Outer Banks Rafe Novels & Stories

Ryker asked, his mouth practically hanging open. "Experience," I said shortly. "Penn? What the fuck are you doing in here?" Rafe said as he passed through my bedroom doorway. He shook his head. "Never mind. Don't care." He nudged his older brother out of the way. Squatted down next to me. "Let's see those gams, Will." I chuckled. My Rafe was a sucker for film noir. I lifted the sheet away from my legs. He sucked in a noisy breath through his nose. "Shit sticks and cuttlefish, Will."

“Sir, we’ve confirmed—he’s an Omega.” Rafe’s lips curved into a faint, cold smile. “I like him,” he said quietly, almost to himself. His expression hardened, icy and unreadable. “But… sir, he’s undercover,” the man reminded him cautiously. Rafe’s smile didn’t waver. His eyes never left Jay. “Then I’ll handle him myself,” he said, his voice low, lethal. He turned and walked toward his sleek black car parked outside. Meanwhile, the photo shoot carried on. Jay posed effortlessly as photographers clicked furiously, stylists whispered over each other, and assistants blushed at his striking features.

I sat with it for exactly three seconds because once I said it I could not unsay it and Blake was standing four feet away with his back partly turned and his whole body carrying the tension of someone who was close to understanding something that was going to change the shape of his evening significantly. "Blake." He turned. I looked at him and I kept my voice level because this was not something that needed to be delivered with drama. It was just a fact. A fact that connected to another fact and together they made a picture that explained a great deal about tonight. "Rafe was on the Silver and Blood Moon border alone at that hour," I said. "He would not tell me why. He had no operational re

She always had. Rafe sat on the edge of the bed, phone in one hand, cigarette in the other, tapping ash into a Styrofoam cup like he was bored of breathing. He hadn’t said much since his last guy checked in. I could tell he was losing patience. Good. Let him squirm. He wasn’t in this for Kat—he was in it for the payout. But me? I was in it for the reckoning. “She’s still holed up in the clubhouse,” Rafe muttered, not looking at me. “Same routine. Kids, women, guards. No movement.”

he said, “we keep.” Bootsteps approached, brisk. Rafe skidded around the corner with the grin he wore when chaos obeyed him. “Showtime. The cousin’s parade is already tripping over its shoelaces. Also, the dog is following me and if he becomes my dog I’m naming him Bacon.” “Approved,” the Don said. Rafe’s gaze flitted between them, softened by something like pride. “Look at you two. Terrifying. Beautiful. In focus.” He tapped his earpiece. “All right, saints and sinners. Places. We turn the city.”