Cora
There was a gun holster over her shoulder, perched under the black leather jacket that Finn had lent her. It had been a very long time since she had shot a weapon, but it wasn’t a skill the body just forgot. She had her arms wrapped around his middle as the bike shifted gears beneath them both. Logically she knew she ought to be back in bed and resting. The doctor had made it very clear that she had lost a great deal of blood and that it had only been luck that kept the knife from hitting anything vital. He had also made it clear that Cora should not be up and around; he’d made her sign a whole slew of forms.
The doctor had probably been right. Her entire side hurt. Twisting sucked. Breathing was something she’d rather not be doing, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was finding her brother and putting an end to whatever hold this group had over him. Whatever it was, she was going to fix it.
The doctor had taken so long that the better part of a day had been wasted. It was going on ten-thirty, and the night had long since set on Carson. A bright moon was shining down, turning the road into a line of smoky silver. Her heart was pounding in her chest.
Finn said he had a clue about where the kids were going to be tonight. He wanted to go there, scare them a little. Nothing bad. It seemed like a good idea to Cora. For all they were doing stupid things, they were still kids.
“Do we have to be nice to Blondie?” she had asked. “Because I don’t much like him anymore.”
Finn had promised her that they wouldn’t be that nice to the man who had stabbed her. Good. She didn’t feel like being magnanimous. She felt like kicking butt. That man had stabbed her; he had made her feel weak and useless, and she wasn’t a fan of either of those feelings. She didn’t like that she had lost two days of her life and now she was going out into the night to break the law.
It took her a moment to realize where he was taking her: the long road down toward the overpass, where Oliver had been caught tagging property, where Finn and she had shared their first kiss. The lights were bright enough to block out the moon and illuminate the group that was hanging out beneath the slabs of formed concrete. She couldn’t make out faces, but she knew this was the same group that had accosted her a few nights before. Would Oliver be there?
With expert movements, Finn brought his bike around and parked it to one side of the pass, tucked up against the pile of earth pockmarked with grass.
“You all right?” he asked as the engine shuddered to a halt.
“Yeah,” she said, looking around at the empty lot behind them. “I didn’t know it was going to be just us, though.”
He bent down and kissed her on the brow. “We’ve got this.”
She looked up into his eyes and found strength there. It radiated around her until she felt like she could drown in it. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling the outline of the guns that he was packing. “Yeah,” she said. “We do.”
“What’s this, what’s this?” an all too familiar voice called out. Cora didn’t need to look over Finn’s shoulder to know the tall man was sauntering over to them. She could hear his strange rhythmic steps. “We’ve got company.”
Cora clutched his shoulder. Memories of blood dripping off her shirt and onto the ground came flooding back to her with enough force to take the strength from her legs.
Finn’s arm tightened around her back, mindful of her wound. “We’ve got this,” he repeated. His voice was firm and certain.
She swallowed hard, shoving the memories to the back of her mind, unwilling to look anymore into them. This mattered more. She cleared her throat and stepped away from Finn, hoping the certainty she felt showed in her eyes. His hand reached up to touch her face, touching it gently. She kissed his palm and stepped around the barricade of his body.
“Where is my brother?” Cora was happy to discover that her voice was smooth. It was boardroom confident and carried across the empty lot and echoed beneath the overpass.
“It’s the mouthy bitch,” the blond man said with some surprise. “Wow, didn’t expect you to be up so quickly.”
There was a familiar titter of laughter from the group of teens behind him. Cora was dimly aware of the way they were whispering to one another. They looked so young. Cora felt a mix of pity and contempt.
“Shut your mouth,” Finn said, leveling a gun at the other man, “and answer the lady’s question.”
Several teens gasped and stepped away, and suddenly there Oliver was. She recognized the slant of his shoulders and the mop of hair that covered eyes she knew to be identical to her own. He was slim, she realized, too skinny to be healthy, and even from this distance she could see the dark rings around his eyes.
“Oliver!” she called out. “Come on, it’s time to go home.”
Her brother took a single step forward. The blond male shook his head. “Oh no, no. Oliver is one of mine, and he isn’t going anywhere.”
“Brandon…” Oliver started to say.
So, Blondie had a name. Cora had expected something more sinister or maybe even exotic: Antoine, perhaps, or Xavier. Brandon was the name of the boy next door, the class nerd, or the new intern. Not the name of a guy who stabbed a woman on the street.
Brandon hissed and held up one hand. “You’ve caused enough trouble, Oliver. Just shut up and let the adults handle this.”
The sound of the gunshot echoed loudly. Guns, contrary to what Bruce Willis films showed, were loud. Cora flinched from the sound, and her ears began to ring. In the split second that her eyes had fluttered, several things happened. Oliver stepped away, Finn moved to the side, and Brandon leveled a gun she hadn’t known he carried at her. The barrel was aimed at her chest, perfectly center. It didn’t waiver one inch.
“Let’s not be stupid,” Brandon said. “We both know you aren’t a hero, Finn.”
Oh no, she thought to herself, not this. This skinny peroxide-ridden jerk had already made her feel threatened once—it was not going to happen again. Cora’s hand dipped inside her jacket. The gun felt heavy in her hands, but the weight was a comforting one. She jerked it out of the holster and took it in a teacup grip, one hand cupping the bottom of the gun, the other on the grip. Her finger wasn’t on the trigger, but rather hovering over it, waiting for an excuse to fire.
“I am my own hero, but it’s nice to have eye candy for a sidekick,” she smirked.
Brandon’s look was surprised. “Wow. Big bad biker boy can’t control his own woman.”
Finn snorted. “A man knows how to stand with his woman, not in her way.”
“Are you kidding me?” Brandon’s voice was incredulous. “Is this supposed to be my competition? Some pathetic lieutenant and a boardroom bitch?”
“Drop the gun,” Cora said, keeping her voice firm.
“No.”
She saw the decision to fire come into his eyes. His finger slid upward at the same time hers came down. She prepared herself to get hit with a bullet. Two explosions went off, echoing through the night. Cora braced for pain that didn’t come.
She heard the thunk of bodies. Oliver and Brandon were on the ground. There were a flurry of angry limbs and connecting punches. Cora blinked in confusion, wondering where her bullet had gone, and if the adrenaline pumping through her veins was keeping her from feeling pain. She glanced down at her body but couldn’t see any blood.
The two men tumbled over one another. It wasn’t until Finn hit the ground that Cora understood what had happened. He’d dove in front of the bullet. The dark color of his jacket and the late hour hid just where he had been hit, but all Cora could do was wonder if she had hit him or if Brandon had.
Movement caught her attention. Oliver, no longer willing to stand in the background, was moving for the gun Brandon had dropped. He scooped it up in shaking hands and pointed it at the wrestling men.
“Oliver, don’t!” she shouted. Her brother faltered, but the gun was still in his hand.
Finn made a sound as Brandon shoved his hand against the biker’s shoulder. Blood dripped down his hand. Finn made a growl and slammed a fist into Brandon’s jaw, making his blond head snap back. He tumbled backward with the force of it. Finn was on his feet in an instant.
“Stop it!” Oliver screamed out, his too-young voice faltering and cracking. He pointed the gun at Brandon and fired.
Cora turned her head, expecting the worst, but nothing happened. A dull click was all the gun gave, even when Oliver fired twice more. The gun was empty.
“Oliver,” Finn said. “Go to your sister.”
Somehow, somewhere along the line, Cora had forgotten just what Finn was to the Violent Spawn. She’d seen the scars on his body, heard him say the name “enforcer,” but that did not compare to seeing him in action. He moved like an animal, all swift muscles and certainty.
He swung hard, and the sound of his fist connecting with Brandon’s side was the sick wet sound of meat against meat. Brandon stumbled and pulled the same knife he had used on Cora out of his pocket. He shoved it in Finn’s direction, trying to keep the other male at bay.
“What the hell?” he demanded over his shoulder, clearly addressing the teenagers behind him. “We outnumber him.”
Cora waved her gun at them, but there were too many. Inch by inch they crowded closer, clearly intent on getting involved. Some pulled out blades of their own; one or two had bats. They moved like a single unit, intent on following the orders Brandon had given them.
“Stay back!” Cora cried, but the roar of bikes swallowed up the sound. She didn’t look. She didn’t have to. She knew exactly who was coming to the rescue. She could, however, imagine what they saw: the full club from Carson and the next town over, all thirty members, rolling up like ancient warriors on silver horses. They hadn’t even come to a stop at Cora’s back before the teens scattered, everyone but Oliver and Brandon, who wasn’t actually a teen.
Brandon faltered, stumbling back, the blade still in his hand. “Wow, so much for loyalty.”
“Loyalty is earned,” Oliver said, throwing down the useless gun. “You tried to steal it.”
A hand pressed down on Cora’s shoulder. She turned and saw the handsome face of Jace Robinson. There were more lines than there had been when they were young, and a few scars, too. He looked older, tired, and more muscular than he had all those years ago, but he was still Jace, and he was still drop-dead gorgeous.
“Hey,” he said gently. “You all right?”
She got the distinct impression that he wasn’t just asking about the immediate problem. His eyes looked sorry, and she gave him a look. “Yeah, I am.”
He squeezed her shoulder and then stepped around her. “Brandon Knight, you creepy little shitbag. What the hell are you doing running around with a bunch of friggin’ teenagers? They don’t got losers your own age?”
Cora raised her brow, but it was Finn who asked. “You know this kid?”
“Yeah,” he said, tucking a thumb into the tactical gun holster that was barely covered by his jacket. “He’s my older sister’s kid. Stupid from the day he was born.”
“You never let me in!” Brandon cried out, suddenly looking a lot younger. He surged to his feet and closed the distance between him and Jace. Cora heard the safeties come off several guns. Jace held up one hand. “You kept me out!”
Brandon raised the blade. Jace stepped back and delivered one single punch to the other man’s gut. Brandon doubled over and spilled the contents of his stomach.
“Your mother begged me to keep you out, you idiot…and tough older sisters are hard to ignore.”
Oliver snorted. Cora raised a brow. Finn stepped up and said, “If you want me to take care of him, boss.”
“I ain’t your boss anymore, Marks. Get out of here, this is club business now.” Jace jerked his thumb toward the single car that had driven up with the pack of bikes. It was Finn’s car, dusty and true. Speed stepped out of it, holding up a set of keys.
“But…what about the exit ceremony?” Finn asked.
Jace glanced at Finn’s shoulder, which was clearly bleeding. “My nephew shot you. Pretty sure that covers it.”
“The gun was empty,” Brandon said.
“I shot him,” Cora interrupted. “I didn’t mean to.”
Jace laughed. It started off as a soft chuckle and then became a full barrel laugh that had him doubled over. Several of the other bikers joined him. Cora looked down shyly. She repeated that she hadn’t meant to shoot him, but she was pretty sure no one heard.
“Ohh,” Jace said when he was finally done. “That’s even better. Go on, Finn, get out of here. Take your wild woman and her kid brother with you. We’ve got business here.”
Cora didn’t look back at the club as she and the two best men in her life piled into Finn’s car. She didn’t have to. Whatever they were going to do, Brandon deserved it. He had hurt her, and Oliver, and he’d been willing to hurt everyone else. She laid her head back on the headrest as Finn turned the key over in the ignition.
“It was drugs, wasn’t it?” Finn asked as he navigated the car onto the highway. “He got you hooked.”
Oliver looked away. “He used Britt to do it. She offered me a little pot when I went with her to a party. Then it just…it went from there.”
“Anything hard?” Finn asked.
Cora wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but she reached across the space between the two of them and took Finn’s free hand. He gripped it and brought it to his lips. Oliver nodded. He didn’t say what it had been; Cora didn’t really need to know.
“We’ll take care of it,” she said. “We’ve got each other.”
“Are you guys getting married?” Oliver suddenly asked. “Where are you going to live?”
Finn laughed and kissed her fingers again. “It doesn’t matter,” he said as he took the road that would take them back to the hospital. “Maybe I’ll teach, maybe I’ll stay at the auto shop, maybe I’ll follow her to California. All that really matters is that we are together.”
Cora couldn’t have agreed more.
THE END
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