Cage (Redline Kings MC Book 7), page 1
CAGE
REDLINE KINGS MC
FIONA DAVENPORT
Copyright © 2026 by Fiona Davenport
Cover designed by Elle Christensen
Edited by Jenny Sims (Editing4Indies)
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
Cage
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Epilogue
About the Author
CAGE
When Hadley Rivers got injured at an underground race, Thayer “Cage” Duvall stepped in to treat her. One look at the scar hidden in her hair told the club’s doctor it was no childhood accident—someone had tried to erase who Hadley really was. Now he was determined to protect the beautiful politician’s daughter whether she wanted it or not.
Hadley had always felt trapped in her perfect life, until the intense biker who patched her up made her feel alive for the first time. But falling for Cage meant risking everything…especially when her family’s dark secret came out.
1
HADLEY
Pressed close to the concrete barrier at Brake Point Run, the roar was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Engines screamed in the distance as drivers warmed up, the rumble vibrating straight through the soles of my sneakers and into my bones. I fiddled with the bulky ear protection Jana had shoved into my hands when I joined her down here.
“You’re gonna wear a hole in that thing if you keep twisting it like that,” Jana called over the noise. She was already suited up to race, looking every bit the badass I secretly wished I could be. “Here, let me fix it before you strangle yourself.”
I laughed as she stepped in and adjusted the straps with practiced fingers. “I swear I’m not usually this helpless. It’s just more chaotic than I expected, in the best way. Is it always like this? The place feels like one giant adrenaline shot.”
Jana snorted, giving the strap one last tug before stepping back. “Always, but it’s even better behind the wheel. Driving for Redline Precision is a thrill, but I love it when I get the chance to drive in an underground race.”
“Because you’re hell on wheels, sweetheart.” The big, tattooed biker she was married to wrapped his arm around Jana’s waist and brushed a kiss against her cheek before dipping his chin in my direction.
“Thanks for letting me come tonight, Nitro.”
“Just stick close,” he warned.
Jana nodded. “This side of racing isn’t what you’re used to. Most of the rules have been thrown out the window, so it’s pure speed and balls-to-the-wall chaos.”
I looked around us with wide eyes. “Yeah, I noticed.”
She tilted her head and studied me with a teasing glint in her eye. “You still good? Or are you about to bolt back to your fancy life and pretend you never met me?”
“No way.” I shook my head so fast my ponytail whipped my shoulder. “Are you kidding? This is incredible.”
“That’s my girl.” She poked my arm lightly. “You’re hooked, aren’t you?”
“Completely,” I admitted, my cheeks heating even as I grinned back at her. I leaned a little closer to the barrier, my eyes widening again as another driver revved his engine hard enough to make the ground tremble. “No one’s watching to see if my posture is perfect or if I said the right thing. I can just exist here. It’s the first time in forever that I don’t feel like I’m playing a part.”
“This world gets under your skin and stays there.” Jana’s expression softened before her smirk slid back into place. She pulled on her gloves, flexing her fingers inside the leather. “Stay back from the barrier unless you want your eardrums blown out, or worse.”
“Kick ass out there. I’ll keep an eye on your friend,” Nitro reassured her.
“Listen to your scary husband. I want to see you smoke every single one of them. And when you win, you have to let me buy you the greasiest victory burger I can find.”
“Deal.” She winked. “But only if you promise not to scream too loud when I fly past. Wouldn’t want to embarrass that pretty politician’s daughter vibe you’ve got going.”
“Hey, I left the pearls at home tonight.” I rolled my eyes, still smiling. “Go show them what real driving looks like.”
She gave me a playful salute before going up on her toes to kiss Nitro. Then she strode off toward her car, and I watched her go, feeling a wild thrill I’d never experienced before. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t just watching from the sidelines in a perfect dress and a practiced smile. I was right in the middle of the action. And I never wanted to leave.
As Jana disappeared into the lineup, I stayed right where I was. My eyes were fixed on the cars idling under the harsh lights. The engines kept revving in short bursts, each one sending another delicious shiver up my spine. I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. This place felt like freedom, and I didn’t need to quiet any part of myself to fit in.
It was the complete opposite of home, where everything was carefully orchestrated. My father built his entire world on image. Every public appearance, fundraiser, and family photo was staged like a campaign ad.
“Presentation is power, Hadley,” he liked to say in his measured tone.
My mother was his perfect counterpart. She was polished, composed, and always three steps ahead in how something would look from the outside. She chose my clothes, corrected my posture with a gentle hand on my back, and reminded me with disappointed sighs when my laugh got too loud or my opinions strayed too far from the script.
They loved me in their way. I knew that.
But their love came with expectations. Be graceful and agreeable—the daughter who reflected well on them. I was never supposed to be too loud or do anything that might crack the flawless family portrait they’d spent years painting.
I had spent my whole life learning how to move inside those walls without rattling them. Smile when expected. Speak when spoken to. Keep the thoughts about how it would feel to shout rather than whisper tucked safely away, where no one could see them.
I wasn’t unhappy, exactly. But I was starting to feel contained in a way I wanted to break free from. Meeting Jana a few months ago had only intensified that feeling.
I’d attended a race with my parents at Redline Speedway, but it had been nothing like this. One of my dad’s biggest donors owned a team racing, so we’d been there to strengthen that relationship since he was up for reelection.
I was expected to be a quiet, smiling accessory beside my parents, but then I caught a glimpse of Jana laughing with her crew. Her head had been thrown back, and I couldn’t look away. She looked free in a way I had only ever dreamed about.
While my parents were deep in conversation with the donor, I had slipped away with a whispered excuse to my mom about going to the restroom. As I melted into the crowd, my heart had pounded with the fear of being caught.
I found Jana near the fence line, wiping grease from her hands with a rag. My voice had been breathless when I got up the nerve to blurt, “I loved watching you drive earlier. It looked like you were flying when you took that last turn.”
“Thanks. Most people in the fancy seats only notice the paint jobs and the champagne.” She’d looked me up and down, but her grin was kind. “You don’t look like you belong here with the grease monkeys.”
I’d laughed, surprised at how easily the sound came. “I don’t, but I wanted to be. Just for a minute.”
We’d talked for almost twenty minutes that day. She hadn’t asked who my father was. Didn’t care about my last name or the circles I moved in. For the first time in my life, someone saw Hadley instead of my parents’ daughter.
That conversation had been the beginning of something I hadn’t known I was starving for—a friendship that wasn’t curated or shaped by expectations. A few nervous texts turned into late-night messages about races, then the invitation for tonight.
The memory faded as another sharp rev from the lineup yanked me back to the present. Jana’s car sat poised at the starting line now, and my fingers tightened on the concrete barrier.
Standing in the pit of an underground race felt like the biggest rebellion I had ever allowed myself. My parents would be horrified if they knew. They expected me to spend my evenings at charity galas. I was being groomed to marry well and look good on someone’s arm. But I was tired of thinking only in the ways they allowed.
The engines gave another collective growl, louder this time, and I leaned forward without realizing it, the vibration traveling up my arms. My pulse matched the rhythm. This was what I had been missing—the unpredictable part of me that had always whispered beneath the perfect manners and careful smiles.
There were shouts and whistles as the other drivers took their marks. Nitro shouted, urging Jana on. “Bring home the win!”
The race started, and the cars lurched forward. I joined in the cheering, hoping I'd get to see Jana cross the finish line first again. But there was a shriek of metal as they turned the far corner, and something slammed into the side of my head, right above my temple.
Pain flared, just enough to knock the breath out of me. I stumbled sideways, the world tilting as the roar of the engines suddenly muffled like I’d been shoved underwater.
My hand flew up on instinct, my fingers pressing against the spot that throbbed. When I pulled them away, they were slick. It took me a moment to realize it was blood. My vision swam, the floodlights blurring at the edges. I blinked hard, trying to steady myself, but the ground felt unsteady beneath my sneakers, and the noise of the crowd seemed to come from farther away than it should.
“Shit,” Nitro muttered.
I touched the spot again and winced at the fresh sting. The blood on my fingertips looked too dark under the harsh lights. My heart hammered against my ribs, loud in the sudden hush inside my own head.
I highly doubted they had skilled doctors at underground races, but I could really use one right now. Even if the injury wasn’t that bad, it needed to be looked at right away if I had any hope of it not leaving a scar I wouldn’t be able to hide from my parents.
2
CAGE
Break Point Run had that energy I’d always associated with race nights, with an electrified hum beneath my boots. It was a constant noise that felt more natural to me than silence.
Located just outside of Crossbend, Florida, the track was a smaller operation than some of Kane Beckett’s more prominent speedways, but it had a grit and intimacy that suited the underground racing circuit well. Our motorcycle club president’s empire included both pro and underground tracks, and Brake Point Run was often where the more unpolished talent came to prove themselves.
Tonight was one of those nights. The track was alive with the roar of powerful engines, crews shouting orders, and spectators cheering from the grandstands lining the oval track. The pit lane was chaotic, a swirl of mechanics hustling between cars and bikes, adjusting tire pressures and refueling under the glare of floodlights. The paddock area buzzed with anxious energy as teams prepared for the next heat, and the timing and scoring system flashed updates overhead.
I stood with a couple of my club brothers, my arms folded across my chest, and my boots planted firmly on the asphalt near our pit. As the Redline Kings MC’s doctor, I sometimes ran medical support at Kane’s events, ensuring drivers made it through their crashes with the same number of limbs they started with. Patching up wounds, resetting bones, and stabilizing concussions wasn’t glamorous work, but it was necessary.
Racing might be our world, but it was also dangerous as fuck, especially at these underground events. Guys pushed their machines beyond limits to prove themselves, and my job was picking up the pieces.
Crossbend, a small beach town just outside Tallahassee, was practically owned by Kane Beckett and the Redline Kings. Its streets were threaded with our influence and our people. This was our turf, and Brake Point Run was no exception.
I lifted my gaze, watching the cars coming around the far turn, their engines screaming as they fought for position. My brothers at my side shifted, calling out encouragement and insults alike, the easy camaraderie settling me further into the moment. Until my focus snagged on sudden motion at the edge of the track.
Debris launched into the air, an eruption of splintered metal and chunks of asphalt spiraling toward the sidelines in a deadly blur. My body reacted before my brain fully registered what was happening, my feet already pounding across the pavement, covering the distance with long strides. Shouts rippled behind me, panic flaring at the edges, but my vision narrowed, cutting through the crowd. White-hot adrenaline hit my veins, and the hum of engines faded out until the world narrowed down to the person who’d been hit. Instinct cleared my path, my presence enough to make people move out of my fucking way.
Reaching the barrier, I spotted her immediately. Her body was hunched over and shaking, one hand pressed to her head where blood slipped between her fingers. Then her legs buckled, and she went down. I surged forward, shoving aside someone reaching toward her, claiming her space with a growl that came from somewhere primal deep inside me. My knees hit the gravel hard as I dropped beside her, feeling the rough grind of dirt through denim, my breath already steadying as my focus sharpened.
I didn’t have to announce myself or demand attention, since authority was something I wore as naturally as my club’s cut. Anyone who’d thought to interfere backed off immediately, sensing the danger radiating off me as clearly as a storm rolling in from the sea. I was in my element, my instincts clicking into place with practiced ease.
My hand found the curve of her jaw, my fingers rough against her soft skin as I tilted her face up toward the harsh glare of the overhead floodlights. My heart fucking froze in place for one critical beat as her features registered. Then my gaze snagged on her eyes—dark green and deep enough to drown in, but a little cloudy from shock and confusion. For a second, I forgot to breathe, my pulse slamming against my ribs like a piston firing hard and fast.
She was stunning.
A little taller than average, she had a curvy figure beneath her clothes, feminine and undeniably alluring. Her dark-blond hair cascaded around her shoulders in loose, unruly waves, framing a face that made every thought in my head grind to a halt. It wasn’t carefully sculpted or perfectly contoured. Her features held a natural symmetry—a straight, delicate nose and lips just full enough to make my blood heat instantly. Her skin carried the faintest glow, sun-kissed from hours probably spent snatching time outside rather than lounging deliberately beneath the sun’s glare.
Awareness slammed into me, gut-punching me with an intensity that nearly stole my breath. A possessive thought rose in me, fierce and undeniable. Mine. The word echoed through my bones, settling deep and without argument.
I’d watched it happen to my brothers. Seen them fall, hard and fast, tumbling headlong into a possessiveness that defied logic and reason. I’d scoffed at them, sure it wasn’t something that could hit me the same way. But now, kneeling in the dirt, with my hand still gentle against her skin, I knew without a doubt that fighting this was fucking pointless.
Every nerve in my body had snapped to attention, tethering itself to her in a single, irrevocable instant. However, I didn’t have the luxury of doubting this moment, not when clarity had already landed in my chest. So I accepted it without hesitation, embracing the raw truth as my fingers tightened just slightly against the soft curve of her cheek. She was mine.
I didn’t waste any time, falling back on years of practiced assessment. She was the only thing that mattered right now.
“Name?” My voice stayed carefully controlled as I watched her closely, gauging her clarity and responsiveness.
She blinked slowly, those vivid green eyes clearing just a fraction as they met mine.
“Hadley,” she murmured softly, the word barely audible above the hum of engines still tearing around the track behind us.
“Last name?” I prompted, shifting slightly closer and feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips, her pulse steadying just a bit beneath my touch.
“Rivers,” she whispered, her eyes blinking slowly, trying to hold focus.
“Date?”
She answered automatically, her voice growing stronger with each response. Her pupils responded normally as she tracked my finger without prompting.
Good. She was holding steady.
I moved to the standard questions next—basic neurological checks, medical history, and anything that might clue me in on a deeper issue. But then I found myself adding in questions I didn’t really need the answers to. Personal ones. Small things that might tell me more about this woman who’d already burrowed under my skin in a way I hadn’t known was possible.
Hadley answered without hesitation, and strength built behind her eyes, a stubborn determination that refused to be shaken loose even by a piece of flying debris.
