Outlaw’s Sins

by Sophia Gray

  He reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. His muscles made a tantalizing play of the simple act. “My mother has…issues. The kind she needs medication for. She doesn’t like taking it, and when she doesn’t…well. Shit happens. She locks herself up in the bedroom or the bathroom for a couple of days and cries about everything. My sisters and I would split up all the chores when it happened. I ended up with kitchen duty.”

  “I’m sorry about your mom.” She meant it. Having a dramatic mother who couldn’t handle anyone else getting attention was one thing. Cora could only assume that having a mom with a legitimate debilitation was something entirely different.

  He nodded. “It happens. She lives with my sister Melanie and her husband now. Melanie is a nurse and makes sure she gets the care she needs.”

  “That’s good.”

  “It is.” He stood up suddenly. “So, tell me something, Ms. Anderson…why are you here?”

  “What?”

  “This morning you made it pretty clear that you didn’t want me around, at least not personally. Yet there you were, not eight hours later, crying in my arms. So, what’s up?”

  She perched her arm on the back on his couch and palmed her cheek. “God, I nearly forgot why I came here. It was Oliver.”

  His brows drew together. “Oliver? What happened with him?”

  Cora opened her mouth to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come to her mouth. This was the moment she had been waiting for. This was the very thing that had her driving over here at the speed of fury. So why didn’t she want to say it? Oliver’s blackmailing antics were something he needed to know, deserved to know, but the words got caught somewhere between her brain and her mouth.

  “He’s…fine,” she lied. She didn’t want to tell him and she wasn’t entirely sure why. Would he be angry about the pictures? Would he laugh about it? Would it put some kind of rift between Finn and Oliver? Didn’t she want there to be a rift? No, she decided, she didn’t. She didn’t like the idea of Finn being mad at Oliver. It didn’t matter. He had the right to know what was going on, didn’t he? “At least he’s physically fine,” she finally went on. “I just think we may need to be a little more involved. He wants to go to this concert and—”

  Her phone rang, the loud blast of classical music wafting up from her pocket and signaling an unknown number. She frowned and fumbled for her phone. It was a local number. She knitted her brows and swept her finger to answer the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Cora Anderson?” The voice on the other end of the line was mature, professional, and feminine.

  “Yes,” she answered, “who is this?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Francesca Santiago. I’m the principal at Carson High School. According to our files, you are currently Oliver Anderson’s guardian?”

  Cora felt her heart racing in her chest. A million possibilities ran through her mind. Was Oliver hurt? Had something happened at school? “Yes. That’s me. I mean, I’m his sister, but I’m looking after him. Has something happened?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. Oliver never came in to school today.”

  Cora barely took part in the rest of the conversation. Yes, she knew part of the agreement for bail was that he attend school. Yes, she knew she could be held accountable for this lapse in attendance. No, this would not be happening again. For a moment, everything she had been feeling before walking inside threatened to overwhelm her again.

  She felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She glanced up and found Finn looking at her. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find in that look, but she found surprising support. His mouth was set in a confident line, and his fingers squeezed ever so lightly, as if to remind her that she wasn’t dealing with this alone. Cora found a small amount of tension ease out of her shoulders.

  “Ma’am.” Cora tried her best to sound as calm and professional as the flurry of emotions currently running through her body would allow. “Recently Oliver has been talking about a girl named Britt. I am not sure if…”

  “Brittany Callen,” the principal answered when Cora trailed off. “I am aware of their relationship.”

  “You wouldn’t be able to tell me if she was in school today, would you?”

  “Not without written permission of a parent or guardian, no. Otherwise I can only talk to you about Oliver.”

  Cora rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. She understood there were rules for a reason, but they didn’t help her find her little brother or discern what he was up to. “I understand.”

  There was a slight pause and a soft sigh on the other side of the line. “That being said, I can say that Oliver, until this last year, has been a model student. His grades were near the top of his class, and his attendance was exemplary. According to his record, all of his teachers enjoyed having him in their classes, and he was involved in several after-school activities. I would have called him one of our best.”

  Cora hadn’t known any of that. How much had distancing herself from this city and everything about it alienated her from her little brother? The answer was “too much.” Cora shook her head, knowing that the woman couldn’t see it. “And did your school have an influx of new students this year?”

  “As a matter of fact, we did. We don’t get many people moving into Carson. Here’s the thing, Ms. Anderson, unless you can say you are aware of Oliver’s absence and the reason for him being out was excusable, I have to say I’ll be informing the sheriff.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Cora responded, going cold. “Oliver and I are attending a family function today. I realize school is important, but this recent issue has brought to light that a family support structure might be helpful.”

  “Of course.”

  It was a nice lie, and both of the women knew it. They also knew Oliver was, deep down, a good kid. Recent decisions were the exception to his life, not the rule. He deserved a chance, and both of them wanted to give it. Oliver was surprisingly lucky. They exchanged a few more pleasantries before saying goodbye.

  When Cora hung up the phone, she felt numb. No, she realized after taking a deep breath, she was angry. It felt like fire was rolling inside of her lungs. Her hands were trembling as she set her phone aside.

  “Where is he?” Finn’s voice was surprisingly gentle.

  “I-I…don’t know,” she said, levering herself off the sofa. Her feet made a quick tattoo across the ground as she started to pace. He could be anywhere. “You know this place better than I do now. Where would he go?”

  “If he were at the shop, my uncle or Speed would have called me. If he was at the club, Titan would have let me know.”

  “What about where we found him before? Where he was tagging?”

  He shook his head. “That might be fine for late night, but that stretch of road is pretty busy during the day.”

  She cursed. When that didn’t make her feel any better, she cursed louder. It didn’t help any more the second time than it had the first. Cora hated this. It wasn’t just that she’d didn’t know where her brother was, or who he was with, though there was certainly that. It was also the fact that he was giving up his entire life to skip school. And for what? Some girl? “This is ridiculous.”

  She felt a hand against her cheek. It was as tender as it was callused, and it sent a shiver down her spine. Cora paused in her stomping to turn and face Finn.

  “What do you need?” he asked.

  It was a simple question, but a loaded one. What did she need? She needed to get back to her simple life where the most difficult thing to do was manage a difficult client. She needed a long shower and a bottle of wine. She needed her brother to not be traveling in the footsteps she had left behind. More than anything, she had to admit, she needed Finn.

  “I want to go for a drive.”

  Chapter 14

  Finn

  Finn hit the Cancel button on his phone when it went straight to Oliver’s voicemail for the sixth time in a row. Continuing to c
all wasn’t helping anyone, least of all Cora. He felt the smooth shudder beneath his body as she hit a hundred and twenty. They’d been driving for at least an hour, and the sun was hanging high in the sky. Even with the windows open and the AC going full blast, he was slick with sweat.

  She, however, looked like some kind of modern warrior goddess. The wind from the open windows tore her hair free of the ponytail she had tossed it into, turning the locks into living flames around her flushed face. Her hands, dainty and delicate, gripped the stick shift with confidence. There was a twitch of muscle in her arm as she shifted gears again, slowing as she took a turn on a road he could barely see.

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  “No.” She kept her eyes forward. Her cupid’s bow mouth had formed into a grim line. It suited the dark jeans and darker shirt that were plastered to that curvaceous body.

  “He’ll show up, Cora.”

  “Yeah,” she said. She didn’t sound convinced. She sounded angry, and he couldn’t blame her. His warrior woman was the kind who liked complete control over a situation, and right now she didn’t have it. “He wants to go to some concert tomorrow, and I told him no.”

  He resisted the urge to smirk. “You think he’s pissed at you, so he took off?”

  “I wouldn’t know, would I?” she demanded. “I mean, here I am, back after too many years away and demanding him to live up to standards my parents haven’t imposed.”

  “Imposing rules on a teenager doesn’t always help things. Oliver’s a good kid.”

  “Good kids don’t go joyriding and skipping school and…who knows what else!” She didn’t take her eyes off the road, but he could see her neck go taught, forming a straight line of porcelain white. If she’d been a softer woman, a more delicate one, she might have looked like a doll. He didn’t think she’d appreciate the sentiment, especially not right now.

  “Can’t imagine where he gets the need for speed from.”

  She downshifted and took a turn hard enough to slam him against the window. He reached up to grab the little handle above the door as the car came to a screeching halt. Dust swam around the car in a cloud of red-brown. When he looked at her she was breathing hard.

  “Are you blaming me?”

  “No.”

  She slapped the release button for the seat belt, and it skimmed across her chest. It caught for just a moment against the curve of one breast. The moment she was free, she slithered over the center console and into his lap. Her hands planted against his chest, holding him against the sun-warmed leather as she stared down at him with stormy eyes.

  “It isn’t my fault,” she snarled.

  He gave a short nod. “I’m not arguing.”

  Something warred inside her eyes, something hot and wild. Her pretty nails dug into his chest, pricking against the fabric, clenching and unclenching like a cat making bread. Her body settled more firmly in his lap, pushing against him. He felt the firm press of her pussy through her jeans. His shaft hardened in response to the weight of her buttocks against his lap. God, she was soft. How was a hard-as-nails woman like Cora so goddamned soft?

  “I need…” she growled, dipping her head to run her teeth over the curve of his ear.

  “Go ahead,” he answered, settling himself against the seat. “Take.”

  Her mouth plastered against his. It was like a fire had been trapped in her lips and she wanted to brand him with it. He drank down the heat and lifted his hips up to her, grinding himself against the jeans she had poured herself into. She thrust herself back hard enough to drive him against the seat.

  “Let me,” she panted against his lips, pushing at his chest until he stopped moving. “Just…let me.”

  “All right.” Finn had no problem with a woman who wanted to be in charge. Sure, he knew some of the guys might give him all kinds of flak for it. But right now, with this gorgeous woman straddling his hips and kissing her way down his neck? He couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. There was nothing quite like a woman making demands on his body. Why wonder if he was pleasing his woman when she’d just tell him?

  Was she his? He wondered as she slunk toward the small space between his legs. The curves of her body fit between his knees. Her mouth danced down his chest and then kissed the button of his own pants as if promising him other things. A thrill spiked through him.

  “Oh God,” he breathed.

  Her chuckle was lascivious and dark: dark like midnight, dark like wine. She reached beside him and hit a lever, sending him several inches back. His body bounced and he found himself wondering if he ought to stop. Sure, it was hot to have her slinking over him like a cat in heat, but what if she started having second thoughts again? It’s not like she wasn’t having morning-after issues earlier.

  “Cora…”

  “Shut up.”

  Her hands slid over the inside seam of his jeans, pausing only when she found his length. His thoughts came to a screeching halt as she squeezed him. The stroking of her palm was muted through the fabric, but it was enough to take his already building erection and turn it to a rock. She stroked, again and again until he was aching. Just when he thought he might resort to begging, she surged up until her breasts, still clad in her slim top, were pressed between his thighs, pushing against his erection.

  “Take off your shirt,” she said, her voice a low purr. “And unzip your pants.”

  His lips formed a smile. “So bossy.”

  She turned her head until her lips pressed against the bulge in his jeans that marked the tip of his shaft. The wet heat from her mouth slid over him, and he went lax. “Just do what I tell you, biker boy.”

  “Or what?” he teased.

  “Or I’ll stop.” The response was flat, matter-of-fact and tinged with promise.

  He certainly didn’t want that. Still, he didn’t have to just give in either. He plucked at the fabric of his T-shirt, tugging it up just enough to show the lowest part of his stomach. He watched her storm-gray eyes go dark, and her tongue danced over her lips. “You want me to take this off?”

  “Didn’t I just say so?”

  He tugged it up another few inches. He liked the way she looked at him. Her lips were parted as if she was just waiting to use them all over his body. Finn was more than willing to let her. There was something glorious about a woman who wanted. Her hands dove over his chest, greedily pushing up the cloth he hadn’t moved yet. She tugged hard until the shirt ended up somewhere else.

  Her mouth slid over his skin like she was starving and he was the buffet. He wondered if there had ever been another who drove him this wild. He kissed her back with fervor, tasting her as much as she tasted him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and he held on to her hips, tugging her closer to his body.

  “Didn’t I tell you to unzip your damn pants?” she growled.

  He nipped at her lips once more before reaching between their bodies and tugging his jeans apart. It felt good not to be trapped inside his own clothes, but it still ached. She’d barely touched him and all he wanted to do was slam himself inside of her until they were both lost.

  “Is that what you need?” he asked, pushing his hips up, driving himself against her.

  “I’ll show you what I need.”

  Her hand slithered down his chest and into the brim of his boxers before her fist wrapped around him like a vice made of velvet. He jerked and all that managed to do was drive him into the tunnel her fingers made.

  “Oh God,” he groaned.

  “Do it again,” she hissed against his ear.

  “What?”

  “Move your hips like you want me, like you need me.”

  He did want her. He did need her. This bossy woman drove him mad in a way no other woman had even come close to. He reached behind himself, gripping the headrest with one hand and the side of the driver’s-side bucket seat with the other. He levered himself up, again and again, driving himself against her hand. It felt so good to have her touching him.

  “Is this all yo
u want?” he asked. “Some dirty touching in the front seat of your car?”

  “Well,” she said with an impish smile that drove a groan from his throat, “I don’t have a backseat.”

  The words should have been innocent, but they purred from her lips, still wet from exploring him. They were ripe with meaning, heavy with lust. Her hand tightened on him, and for just a second he thought he was going to lose control.

  “Jesus, Cora.”

  “There we go,” she whispered. “That’s what I want. I want you…big, bad, biker boy…to be writhing for me. I want you to groan for me. I want you to moan for me. I want…God, Finn, I want you to beg.”

  “Deal.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and heaved her closer to his body. She slid her legs over his hips, cupping herself against him. She ground her body against him in unabashed hedonistic desire and dragged his hands to her breasts.