and fractured her scapula, all of which we stabilized. The gunshot wounds on her arm were less serious, but we’ve repaired the damage as much as we can and have her on a course of antibiotics to treat for any infection. But we expect a full recovery.”

  The room spun around Slider until he stumbled. Someone caught him, and someone else pulled Ben from his arms. “She’s okay?” he asked, his brain not quite grasping what he was hearing.

  “She’s going to have a long road in front of her and she’ll need physical therapy on that arm and shoulder, but she’s going to be fine,” the doctor said. “And, oh, one more thing.” The doctor hesitated, and it nearly killed Slider. “Perhaps we should discuss this in private?”

  “Say what you have to say, Doc,” Slider gritted out.

  The man eyed their little group and nodded. “We detected trace HCG in Cora’s blood.” When Slider shook his head, the doctor elaborated. “The pregnancy hormone. The levels indicate it’s very new, maybe not even two weeks since conception.”

  Slider went to his knees. Just flat-out went to his knees in wonder and thanks and sheer amazement. Cora was pregnant. Cora was pregnant . . . with his child.

  “She’s okay?” he asked, looking up. The doctor nodded. “And she’s pregnant?”

  “It appears so. But a lot depends on her condition over the next couple days,” he cautioned.

  Slider nodded. He heard what the man was saying, and he got it. Still, he’d been so prepared for the worst that part of him couldn’t process the good news—or not want to embrace it even if it might be tenuous. “
Jesus, thank you,” he said, hands clapping him on the shoulders. Someone held out a hand and helped him to his feet amid words of cautious celebration. “Can I see her?”

  “As soon as she’s ready.”

  It felt like an eternity, but finally someone called his name. “Mr. Evans, we can take you to see Cora now.”

  Chapter 25

  Slider nearly held his breath as he stepped up to Cora’s bedside. The joy of seeing her and knowing that she was alive was tarnished by knowing what she’d been through, and everything she would still have to go through. An oxygen mask rested on her face, and IVs protruded from her good arm. Little bandages covered a few places on the right side of her face, and a thick wad of gauze was wrapped around her left shoulder and arm, propped up on a set of pillows.

  And yet, she was the most beautiful woman Slider had ever seen.

  The truest, the most loyal, the bravest.

  He eased into the chair beside her and clutched her hand, careful of the second IV above her thumb. “Hey, it’s me,” he said, just needing to talk to her. Just needing her. “I’m here. And everyone is going to be okay. Sam’s right, you know. You were so fucking brave. God, Cora, you saved Sam’s life. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that. And sweetheart . . . Jesus, Cora. We made a baby. It’s early. So early. I have no idea what’ll happen or even if you’ll want it. But, God, I hope you do.”

  The wonder of that still hit him on so many levels. He thought about what Sam had confided in him earlier, how Cora wanted to be a mom. Now she would be. And he remembered how, from the first second he’d held Sam as a newborn baby, Slider had loved being a father. Now he was going to have that privilege all over again. And the boys were going to have a new brother or sister, a new life that would bond the four of them together in yet another way.

  And, Jesus. How many times had he tried to tell himself that he’d be best off defining family by blood? Even though he now realized it’d been a defense mechanism he’d built to block out the pain of Kim’s lies and betrayals, Slider couldn’t help but shake his head. Because here, Cora shared his blood. Through the baby struggling to grow inside her.

  Cora was family. Cora was family in every way he’d ever defined it. Or ever would.

  Which meant . . .

  “You have to wake up now, Cora. I need you. I need your eyes and your voice and your touch. I need your humor and your silly names and your love of animals. Please wake up for me.”

  But he couldn’t will her awake. And anyway, he’d wait for her as long as it took for her to recover. So he laid his head down on the edge of her bed, still holding her hand, and talked and talked to her, so she knew that she wasn’t alone, and that he wanted her, and that he always would.

  He talked so much and so long that he didn’t remember stopping. But the next thing he knew was a soft weight in his hair.

  For a moment, he moaned and settled back into sleep, and then his brain jolted him awake.

  Bright green eyes stared at him, and then a smile eked onto Cora’s face beneath the oxygen mask. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he said, emotion knotting in his throat. “Hi.” Slider stood up, needing to be closer, and leaned in over her, careful not to put any weight on her body.

  “Wha’ happened?” she said, her words a little slurred as she brushed away the mask.

  He gently stroked her face. “All you need to know for right now is that everyone is going to be okay.” She needed to know the details, and in time she would, but not right now. Not while she was still so weak. “And the other thing you need to know is that I love you so much I don’t know how to be without you.”

  One side of her lips lifted in a little smile. “Love you, too.” Her eyes went wide. “Sam?”

  Aw, Jesus, the way she cared for him and his. “Downstairs resting and doing good.”

  “Okay,” she said, her eyelids falling shut again.

  Relief. Sheer and total. It was like a tidal wave inside him, one that took his knees out from under him until he sagged back into the chair.

  And then Slider wept. Wept like he hadn’t in years. Not even after Kim died had he cried, given everything that had led up to that terrible moment. But now he wept. It cleansed his soul of so much of the pain he’d been holding onto, and it healed his heart of so many of the breaks caused by abandonment in his life, and it removed the poison of shame from Kim’s betrayals from his mind. He wept.

  And then it was as if his brain just needed to shut down, because he fell asleep again, his head against her hip, their hands laced together. Because he knew now—knew with clarity.

  Slider never wanted to let Cora go.

  The first thing Cora was aware of was the warm weight of Slider’s head against her, and it made her smile before she managed to force open her eyes. Even a little fuzzy, he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen, not that she was really in any shape to be thinking about sex. Apparently.

  Her head lolled as she tried to take it all in. Lots of things hurt. Her face, her side, her shoulder, her arm. But she had an odd floaty feeling that told her she had drugs on board, and that was good.

  “Hi, there, hon,” a nurse wearing pink scrubs and a black Afro said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay I think. A little sore,” Cora said as the woman checked her vitals.

  “Do you need pain medicine?”

  Cora nodded. “Maybe.”

  “Okay, hon, I’ll get that ready for you.”

  On a sudden inhale, Slider blinked awake, his gaze going from Cora to the nurse and back again. “Hey, is everything okay?”

  “Yep,” the lady said. “Just checking in.”

  “What’s wrong with me?” Cora managed. She remembered the truck, and the popping sound of gunfire, and then . . . Nothing.

  “The doctor will be by within the hour to talk to you, but you suffered four gunshot wounds. They patched you back up real good though,” she said with a friendly smile. “Let me go get that pain medicine.”

  Wow, that was a freaking lot to take in. “Four,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Slider said, leaning closer, those pale green eyes intense and clear. “I talked to the doctor earlier, and he said they were able to repair everything. You had a few broken bones and a punctured lung, but they put you back together again.”

  “What about the others?” she said, having a vague recollection of Slider saying everyone was okay before. But still, there were a lot of kinds of okay. And Cora needed to know.

  “Wait, sweetheart, there’s something else you need to know,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “It turns out . . . Cora, you’re pregnant,” he said, his expression so full of love.

  The room went spinny around them, and then his words really sank in. “I’m pregnant. They said that?” He nodded. “They’re sure?” she asked, awe and disbelief and wonder shaking the ground beneath her. Because . . . because she was going to be a mom. And Slider was going to be a dad again—with her.

  “It showed up in your bloodwork,” he said. A tentative smile played around his mouth and just brought out the hint of his dimple.

  Then Cora gasped. Four gunshot wounds. Four. “Oh, God, do they know if the pregnancy will be okay?” Panic shot through her, and the pulse monitor spiked.

  “Ssh,” he said, stroking her face. “Don’t worry. It’s very new but so far it’s fine. You just worry about healing you and the rest will work out the way it’s meant to be.”

  Love and desire rushed through her because she wanted this baby to live. God, she wanted it so much, this child that she and Slider had made. But did Slider want it, too? “Does that mean you’d be okay if I had this baby?”

  “Oh, Cora. I would be fucking ecstatic if you had this baby,” he said, so much emotion in his voice that it choked her up. He kissed her cheek, just a light brush of skin on skin. “For something so beautiful to come out of so much pain would be an amazing gift.”

  “I’m so glad, because I want it, too.” S
he couldn’t stop the tears from falling no matter how hard she tried. Tears of hope and fear and love. She was going to be someone’s mom. She and Slider were having a baby together. And they were going to love this child—and Sam and Ben, too—so much that none of them would ever wonder if they were wanted or cherished or loved.

  “You’re gonna be the best mama,” Slider whispered, catching every one of her tears.

  And then the nurse returned with a syringe of pain medicine. “This will make it better,” she said, sliding the needle into the line.

  The next time Cora woke up, she had the sense that it was daytime. The room was brighter, noise filtered in from the hallway, and flowers lined her windowsill. Oh! And she had more visitors. “Boys,” she said. “Hi.”

  They rushed to her, one on each side.

  “Watch her arm, Sam,” Slider said.

  Almost reverently, Sam nodded. “Hi, Cora,” he said, a little shyly.

  “Hi yourself.” Her gaze went to the thick gauze on his bicep, and her belly clenched. She’d tried so hard to protect him, but he’d still gotten hit. “You too, huh?”

  “Yeah,” he said, not taking the bait of her humor. “But you more.”

  “I guess we’ll have to help each other get better then,” she said.

  “I will, Cora. I promise. I . . . I love you,” Sam said.

  The words absolutely filled her chest. Here she was in a hospital, in more pain than she wanted to admit and recovering from getting shot, and yet she felt lucky. “Oh, Sam. I love you, too. Both of you guys.” She smiled at Ben. “So much.”

  “And Daddy, too,” Ben said.

  She peered up at Slider where he stood next to Sam. “And your daddy, too.”

  An aide came in with a lunch tray and settled it on a rolling table. “Good afternoon,” she said, in almost a sing-songy voice. “How are you today?”

  “Thank you, okay so far,” Cora managed. But she wasn’t interested in the food, because she still didn’t know who else had been hurt. So when the lady left, she met Slider’s gaze. “Who else?”

  His shoulders fell, which meant the news wasn’t good.