Page 36 of Carver’s Crusade

I meet his eyes. “So what happens now?”

“We’re working on it.”

CHAPTER 17: CARVER

“How are you working on it?” Raven asks, leaning closer to me so I can see the worry in her beautiful green eyes.

“Luckily for them, we have some pretty handy people on our side. Thanks to her work with Crossroads, Caitlin is on friendly terms with several CPS reps, including the higher-ups. She reached out to them to start the process of removing the kids from their stepmother’s care. Evie is a lawyer, and while she doesn’t practice family law, she knows several lawyers who do, as well as a few judges. Including her father. They pushed through the paperwork.”

“So, in the meantime, they’re in a shelter or a group home?” Raven asks. I can tell by her tone that she doesn’t like the idea. Neither did we.

I shake my head. “No, they’re living with Jackson. He manages my largest crew. He and his wife have been trying to have kids for years, but haven’t had any luck. His wife jumped at the chance to take in these kids and give them a home for as long as they need one.”

Raven lets out a hefty sigh. “That’s good. What about the stepmother? Will she be a problem?”

I stifle the growl that threatens to explode out of me. The fucking stepmother. The bitch who didn’t take care of the children in her care.

“She won’t be a problem,” I tell her. “We’re running her. We’ll figure out how to keep her away from the kids.”

Raven studies me for several seconds before reaching over to squeeze my hand. “How much did she hurt those kids?”

I flip my hand over to interlock our fingers. I squeeze her fingers before I speak. Touching her settles me. “The kids had a few bruises, but nothing serious. Tally examined them. No one has interfered with the girls. She was probably verbally abusive to them, but not physically. But then that would have lessened their value.”

Raven sucks in a breath. “What do you mean?” she whispers. Her expression of horror says she already knows even though she asked the question.

I study her lovely face as I consider brushing off her question, but then I remember that she works with Athena. She’s probably seen worse. “Marcus, the oldest, told us that she had a buyer for the little girl. Fuck, she’s only eight, and she planned on selling her to some sick pedophile. He heard her on the phone, making arrangements to meet and make the exchange.”

Raven’s eyes widen as she slaps a hand over her mouth. Tears well in her eyes, making them sparkle even more.

“That poor baby.”

“Yeah. Marcus did what was best for her and the others. He got them out. They’ve been roughing it for three weeks. I don’t know why they decided to hit our construction sites, but it worked out for them. Eventually.”

“I’m so glad you found them and helped them. You really are the good guys.”

I grin at her.

“We’re not just the good guys. We also know how to throw a killer party. Now, eat up. You’re going to need your strength for what I have planned.”

Raven gives me an odd look, but she does as I suggest and digs into her food. When she finishes, I grab her plate and mine and dump them in the garbage. I return to the table and offer her my hand. She studies it for a minute before taking it.

I don’t ask. I just take her hand and pull her onto the dance floor.

The clubhouse is alive around us—music pounding, people laughing, boots scuffing against worn wood—but it all fades the second Raven steps into me. Like she belongs there. Like she belongs with me.

A hard rock ballad rolls through the speakers, all rough edges and deep emotion, and I slide my arm around her waist. She comes willingly, her body fitting against mine in a way that feels too damn natural for something this new.

I sway us slowly, not giving a damn who’s watching.

She’s warm. Softer than anything I should be holding, but I don’t loosen my grip. My hand settles at the small of her back, holding her close, while hers rests lightly against my shoulders. Careful. Like she’s still figuring me out.

I dip my head, pressing my cheek against hers.

Her hair brushes my jaw, silky and smelling faintly of something sweet—maybe vanilla, maybe something floral. Doesn’t matter. It’s her. I breathe it in deeply, letting it settle in my chest.

Christ.

For a second, I let myself just exist in it. The weight of her. The rhythm of the music. The way she moves with me feels like we’ve done this a hundred times before.