Jj And Rafe Outer Banks Novels & Stories

“We found him.” The words barely registered at first. “Where?” “Southern docks. One of Rossi’s outposts. They were holding him.” “Alive?” He nodded. “Barely. Looks like they used him as bait.” For a moment, everything inside me went still. Then, slowly, the pulse returned—steady, lethal. “Bring him here.” --- Hours later, the heavy doors of my basement opened, and they dragged Rafe inside. He looked nothing like the man who’d once stood beside me in tailored suits and quiet confidence. His hair was longer, tangled. His face bruised, eyes sunken but still burning with something that wasn’t fear.

Rafaella added giving her sister a defiant look. ‘They are so funny,’ Phoebe thought, trying not to laugh. She just grinned. They started a little interrogation, willing to find more about the new mistress of the house and arguing with each other from time to time. Their love and concern for Lorenzo became more obvious with each question, each measuring look. When they finally took their leave in an elderly Rolls Royce, Lorenzo gave Phoebe a slightly uneasy glance. “Sorry about that. So and Rafi live at the far end of the island but they rarely visit. And they are extremely eccentric.”

Coffee went cold. I returned to our house despite the restrictions. The place still carried the scent of lemon and spice. I moved quickly. Clothes. Documents. Essentials. I didn’t look at anything long enough to feel it. Cole drove us to Rafe’s apartment after that. It hadn’t been lived in for three months. Not since Rafe was admitted to the hospital. He’s twenty-two. Still hasn’t found his mate. He used to joke about being unlucky. Now he’s bedridden. Two days before the trial, I go to see him.

Rafe used to burn this symbol into every piece of gear he owned before the exile. "He's alive," I whispered. "More than that." Juno pulled out her tablet and opened an encrypted message. "He's been organizing something. Something big." The message was brief: *Omega Rebellion. Midnight. Warehouse Nine.* "When?" I asked. "Tonight." I looked at the blood on my shoulder, then back at the note. Everything in me screamed this was a trap. But if there was even a chance Rafe was out there... "I'm going." "I figured you'd say that." Juno stood and grabbed her jacket. "I'm coming with you."

Rafe stood in front of my desk, silently scrolling through his iPad, updating files and coordinating my other businesses. The silence was comfortable. Until Rafe’s phone rang. He answered immediately. “Yes?” His expression changed in an instant. His body tensed, eyes sharpening with alarm. He listened for a few seconds, then said curtly, “Okay,” and ended the call. He looked up at me. “She left the airport,” Rafe said. “Took a cab into the city, bought a road map, rented a car, and is now on the move. Our men just caught up with her at a gas station. She’s heading out of Asheville.”

The music kicked up again—some indie rock playlist Eli swore by—and they belted out the chorus off-key, their bodies bumping as they danced in the limited space between the couch and the TV. It was one of those nights, the kind where the world outside faded, and it was just them, buzzing with energy that felt alive, electric, and almost too close. Next door, the roar of a motorcycle cut through the evening. Rafe stopped the engine outside his new building, the vibration still humming through his thighs as he swung a leg over the leather seat. He grabbed the duffel from the saddlebag, his tattooed arms flexing under the worn black jacket. At thirty-five, Rafe had seen enough moves to make thi

Rafe murmured, his gaze flickering to the road ahead as he focused on driving. As they drove along the scenic routes of St. John, Delia curiously asked, "Where are we going?" “A waterfront restaurant on the far side of the island called Macabuca," Rafe replied. "Not many people know about it but I think you'll really like it."

Jenna said before taking another bite of steak. "I have business that you needn't worry about. And you are staying here so that Brennus will be good and mad before I heroically return his one and only daughter to his possession," Rafe said dramatically, but with a tone of someone being put out. "I'm not that dense. There's more to it than that." She took another bite.

“Go get hot for your man.” When I finally get outside, Rafe is leaning against his car like he stepped straight out of a rock music video. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans, a dark green Henley clings to every muscle, with a black leather jacket over top, and he’s wearing a smirk that could melt my panties off. “Damn, sugar,” he whistles lowly. “Are you trying to kill me before I even leave town?” “Maybe,” I say, acting demure. “You like?”

Rafe nervously stepped up to the door of Mr Jones Vones' house. His parents had told him the tales of Mr Jones Vones. The man's wealth and power, but he had not expected the heavy door before him to be guarded by a man with a gun. Rafe remembered that day like it was yesterday. He had been so scared and confused as he and his family stumbled into the city of Cayton. He was just fifteen years of age. Previously, his friends had told him. He had been warned of the dangers of the city, but the sight of the guards of Mr Jones' grandfather, Mr Cayton, had been the most frightening of all. He had been so hungry and exhausted, but he had never expected to be arrested.