Ride Wild (Raven Riders 3)

“Driver always seems to have a baseball hat on. I can’t make out his face for shit on any of them,” Phoenix said.

“No need to guess who it is.” Dare slapped a sheet of paper down in front of them. “When I’ve got the car’s registration.”

It listed one Curtis Davis as the owner of a 1985 Datsun pickup.

“Fuck me,” Slider said, as Maverick raked his hands through his hair and exclaimed, “Holy shit.”

“Car we’re looking at is blue,” Caine said, leaning in to eyeball the document. “This says the color is rust.”

“That’s because he covered the color,” Slider said pointing at the screen. “The blue on that truck is primer paint.”

“So Davis is somehow involved with the 301 Crew, dogfighting, or maybe both,” Caine said, his expression thoughtful—and lethal.

“Hot damn.” Phoenix said, giving a fist pump. “Let’s get Sheriff Martin up here and share the good news that we can get rid of his asshole colleague once and for all.”

Jesus, how Slider wanted to do that, too, but he shook his head. “We’re not there yet. This is all circumstantial, which means we need more. Sure as shit explains why Davis was in my fucking house, though. That shit happens again and we’re going to have a problem.” Because it meant that Cora was on Davis’s radar, and if Davis was as potentially dirty as this made him look, that was exactly the wrong place for Cora to be.

Sonofabitch.

“Slider’s right,” Dare said.

Maverick groaned. “Then what’s our next play? Because this is the closest we’ve ever gotten to nailing Davis. And I want him. I want him bad. For being Slater’s bitch, for his part in the dumping, and for arresting Jagger.”

“We go to the fight,” Caine said. “We go and we place him there. And if not there, we bide our time until we nail him.”

“Agreed,” Dare said. “And we hope that Marz brings us more good news, because he’s working on the other research we wanted and he’s still running this vehicle image through that program.”

“In the meantime,” Slider said. “I’m worried about Cora now.” Fuck, and about the boys too. Because they were also there at the store that day.

Caine nodded. “The only saving grace is that she couldn’t identify the men. That’s probably what Davis was there to learn. Hell, if it was him she saw, he stood right in front of her and she didn’t know.”

God, the thought churned ice in Slider’s gut. “And she told him that, too. Maybe that makes her safe, but I’m not hanging my fucking helmet on maybe.”

“I don’t blame you,” Dare said. “Let’s come up with a security detail for your house. Something at a distance so it doesn’t worry the kids.”

“I’ll get it in place tonight or first thing tomorrow,” Maverick said.

Dare stood up. “And, Slider, anything else you need, don’t hesitate to ask. We’ll have your whole family’s back as long as it takes.”

Slider appreciated the hell out of the sentiment, but it didn’t make him feel any better. What he needed was Cora and his boys in his sight and in his arms. So he knew for sure that they were safe.

Cora’s first sign that something was off was when Slider announced he was taking a week’s vacation from work. He shared the news at the dinner table on Sunday night. All his reasons were good—he wanted to do some work around the house, help Phoenix out more at the track, and pitch in with making sure Bosco got settled.

But that didn’t explain why Slider kept looking out the windows. Checking that he’d locked the doors. And pacing around the house like a caged animal.

Cora didn’t want to ask in front of the boys, so she waited until they were in their beds and she and Slider were tangled up lying side by side in hers.

“Ready to tell me what’s going on yet?” Cora asked, her room illuminated only by the small lamp on her nightstand. She’d added a few personal touches over the past few weeks—a jewelry box, a framed print of the ocean at sunrise, a little bowl of sea glass.

Slider scrubbed at his face, and then he turned toward her. “That truck you saw, there’s a pretty good chance it belongs to Curt Davis.”

It took a few seconds for the news to sink in, and then Cora’s jaw dropped open. “How do you know?” Slider explained the information that Marz had sent to Dare, and Cora wasn’t sure her jaw could drop any wider. Reaching over, she unplugged her phone from the charging cord and opened the pictures, and then she zoomed in on every one. “God, it could be Davis. I can’t tell.”

“None of the shots of the truck we managed to grab caught a good image of the driver either,” Slider said. “But think, Cora. Davis was standing in front of you. How did their builds compare? Their height?”