In Times of Darkness Read online

  In Times of Darkness

  FIRST IN THE RAVEN ISLAND SERIES

  A Novel by Mercer Scott

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  In Times of Darkness

  COPYRIGHT

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  WHERE TO FIND MERCER SCOTT

  ABOUT IN TIMES OF DARKNESS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  SECOND IN THE RAVEN ISLAND SERIES

  PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2020 by Mercer Scott

  All rights reserved.

  Cover photo and design by Mercer Scott.

  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 written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication, and or use, of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Visit the author at www.mercerscott.com.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  There was a girl who always wanted to be a writer.

  She wrote down stories on scraps of paper and in a secret file, and she hid them away.

  The girl became very serious and did what was practical, instead of doing what she dreamed of.

  Until one day the girl discovered that life is too fucking short.

  She realized that life is not about waiting your turn. Life is about going after what you want and making it yours.

  So, the girl wrote down all her stories, put them into glass bottles, and threw them into the ocean.

  She hoped that one day someone like her would find her stories and read them.

  The girl realized life is about pleasure, not pain.

  Mercer Scott spends her days pursuing pleasure… in all its forms.

  WHERE TO FIND MERCER SCOTT

  Mercer Scott would love to hear from you.

  Connect with her at www.mercerscott.com or on Instagram @authormercerscott.

  Join Mercer Scott’s newsletter and get exclusive content and updates about everything Mercer Scott.

  Sign up here.

  ABOUT IN TIMES OF DARKNESS

  A flat tire leaving Raven Island off Canada’s west coast brings sexy, ex-con Silas Cole into successful, criminal defense lawyer Evangeline Waters’ life – and her bed.

  The giant, tattooed beast of a man is determined to have the tall, gorgeous redhead as soon as he sees her stranded at the side of the road. Their devastating attraction leads to a one-night stand with no last names and no future. When the sex is this mind-blowing, how can one night ever be enough?

  Before Evangeline can leave Raven Island the next morning, Silas is accused of murder. He promises Evangeline that he’s innocent, that he’s put his past leading the outlaw Black Ravens gang behind him. Evangeline can’t say no when Silas asks for her help, any more than she can say no to the pleasure Silas gives her.

  While Evangeline and Silas race to clear Silas’s name and figure out the killer’s true identity, the police are closing in on Silas, and the killer may strike again.

  Silas and Evangeline are playing a dangerous game – with a killer and with their hearts.

  To all the brave women who face their fears and follow their dreams…

  wherever those dreams may take them.

  This is where my dreams took me.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Silas

  R aven Island is the only place I’ve ever wanted to be. I wasn’t born on this island, but it’s the only home I’ve ever known. Ten years in prison made me appreciate Raven Island more than I ever thought was fucking possible. I love this island, and I never leave it. I swore to myself every day of the ten years I spent in that damn prison on the mainland that once I got out, I would come home and never leave again.

  I haven’t left Raven Island since I made it back here after I was released, not once. After ten years of being locked up in a cage, I got my life back. I wasn’t about to waste my second chance. I’ve spent the last seven years on Raven Island rebuilding the life that was taken from me.

  I know everyone on this island, and they know me. It’s not exactly a Cheers-situation where everyone knows your name. Sometimes the people who know me aren’t too happy to see me. Memories run long on Raven Island. Too long, for my taste.

  But for the most part, I get by well enough. People are still too afraid of me to give me any trouble. Enough tourists pass through every year for me to fuck without ever having to leave the island to find a willing woman. I don’t fuck around with the local women. They’re way too much trouble. I have more than enough enemies already, so I don’t need every male relative of the women I fuck coming after me for breaking their precious little hearts.

  I see a car pulled over at the side of the road as I drive home from work, and I can tell the driver isn’t from around here. No one on Raven Island drives a fancy, white Tesla. Electric cars haven’t made it all the way out to Raven Island yet.

  Every summer the island is over-run with luxury cars driven by the rich Vancouver people who flock here for the waterfront views and white sand beaches. But it’s still too early in the season for that now.

  The Tesla is leaning towards the driver’s side, and I know that whoever this is has a flat tire.

  As I get closer, I see the driver. She’s standing at the back of the car next to the flat tire. She’s bending over to look at it, with her perfect, round ass sticking up in the air.

  She stands up when she hears my car approaching, and that’s when I see her hair. She has long, thick red hair that falls
halfway down to the fine ass filling out her tight jeans. She’s wearing tall, leather riding boots. They look expensive. Everything about this woman looks expensive.

  She’s definitely a tourist.

  And a fucking hot one.

  I haven’t even seen her face, and I know I don’t care. I want to fuck her. I can fuck her without ever looking her in the face if I have to.

  I feel myself react to this woman as blood flows to my dick. It’s only April, and the tourists haven’t come back to Raven Island for the summer yet. So, my stream of tourists to fuck has been slower than I’d like. Once May hits, the island will be packed with tourists through September. But the winters get a bit thin for options.

  I’m horny as fuck. Maybe this woman will be grateful if I change the tire for her?

  Grateful enough to suck my cock.

  I slowly press my foot down on the brake. My old Ford truck comes to a slow, pained stop behind the fancy, white Tesla. I need to spend some time on her. My truck’s feeling needy. I have to give her the TLC she needs to keep her running smoothly again. This truck is nearly seventy years old. She belonged to my grandfather. He kept her running for the first fifty years of her life, but now she’s my responsibility. There’s no excuse for her to stop running now. She’s in almost mint condition with her original vintage green paint, and only a little rust around the edges. My truck looks totally out of place parked behind the modern, white Tesla.

  About as out of place as I’m going to look parked behind this gorgeous, rich woman from the city. I smile mockingly at the thought, but I don’t know if I’m mocking her or myself.

  I slowly open the door to my truck. I hold up my hand and move it in a slow wave to show the redhead that I’m not a threat.

  I feel like a total asshole. But I don’t want to scare her.

  I’m huge. I’m six-foot-five and built as sturdy as my old Ford truck. I haven’t shaved in months, and my stubble has grown into a full beard. My beard and the rest of the hair on my head are both as black as my soul.

  And I’m an ex-con.

  I’m used to making people nervous. Especially women. Usually I can turn those nerves into excitement and want. Women are either scared of me or they want to fuck me. Or both. Thankfully, it’s usually both.

  But this woman is a long way from home and all alone with a broken-down car on an isolated stretch of deserted road. If I scare her too much, she might run. And then I won’t get to fuck her later.

  And I need to fuck her. So, I really need to not scare her.

  I saw the woman stand up and turn to face me when she heard my truck slowing behind her. She’s been watching me as I pulled up to a stop behind her Tesla and got out of the truck. She’s still watching me now.

  Her fine ass didn’t lead me astray. She’s fucking hot. She’s tall, with big tits. They’re round and firm. Her tits are fighting against her white tank-top like they want to be set free. She’s wearing a leather motorcycle jacket that hangs open at her sides. The white tank-top hugs her narrow waist, showing off how it curves down to wide hips. I’m going to dig my fingers into those hips when I fuck her.

  I didn’t care about her face until I saw it. That face would make any man want her. She’s fucking beautiful. She has bright blue eyes in a pale creamy face, a straight nose, and pink, Cupid’s bow lips that I want to see wrapped around my cock when I look down at her. Her dark red eyebrows arch dramatically above those crystal, blue eyes. Her cheeks are slashed in pink. Maybe from the cold. Maybe from excitement?

  “Looks like you might need a hand,” I offer.

  I try to sound friendly and non-threatening… and not like I want to bend her over the hood of her Tesla and fuck her brains out.

  “I’m Silas,” I say, curling my lips into a smile.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Evangeline

  T his man is impossibly big. He’s so tall that I have to tilt my head up to look at him. I’m tall for a woman at five-foot-ten, but this man is enormous. His shoulders are twice as wide as mine. He looks like he could break me in two with his bare hands.

  Most of his face is covered in a black beard. His grey eyes look at me watchfully, like he sees everything. He definitely sees me. I saw his eyes rove over my body. And I know he liked what he saw. Men usually do.

  His skin is golden like it’s the middle of July, and not April and freezing cold. His black hair is just a bit too long. It’s pulled back behind his ears and just starting to curl at his neck. His firm lips peek out from a shroud of black beard. He’s wearing a heavy, red plaid jacket, jeans, and black motorcycle boots. He looks like Paul Bunyan meets a biker.

  But big men don’t scare me just because they’re big. I’ve spent years going in and out of prisons, working for truly bad men. After spending the last ten years as a lawyer defending men charged with violent crimes, I know evil comes in all shapes and sizes.

  Most men don’t scare me, at all, even the bad ones. I know what makes them tick. They’re all just overgrown little boys, usually with mommy issues. They’re not even smart enough to have any unique reasons for the bad things they do. Their commit violence is out of greed or because they’re reliving their own trauma.

  So, if this small-town stallion wants to change my tire for me, who am I to say no?

  I looked at the flat tire for a few minutes trying to figure it out. But I have no idea how to change a tire. I have no interest in ever learning. I realized a long time ago that I couldn’t be an expert at everything. I’m the best at what I do.

  And the rest? The rest I pay people to do for me. That’s what money is for. I grew up with money. I’ve never been without it. I never plan to be without it. Money may not solve all your problems, but it solves all the problems caused by not having enough money.

  Changing tires is one of the things I pay people to do for me. But there’s no auto association service on this damn island. The local mechanic I called – with the one bar of service I can get on this desolate stretch of road in the middle of nowhere on a remote island off the west Coast of Canada – said it could be up to two hours before they could even send someone out.

  So, I’ll take whatever help this mountain of a man wants to give me and send him on his way.

  Fuck. How do people live in this backwater? All I want is to get back to Vancouver and civilization. I know I was right to run from this island as soon as I got here. The minute I drove off the ferry, I knew coming here was a mistake. What was I thinking coming to the middle of nowhere? I don’t do wilderness. I don’t even camp.

  As soon as I have four working tires, I’m driving off this island and straight back to Vancouver. There’s a small chance I might still make the last ferry of the day, but it leaves in thirty minutes and the clock is ticking.

  I smile sweetly up at the man. I don’t want him to realize how angry I am. I just want him to change my tire like a good boy, so I can continue on my merry way off this island.

  “Evangeline. It’s nice to meet you. And yes, I think I do need some help with the tire. I don’t know how to change it…” I say.

  I smile timidly at him, doing my best damsel in distress. It doesn’t come easy. I’m no princess waiting in a tower to be rescued. I’m the one who does the rescuing. I rescue myself. I spend my days rescuing my clients from whatever messes they’ve made for themselves.

  The man smiles at me. He’s almost handsome when he smiles. But handsome isn’t the right word for him. This man is pure, liquid sex. His body practically radiates pheromones. I can already feel his effect on me. My heartbeat is pounding and flashes of his naked, sweaty skin pressed against mine are racing through my head.

  “I can help with that. If you open the trunk, there should be a spare and a jack…” he trails off.

  I click the fob twice to unlock the trunk.

  “There you go. Thank you again for your help,” I tell him.

  The man gives me one last, long look before turning away to walk to the trunk.

  “No prob
lem. I haven’t seen you before. Are you new to the island? It’s a bit early in the season for tourists,” he asks me.

  Was Raven Island really small enough that he knew everyone who lived on it? What kind of small town hell am I in? I value my anonymity when I’m not at work. I love going to the grocery store and not running into a single soul that I know. I like having solo dinners at restaurants filled with strangers. I like my space.

  I smile sweetly again to keep him happy. And keep him fixing my tire.

  “Yes, I’m just visiting. I was staying out at the Chambers’ place, and I was on my way to the ferry when this happened…” I say, waving my hand at the flat tire.

  I don’t tell him that my stay began and ended today. I’ve been on Raven Island for approximately one hour and fifteen minutes. And I can’t wait to get the hell off it.

  “Welcome to Raven Island, then. I hope you enjoyed your time here. I’m sorry I missed you during your stay,” he says, looking me up and down again. “I’ll get this tire fixed in no time for you. Just remember how hospitable the locals are next time you come…through.”

  And he winks at me. Is this giant man flirting with me? Most men I meet in the city are too intimidated by me to flirt. It only gets worse once they find out what I do for a living. I don’t know where the idea came from that being a lawyer is a sexy profession. Maybe it is for men. I know for a fact that lots of women want to fuck male lawyers. But every time I tell a man that I’m a criminal defense lawyer, I can practically hear his dick shrivel up.

  Silas retrieves the spare and what I guess is a jack from a hidden compartment under the carpet in the back of my car. I didn’t even know anything was under there. Cars are truly not my thing.

  He kneels down on the ground next to the flat tire and rolls up rolls up his sleeves before getting to work. On his left forearm, he has a tattoo from his wrist to his elbow. The tattoo has a large black raven with a snake crawling around it. The raven is crushing the snake’s head in its mouth. In each clawed foot, the raven is holding a gun. The two guns point away from each other, firing into the distance. Behind the raven’s head is a compass made of arrows.