by Laura Kaye
Emma recounted everything that’d happened after she’d turned on her classroom lights, but honestly, there wasn’t much to tell.
The man took a few notes in a small flip pad as she spoke, then tucked it away. “Like I told Principal Mackey, we can have extra patrols ride through school grounds at nights and on the weekends. But it was probably just some kids from the neighborhood. Unfortunately, this kind of thing happens.”
“I know,” Emma said, her belly giving a weird flip.
He frowned and studied her face. “You sure you’re okay, ma’am?”
She nodded and glanced in her window, where the kids’ escalating volume indicated that they were getting restless without her. “Yes,” Emma said absentmindedly. “I’m just a little on edge because I got mugged on Saturday night and it’s left me a little jittery.”
“Oh, Emma,” Principal Mackey said. “I’m so sorry. What happened?”
She blinked, realizing that she’d just dropped that news out of nowhere. “I was walking home from the store when a man jumped out from behind some bushes and grabbed my purse. Another man saw him and chased him off.”
“Did you report this?” Sheriff Martin asked.
Heat infused Emma’s cheeks. “No. The mugger was wearing a mask and the man who helped me didn’t think the police would be able to do much since I couldn’t offer any identifying information.”
The sheriff’s frown deepened, and his expression made her feel guilty and not a little stupid for not having called the police. “Truth is, he’s not entirely wrong. But it’s still in your interest to file the report. Get it on record. For when we do catch him. And have us step up patrols in the area in the meantime.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t do it. I was just stunned that it’d happened at all.” She glanced into the classroom again. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, do you have everything you need?”
“Yes.” He handed her a business card. “If you want to follow up about the mugging, give me a call. I hope you will.”
Emma accepted the card, and made a mental note to call him after dismissal. She supposed she’d better at least dot her I’s and cross her T’s on this. “Thank you. Now, would you like to say hello? I know the kids would love to meet you.”
He grinned and nodded. “Absolutely.”
She led him in and introduced him, and the kids were immediately enthralled by his uniform, hat, and badge. He kept things light-hearted as he spoke to them about the police working to keep the community safe and inviting them to always feel like they can talk to a police officer, and then he left them with a big stack of crime dog McGruff and Faux Paw techno cat cyber safety stickers.
After that, Emma determined to move on from all the worrisome weirdness of the past few days. Something that was even easier to do when a couple of the other teachers invited her out for a girls’ night dinner that evening. With no real family to speak of, the community at Frederick Elementary had become a kind of substitute family for her, and they’d clearly known exactly what she needed.
Thankfully, she didn’t need to tell them everything that’d happened in the past few days because she’d told enough people over lunch in the teacher’s room that the story had made its way through the whole faculty. But when a family walked through the front door of their favorite Italian place—the man wearing the same denim-and-black-leather jacket that Caine had—Emma couldn’t help but wonder what her friends would think of Caine.
Over a big plate of pasta, Emma asked, “What do you all know about that motorcycle club in town?” Her gaze cut to where the family was sitting in the far corner of the restaurant. A dark-haired man, a blond-haired woman, and two boys, probably about first and fifth graders if she were to guess.
“The Raven Riders?” Alison Bard asked in a low voice. Two years older than Emma, she taught one of the other kindergarten sections and had been a mentor and friend since Emma’s first day six years before. “They run the race track outside of town. Green Valley. I’ve been to a few of the races there before.”
Catalin Mendoza, their newest kindergarten teacher, nodded. “Me, too. I heard that they provide protective services for people in bad situations. I don’t know how that works though. Why?”
Emma twirled her fork in her pasta and recalled Caine talking about working in security. Was that possibly what he’d meant? “The man that tried to stop the mugging belongs to that club.”
Her friends’ eyes went wide. “Wait,” Catalin said. “Are you telling me that you were saved by a biker and we’re just hearing that detail?”
Smirking, Emma nodded. “It wasn’t really pertinent to the story.”
Catalin looked like she might swallow her tongue, and glanced at Alison to see if she was as aghast. “Is she serious right now?”
Alison laughed and nodded. “Leave it to you to leave out the best detail, Em. So tell us about your biker.”
Her biker. As if. She shrugged. “He was…I don’t know…” Emma struggled to think of a description that would do the man any justice.
“She’s speechless,” Alison said, chuckling.
Catalin’s brown eyes were wide as saucers. “She’s totally speechless.”
Emma couldn’t help but laugh. “No, no. It’s just that he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. Tall, dark, and intimidating on the outside, but then he had this kinda killer dry humor and was really sweet to me.”
Her friends traded a look, and then Catalin said, “When are you going to see him again?”
Shaking her head, Emma swallowed a bite of her noodles. “I didn’t get his number.”
“Em!” Alison said.
“I could go ask that guy,” Cat said in a total deadpan as she thumbed toward where the other Raven sat with his family.
“Don’t you dare,” Emma said, chuckling—and realizing how much lighter she felt after hanging out with her friends. Even if their teasing was at her expense. And it didn’t hurt that she’d followed up with Sheriff Martin after school and filed a report on her mugging. “I can’t thank you enough for taking me out tonight. I needed to shake off this funk.”
“Always,” Alison said. “You know that.”
Catalin nodded. “I agree, but I was only half joking about asking that guy.”
Emma made a face she hoped communicated that she would have to kill her if she made a move toward that Raven.
Shrugging, Catalin grabbed a piece of Italian bread from the basket. “Suit yourself. But if you have a way of tracking down Mr. Tall, Dark, Sweet, and Intimidating, why wouldn’t you?”
It was a question still rattling around in her brain as sleep eluded her again that night. And it ensured that, when she did finally nod off, Caine’s icy-blue stare starred in all her dreams.
Chapter 5
There was only one thing that really scared Caine, and tonight was the second fucking time in the past five months that the Ravens had been forced to deal with it.
Fire.
That fear was a stupid fucking thing to feel when he’d arrived after the fire department had doused most of the flames. It hadn’t happened to him. And he wasn’t the one fighting it. Still, standing on the street outside of Ana Garcia’s downtown row house, Caine struggled to force away the memories that explained just why he hated fire so goddamn much.
Memories of a trapped little girl. Scorched skin. A two-story fall…
Sonofabitch.
Standing beside him, his brother Phoenix Creed shook his head. “This is fucking bullshit.”
Caine nodded, seething that this had happened right under their noses. On the Ravens’ watch. Breaking glass had alerted Ana that something was amiss, allowing her to call 9-1-1 and flee the house in plenty of time. And the close proximity of the downtown fire station meant that the responders had been able to get here fast and confine the worst of the damage to the front of the first floor. So Ana would eventually be able to live here again. In the meantime, she’d be safe living in one of the cabins on their compound—where Dare had alr
eady taken her about a half hour before, right after she’d finished talking to the sheriff.
So, as crises went, this one had turned out much better than it might’ve. Not that it made Caine feel one damn bit better.
“Question is, what are we going to do about it?” He arched a brow at Phoenix, whose expression was set in a dark scowl. One that Caine understood, not just because they both felt like they’d dropped the ball here. But also because Phoenix had been the one to bring Ana’s case to the Ravens months before, and he felt a certain investment in her situation as a result.
Phoenix’s eyes narrowed as he watched the firefighters walk through the burned-out first floor, and the anger he wore made the jagged scar he had from eye to ear look that much fiercer. “If this comes back as arson, like we think? Apparently, I’m going to hell, because I’m gonna take this fucking pastor down.”
“I’m a hundred percent sure I already have a reserved parking place down there, so consider me your right-hand man.” Caine clapped Phoenix on the shoulder, and the guy gave him a nod.
Though Caine considered the Raven Riders his family and absolutely knew each and every brother would have his back in a heartbeat, he’d never felt especially close to any of them. It wasn’t that he didn’t put in his time around the club. Hell, he’d served on the board for years now as sergeant-at-arms, so he spent more than a little time with the other board members, including Phoenix and Dare, their leader. But between Caine’s belief that he was safer keeping to himself and his gut-deep fucking fear that no one wanted him around—and that no one would like what they found if he ever let them get close, anyway, his walls remained up. Way up. Even with his brothers.
Except, recently, with Phoenix.
Which was maybe because of some shit that’d gone down at Dare’s house a few months before—and some things that he and Phoenix had had to make right. Together. And maybe it was also because several other members of the inner circle of the club’s board had gone and fallen for the women in their lives, which resulted in Phoenix and Caine spending more solo time hanging out than ever before. And maybe it was because the death of Phoenix’s only other living relative had given them yet something else in common—life had left them riding alone, whether they wanted to or not.
So what friendship Caine was capable of feeling, he felt for the guy.
They made for their Harleys, which they’d parked behind the firetrucks down by the intersection. Despite everything else going on, Caine couldn’t keep his gaze from stretching across to where he’d first met Emma. Emma Kerry, he’d learned by running an easy public-records search. He looked farther down the street, but couldn’t quite make out her house. And it made him fucking itch to go there, check her windows and doors again, maybe even knock on that door and make sure she was still okay.
None of which he was actually going to let himself do. Despite how many times he’d had to resist doing it the past three days.
“What’s that look for?” Phoenix asked.
Caine bit back a curse and blanked whatever expression had hit his ugly mug. “No look.”
Even pissed off as he was, Phoenix managed a you’re-full-of-shit grin. The fucker. “If you say so.”
“You going back to the clubhouse?” Caine asked, changing the subject.
“I don’t know. I’m fucking wired now. Wanna go to the Pit Stop and get a beer and some chili cheese fries? Or, hell, ride up to Mitzi’s?” Phoenix asked.
Neither the old biker bar nor the gentlemen’s club located up Maryland’s Interstate 70 held any interest for Caine. He wasn’t hungry, and he wasn’t looking for some cheap hook-up. Hell, he hadn’t even checked the message boards since he’d gotten home late on Saturday night. Or, more accurately, early on Sunday morning.
In other words, since he’d left Emma’s. And even though he didn’t want to examine that too closely, he was examining the fuck out of that. Because she kept invading his thoughts. For three days now, she’d been in his head when he worked, when he rode, when he tried to sleep. When he took himself in hand and groaned in the quiet of his room. And it was a fucking problem.
“Not tonight,” Caine said, reaching his bike first.
“Dude, you are not leaving me hanging.”
Straddling the bike, Caine smirked. “You don’t need a wingman, Creed. The women love you.”
He pulled a face that held none of the anger from moments before. “Well, yeah. But that’s not the point.” There was the return of Ravens’ favorite playboy smartass.
Caine’s Harley came to life on a low growl.
“You suck at wingmanning,” he said.
“I suck at reassuring.”
“No kidding…”
Jesus. Enough already. “I am shit for people skills. You just figuring this out?”
Phoenix chuckled and held out a hand. “Fine.” Caine clasped palms with the guy, and Phoenix held on for an extra beat and nailed him with a stare. “‘Night, brother.”
Caine nodded, appreciating the sentiment. “Now get the fuck out of here.” He strapped on his helmet, tugged the black neck-warmer and mouth mask into place, and slid on his gloves.
Laughing, Phoenix made for his Harley. They pulled U-eys together, but parted ways at the intersection—Phoenix turning toward the Pit Stop, and Caine going straight.
Past Emma’s.
Without really meaning to, he slowed down. The house was dark except for the lit tree in her living room window, and he wondered if those lights being on meant that she was still awake. Then he asked himself why he cared. And if he was truly stupid enough to believe that some sweet kindergarten teacher would want anything to do with a guy like him.
Right. He revved the bike and took off like a shot down the street.
Because he didn’t have an answer for those questions. At least, no answers that he fucking liked.
* * * *
Emma pulled back her bedroom curtain…too late to know if the biker who’d ridden by her house was the one about whom she couldn’t stop thinking.
She’d been up since the sirens had woken her over an hour ago, since realizing that a house just down the street had been on fire. She’d lived in this house nearly her whole life and hadn’t experienced as much excitement in all that time as she had during the past few days. Not that excitement was the right word. Excitement didn’t give you nightmares, and it didn’t leave you gasping awake, sure that you’d heard something, and surely it didn’t have you deciding you must’ve imagined it because your dog lay perfectly calm.
Sipping the hot tea she’d made, she sat on the edge of her bed and thought for the hundredth time about what Catalin had said. Why shouldn’t she try to get in touch with Caine?
Besides the fact that he was a member of a biker club and that was potentially a little…intimidating.
And besides the fact that he hadn’t tried to get in touch with her?
And besides the fact that she might put herself out there only to learn for sure that he’d not given her his number for a reason?
“Yeah, except for all of that,” she whispered to the quiet room. Chewy lifted and cocked his little head, making her smile.
She finished the last of her tea and crawled back under the covers.
In the darkness, she saw Caine straddling his bike. Those long legs spread wide. Beat-up boots scuffing the ground. His club cut-off jacket hanging off those broad shoulders, as intriguing as it was menacing. Those strange pale eyes flashing in the dimness. The fullness of his lips the only thing that looked soft on his whole body.
Heat rolled through Emma’s blood, pooling sensation low in her belly. Okay, maybe there was one thing that qualified as excitement the past few days…because thoughts of Caine had been setting off these reactions within her since the man had been in her house five days before.
Emma squeezed her thighs together, the friction good but not nearly enough. It was too soft, too timid, too…tame. Everything she imagined Caine wouldn’t be.
Would
his hands grasp her roughly? Would those full lips be hard or soft against her mouth, her throat, her breasts? Was the tattooed body beneath his clothes as lean and masculine as it looked? Would his hips move with fevered urgency or in a slow, teasing grind, and would his words be sweet or dirty against her skin?
Those were the imaginings that had her hand slipping down her body and threading under the waistband of her panties to where she was already wet. Just from thoughts of a man she’d met for only a few hours but who’d somehow invaded her mind.
Her fingers moved in slick, fast circles, and her hips strained upward into her own touch. It took almost no time at all until she was holding her breath and coming, a little cry spilling out of her into the quiet of her room, her body shaking against the bed.
“Jesus, Caine, what did you do to me?” she whispered, pulse racing, heart pounding.
That was the moment she knew she was going to try to find him. Because if she didn’t try, she’d always wonder. Always regret. And having lost so many people she cared about during her life, regret was the emotion she most despised. Because Emma had learned first-hand that life was finite, and none of us were replaceable, and death was capricious and sudden.
So, regret? She didn’t have time for that.
Emma turned on her side and curled into a ball, and Chewy came closer, relocating himself into a little ball against the crook of her knees. And in the peaceful, satisfied quiet, she knew exactly what to do.
Dutch’s.
She’d go talk to the baker woman. Haven. Caine had said she was the club president’s fiancée, so she’d have to know him. Right?
The moment the plan cemented in her mind, sleep finally took over, real and deep, for the first time in days.
Chapter 6
Thursday afternoon found Emma walking through the door of Dutch’s, a downtown hole-in-the-wall with a long soda fountain with spinning stools and red-and-white booths that had miniature jukeboxes on the walls above each table. And, of course, there was that massive dessert case right as you walked in the door.
