Chapter 2 Bree
Five years ago—
My hand gripped Bella’s too tight. I could tell because she winced but didn’t pull away, lowering her head to lean on my shoulder. I was the older sister, the mature one, and it was my job to protect and care for her, especially now that Gram was gone.
Gram.
Fresh tears slowly filled the reservoir of my eyes, keeping a constant, steady flow that slipped down my face, dripping off my chin, and landing with soft, silent plops on the grass beneath my feet.
My black Jimmy Choo heels sank into the soft earth, anchoring me to the spot as I watched the casket slowly lower into the ground.
Oh, Gram.
The one person on this earth who had loved us.
She took us in and raised two frightened little girls who had lost their parents. Gram was everything to Bella and me. She’d been a caretaker and loving guidance for as long as I could remember.
We’d only been six and nine when two police officers gave the horrible news of the crash.
They knocked on Gram’s door, solemn as they informed us that a drunk driver had hit my parents on the way home from their date.
The car flipped three times, slamming the top side down and smashing the vehicle to pieces.
The good news they’d said was my parents probably died on impact. Like that mattered to us, they were still gone.
Luckily, Gram had been our babysitter our whole lives. We had a room there, and the transition occurred smoothly. Gram made it a game and let us pack everything we wanted to bring to her house. Everything else was sold, and the money was set aside in a college fund for Bella and me.
Our lives changed after that, and we learned to be strong, relying on one another to get through the hard times. Gram didn’t have much money but made up for it with love and desserts. She refused to touch the money that had grown interest in the bank, saving it up for our education.
I went to a university, getting my business degree.
Bella tried a few different trades, like beautician, but they didn’t stick. Her love was jewelry, turquoise mined here in Nevada, and it became her passion. She used the rest of her money to start up her business.
Gram was proud of us both.
It didn’t seem real that she wouldn’t be there to greet us in the kitchen or wipe her hands off on her apron to give us a hug because she’d spent the day cooking and baking.
Gram was only sixty-eight. She’d been healthy other than diabetes, but she managed it well. Took her insulin every night before bed and watched her carbohydrate intake.
Sure, she occasionally indulged in sweets, but the doc told her it was fine. She had a strong heart, and I expected her to be with us for many years.
One night she’d complained of a headache and went to bed early.
She never woke up.
The autopsy revealed a slight bleed on her brain. She’d had a stroke in her sleep and stopped breathing, slipping away in the night.
Bella hiccupped, her shoulders caving as she cried harder, staring at the dirt that began to cover Gram’s casket.
“C’mon, Bel. Let’s go home.”
She sniffled, nodded, and squeezed my hand before releasing it, walking back to the car ahead of me. It didn’t surprise me that she wanted a few minutes alone. I needed the same solitude to deal with my grief too.
Later, we’d hug and cry together as we’d been doing the last few days.
I found a path through the rows of graves and followed it, winding up and over a hill to more plots and another funeral service being held for a loved one.
Oops. I probably should have turned away, but for some reason, my feet kept moving, walking beyond the group dressed in black under the glaring rays of Nevada sunshine.
It was unbearably hot—a scorcher with little wind to help with the heat.
The black material of my dress chafed my skin with every step.
A lone figure stood close, leaning against the concrete facade of a crypt.
An entire lane of them stretched ahead of us, all with elaborate stone guardians like gargoyles perched above the doors to protect the bones within.
I didn’t bother reading the last names etched to commemorate the family legacy.
Nothing else could have stolen my attention away from the tall, familiar figure or the dark ink wrapping around his arms from wrists to biceps.
My rescuer. The biker who pulled me from Jason’s mustang five years ago. I never learned his real name. I only knew him by the road name his brothers had given him.
RAVEN.
The patch on his leather vest read VP.
I’d forgotten the name of his motorcycle club but remembered it now, my gaze sliding over the logo on his back as he pushed off the crypt, heading away from my direction. Devil’s Murder MC.
He hadn’t seen me yet, but I knew the moment he sensed I was near because he stopped, lifting his head higher, and I swear he sniffed the air.
Raven slowly turned, a sad smile tugging on the full lips I remembered. They transformed his features from fierce to handsome. A man with lips like that must have been one hell of a kisser.
“Green eyes,” he whispered, clearing his throat. “How are you, babygirl?”
That same deep rumbling voice from my dreams had found a way to set my heart fluttering again. I never forgot Raven or the fact that he saved my life. He didn’t stick around once the ambulance picked me up, rushing me to the hospital because of my injuries the day of the accident.
As a result, I never had a chance to thank him.
There was no way to look him up. I couldn’t remember his club’s name, and no one would appreciate a young girl asking a bunch of questions.
The only thing I had to go on was his road name and his physical description.
The doc had told me the blood loss would mess with my memory from that day, and it had.
I’d longed to find Raven, but we never crossed paths again despite living in the same city.
Until today.
“Hi, Raven. I’m good.” I tried to hide the sorrow this awful day had brought with it, and he seemed to sense my mood.
Or maybe the somber black dress gave it away.
“Your eyes tell a different story, sugar. What has you so sad?”
I intended to lie, to push the grief aside. I didn’t want to appear weak to this man. The truth came tumbling out before I could stop it. “My Gram,” I blubbered, embarrassed by the fresh tears spilling over and down my cheeks, “she’s gone.”
“Aw, babygirl. I’m sorry.” He closed the few feet of distance that separated us, wrapping me in his soothing embrace. “It’s always tough losing the ones you love.”
The way he said it, how his voice seemed to crack, made me realize I wasn’t the only one hurting.
“You lose someone too?”
He hesitated but finally answered. “Yes. My wife.”
I didn’t know he was married, but then again, why would I?
How odd that we would meet on the same day, five years apart, burying two people we’d both loved in the same cemetery. Fate was a strange, unpredictable creature.
“I’m sorry, Raven.” I squeezed his torso, laying my head over his heart. “I’m sorry for us both now.”
He rubbed my back with one hand, lost in his thoughts. He had to be because he didn’t reply for a long time. Minutes.
“You’re sad for me because I lost my wife?” He sounded off, and I looked up, catching the odd expression on his gorgeous albeit rugged face.
“Yes. Your heart is aching. No one should have to go through that.”
Something fierce flashed in his eyes, and he lifted his knuckles, brushing them lightly across my cheek. “If only you were a little older.”
“I’m twenty-one,” I replied with a slight attitude.
He chuckled, and it lightened the darkness in his blue eyes. “Not insulting you, precious. Just a fact.”
“I’m old enough to know myself and what I want in life.”
“Oh? Tell me.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have told the truth. It was risky and maybe silly, but I did it anyway. “The man from my dreams. My rescuer. You,” I clarified. “I tried to find you, to thank you, but you disappeared.”
His expression softened. “Damn, babygirl. You’re gonna make a man real happy one day.” He lowered his head, capturing my lips in a feather-soft kiss. “Wish I could be the one for you, beautiful, but I’m not. You deserve more than an old biker and the rough life I lead.”
I wanted to protest, to prove to him that I meant what I said, but he shook his head. His palm cradled my cheek.
Caw...caw.
A black crow landed on the branch of a nearby tree, staring right at us. He flapped his wings, squawking as if we ruined his hiding place.
“I’m so glad I pulled you from that car, Brianna Hart.”
I gasped. He knew my name.
Wait. He knew? And he never tried to contact me? Why?
“You didn’t want to find me?”
He frowned. “Never said that.” A sigh escaped as he lifted his head, scanning the cemetery as if something caught his attention and it wasn’t good.
“You’ve got to live your life, sweetheart.
Find what makes that beautiful heart of yours soar and go after it.
” He tugged me against him, enveloping my body in an embrace I instantly knew was goodbye.
“Raven, please,” I managed to beg before he released me, dropped a kiss on my head, and strode away, never looking back.
The crow followed him; inky wings spread wide as he circled above Raven’s head, gliding on a soundless whisper of wind that dared to breach the sky above the gathering of mourners.
Tears fell for a different reason twice on the same day as I watched his powerful, lithe body move with grace and purpose, joining more men in the same leather vests.
They didn’t stick around, leaving in a big group as I rushed down the path after him, hoping for a glimpse of the man who stole my heart at sixteen and broke it five years later.
The rumble of Harleys alerted anyone within the vicinity that the Devil’s Murder MC was nearby.
The bikes sped away in rows of two, and at the front, leading them next to the president, was Raven.
Sunglasses covered his eyes, but I still knew when he saw me.
His head turned slightly in my direction before he lifted his chin, revved his engine, and rolled down the road out of sight.
I stood long after he was gone, wondering why my heart felt so torn. I’d only met him twice. Strange that he would become someone so vital to my happiness. My fingers lifted to my lips, touching where he’d given me that tender kiss.
“I’ll never forget you, Raven.”