by Laura Kaye
What a fucking epic mess. One he’d just made messier, no doubt.
Way to go, Kenyon.
So instead of doing what he wanted, he did what he had to. Rose to his feet, helped her up, and turned his back while she righted her clothes. He heard her hand rubbing over her skin, and peeked over his shoulder enough to see that she was trying to brush the sand off her legs and ass. Jesus, he really hadn’t given that much thought, had he? Which made him an even bigger prick.
“Sorry I got you all sandy,” he gritted out, regret at his thoughtlessness pushing its way to the fore.
“It’s just sand,” she said in a small voice. A voice that made him want to tell her how much he’d loved eating her to orgasm, that made him want to explain why he’d kept them from going further, that made him want to show her some tenderness instead of reinserting the distance between them he should’ve left there in the first place. “I’ll, uh, just get my shoes.”
Looking to his right, Dare watched her trail down the beach, feeling like he’d wrecked the beautiful thing that’d happened between them—and knowing that his lack of willpower where she was concerned posed a problem he couldn’t let go unaddressed for very much longer.
HAVEN’S HEAD WAS spinning, and not just from the most amazing orgasm she’d ever had—although that was certainly part of it. Even now, she couldn’t believe that Dare had shattered her to pieces with just his lips and his tongue. But he had, and it had been without question the most intimate moment of her life.
But then, somehow, it had all gone wrong. And Haven didn’t know what she felt most—embarrassment at what she’d let him do and how easily she’d given in to her desire to have him do it, hurt that he wouldn’t let her return the favor, or confusion about why his mood had changed so suddenly. Her heart rate had barely evened out before the shutters had come down over his eyes and face, hiding the hot, fierce desire he’d worn and taking him away from her.
And if all that wasn’t bad enough, she had sand in places you didn’t really want sand. It turned out that sex on a beach sounded more romantic than perhaps it was. Mark that one down as lesson learned.
Although Haven would’ve let herself be buried in sand from neck to toes if Dare would’ve let her explore him, please him, take him in her mouth. That was at least something she had a little experience with, as she’d done it with Zach a few times before her father had forced them apart.
She shook her head as she brushed the sand off her feet and slipped them back into her sneakers. Finished, she turned to find Dare standing behind her, a strange expression on his face.
“Is something the matter?” she asked.
For a split second, she saw the answer in his eyes, and then he glanced to the trail that led down to the parking lot. “We should head back.”
“Just tell me.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself against the feeling of dread settling over her body.
He stepped toward the trail, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he turned on his heel and stalked up to her. “You know what? Yeah. Something’s wrong. You lied to me.”
“What? When?” she asked, her mind racing, panic lancing through her veins.
“The fucking reward, Haven. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? Jesus.”
The words sucked all the oxygen out of the air. Instinctively, she stepped back, her chin down. “I was going to tell you,” she said, her response sounding as pathetic as it was.
“Oh, so you did know, then. How?” he asked, words clipped, tone full of disappointment.
Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. But no way was she letting them fall. “We heard the guys who held us talk about it.”
“You mean the ones who held you in the storage facility, the Church Gang?” he asked, and then he chuffed out a humorless laugh. “And this didn’t seem like information that you should maybe share with the people trying to keep you safe? Like, say, when I specifically asked you to tell me everything I needed to know?”
Suddenly, all the stress of the past weeks welled up inside her. The escape. The kidnapping. The rescuers they hadn’t known whether they could really trust. The uncertainty of it all. Haven forced her eyes to meet his, anger straightening her spine and making her stand taller. “It did. But it seemed equally like information that could be used against us. As that gang did. It seemed like information,” she said, taking a step forward to close the gap between them again, “that should be guarded until we knew for sure who we could trust.” Standing chest to chest with him, adrenaline shivered through her. “When we talked, I didn’t know if I could trust you, and—”
“And now?” he asked.
“You have to ask?” After everything she had told him, was it possible he didn’t realize how huge it was that she’d opened herself up to him the way she had? That making herself so vulnerable to him could only have happened if she trusted him—in a way she hadn’t trusted anyone in years?
“Yeah, I have to fucking ask.” He nailed her with a stare.
Which meant that despite how bare she’d laid herself open to him, Dare didn’t trust her. And that really freaking hurt, because of everything he and the Ravens were doing for her and Cora. Because she understood why he was mad, even if she thought she’d been justified—at least initially. And because Haven liked him. Really liked him. And wanted him to like her back. “Yeah, I trust you,” she said, forcing her eyes to stay up, to drink in the disappointment he was throwing off.
His jaw ticked like he was clenching his teeth, but finally he gave a tight nod. “Then I need you to not keep anything else from me.”
“Okay,” she said. Part of her wanted to say more—to explain, to defend, to fight—but she didn’t want to make things worse.
After a long moment, he cursed on a sigh and raked his hands through his hair. He paced away, then turned, his eyes flat, expression resigned. “You need to know that I’ve called a meeting of the club’s board to strategize how to deal with the existence of this reward.”
Her stomach dropped to the ground. “What does that mean?”
“It means we have to operate under the assumption that the Church Gang had time to contact your father and let him know you were in Baltimore,” he said, a hard edge slipping back into his tone. “And if that’s true, it means we have to assume that it’s possible for your father to learn what happened to you after the Churchmen lost possession of you.”
Fear had her heart racing and goose bumps rising over her skin. She pressed shaky fingers to her lips, her thoughts racing. Why had she never put it together like that? Why had she stayed put with the Ravens? What if her father or his goons were close, or closing in? “I can’t go back,” she whispered. But then her financial reality closed in on her—she’d stayed because she had absolutely no means of leaving, of running, of starting a new life somewhere far, far away.
“You’re not going back,” Dare said. “Ever.”
The conviction behind his words cut off the sharpest edges of her panic. “But I can’t stay here either. Can I?”
Oh, how a part of her longed for him to respond with the same fierce conviction. But he only said, “Well, that’s part of what we need to discuss.”
It made sense, but it also made her feel like she was losing the one safe place she’d ever found. She’d always known the Ravens wouldn’t let her and Cora just live there forever, but she hadn’t thought her time there would be over so fast, either.
She heaved a deep breath, stuffing all the hurt and regret and sadness down. Burying it deep. Pretending it wasn’t there at all. She had a lot of experience doing that, after all—when you’d lived the life she had, willfully ignoring all the things that could most hurt you became a survival skill. Something that you needed in order to pull yourself out of bed in the morning, to put one step in front of the other through the day, to not go crazy as the darkness of another night closed in on you.
“Then I guess you’re right,” she said. “We should get back. I don’t
want to make things any worse than they already are.”
CHAPTER 13
Dare didn’t know which was worse—the desolation that had put out the light in Haven’s eyes during his conversation with her back at the lake, or the expressions on his brothers’ faces as he’d brought them up to speed regarding Haven and the reward. Both left him feeling like somehow he’d fucked things up and, no matter what, was letting someone down.
And the fact that not letting Haven down ranked anywhere close to not letting his fellow Ravens down? That said something. What, exactly, he wasn’t sure. Or maybe he just didn’t want to probe it too closely.
“This changes a helluva lot,” Maverick said, concern furrowing his brow. “I think we gotta assume that the threat is imminent. Which means we can either sit here and wait for it to come to us, or we can neutralize it by going on the offense or setting up the women with new lives far away from here. Which protects them and us.”
“Going on the offense isn’t really our style,” Doc said, concern deepening the lines on his weathered face. “And do we really think the club is up for waging war on some far-off crime family within weeks of what went down in Baltimore?”
Dare heaved a deep breath. Doc was right on both counts—the Ravens didn’t object to violence and even lethal intent in the name of defending their own, but they tried like hell not to be the ones to start shit or to create unnecessary enemies. It was part of what made them different from the Diablos.
Caine’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his brothers seated around the big meeting table. “Procuring quality documents and making all the necessary arrangements will take the better part of two weeks. Ten days at best. So it’s not really an either-or scenario. We need to plan for the threat and figure out what comes next for Cora and Haven.”
Nods and low words of agreement rumbled around the table.
Purchasing new identities wasn’t something they did often, but they had done it a handful of times over the years in the most dire cases, when the system failed a client altogether and their safety couldn’t be secured any other way. The thought of this as one solution had crossed Dare’s mind, too. But he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit it fucking hurt in unexpected places to think of Haven becoming someone new, someone he couldn’t know or see or touch. Ever again.
Probably made him a selfish bastard, especially after the way he’d jumped all over her back at the lake, but that didn’t make it any less true. Not to mention, a new burr had settled itself under his saddle on the torturous ride back to the compound—he’d gone on the attack over her lie of omission, and he still felt some justification in that, despite the fact that part of him had understood her rationale for holding out on him. But at the same time, he was keeping something from her now, too. That he knew about her notebook. That he’d read it. That part of his behavior today had been about wanting to help her check things off her list—wanting it to be him, specifically, to give her those experiences.
Yet he hadn’t admitted any of that. Which made him a goddamned hypocrite, didn’t it?
All the more reason it was probably better for Haven—and for all the people he was supposed to be taking care of—if she was gone and Dare got his head screwed back on right again.
Because right now, he was fucked.
“In the meantime, the two of them shouldn’t go out in public without at least two of us with them,” Phoenix said, his hand scrubbing over the scar from a knife fight that had nearly taken his eye. “Actually, trips into public should be limited period. Oh, and I hate to say it, but Haven’s hair is too fucking unique. You should probably have her change it.” Phoenix directed those words to Dare, as if he held some special sway over the woman—which meant his brothers were probably keyed in that something was going on between him and their client. Fantastic.
Dare worked to keep his expression a careful neutral at the thought of making her change one of his favorite things about her, of making her change at all. Given how she’d lived these past years, how she’d been forced to play a role for so long, he hated that he was going to have to ask her to do it again.
Dare just nodded, knowing the precautions Phoenix suggested made good sense. “I should have images of Randall and some of his known associates tonight or tomorrow,” he said. “As soon as I do, I’ll shoot them around. Phoenix, let’s get them into the hands of our contacts to see if anyone’s seen these assholes in our backyard.”
“You got it,” Phoenix said.
Thoughts of the photos brought a new idea to mind. “Meanwhile, I’ll put in a call to the guys over at Hard Ink and see what help they might be able to offer.” During the weeks they’d worked together, Dare had seen enough of the former Special Forces soldiers’ investigational techniques, computer savvy, and willingness to stray to the wrong side of the law if it meant achieving a greater good to know their help might be invaluable. Anyway, they owed the Ravens. And this was as good a reason as any to call in some favors.
“We’re not thinking this sitch should cancel next Friday’s race, are we?” Jagger asked, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table.
“Shit,” Dare said. He really didn’t want them going without their racing income for yet another week. They’d already lost a month’s worth of betting and other racing revenues, and they faced expensive identity, relocation, and setup expenses for Haven and Cora, on top of the relocation and setup expenses they’d just absorbed for the client they’d moved to Pennsylvania. The Ravens made good bank from their various businesses, and they weren’t hurting for money. But that stemmed in part from the fact that they were judicious in managing everything they brought in. They might wear leather and denim and care fuck-all for authority, but that didn’t mean they weren’t good businessmen. “Not unless we have specific intelligence that necessitates doing so.”
Jagger nodded. “Well maybe you should ask Nick and his guys to come provide extra security at the event while you’re at it. If we’re gonna open the compound up to the public, it wouldn’t hurt to have more boots and guns on the ground. And they obviously know how to handle themselves.”
“Will do,” Dare said. “Otherwise, the threat level is officially set at high, which means we’re instituting watch rotations beginning immediately.” Over the years, they’d put routines and protocols into place whenever high-profile targets resided on the compound—to keep their clients and themselves safe. A high threat level meant constant manning of their security camera feeds, concealed carry of weapons by all club members, and twenty-four/seven on-compound watch rotations, among other things. “Anyone gets any news, get in touch with me day or night. I don’t care what time it is. All in favor of this plan?”
Every hand around the table rose.
Dare nodded, his gut knowing sending Haven and Cora away was for the best for everyone involved, but his heart regretting the decision more than he wanted to admit. “Let’s get it done, then.”
Having been quiet for most of the meeting, Doc sat forward in his chair, a serious, contemplative expression on his aging face. “This right here is why we do what we do,” he said, meeting each of the men’s eyes. “Because there are people who imprison their kids, treat them as if they’re no more than assets in a business deal, and put rewards out on their heads that make them vulnerable to every kind of low-life scum. You make me proud of what we do here, of each and every one of you.”
Doc’s gaze met and held Dare’s, and he knew that the older man was thinking in part of his own son, Dare’s father. Doc hadn’t said anything about it in years, but Dare knew it weighed on his grandfather that Butch Kenyon had become so corrupt, so morally bankrupt, so selfish and arrogant and downright fucking evil. Doc felt responsible for the way his son had turned out, and, alongside the shit Bunny had gone through in her first marriage to Maverick’s father, it had long ago cemented his grandfather’s commitment to their protective mission.
Dare’s, too.
The meeting broke up after that, although
most of the guys hung around to brainstorm or put plans into place or just shoot the shit.
Two bangs on the door, and then it flew open. Blake stood in the breach, turning Dare’s already dark mood black. Prospects didn’t belong in Church. Ever. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m sorry,” Blake said. “But we’ve got a situation.” The guy’s serious gaze cut to Maverick. “Alexa’s here. It’s bad.”
Oh, shit. Alexa Harmon, the only woman Maverick had ever been serious about. Who chose another man over him.
His easygoing demeanor immediately gone, Maverick bolted across the room. “Where is she?”
Dare and a few others followed Blake and Maverick as they rushed through the clubhouse to the kitchen, where they found a bruised, bloodied, and very shaken-up Alexa sitting at the kitchen table. Haven crouched down next to her, embracing the other woman in her arms.
“It’ll be okay now,” Haven said. “The Ravens will take care of you. I promise.”
If the picture of Haven offering a total stranger such compassion didn’t reach into Dare’s chest and fuck with his heart, her words certainly did. And they also made him feel like an even bigger pile of shit for doubting her trust back at the lake, because he’d seen how his doubt had cut her deep.
Alexa and Haven both looked up at the same time at the group of men pushing into the kitchen.
Oh, hell, Dare thought, scanning Alexa’s battered face. Maverick had been a teenager when his parents’ marriage imploded, which meant he’d been old enough to see Bunny’s face look like that more than once, so Dare knew what this must be doing to the guy.
“Jesus,” Maverick bit out, taking a knee in front of where Alexa sat. “What the hell happened?” he asked. He reached out as if to touch the cut on her lip but stopped just shy of doing so. Haven stood, giving Mav room to get right up into his woman’s space. Well, in his mind she was his, anyway. Alexa had always seemed to resist the chemistry clearly brewing between them, and the way that cut at his cousin had often left Dare feeling a flicker of resentment toward her, truth be told.
