by Payge Galvin
A place of reflection and quiet and shelter in a noisy, dangerous world.
She bent her head and offered thanks for what had brought her here—a twisted path, one that she couldn’t possibly have seen coming. A crime. A man she shouldn’t have trusted. A girl she shouldn’t have believed.
It had to have been a divine hand at her back, because otherwise it was luck, and luck could be taken away. Elijah could be taken away. And she didn’t want to believe that. She chose to believe in this … in a plan and a purpose.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for seeing me through.”
She cried a little, thinking of the girls in that house, of the pain they’d endured, but she knew that she’d been the key to unlock their chains, and that felt better.
That made something right that had been wrong in the world, and that was what she’d set out to do.
Elijah came back and sat beside her for a moment, staring at the front of the church. “I used to be religious,” he said. “When I was younger. I guess I lost faith. But you know what? You’re starting to convince me there’s something to it again.”
She took his hand and held it for a moment. He let out a slow breath, and she felt his tense muscles slowly relax.
“My sister’s willing to trade us the church van,” he said. “It’s clean and reliable. She’ll trade the one we’re leaving to the reservation folks, and if anyone ever finds it, they’ll have to deal with the tribal police to get it. Hope—where are you going now? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking we should head for California,” she said. “I hear it’s nice. And I sent a package there overnight express to a hotel on the beach.”
“A package ….”
She smiled and closed her eyes. “I did good for someone else,” she said. “And now I want to do something good for us. It’s not much, but it’s enough to get us started. I don’t think God will mind.”
Elijah put his arm around her and hugged her close, kissed her softly on the temple, and whispered, “You are one clever girl, for a saint in training.”
“I think the training’s done,” she said. “I washed out when I decided I really liked being in bed with you.”
“Speaking of that …”
“Yes.”
Chapter 9
Hope woke up slowly, feeling the morning light sheeting warm over her bare skin, and stretched in lazy satisfaction. The sheets felt crisp and clean on her body, and her back was very warm.
Warm because Elijah was pressed close against her, skin to skin. He was just waking up, too, and for a moment she savored that silence, that perfect moment of peace between them. God spoke in the silence—or at least He was easier to hear.
And what God was telling her, without words, was that they’d done right.
The cash had gone fast, but they were lying on a mattress on the floor of a very tiny condo of their own, with the curtains blowing in the stiff ocean breeze. The constant drum of the waves had lulled her to sleep in a way that she’d never felt before, and she’d known from the moment they saw the place—run down and ramshackle as it was—that it was right for them. The deck faced the ocean, and maybe it wasn’t right on the beach, but it was a quick walk to soft sand.
She wondered what had happened to the people who’d owned this place before, and lost it to repossession. Her remaining money had been just enough to win the bid for it, and now she and Elijah had a home.
A real home.
Granted, all that was in it now was a mattress and some second-hand furniture they’d found being thrown out at the curb, but it was a start.
It was enough.
Elijah placed a warm, soft, lingering kiss at the nape of her neck, and she rolled over to face him. She loved the way he looked in the morning, still sleepy-eyed and tousled and vulnerable. She kissed him, and the silken slide of their lips together woke hunger in her, and in him too, from the sudden hardening she felt against her thigh.
“Good morning,” she whispered into his mouth, and felt him smile. “What do you want to do today?”
“This,” he said, and moved his hand down to slip it between her thighs, just the way she loved. She caught her breath and moved against the pressure of his fingers, telling him silently just how right that was, and then kissed her way down his body to show him just how right he was, for her, with hands and mouth. It was a skill she’d learned quickly, and one she loved, and from the way he moaned and moved his hips, he loved it too.
But before she could bring him off, he pressed her back against the pillows and nudged her thighs open, and slid into her hot center in a slow, sexy pressure that made her whimper and whisper his name. Then, like the sea, the tides came, receded, and built to a storm inside them both. Beautiful and perfect and right.
They were still lying warm and sweaty in the afterglow, drying in the ocean breeze, when the doorbell rang. Elijah rolled up and stepped into sweat pants, and Hope threw on a bathrobe as he opened up the door.
“Hey,” Elijah said, and stepped back to let Hope step up next to him. Outside stood a young man of maybe eighteen, ragged and feral, carrying a backpack. He was clutching a piece of paper, and he looked from it to their faces, then back at the paper.
“Ophelia down at the shelter said you’d help me,” he said, though it was more of a mumble. “She said you know about the magazine crews. They’ve got my sister. Can you—can you help me get her back?”
Elijah exchanged a look with Hope, and she nodded.
Because this, she knew, was what they were meant to do.
Help.
A Note From Payge:
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading Unfiltered & Unsaved! I hope you love what you’ve seen so far. There’s so much more to come! Next is Unfiltered & Unhinged on April 14, 2014 followed quickly by Unfiltered & Unraveled on May 14, 2014.
Already in love with UNFILTERED? Drop by our website and sign up for our newsletter to keep up on all things Rio Verde. We promise not to spam you, but there just might be some sneak peeks and bonus content!
If you swooned for this book, the best way to help us keep our series alive is to review it. Anywhere! Even a few words are so appreciated! It makes a bigger difference than you think.
Lastly, with so many co-authors, there’s always something fun to read online! Please go to our website (www.UnfilteredBooks.com) to find our Twitter handles, Tumblrs, and personal websites.
Thanks Again!
Payge
—◊—
Keep reading for a preview of Unfiltered & Unhinged by Payge Galvin & Jane Lukas, the fourth installment of the UNFILTERED series. For more on the Unfiltered Books, the rest of the series authors, or on Payge Galvin and Bridgette Luna, please visit us online:
www.UnfilteredBooks.com | www.BridgetteLuna.com | Twitter: @PaygeGalvin, @BridgetteLuna15 | Tumblr: @HellYeahBridgetteLuna
—◊—
READ THE REST OF THE UNFILTERED SERIES:
Unfiltered & Unlawful
Unfiltered & Unknown
Unfiltered & Unsaved
A SNEAK PEEK OF
UNFILTERED & UNHINGED
Book four of
the Unfiltered Series
~ Payge Galvin & Jane Lukas ~
COMING APRIL 14, 2014
—◊—
From the back cover of UNFILTERED & UNHINGED
After a night-shift shooting of a drug dealer in The Coffee Cave, twelve strangers each walk out with more than $100,000 in dirty money, a pact never to meet again, and the chance to start over…
Cass Montgomery thought money was supposed to make everything easier. But when she tries to pay off her brother’s racing debts, she finds herself in deeper trouble than ever before as she’s forced to race in the sideshows Wrex Cooper controls. With her motorcycle totaled and no way to keep her brother Liam out of the hospital, Cass turns to Dev Coburn, hoping he can get her bike ready to race once more.
What she didn’t expect is how a
ttracted she is to Dev or how much she’s putting him at risk. As the countdown to the final race looms, will Cass and Dev be able to make it to the finish line or will she end up in debt to Wrex for more than money?
—◊—
First there was sex, and then came death.
Cass stood in the entrance of the garage bay, looking around for a mechanic. Where the hell was everybody?
She stepped inside, boots ringing on the concrete. “Hey! Anyone in here?”
“Hang on!” came a deep voice from the back of an adjacent bay. A clatter of metal pipes met her ears, and she flinched at the loudness that echoed in the enclosed space.
Cass looked at her friend, Scott, and shrugged.
“I thought you said this guy was good?” he asked, looking unconvinced.
“He came highly recommended,” she told him, then signaled for him to bring his pickup truck around to the bay. In the bed of the truck lay her motorcycle, a 2004 Honda Superhawk. It had seen better days, but she loved it more than she’d ever loved anything else, including all of her ex-boyfriends. That probably had something to do with why they were her exes.
Just looking at the motorcycle filled her with sorrow and rage. Wrex Cooper was such an asshole. He was the guy who controlled the sideshows and—more importantly—the betting surrounding the races at the sideshow. Cass had been working for Wrex for about six months, trying to dig her twin brother out of his hole of debt.
“Hey, sorry. Whatcha need?”
She turned to meet this mystery mechanic. He came highly recommended by some of the guys at the last sideshow she raced in, before she’d tried to buy her contract out from Wrex. She hoped this mechanic was as good as they said he was.
The guy standing before her was ridiculously great looking. He had dark hair and deep brown eyes that could melt a girl like chocolate. Axel grease streaked across his chin. She wanted to reach over and wipe it off and maybe run her fingers over the strong line of his stubbled jaw. He was over six feet tall, wearing faded jeans, motorcycle boots, and had a set of shoulders that filled out the old gasoline shirt he was wearing to perfection. Chest muscles strained against the thin fabric of his white tank top. Tattoos climbed over the visible flesh on his forearms.
Cass swallowed, reminding herself that she was just there to get her bike fixed, not to ogle the mechanic. He might be fun for a couple of days, but her life was already way too complicated. Bike first. Hormones second.
“Are you Dev?” Cass watched him warily, wondering if she could trust him with her baby. He may be hot as hell, but that didn’t mean he was someone who could handle the work she needed done.
“Yeah.” He dragged a hand across his jaw, scratching at his scruff. He lifted his chin. “Who’s asking?”
“I heard you’re good, and I need a rebuild.” She jerked her head over to the Superhawk lying on its side. “I’m Cass. This is Scott.” She gestured to where her friend stood at the other end of the pickup’s bed.
Dev leaned over the tailgate for a look. “Damn. What did you do to it? Beat it with a baseball bat?”
Cass frowned, shifting from foot to foot. She shared a look with Scott; Dev’s comment was uncomfortably close to what had actually happened to her bike. She ignored his question, asking one of her own. “Can you fix it?”
He ran his hand through his spiky dark hair, causing it to stick up wildly from the grease on his fingers. “Let’s get it inside and see.”
Cass lowered the tailgate and hopped into the truck bed. Dev rolled a ramp up to the truck’s tailgate, while she and Scott levered up the Superhawk to roll it down. Fiberglass had been busted, pieces were hanging off of it. Wiring hung from panels. Just looking at the damage made her want to hit someone.
They rolled it down the ramp and into the bay. Dev handed her a form to fill out while he went to work. Scott leaned over and said softly, “I’ll wait for you in the truck.”
“Thanks, Scott.” She gave him a shaky smile. He squeezed her shoulder before heading over to his truck. He’d known her since she’d moved to Rio Verde years ago; aside from her roommate, Scott was her closest friend.
Cass absently watched Dev once she’d finished the forms. After stabilizing the bike, he ran his hand over the shattered machine. He crawled over and around it, getting an idea of the damage as Cass watched nervously. There was another sideshow in a couple of weeks. Wrex expected her to race in it, motorcycle or no motorcycle. She’d prefer to ride her own, but if necessary she could ride someone else’s and split the cash with them. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
She put the paper with her contact information on a nearby toolbox.
“What’s the verdict?” she asked when she thought he’d been quiet for too long.
He stood up and again ran his hand along the ripped-up leather seat. Looking at the bike with a kind of regret, Dev walked over to her. “Truth?”
She nodded, noticing that his brown eyes had flecks of gold and green in them. And he had stupid long lashes, the kind girls would kill for. Yeah, he was right up her alley—which meant she’d be a complete and total idiot if she seriously thought about being with him. Her track record hovered somewhere between last place and flaming crash of death. She told her hormones to be quiet and focused on what he was telling her.
He sighed. “You’d be better off selling it for scrap.”
That bike had been with her for five years. It was the one constant in her relatively craptastic life. Years ago, she’d saved all the money she could get her hands on, taking on any job—babysitting, yardwork, afterschool—that would pay her something. She learned long ago to hide her money where her father wouldn’t look for it, and when she’d finally had enough, she’d gone and bought the twisted wreck that sat before her now. She’d been eighteen. Dev’s words made her feel like she was being told to pull the plug on a loved one.
“No,” she said.
She saw Dev raise his eyebrows at her, as if he didn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Look,” he began, grabbing a rag from a rolling toolbox and wiping his hands, “I could do the work, sure. But it’s going to take a while to get the parts and we might need to scavenge for some.”
“I need the bike fixed. Fast.” She stared at him, hoping he’d agree to the work.
Dev rubbed the back of his neck with a clean section of the rag. He looked back over at the bike. “You obviously didn’t lay it down.” His gaze locked with hers, and Cass found it next to impossible to look away. “Your bike was trashed.”
She swallowed nervously. Those eyes saw more than they should.
“Since you’re coming to me to have it fixed, I’m guessing it wasn’t you doing it for the insurance.” He raised his eyebrows at her, as if daring her to contradict him.
Cass looked down, snapping the elastic hair tie she wore around her wrist. The week had been beyond crappy, going into another realm entirely. This was just the icing on the cake.
She felt a light touch on her arm. Dev had stepped closer, a concerned expression on his face. He smelled like metal and motor oil and sweat. Her toes curled inside her boots. This was so totally unfair.
“You race, don’t you?” Dev’s voice was soft, like if he talked too loud he’d scare her away. When she didn’t answer him, he sighed. “You need to stay away from Wrex. This looks like his style, and trust me, you don’t want to wind up owing him.”
Cass knew she shouldn’t have been surprised he knew about Wrex. If he was the mechanic of choice for some of the sideshow racers, he was bound to have seen—and probably repaired—Wrex’s crew’s handiwork. As for not owing Wrex? That ship had sailed six months ago when her brother had bet more than he could possibly afford to lose. She’d tried paying him off with her money from that night at The Coffee Cave, but he’d refused it. “Will you do the work, or do I need to find someone else?”
Dev dropped his hand from her arm.
Cass wrapped her fingers around the place where his hand had been, chasing the warmth of him.
Turning away, he dropped the rag back on the toolbox. “I can do it.”
Cass heard the distance in his voice. She guessed he thought she was being stupid or stubborn, that she was some dumbass girl who didn’t know what she was getting into. She clenched her jaw, telling herself it didn’t bother her, that she didn’t care what he thought. He was her mechanic. He would fix her bike. It didn’t matter what he thought of her.
“How long?”
He raised an eyebrow. She saw a slow grin cross his face as he looked her up and down. “When will it be ready?” she rephrased, giving him a sour look.
He shrugged. “No idea. I can’t say what other work I’ll have coming in and how long it will take to get parts.”
“Two weeks?” Her next race would probably be around that time.
He snorted. “Are you kidding? I’ll be lucky to finish it in twice that.”
Cass folded her arms across her chest. He put his hands up. “Look, sweetheart, yours isn’t the only bike I’m working on. And we’re not talking a tune up. This is pretty much a complete rebuild. That kind of thing takes time.”
Her eyes lingered on her motorcycle. “How much?” Maybe if she kicked in extra money, Dev would put a rush on it.
He shrugged. “Couple of thousand, easy. Depends on how difficult the rebuild is. But I’ve got a few more projects in front of this one.”
Cass frowned. She needed to race. Wrex was counting on her showing, even if her bike wasn’t road ready. If she didn’t, bad things would happen. To her and the people she cared about. As much as she loved her Superhawk, it wasn’t going to be ready in time.
She was going to have to buy a new bike.
The thought sent her pulse racing. Cass felt sweat break out across her chest and at the small of her back, soaking her shirt. She could buy a new motorcycle, no problem. She had a backpack full of cash sitting under her bed. It was where that money came from that was the problem.