He had more immediate things to think about anyway. Dare couldn’t stop running through the events of the day in his mind, looking for things he’d forgotten, searching for other things he could yet do. This morning, Church had gone smooth as glass despite the buzz of adrenaline in the air. Everyone was on the same page where handling the Randall threat was concerned. Everyone was ready to do what they had to do—including to the Iron Cross, when that day came.
Jagger delivered the good news that the sheriff’s office was on board, which was a relief given that the Ravens walked a very fine line in their relationship with them—sometimes helping them out under the table with things the law couldn’t, and asking for a little looking the other way in return where the Ravens’ business practices were concerned. And, after apparently applying some pressure where it counted, Caine had delivered the even better news that the paperwork would be ready before race time on Friday evening—later than they wanted, but still in time to put Dare’s plan into place.
Just as they rolled back into the compound, Dare’s cell rang. He parked and killed the engine. “Yeah?”
“Dare. Nick Rixey here.”
“Nick, how’s it hanging?” Dare said, swinging his tired ass off his bike. He’d e-mailed the details of the new situation to the Hard Ink guys the night before.
“Better for me than for you, my man. Which is why I was calling. We wondered if you’d like us to come over tonight. Just to help strategize and put more men on the ground leading into tomorrow.”
“Shit, yeah,” Dare said, absolutely eager for anything that contributed to his people’s safety. And with their skills and their willingness to do what needed to be done, the Hard Ink team was fucking gold where that was concerned. “I appreciate the hell out of the offer.”
Maverick dismounted his bike and gave Dare a questioning look. Dare held up a hand, asking him to hang on.
“It’s the least we could do. Just a heads-up—it’s just the five of us from the team coming. We’ll reschedule the social visit for another time,” Nick said.
Dare nodded. He’d have made the same call. “Makes sense. We’ll have eats when you get here.”
“Sounds good,” Nick said. “We’ll shoot for six if the traffic’s not too bad.”
“That’ll work. Ride safe,” Dare said. They hung up.
“What was that about?” Maverick asked. The guy looked about as tired as Dare felt. Dare knew the deep lines on Maverick’s face were worry for the club, but also worry for Alexa, too. Alexa, who Mav couldn’t watch over the way he wanted, with all this chaos whirling around them. And didn’t that hammer home Dare’s own thoughts about Haven.
“Nick and his team are coming tonight,” Dare said.
“Damn if it isn’t nice to have a little good news.” Maverick started up the steps into the clubhouse.
Dare followed, intent on throwing his boots up on his desk and catching a little shut-eye while he could. “Yes it is, brother. Yes, it is.”
Two hours later, Nick was good to his word. The Hard Ink team rolled into the compound a little after six, and their arrival bolstered the spirits of the group rotating in for food at that moment—because you were always stronger fighting with someone at your back than going it alone. Which was the point of their MC in the first place, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t good to have friends on the outside, too.
Dare met the group of men as they got out of their cars and unloaded bags of gear. “Nick, good to see you,” Dare said, hand extended.
Nick tugged off his dark sunglasses as they shook. “You, too. Been a while since I’ve been out.”
“We’ll do it up right another time,” Dare said, moving on to shake the other guys’ hands—Shane, Easy, Marz, and Beckett each offered words of support. Maverick and Phoenix made the rounds of greetings right behind him.
“What was this place?” Shane asked, looking up at the clubhouse.
“The Green Valley Inn and Resort, built when the racetrack first went up,” Dare said. “My grandfather inherited it and kept the land after the business folded. Made the perfect home for the club as it started to grow.” He led them across the lot. “Come on in.”
Inside, Dare led them from the front lounge into the mess hall, where a dozen Ravens sat around the table eating dinner on the fly before heading out to relieve others on guard duty. Having worked together for several long weeks in Baltimore, introductions weren’t needed, but a hearty round of greetings went around the room as their friends settled in at the table.
“Dig in,” Dare said, taking his seat at the end.
“And here I thought we’ve been packing away a lot of food,” Marz said, piling meatballs onto a roll. “You always have this many people here?”
“This clubhouse is every member’s second home, so the door’s always open at mealtime. Usually busier on the weekends than weekdays,” Dare said.
Marz nodded. “I respect the hell out of that idea. Meals bring people together.”
“You just fucking like to eat,” Beckett said in a gruff voice, amusement clear in the crinkling around his eyes, even despite the scars he wore around one.