3. Wraith #2
"They'd already called my references in Denver." She slumped on the couch, kicking off her heels. "The interview was just a formality. They're not hiring someone who got fired for 'performance issues.'"
"That's not what happened though, is it?" I knew there was more to her leaving Denver than just losing a job.
"No." She rubbed her face, looking exhausted. "But the truth doesn't matter when someone with enough connections decides to rewrite it."
"Someone?" I kept my voice neutral, though suspicion was already building.
"My ex." The words came out bitter. "We were together for a year. When I finally tried to leave him, he made sure I'd regret it. Got me fired, blacklisted, made sure every reference would tell the same story about my 'performance issues.'"
"What's his name?" My jaw clenched.
"Derek Martell.” She said it like the name itself tasted bad. "Investment banker. Trust fund baby. The kind of guy who's never heard 'no' in his life."
"How long were you together?"
"A year. Worst year of my life, though I didn't realize it until the end. He's good at the slow burn. Little comments about my weight, my clothes, my friends. By the time I realized what was happening, I was isolated and convinced I was lucky he wanted me at all."
Rage built in my chest. "He told you that? That you were lucky?"
"Among other things. That no one else would want me. That I should be grateful for his attention." She laughed bitterly. "And I believed him. For months, I believed him."
I moved to sit beside her, no longer caring about maintaining distance. "He's full of shit."
"I know that now. But when someone tells you something enough times, especially someone who's supposed to love you..."
"Those curves drive me fucking insane," I said before I could stop myself. "Every morning I see you, I have to take a cold shower just to function. You're perfect. Every inch of you."
She turned to look at me, eyes wide. "Wraith..."
"I shouldn't have said that."
"No," she said, shifting to face me fully. "You should have said it two weeks ago. Do you have any idea what it's like wanting someone who keeps pulling away? Who looks at you like you're everything but won't touch you?"
"I'm trying to protect you."
"From what? From feeling wanted? From being happy?" She moved closer. "I don't need protection from you. I need you to stop fighting this thing between us."
The air thickened. Her hand came up to my chest, palm flat against my racing heart.
"Your pulse is racing," she observed.
"You know why."
"Tell me."
"Raven—"
"Tell me." She rose up on her knees, bringing our faces closer. "I need to hear it. Two weeks of mixed signals, of you watching me when you think I don't notice, of this careful distance that's killing us both. Tell me you want me."
"You know I do." The admission ripped out of me. "Want you so bad I can't fucking think straight. Can't work. Can't sleep. You're in my head, under my skin, in every breath."
"Then stop fighting it."
"Your brother—"
"Isn't here." Her fingers tangled in the hair at my nape. "For once in your life, stop thinking about everyone else. What do YOU want?"
"You." The word came out raw, desperate. "Just you. Only you. From the second you walked into that clubhouse."
"Then take me."
I kissed her.
All the reasons I shouldn't evaporated the moment our mouths met.
She made this soft, needy sound that destroyed my control.
My hands found her waist, lifting her onto the kitchen counter, stepping between her thighs.
The position put her at the perfect height, her legs wrapping around my hips, locking me against her.
She kissed like she'd been starving for it—tongue sweeping into my mouth, teeth nipping at my lower lip, hands fisting in my shirt hard enough to tear.
I kissed her back with two weeks of pent-up frustration, one hand tangled in her hair while the other gripped her hip, pulling her to the edge of the counter.
She ground against me through our clothes, the friction making us both groan. My cock strained against my jeans, pressed exactly where she needed me. Her hands slipped under my shirt, nails raking down my abs, making my hips jerk forward involuntarily.
"God, Wraith," she moaned against my mouth, her head falling back as I kissed down her throat. I sucked at the spot where her neck met her shoulder, definitely leaving a mark, and she clenched her thighs around me. "I need—"
"I know what you need." My hand slid up her thigh, the pencil skirt riding up as my thumb traced higher, feeling the heat radiating through the thin fabric. She bucked against my hand, desperate for more contact. "Been thinking about this. About getting my hands on you. My mouth on you."
"Bedroom," she gasped, grinding harder against me. "Now. Please."
"Fuck, yes—"
My phone rang. Not just any ring—the emergency tone I'd set for club business.
We froze, breathing hard, still pressed together. Her lips were swollen, eyes glazed with want, and it took everything in me not to ignore the phone.
"Don't answer it," she pleaded, rolling her hips against me again.
But duty was ingrained too deep. "I have to."
"Wraith, need you at the clubhouse. Now." Viper's voice, deadly serious. "Bring Raven."
"What's wrong?"
"Can't explain over the phone. Just get here."
He hung up, leaving me staring at the phone while Raven watched with frustrated eyes.
"Let me guess," she said, sliding off the counter, adjusting her clothes. "Club emergency."
"Viper wants us both there."
"Both?" Concern replaced frustration. "Why me?"
"I don't know." But my gut said it wasn't good. Viper didn't call emergency meetings without reason, and specifically requesting Raven meant it involved her somehow.
The ride to the clubhouse felt wrong. Every instinct screamed danger, though I couldn't pinpoint why. Raven pressed against my back on the bike, but instead of the usual awareness, I felt protective urgency.
The clubhouse was quieter than usual when we arrived. Just Viper, Phoenix, and surprisingly, Tara sitting at the bar looking concerned.
"What's going on?" I asked.
Viper's expression was grim. "Someone's been asking questions about Raven around town. Where she's staying, where she works, who she's with."
My blood chilled. "Who?"
"Don't know yet. But Bea said a man came into the diner yesterday asking about 'the new girl in town staying with the biker.' Said he was an old friend from Denver."
Raven went rigid beside me. "What did he look like?"
"Clean-cut, expensive suit, drove a rental BMW," Tara said. "Bea didn't tell him anything, but he seemed to already know you were in town."
"Fuck." Raven sat heavily on a bar stool. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
"You know who it is?" I asked, though I was already putting pieces together. Denver. The job she'd lost. The apartment she'd had to leave. Derek.
"Maybe." She rubbed her face. "Probably."
"Ex-boyfriend?" Viper guessed.
She nodded, not meeting anyone's eyes. "Derek Martell. He... didn't take the breakup well."
"Define 'not well,'" I said, trying to keep my voice level even as rage started building.
"He got me fired. Made sure I couldn't get another job in Denver. Kept showing up at my apartment at all hours." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I thought moving here would be enough distance."
"Why didn't you tell Blade?" Tara asked gently.
"Because my brother would have driven to Denver and killed him. Literally. And then he'd be in prison and it would be my fault."
"Why didn't you tell me?" The question came out harsher than intended.
She looked up at me then, eyes shining with unshed tears. "Because you had enough to deal with. Because I thought I could handle it. Because I'm tired of being someone's problem to solve."
"You're not a problem." I moved to her, unable to stop myself from pulling her against me, aware of everyone watching but not caring. "You're—"
Her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen and all color drained from her face.
"What?" I took the phone from her trembling hand.
Found you. Can't run from me, baby.
"That him?" Viper asked, reading over my shoulder.
She nodded, unable to speak.
"This ends now," I said, handing the phone back.
"Smart, not angry," Viper warned. "We protect her, but we do it right."
"Blade needs to know," Phoenix pointed out.
"No!" Raven grabbed my arm. "Please. Not yet. Let me figure out how to tell him."
"He's going to find out."
"I know. Just... give me time."
My phone rang. Blade.
"Yeah?"
"Where's Raven? She's not answering her phone."
I met Viper's eyes. "She's at the clubhouse. We had a situation."
"What kind of situation?" His voice had already gone dangerous.
"You should come here. We need to talk."
"I'm already on my way." He hung up.
The guilt of betraying Blade's trust ate at me. He'd asked me to protect his sister, and instead I'd kissed her, wanted her, nearly taken her on my kitchen counter. When he found out—and he would—our brotherhood might not survive.
But looking at Raven, pale and scared but still standing strong, I knew I'd already made my choice.
Her over everything.
Even if it cost me my brother.