by Laura Kaye
“So you need someone to spend the night at your place with them?” Haven asked.
“Yeah,” Slider said.
“Well, maybe we could do that, too.” She looked at Cora, not wanting to volunteer her friend for something she didn’t want to do.
“It’s not like we’re doing anything else,” Cora said. Haven smiled, knowing she’d be game for it. “Do you live nearby?”
“’Bout ten minutes from here,” Slider said, some of the concern bleeding from his expression.
Maverick came into the room behind Slider and the boys. “Yo, my main men,” Mav said, doing some kind of funny handshake with Ben, who gave him a big grin. He turned to Sam next and held out his hand. “Don’t hold out on me now.”
Sam did the handshake, too, although it was clear the kid was humoring him. Both boys looked at Maverick like they idolized him, and it made Haven realize what a community all these people were to each other. A community she would’ve loved to have been a part of.
“How you been, Slider?” Maverick asked, moving to the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water.
“Same old,” the other man said. His gaze shifted back to Haven. “So, uh, you two would really do this?”
Haven nodded. “If you’re comfortable with it, I’d be happy to. We’d just need to grab some stuff for the night.” Beside her, Cora nodded.
Maverick frowned. “Do what?”
“Watch the boys at my place tonight,” Slider said. “I’m in a jam.”
“Would that be okay?” Haven asked, looking at Maverick. “We won’t go anywhere else.” She knew the Ravens didn’t want her and Cora going out in public, but they would hardly be doing that staying at Slider’s house for a night.
“I don’t see why not,” Maverick said after a moment. “Let me just grab you some phone numbers in case you need any of us.” He leaned toward the counter and snagged a crumb of corn bread off the platter with a wink, and then he left.
Haven walked over to the boys. “I’m Haven. Do you guys like chili? Should I pack us up some dinner to take to your place?” She glanced up at their father, who was watching her with a strange expression on his face.
“I love chili,” Ben said, grinning up at her. “I’m Ben. I’m six.”
“I’m Sam,” the older boy said. “Chili would be great.”
Cora stepped up beside them and introduced herself, too. “Why don’t you pack the food and I’ll throw an overnight bag together for us?”
“Sounds good,” Haven said. “Should I pack some for you, Slider?”
“No,” the man said, an air of impatience hanging around him.
“Okay. I’ll be quick and then we can go.” Haven busied herself by spooning chili from the massive Crock-Pot on the counter into plastic bowls, and then she wrapped up four pieces of her corn bread for them, too. Though Haven had made it, the chili had been Bunny’s idea, because it was apparently Rodeo’s favorite dish. Cora returned just as Haven found a brown paper bag in which to carry the food.
“Ready?” Slider asked.
“Yes, all done,” Haven said, scooping the bag into her arms. “I should just find Maverick for that list of phone numbers.” She didn’t have to look far. Maverick found them in the big front lounge. And then they were heading out to Slider’s pickup truck.
“Climb in the back, guys,” he said to the boys. “Sorry the ride isn’t nicer.”
“It’s no problem,” Haven said, wanting to put him at ease. There was just such an aura of heaviness around the man. She hated to think what might’ve put it there. She and Cora rounded the back of the truck.
“You guys have any games?” Cora asked the boys.
“We have lots of games,” Ben said, grinning at her as he climbed in the truck bed, Sam helping him.
“And do you mind getting beat by a girl?” she asked, smiling at them.
Both boys broke into a stream of taunts and laughter as Cora took the middle seat in the cab and Haven hopped in after her. The boys tapped on the glass, clearly still reacting to Cora’s throw-down, though Haven couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“Now we gotta make good on that threat,” Haven said, elbowing Cora.
“I know, right?” Cora said.
“The boys love to play games,” Slider said in a quiet voice as he backed out of the space. “So, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Cora said. “Really, we’ve just been hanging around for a couple weeks, so this will be a nice change of pace.”
He nodded and headed out of the parking lot. And Haven decided that Cora was right. It would be good to get away from the clubhouse for a little while. At least she’d have a night when she wouldn’t have to worry about steering clear of Dare, although it wasn’t like he’d come looking for her, either. Which was just as well, because she couldn’t decide what would be worse—him trying to explain what he’d said or offering no explanation at all.
Now maybe she wouldn’t have to find out.
TIRED FROM A day of doing maintenance down at the track, Dare and Jagger came into the clubhouse to find a handful of people around one of the tables in the mess hall.
“Aw, something smells fantastic,” Dare said, clapping Maverick on the shoulder where he sat. “What’s cooking?”
“Chili and corn bread,” Maverick said. “Good, too. Better hurry before there’s none left.”
“You bastards better have saved us some,” Jagger said to a round of laughter and gibes.
In the kitchen, Dare loaded his bowl up with chili, sour cream, tomatoes, and cheese, then grabbed himself two big squares of corn bread—which he couldn’t help but wonder if Haven had made. Where was she, anyway? He’d barely seen her since she’d brought him breakfast the morning before. And like a fucking coward, he hadn’t been particularly searching her out, either. Anything he might say at this point would just cause even more of a problem. He could tell her he hadn’t meant it, but then he was admitting he did have feelings, which made no sense when he was sending her away. Or he could tell her he’d meant it but was sorry she’d heard him say it, which just made him an asshole all over again.
Lose-lose all the way around.
For fuck’s sake.
“Think this new dust suppressant will be worth it?” Jagger asked, piling up his own bowl next to him.
They’d invested in a new treatment for the surface of their racetrack, one that promised to control dust, which made things safer for the drivers and more enjoyable for the fans. Some days, Dare could hardly believe how much he’d learned about racing and racetracks over the years. “We’ll know Friday night,” he said. “But it looks like it has potential, and if it works, it’s gonna save us a shit-ton of money. So good on you for finding it.”
“Thanks,” Jagger said. “You know that track’s my baby.” Responsible for managing the maintenance and operation of the track, Jagger was one of a handful of Ravens who the club paid full-time for their services. The guy lived and breathed that racetrack and did a helluva job for the club.
Out in the mess hall, they dropped into seats at the table. “I’m surprised you aren’t staking out Alexa’s place,” Dare said to Maverick.
“She has a class on Tuesday nights,” he said. “I’ll head there later.”
Dare didn’t comment on how well Maverick knew her schedule. “You been seeing anything when you’ve been over there?” he asked, knowing Mav had been spending all the time he could keeping an eye on her place the past few days.
“No,” Maverick said, his expression dark.
“Well, no news is good news.” Dare dug into his chili, which was spicy, thick, and full of flavor.
“Or it’s just no news,” his cousin said, shoving up from the table, empty bowl in his hand. He returned a few minutes later with a second helping. “Gonna miss Haven’s cooking when she’s gone.”
The comment lodged a big ball of regret in the center of Dare’s chest. Because he was going to miss a helluva lot more than that about her. F
or that matter, all the Ravens were going to miss her. Word had gotten out that all the sweets and some of the meals they’d been raving over the past few weeks were hers, and she had more than a few die-hard fans as a result. The Ravens might be hard asses, but they weren’t complicated. Loyalty. Good lovin’. Good food. All of these were direct routes to a man’s heart around here.
Certainly to his.
Which, fuck.
“Where is she, anyway?” Dare asked, hating the idea that what he’d said had driven her back to the solitariness of her room again. Just when she’d been coming out of her shell.
“At Slider’s.” Maverick ate a big spoonful.
Dare’s gaze snapped up. “What?”
“She’s at Slider’s house,” Maverick said.
“What the fuck is she doing at Slider’s house?” Dare asked, something dark and needy rising up in his chest.
Maverick’s brow arched in an expression full of chill the fuck out. “She’s babysitting Sam and Ben. Cora’s with her. Slider was in a bind, and I told them they could go. They’ll spend the night there and be back tomorrow.”
Dare didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t like that she was out there on her own. He didn’t like that she was at another man’s house. And he didn’t like the useless feelings of protectiveness and possessiveness welling up inside him. Because if he felt like this when she was temporarily ten minutes away, how the hell was he gonna feel when she and Cora were permanently relocated—and out of touch—seven states away?
And he sure as fuck didn’t like how Maverick was looking at him, like he knew exactly where Dare’s head was right now.
Four hours later, every one of those feelings had grown stronger until Dare was a ball of goddamned restlessness sitting at his desk. Despite the fact that he’d been parked there for a while, the pile of contracts he was supposed to be reading and signing hadn’t gotten any smaller, because he couldn’t concentrate worth shit.
Missouri. That’s where Caine’s contact would be setting up Haven and Cora with a whole new life. The logistics message had come in after dinner and distracted the hell out of Dare ever since.
All of which was why, within another hour, he found himself standing sentinel in the darkness outside of Slider’s two-story white house, Dare’s bike parked along the side of the road in the shadows of a big tree. Out of sight but close enough that he could see silhouettes move past the lit windows. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Including his damn head, now that he knew Haven was just fine. Thank you very much.
Christ, he was fucked six ways from Sunday, wasn’t he?
The porch lights cast a golden glow over the barren flowerbeds that lined the front of the house and the badly faded wreath that hung on the front door. Both spoke to the loss this house, this family, had suffered. After Slider’s wife had died, that once colorful garden never saw another flower, and the springtime wreath she’d hung had never been changed. It was like the house was frozen in time, or slowly but surely decaying under the weight of that loss—a description that equally fit the man who lived inside, too.
Standing there in the dark, Dare realized for the first time how much Slider’s grief weighed on his own shoulders. Because he loved the guy like a brother and couldn’t do a goddamned thing to make it better, to fix what was broken, or to help ease the guy’s burden. Even if just a little.
And yet here was Haven, helping Slider. Finding a way to lighten his load. Helping someone she barely knew just because she could. Helping his brother in a moment of need, when she wasn’t in the best of places herself. And the thing was, she wouldn’t even know how meaningful helping Slider was. But Dare did, and the generosity and selflessness of her actions reached inside his chest and made things ache like a motherfuck. Gratitude, admiration, respect—he felt all of these for her. But that wasn’t all, not by a long shot.
Around one o’clock, the house went dark. Dare kept telling himself he’d go in another five minutes, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Which was why he was still there when the living room lights came on a little after three. Instinct told him that it was Haven who was in there awake and moving around. She’d told him she wasn’t a very good sleeper, and he knew enough about what her life had been now to know exactly why. And hell if he didn’t want to be the one who helped her finally find enough peace and security to give in to the pull and vulnerability of sleep.
That thought in his head, it took everything he had not to go knock on the door, but the last thing he wanted to do was scare her—or say something that would just make everything that much more complicated. And given how many times he’d taken her the night they’d stayed at his house, it was also crystal clear that he couldn’t keep his hands off of her either. So he kept his ass planted in the shadows, just standing watch because his mind wouldn’t let him do anything else.
And, truth be told, neither would his heart.
CHAPTER 25
Dare cleared out of Slider’s place before the guy came home from the towing company’s night shift. He didn’t want Slider to think there was any reason he couldn’t count on the women to take care of the boys on their own, nor did he want to explain to anyone why he felt the need to watch over them. Or, at least, over one of them.
Not having slept, the morning air rushing over his skin helped revive him, but what he really needed was a major infusion of caffeine and a belly full of sugar to jump-start his day. So he passed by the fast-food joints and the chichi coffeehouses on the strip leading into Frederick and made his way to his favorite local hole-in-the-wall—Dutch’s. Renowned for its breakfasts, it was only open for breakfast and lunch, mostly because Dutch said he was too old to stand on his feet through a dinner service, too.
Dare found a parking spot on one of Frederick’s quaint downtown streets and made his way to the corner shop. Dutch’s was a long, narrow place in the first floor of an old brick building. From the long Formica counter with its spinning stools to the big red-and-white booths to the jukebox on the wall, the interior was all old-time diner, though the restaurant had been there so long that it had probably seemed modern at some point.
“Dare Kenyon,” came a booming voice. Dutch Henderson was already settling a mug and pouring a cup of coffee at one of the stools. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
Dare shook the older man’s brown hand. Despite the fact that he tasted everything he made, Dutch was tall and thin, and the only thing that had changed on him in all the years Dare had known him was the color of his hair, from black to gray. “Been a crazy couple weeks, too,” Dare said. “How’s business?”
“Good, good. I’m just trying to keep up,” Dutch said. “Getting my hip replaced next month. Can’t put it off no more.”
“Damn, I’m sorry to hear that. But you’ll be good as new in no time,” Dare said, taking a sip of the strong, hot coffee. Fucking perfect.
“The usual?” Dutch asked. He knew pretty much everyone in town and remembered what they liked to order, too.
“You know it,” Dare said. While he waited for his food, he flipped through some e-mails and was pleasantly surprised to find a message from Marz detailing the vehicle registrations for Rhett Randall and all his men. Today was looking up already. He forwarded the info on to the club with a note to be on the lookout.
Then his gaze snagged on the dessert case. Dare slid off his stool and perused the small selection of sweets, thinking about all the things that Haven had made or talked about making. This was the kind of thing she needed to do with her life. Wherever they set her up, maybe he could look into finding her a place to open up a shop of her own.
“See something you want to try, hon?” one of the waitresses asked.
No was right on the tip of his tongue. “You know what, give me a chocolate chip and a peanut butter cookie,” he said, making his way back to his seat.
“Here you go,” the woman said, settling a plate in front of him.
Dare gave her a nod and picked up the pean
ut butter. Took a bite. It was decent. Before today, he might’ve thought it was good. Except Haven’s fucking cookies were better. Richer in flavor, moister, and hers had chips, too. Same with the chocolate chip cookie. These were okay, but given how Haven’s treats tasted, these could be better. Her talent made Dare proud of her, it really did.
It also cemented in Dare’s mind that she had to have a chance to do this thing she was so good at. And if he helped her get started at it, maybe she would remember him for something more than the shit she’d overheard him saying the other morning. It shouldn’t matter to him, but it did.
Because Haven mattered to him.
Dutch placed a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and home fries in front of him. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, Dutch.” Dare dug into the grub, every bite making him feel a little more human. At some point, that night of no sleep was going to catch up to him, but for now, this would see him through.
“Green Valley opens back up this week, right?” Dutch asked, refilling coffee for a couple of customers farther down the counter.
“That’s right,” Dare said.
“Good. You know we missed it,” Dutch said. The Ravens’ races put money into other parts of Frederick—out-of-towners booked hotel rooms, ate in the restaurants, and did some sightseeing while they were here. The club hired locals to work the races, too—parking, concessions, and janitorial were all farmed out. Put all that together with the Ravens’ mission to protect, and it was easy to see why the club got on well with the town and had the support of the business community most of the time. Dare made it a point for the Raven Riders to get along whenever he possibly could. It was good for business all the way around, particularly given that some of their business was a few shades shy of legal.
