Ride Wild (Raven Riders 3)

Surprisingly, the text was from Martin.

More backup en route. Text when departing. We’re going in after.

That was the best news Slider had heard all day. When the date changed, they’d resolved themselves to having to walk away and leave these fuckers to fight another day, but maybe now the authorities would break up this ring once and for all.

Caine arched a brow at him, but Slider just shook his head. He’d fill the others in when they were out the door.

At the third pit, a fight had just ended, and people were moving away from the fence in search of new action. Surreptitiously, Slider scanned the faces. But still no Davis. Where the hell was he?

Slider’s phone vibrated again. And Caine’s must have, too, because, he pulled his cell out at the same time. The text was from Phoenix.

Found Davis. Took pix. Bigger problem: that fucker Dominic from the Iron Cross is here. Head out.

Caine turned to him, eyes wide. “Crew’s Cross. Sonofabitch.”

They turned and made for the nearest door as Caine’s meaning sank in.

Though Slider hadn’t dealt with them personally, he knew who the Iron Cross were—they were the Baltimore gang who’d worked with Haven’s father to try to kidnap her. The Raven Riders had first interacted with the Iron Cross when the Ravens reluctantly sold them some arms the club was trying to unload, but that’d blown back in their faces, proving the wisdom of why the Ravens usually stayed out of the dirtier shit like guns and drugs. Next thing the club knew, the Iron Cross had learned that Haven and Cora were under the Ravens’ protection and were threatening to tell Haven’s father if they didn’t pay up.

But the Iron Cross had gotten theirs in the end when the Ravens had helped the authorities take out their Baltimore headquarters. Their contacts had told them that all the Iron Cross were either dead or in custody, but clearly they’d missed one. And not just any one, but their fucking leader.

Phoenix caught up with them at the door. And then they were out in the night, and heading for their—

“Leaving so soon, gentlemen?” came a voice from behind them. “I don’t think you placed any bets.”

Ice formed in Slider’s gut as they turned. The man was tall, bald, and had bright blue eyes that glinted dangerously in the barn’s exterior lights. “Got a sick fucking kid at home,” Slider said. “My only night out. Figures.” Keeping his body loose and relaxed, he stepped forward, sensing his friends’ tension.

Slider hadn’t ever interacted with this Iron Cross asshole, but Phoenix and Caine had. At that arms deal. What kind of luck was it that they’d managed to steer clear of Davis but gotten nabbed by an old enemy they hadn’t even known to look out for?

Dominic crossed his arms over his broad chest. “It’s not really good form to leave without supporting the operation, if you know what I mean.”

Slider inhaled to respond when he noticed a series of puncture wounds on the guy’s left wrist. And then it was like being sucked back in time. To the hospital, the day that Ben broke his arm. The tall, bald man with the dog bite injury, bleeding all over the desk . . .

Jesus, he’d seen this man before after all. He’d seen him, but because of all his baggage and bullshit, Slider hadn’t known who he was seeing, or the kind of danger he represented. His gut twisted. That night, if Dominic had turned and seen Cora, who he’d conspired to sell back to Haven’s father . . .

He scrambled to respond normally. “Look, man, we don’t want any trouble. I’d like to stay, but when the wife calls because your kid needs to go to urgent care, what are you supposed to do?”

Dominic stepped closer, and Slider made sure to make easy eye contact with him. Nothing to hide here. Nothing to hide here at all, motherfucker.

“And what about you two? You got nagging wives and sick kids, too?” he said, suspicion and agitation rolling off him. Slider didn’t know whether those were directed specifically at them, or were simply the result of his previous gang having been obliterated. No doubt being the sole survivor of a once powerful organization could lead to some serious paranoia, paranoia likely compounded by being an Iron Cross island in the middle of the Dead Men’s violent sea.

“Naw, man,” Phoenix said, peering up from under his hat and laying on a thick Southern accent. “But he’s our damn ride.” Caine nodded.

Dominic eyeballed Phoenix and Caine for a long minute, then shook his head. “I don’t want to see you assholes here again. I do and I’ll throw you in one of the pits. Now get the fuck out of here.”

Just as he spat the words, Slider spotted Davis over Dominic’s shoulder, wearing civilian clothes and heading toward the door. Straight toward them. “Yeah, man. Okay. We’re out.” Slider turned and hustled his friends ahead of him.