by Laura Kaye
“It didn’t feel right. Even if you want to go visit Georgia’s mom on your own, it didn’t feel right not to at least be here for you when you got back.”
Kenna had never felt more love for a person than she did in that very moment. Because he’d known what she’d needed—and he’d given it to her without question, hesitation, or condition.
“You’re my life now, Griffin. I want you involved in every part. But this part, you gotta know,” she said, needing to tell him beforehand even though she hated for him to be disappointed in her. “This part isn’t my finest moment. I’m two years late delivering something I should’ve made a priority from the beginning, and I don’t see how Ms. Kern is going to be happy about that.”
He shook his head, so damn handsome in a pair of blue jeans and a navy button-down shirt, a pair of shades pushed up on his head. “You’re making it right, now, Kenna, that’s what counts. And letting someone know that they were thought of and loved—it’s never too late for that.”
Kenna tried like hell to keep those words in mind as Griffin drove her to Ms. Kern’s little yellow contemporary-style house, with a Mediterranean-inspired red tile roof and swaying palm trees in the yard. She didn’t think this was the house in which Georgia had grown up, but Kenna still imagined that she could feel her there, near her mom, smiling in the sun.
“Ready?” he asked when he parked the rental car.
“No,” she said, but she pushed out of the door holding a large, sealed padded envelope in her hand.
Griffin came around and gently grasped her by the arms. “Just speak from the heart, baby. The two of you loved the same person. That counts for a lot.”
Her eyes stung, but she blinked the sensation away. “Okay. I can do this.”
He kissed her, soft and quick. “Of course you can.”
And then she was standing at the door in the still-hot November sun. Knocking. Waiting.
The door opened. “Can I help you?” the lady asked. And, oh God, Kenna could see Georgia in her, in the hazel eyes and same auburn-brown hair and the shape of her mouth. She looked between Kenna and Griffin, and then her gaze dropped to Kenna’s limb, apparent in the sleeveless floral sundress she’d worn.
“Ms. Kern? My name is—”
“Kenna? Are you Kenna Sloane?”
Her chest squeezed, half sure that she was going to turn her away before she even got in the door. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh,” the woman gasped, tears springing immediately to her eyes. “Oh, I’ve hoped for so long to meet you.” Ms. Kern spilled out of her doorway and pulled Kenna into a hug, and the contact made Kenna cry, too. But they were good tears, tears that reconnected her to something so very important, cleansing tears that washed away more of her guilt. Finally, Ms. Kern pulled back and just looked at her. “Oh, you’re as pretty as Georgia said you were. Come in, please. Both of you.”
Kenna introduced Griffin as Ms. Kern ushered them into the air conditioning and fixed them both drinks, and then they all settled into the living room.
“Ma’am—”
“Oh, please, that makes me feel old.” She smiled. “Call me Leigh.”
“Okay, Leigh,” Kenna said, fingering the envelope. The lady’s reaction at the door chased away the fear that she’d be angry at Kenna, but she still knew this was going to be hard. “I have something for you, but I have to apologize because I should’ve brought it a long time ago. I hope you can forgive me.” She held it out to the older woman.
“Oh,” she said, her hand trembling. “What is it?”
Kenna shook her head, equal parts curious and afraid to see. “I don’t know for sure. When we first got to Afghanistan, Georgia came up with the idea that we should put together little good-bye presents, and that we should give them to each other. Just in case something happened. And that way,” Kenna said, trying to make it through the words before more tears fell. “That way we’d know that the other person’s loved one got their package, and that it was personally delivered in case they needed someone with them.”
“Good-bye present,” Leigh said, her voice strained as her fingers smoothed over the envelope where Georgia’s scrawled handwriting had written, simply, Mom. Kenna had retrieved Leigh’s address from the Corps. After. “That sounds like her.”
“It does.” Georgia could be a smart ass, but she was also the first one to come with an idea to do something nice for someone else. Every time.
“Do you mind...if I open it in front of you?” Leigh asked, tears brimming on her lashes.
“No, ma’am. It would be an honor.”
Sitting right beside her, Griffin radiated a quiet strength and support. He laid his hand on her thigh, and she gave him a little smile.
And then Leigh cried in earnest as she read a letter Georgia had sent, and then looked at each of the little mementos that had formed her good-byes: A wind chime made out of a beautifully woven, miniature red-and-black Afghan carpet—bells hung from the bottom on different-length beaded chains. A packet of tulip bulbs, the country’s national flower—and Leigh said they were her favorite, too. And, finally, a big folded piece of traditional Afghan cloth in red and gold and black. Little things that Leigh could hear and see and wear to remember her daughter by.
Not even Griffin’s eyes were dry.
“Thank you,” Leigh said. “This means so much to me. Thank you, Kenna.”
“I’m sorry I waited,” she said.
“I’m not.” Leigh shook her head. “If you’d come right after...I was so angry and so deep in my grief. I don’t know if I could’ve looked at these things and truly appreciated them for what they are. Pieces of Georgia. And you gave that to me.”
Hugging and crying again, Kenna held Leigh for several long minutes, and it felt so good to finally make this right.
“Will you all stay for lunch with me?” Leigh asked.
Of course they did. And Kenna was so glad. Because Leigh pulled out photo albums and shared Georgia’s life with her—the parts she’d known and so much she never had. And there were pictures of Kenna and Georgia together in her collection, snapshots that Georgia had sent home by snail mail and email, too.
“Look at you in your uniform, Kenna. Amazing,” Griffin said, looking at her with so much love in his eyes. No one really looked amazing in their combat utility uniform loaded down with all their gear, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same. More importantly, she was so glad he was there for this, because she never could’ve put into words just how incredible meeting Leigh had been.
Before they finally left, Leigh made them exchange all their contact information and promise to stay in touch. She sent Kenna away with an envelope stuffed with pictures and a heart that was so full it just might burst.
That night, lying in Griffin’s arms and surrounded by his love, Kenna slept like a baby. No anxiety, no phantom pain, and not a nightmare in sight.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The demonstration was about to begin, and Kenna was nervous. The good kind of nervous, the one filled with excitement and anticipation and restless energy.
Standing in a little room off the stage, what used to be the church’s altar, she and Master Griffin waited for the announcement of the demonstration to be made. And then she’d follow him out.
“You’re gonna be great,” he said, smiling at her.
She grinned. “Yes, Sir. But then why do you seem so nervous, too?” And he did. Not a lot. But it was there, in the way he kept fidgeting and peering out through the curtains. Generally, Master Griffin was pretty laid back. And this was not that.
“I’m not nervous, little one. Just excited. Because we’re going to put on a stellar demonstration, and I’m so proud to show you off,” he said, wearing nothing but a pair of worn-in black leather pants—pants that were already turning her on because of how well they hung on his ass, how much they conformed to his semi-hard cock, and the fact that he’d left the top button of the fly undone.
It was maddening.
&n
bsp; And then it was time. The announcement echoed through the PA system and the rumble of voices indicated that there was a crowd.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir,” she said, her voice full of confidence. Because she could do this. She could make him proud. She knew she could. And serving him felt right and true to herself. For the first time in a long time, Kenna didn’t feel like a fraud anymore.
They walked out onto the raised dais to a low round of applause. Just like they’d talked about, Kenna sank gracefully to her knees facing the crowd—thighs spread, palms up, back straight, head down. She waited patiently, knowing he was preparing the ropes for her. And after she’d looked again and again at the practice picture he’d taken, she was eager to have him recreate his bondage and show it off to their little kinky corner of the world.
His feet appeared in her line of sight, and Kenna took a deep breath. This was it.
He draped a silky robe over her shoulders and offered her his hand. “Rise.”
She frowned but obeyed. This wasn’t the plan. Maybe he was changing the position at the last minute? But what was with the robe?
Kenna looked up and saw that Master Griffin’s eyes were glassy, and that he was holding something in his hand.
***
Griffin had known Kenna was the woman for him for weeks. Hell, for years. And after everything they’d shared on Thursday night, that had never been more clear. So when she’d left on Friday afternoon, he’d driven directly to the nicest jewelry store he knew and bought two things. Having done so was part of what made him realize he’d belonged in Florida, at Kenna’s side.
Just like she belonged at his.
Always.
When Kenna rose, he gestured to the robe and said quietly, “Slip this on, little one.”
She did.
And then he dropped to one knee.
Griffin barely heard the gasp in the audience because he was so intently focused on Kenna—on the joy brightening her beautiful face and the love in her wide gray eyes.
“Kenna Sloane, will you please marry me? I have loved you for so long that you’ve become a part of me, and I don’t want to walk through this life for one more day without knowing that you’re mine and I’m yours. I don’t just want a submissive—though I do want that, too—I want a partner, a best friend, a companion, a confidante, and a wife. In short, I want you, baby. Will you please do me the honor of becoming my everything?” His heart was hammering inside his chest as the worlds spilled from deep inside him, because they were the most important words he’d ever spoken.
Happy tears ran down her face as she dropped to her knees right in front of him. “Oh, Griffin. I love you so much. And nothing would make me happier in this whole world than to say yes,” she said. Applause and cheers filled the room, and it made his heart so full he wasn’t sure how it stayed in his damn chest.
“Fuck, Kenna,” he said, his hand shaking as he slid the emerald-cut ring onto her finger. “Finding you again was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me.” He pulled her into a tight embrace and devoured her with a kiss she eagerly returned.
His other purchase from the jewelry store? That would have to wait until they were alone. Because Griffin didn’t want to share that first act of collaring his fiancé with anyone else—that would be theirs and theirs alone.
And, fuck, but he was so ready for it all. The good parts, the bad parts, the celebrations, and the heartaches. As long as they were together, they could handle whatever life threw at them. Griffin was sure about that.
When they came up for air, Kenna was grinning and crying. “Luckiest for me, too, Griffin. Luckiest for me, too.”
An announcement rang out saying there would be a delay in the start of the demonstration, which earned a big round of laughter from the audience, and then Griffin guided Kenna into the small waiting room for another kiss.
Their friends poured in to offer congratulations—Kyler and Mia, Quinton, Leo, Jonathan, Cruz, and more. And it felt like family. It felt like everything.
“I’m so happy, Griffin,” Kenna whispered to him.
He kissed her, unable to resist. “Me, too, Kenna. You feel like a dream come true.”
Finally, their friends cleared out, and it was just the two of them again. “Do you still feel up to doing this?” he asked. “We can reschedule. No one will mind. Not with all the champagne that’s probably flowing out there right now.”
But he could see the answer in her eyes. His kick-ass warrior.
“Yes, Sir. I’m green all the way.”
He tugged her in against his body. “You ready to be bound to me?”
“Yes, Griffin. Make me yours. Tie me to you in every way you can,” she said, looking up at him with so much love.
He nodded, hunger and need stirring in his body again. “Then let’s do this, baby. Go out there and get on your knees. And let’s show them what we’ve got.”
THE END
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The Raven Riders MC
Brotherhood. Club. Family.
They live and ride by their own rules.
These are the Raven Riders . . .
RIDE HARD
CHAPTER ONE
To say that Haven Randall’s escape plans were not going as she’d hoped was quite possibly the understatement of the century. Especially since she wasn’t at all sure her current situation was any better than the one she’d run from three weeks before.
But today could be the day she found that out for sure.
Staring out the window through the slats of the blinds, Haven watched as another group of motorcycles roared into the parking lot below. They’d been coming in groups of four or five for the past hour or so. And, God, there were a lot of them. Not surprising, since she was currently holed up at the compound of the Raven Riders Motorcycle Club. A shiver raced over her skin.
“Don’t worry,” Haven’s friend Cora Campbell said. Sitting on the bed, back against the wall, her choppy, shoulder-length blond hair twisted up in a messy bun, Cora gave Haven a reassuring smile.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Haven said. And it was the truth. Without Cora’s bravery, encouragement, and fearless you-only-live-once attitude, Haven never would’ve put her longtime pipe dream of escaping from her father’s house into action. Of course, those actions had landed her here, among a bunch of strange bikers of questionable character and intent, and Haven didn’t know what to make of that. Yet.
But it had to be better than what would’ve happened if she’d stayed in Georgia. She had to believe that. Had to.
“Well, you won’t ever have to find out,” Cora said, flipping through an old gossip magazine that had been on the nightstand. “Because you’re stuck with me.”
“I wouldn’t want to be stuck with anyone else,” Haven said in a quiet voice.
Outside, the late-day sun gleamed off the steel and chrome of the motorcycles slowly but surely filling the lot. The bass beat of rock music suddenly drummed against the floor of their room. Now the Ravens’ clubhouse, the building where they’d been staying for just over two weeks now had apparently once been an old mountain inn. Their rooms were on the second floor, where guests used to stay, and though Cora had been more adventurous, Haven had stayed in her room as much as possible since they’d arrived. And that was while the majority of the guys had been away from their compound on some sort of club business.
Men’s laughter boomed from downstairs.
Haven hugged herself as another group of bikers tore into the lot. “There are so many of them.”
Cora tossed the magazine aside and climbed off the bed. She was wearing a plain gray tank top and a pair of cutoff shorts that Bunny, an older lady who was married to one of the Ravens, had lent her. Haven’s baggy white T-shirt and loose khaki cargo pants were borrowed, too. They’d run
away with a few articles of clothes and cash that Haven had stolen from her father, but they’d lost all of that—and their only vehicle—two weeks ago. She and Cora literally had nothing of their own in the whole world.
Haven’s belly tossed. Being totally dependent on anyone else was the last thing she wanted. She was too familiar with all the ways that could be used against her to make her do things she didn’t want to do.
Standing next to her at the window, Cora said, “We’re not prisoners here, Haven. We’re their guests. Remember what Ike said.”
Haven nodded. “I know.” She hadn’t forgotten. Ike Young was the member of the Ravens who had brought them there, who’d told them they were welcome to stay as long as they needed to, who said that no one would give them any trouble. Who said the Ravens helped people like them all the time.
People like them.
So, people like someone who’d grown up as the daughter of the head of a criminal organization? Someone who’d been homeschooled starting in tenth grade so her father could control her every move—and make sure she never saw her first and only boyfriend again? Someone whose father used her for a maid and a cook and planned to barter her off in a forced marriage to another crime family to cement an alliance? Someone who, after managing a middle-of-the-night escape, ended up being captured by a drug-dealing gang seven hundred miles away—a gang that had apparently received notice of a reward for capture from her father? Someone who was then rescued by soldiers and bikers at war with that gang?
Because that was Haven’s reality, and she really doubted the Ravens had helped people like her before. Or, at least, she hoped not. Because she wouldn’t wish the life she’d lived so far on her worst enemy.
And, God, was it possible her father was still looking for her? Was it possible that others, motivated by that reward, were hunting her, too? Her stomach got a sour, wiggly feeling that left her feeling nauseous.
“I’m okay,” she said, giving Cora another smile. “Really.” Maybe if she kept reassuring Cora of that, she’d begin to believe it herself.
