Catching Raven

by Smith, Lauren

  c a t c h i n g RAVEN

  l a u r e n m i c h e l l e s m i t h

  STORY MERCHANT BOOKS • LOS ANGELES • 2016

  catching RAVEN

  Copyright © 2016 by Lauren Michelle Smith All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author.

  Facebook: Author Lauren Michelle Smith

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  Email: LaurenMichelleSmithAuthor@gmail.com

  Story Merchant Books

  400 S. Burnside Ave. #11B,

  Los Angeles, CA 90036

  http://www.storymerchant.com/books.html

  Editor: Lisa Cerasoli

  Interior Design: Lisa Cerasoli & Danielle Canfield

  Cover: Sarah Hansen, www.OkayCreations.com

  Take Heart is Lauren Michelle Smith’s debut romance novel.

  Amazon Five Star Reviews

  —Best Ever!!!—

  “This is one of the greatest books written by a first-time author. I cannot wait to read another book from Lauren Michelle Smith. It took my heart!”

  —Maggie Brodeur

  —Ready for Book Number 2—

  “It's hard to believe this is Lauren Smith's first novel considering her writing style. I was quickly connected to the characters and enjoyed every page!”

  —H. Brown

  —Great Read—

  “It could almost be one of the best books I've read this year. I cried a few times. My heart hurt for Mia and Chase but I also laughed during other parts! Would love to read more from these characters. Would love to read more from Eric and Raven.”

  —LWimer

  c a t c h i n g RAVEN

  PROLOGUE

  e r i c

  Four Years Ago…

  I swear I’ve been here a thousand times before.

  Well, not exactly. I’ve only lived in Austin for a couple weeks now. But generally speaking, self-destruction is a process I’m all too familiar with. It’s second nature. And that’s exactly what I’m doing when I bring Nina back to my uncle’s place. I’m not looking for companionship. I’m just looking for a distraction. She’s the third one this week. If it weren’t for Max working nights, I’d never be able to get away with servicing this much pussy.

  Nina knows anything beyond sex isn’t up for discussion. I made that abundantly clear when she approached me last weekend at Levi’s party. Since she’s fresh off a breakup, she’s not looking for anything more than a quick, meaningless rebound. Talk about a win-win.

  “Your parents aren’t home, are they?” she asks.

  “Nope.”

  “Then you should take me to your room.”

  “Already on the agenda.”

  Her eager fingers work at my belt in between kisses. I slip her the tongue and start walking us backwards. She kicks her shoes off at the bottom of the stairs. Halfway up, my shirt is next to go. We stumble down the hall, colliding with numerous walls, and barge into my bedroom. Bedsprings squeak in protest when we collapse on the mattress. Impatient, I tug her shirt up and over her head, then kiss her hard once more and pull away to stand up.

  “Take your shorts off.”

  Much to my appreciation, she does. And she makes a seductive show out of it. I strip down to my boxers and grab a condom from my dresser, then walk back over to the bed and slide her underwear down her luscious thighs, admiring the view along the way. When they’re off, she unabashedly lets her legs fall open, granting me full access.

  Sex with no obligations. Is there anything better?

  “It’s a great day to be me.”

  “Yes it is, Eric.”

  I grin at her lack of modesty and rip the foil packet open. Once I’m ready, I crawl over her and spread her thighs even wider apart, moving in on the target.

  “Holy hell!” she gasps as I enter her.

  She runs her fingers through my hair and grabs two fistfuls. I love how shameless she is. So hot and refreshing. Her hips grind against the pressure. I reward her by reaching down and focusing on her clit. She releases my hair and starts playing with her nipples. The erotic view spurs me on even more.

  “Ah, just like that. Don’t stop,” she instructs.

  I don’t. We go at it until we both feel equally raw and thoroughly used. I kick up the pace, itching to receive the ultimate sedation. Anything to shut my brain off. I thrust hard and fast until she shudders and cries out my name. Stuck in my own fantasy, I make a catastrophic error. “Oh, God, Rave,” I say, upon reaching climax.

  Nina freezes.

  Everything stops, minus my body still trembling uncontrollably inside hers. Even though the lights are off, I can feel her intense gaze boring into mine, stripping me bare.

  “What did you just call me?”

  I groan and run a free hand through my hair, exhaling my discomfort. What the hell do I say to her? Hate feeling exposed. What the fuck, Eric? “Nina, I’m so sorry. It was a slip up.”

  She pushes me off and stands up, shielding her body protectively. “Don’t ever call me again you piece of shit.”

  I wince. Before I can apologize further or find some lame way to explain, she’s gone.

  How’s that for a night of self-destruction?

  I punch my headboard and roll off the bed, then remove the condom and get dressed. No idea what to do next. All I know is I desperately need another distraction. One to offset tonight’s disaster. One to make me feel a whole lot less shitty about myself than I do right now.

  * * *

  Levi and I are busy marking up an old cement wall when a couple of voices in the distance interrupt our creative flow. We stop spraying and listen, trying to decipher if the unexpected company is a threat or not. A twig snaps, followed by crunching debris. My heart starts pounding ferociously. Beads of sweat trickle down the sides of my temple and free fall into shadows of darkness. I attempt to swallow, but my throat is too dry. Aerosol and paranoia swirl in the air; an unwelcome reminder of home. My gut’s already telling me what I need to know. These aren’t random passers-by.

  Breathe in; breathe out.

  Another twig snaps.

  They’re trying to be sneaky, but failing miserably.

  I squeeze the spray can as hard as I can until my fingers ache. Anything to help dispel the rising panic. Must concentrate, Eric. I smother the flashlight against my hoodie and lean forward to listen for the faintest of noises, trying to gauge how close they are. It always comes down to this. The thrill. The chase. The underlying sense of danger.

  Us versus them.

  Levi peers around the corner of the cement wall and attempts to spot them from above. His jet-black hair shields him from detection—a stark contrast from my pale blond. Blending in with the night is crucial during times like these. It can mean all the difference between getting caught and barely escaping. To our advantage, we’ve been doing this for years. We know the drill. Flipside, there are one too many streetlights for my comfort.

  Levi ducks back down under the overpass and points upward, indicating that the cops are on his side of the bridge. I nod and reach down to grab my backpack. I slip the paint and flashlight inside, then zip it closed and sling it over my shoulder, extra mindful not to make a sound. The two of us backtrack and crawl up the opposite side, away from the voices.

  Once we’re out of view, we rest our backs against one of the pillars, bracing ourselves. A few moments later, we hear them approaching. I glance down below at the spot where we were just standing and notice a solid beam of light traveling along the gravel. We’ll have to wait until th
ey’re completely under the bridge before we make a run for it. Otherwise, we don’t stand a chance.

  Hushed voices capture my attention. I lean over, straining to hear. One pig tells the other one we’re close by. The graffiti is still fresh and the fumes are potent.

  Suddenly, their conversation comes to a halt.

  The panic inside me flares, thinking they’ve found something. I glance over at Levi and give him the oh-shit-we’re-totally-fucked look. His features remain impassive—a strong testament that he’s the one who does better under pressure.

  My mind scrambles to think of an exit strategy.

  Maybe it’s less risky if we stay put?

  Negative. They’ll scan the entire area. They’d be stupid not to.

  Taking the lead, Levi crab walks up the hill. I follow suit. Once we reach the pavement, we’ll be able to make a break for it. Levi’s car is only a block away. I just hope we can make it there without getting caught. It’d be nice to have my record remain jail-free.

  We’re almost in the clear when my left foot slips against the gravel, sending loose chunks of rock and dirt cascading down the hill. Two flashlights instantly zone in on it, getting brighter and brighter.

  Levi and I wrestle to our feet and take off running.

  “Hold it! Stay right where you are!” one of them shouts.

  We ignore them and bolt toward the car. Adrenaline races through my veins as my feet pound the pavement. I’ve never run so fast in my life. The officers continue barking orders, but all I can hear is my heartbeat hammering in my ears.

  “Go, go, go!” I yell to Levi.

  We make it to the car and jump inside. One of the officers breaks off and runs across the street to his squad car. Levi’s Grand Am roars to life. He slams his foot on the gas and the car lurches forward, forcing my back against the seat. We speed off toward the interstate. I yank the seatbelt across my chest and strap myself in.

  Levi nervously glances in the rearview mirror. Lights and sirens alert the sleeping neighborhood.

  “He’s gaining on us,” I tell him.

  “It’s two in the morning. There’s nobody else on the road to throw him off our trail. We’re screwed.”

  “Not necessarily. Hop on Mopac.”

  Without missing a beat, he swerves onto a side street, taking a shortcut. The cop mimics our every move, hell bent on catching us. I don’t even know where his partner went, but I know it won’t be long before others show up.

  “Damn it!” Levi smashes his fist against the dash. “I told you downtown was too risky to tag.”

  I brace myself against the seat and keep my eyes trained on the side mirror. “Calm down, man. Now’s not the time to be losing your shit. We have bigger problems to deal with.”

  “You don’t say?” he snaps, making a sudden hard left.

  “Aye, how many times have you thrown us into a fucked up situation and I’ve had to be the one to bail us out? Return the favor.”

  His fingers grip the steering wheel tightly. He clenches his jaw and accelerates onto the onramp.

  “We have to try to lose him at an exit. Wait until the last possible second before you swerve off. Let’s hope his backup doesn’t show up before then.”

  “Doesn’t matter anyway. He’s probably already run my plates.”

  It’s my turn to glare at him. “We’re not going down without a fight. You hear me? It’s too late to surrender.”

  He speeds up, the car matching the frantic rhythm of my heart. Deep down, I know we’re screwed. I knew from the moment we heard them on the bridge. We’ve dodged the cops before, but this time it’s different. We didn’t think far enough ahead, or allow room for error. We started getting too comfortable in the routine—a rookie mistake.

  “Grab onto something,” Levi orders.

  I grip the seat belt strap across my chest and suck in a deep breath. Before I can exhale, Levi swerves to the right to catch a last-minute exit. He overestimates the amount of force needed and the entire car shifts sideways.

  A blur of events sweep by. The cop behind us slams on his brakes and swerves to the left to avoid hitting us. Four sets of tires screech against the pavement, rivaling the pitch of the sirens. Levi and I both shout profanities as the back end of our vehicle crashes into the concrete barrier. Shards of glass explode in the backseat. My head is propelled directly into the passenger window, the impact making me see bright, vivid, translucent colors.

  In the blink of an eye, it’s all over.

  My ears are ringing. I’m fighting to stay conscious. I shift around in my seat, my muscles aching in protest. My head rolls to the side, assessing Levi’s condition. His face is buried in a bloodstained airbag. Panic seizes my chest. Mine didn’t deploy. Why didn’t mine deploy?

  With shaky hands, I feel around for the seat belt buckle and release the strap. I lean over the console, spots blurring my vision, and grab onto Levi’s shoulder.

  I give him a gentle shake. “Levi, wake up.”

  No response.

  I place two fingers below his jaw on his neck. Thank God, there’s a pulse. Relief floods my chest, but that feeling dissipates the instant the cop opens my door. He ushers me out of the car. I stumble around as if I’ve been drinking, my weight counter-balanced by his grip. Off in the distance, I hear more sirens.

  The officer helps Levi out of the car and makes us both sit down as he proceeds to take stock of our injuries and search our belongings. My head is fucking killing me. I press my sleeve to the side of my temple—the hoodie is blood soaked. Everything’s so bright. Why is everything so bright at night?

  An ambulance arrives shortly after, along with backup and a tow truck. Normally, I’d refuse to go to the hospital, but given the current situation, ditching Levi is out of the question. Why can’t I seem to stop fucking up lately?

  As we leave the scene, a wave of guilt washes over me. And all these colors are still coating my vision. Scarlet being the most prominent one.

  ONE

  e r i c

  Hours before the accident...and the other accident.

  Every other week I’m required to see a therapist. It was one of the conditions my uncle placed on me before he took me in as a kid. Dr. Vivienne Mitchell has been my therapist for the last year. Thank God she’s willing to make house calls. She’s different from all the other shrinks I’ve had because she has the decency to talk to me like I’m her client, not her patient. That’s key. There’s nothing worse than being talked to like you’re a sick person when you’re not. Doesn’t hurt that she’s smoking hot, either.

  Vivienne opens the file resting on her lap and jots down some notes. Sometimes I wonder if she’s just doodling. How hilarious would that be? I’m sitting here spilling my guts and she’s drawing cartoons like she’s Walt Fucking Disney. Then again, if I had to listen to everyone’s problems on a daily basis, I’d probably be sketching too. I’m already antsy to get out of here and we’re only fifteen minutes in.

  “How are you adjusting to a new school?”

  I shrug. “Fine, I guess.”

  Truth be told, I absolutely hate it here. Transferring right before your senior year blows. It’s not like I had any say in the matter. Austin is nothing more than a cheap imitation of a life I used to know. Different house, different people, same predictable bullshit.

  “Tell me about your classes. Are you taking anything you like?”

  “Art.”

  She glances up and smiles. Vivienne knows art has always been a huge part of my life. It’s my coping mechanism for everything. When I’m sketching or painting, nothing else can interfere. In a house where I constantly had to be on guard, art allowed me to express myself without consequence. It gave me an escape from the never-ending shitstorms and monumental disappointments.

  “Are you thinking about joining any extracurricular activities?”

  “I’ve thought about trying out for the track team, but that’s not until spring.”

  “Okay, what about activities o
utside of school? Any that interest you?”

  I know what she’s getting at. She wants me to stay out of trouble this year.

  “None that you would approve of.”

  She tilts her frames down and pins me with her gaze.

  “You’re eighteen now, Eric. You won’t be able to get off scot-free anymore. The underage drinking, the graffiti, the fighting—those things will go on an adult record if you get caught.”

  “I already told you that fight wasn’t my fault,” I say defensively.

  “I understand, but let me ask you a question. Do you honestly believe that Levi had no influence over you that night?”

  This is a big bone of contention with us. She’s doesn’t approve of the people I surround myself with, and I’m over her telling me how I should live my life. She thinks some of my friends are bad influences—Levi being the worst. She’s not entirely wrong, but I refuse to admit that out loud.

  “I make my own decisions.”

  “Of course you do, but is it possible you would’ve handled the situation differently had he not been there?”

  “If Levi wouldn’t have been there, the fight never would’ve happened in the first place.”

  “Exactly my point,” she says, settling back into the chair. “He’s an instigator. That concerns me.”

  There she goes pretending to be my mother again. Growing frustrated, I run my hands through my hair and lean forward, needing her to understand where I’m coming from.

  “Look, he’s a good friend who’s been there through some dark shit. That’s not easy to find. Most people would flake. I’m not saying he’s perfect, but he has my back and vice versa. I refuse to cut him off just because you don’t approve.”

  “I’m not telling you to cut him off. I’m simply suggesting that you take a step back and distance yourself for a little while. It might help give you a better perspective.”