“You gonna sit?” he asked, lowering himself into the ancient black leather office chair.
She shook her head. “I’d rather stand,” she said. Nervously, she glanced around the room. Files, papers, and odd dog-on-motorcycle knickknacks cluttered his desk, while bike-related signs and posters filled the walls. The window over his shoulder looked out onto the clubhouse’s back porch and let in the warm breeze and the birdcalls she enjoyed so much when she sat outside.
Just another thing she would miss.
“Okay,” he said, rising again and coming around to the near side of the desk. He rested his butt against its edge and crossed his arms over his chest, his position mirroring hers. “So, the club’s come up with a plan to keep you safe.”
Obviously, that was a good thing, except then why did it make her stomach drop to the floor? “Which is?” she asked, meeting Dare’s serious gaze.
“For the long term, we think it probably makes sense to relocate you and Cora and set the both of you up with brand-new, foolproof identities. That includes everything—birth certificates, Social Security numbers, driver’s licenses, and the like.”
Haven’s brain raced at all the implications—living somewhere new, having a new name, stepping into a whole new life. Given the likelihood that her father would never stop looking for her, it made sense. But it also settled a dull ache in the center of her chest. Because it meant she’d never really be able to stop watching and waiting and worrying that he might only be a half step behind her.
Changing her name also meant losing her only real connection to her mother, who Haven knew had picked it because her father told her that every time he told her how stupid it was. Because her mother had left while Haven had still been in diapers, Haven had no firsthand memories of the woman. But even though it had hurt for a long time that her mother had abandoned her, Haven also couldn’t help but feel some small sympathy for a woman who had maybe hoped her baby would provide a safe haven in an otherwise bad life. Apparently, it hadn’t worked.
Blinking out of her thoughts, Haven said, “Um, maybe I should go get Cora for this.” What would her reaction to all this be? Haven already felt bad that her problems came with such enormous consequences for the best friend she ever had.
Dare reached out a hand as if to stop her, even though she hadn’t actually moved. “I’ll talk to her, too. But there’s more I need to tell you.”
“Okay,” she said, head spinning. And then something occurred to her that made her totally nauseous. “Dare, I don’t have any way to pay for something like that. Like, I literally have nothing.” A shiver of panic raced over her skin, and the words rushed out of her. “I don’t even know how I—”
“No,” he said. Dare was in front of her in an instant, his hands gently grasping her by the arms. Heat shot from his touch into her face, her breasts, her belly. “I know that, Haven, and this is on us, not you.”
She blinked, overwhelmed by his words, his closeness, the longing she felt for him. “Why?”
Shadows passed behind his eyes, shadows that Haven didn’t understand. “It’s what we do.”
“But why?” she asked again. Without knowing, it was so much harder to believe that he and the Ravens would do so much for someone they knew so little and owed even less.
Dare released her and stepped back, and there was that distance again. Physical and emotional. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “It’s just what we do,” he said. “I told you that from the very start.”
He was right. Haven remembered the conversation they’d had in the lounge the night she’d first met Dare. Intellectually, she knew that had only taken place a week before, but for some reason it felt like she’d lived a whole lifetime since first meeting Dare Kenyon.
“Okay,” she said. “What else do you need to tell me then?” She wasn’t sure how anything else could possibly be as big as pretending to be someone you weren’t—for the rest of your life. But something about the way Dare wasn’t quite meeting her eyes made her instincts jangle. Whatever it was might not be as big as all that, but it was still big enough.
“While you’re still here, you can’t go out in public. At least, not without having a few of us with you.”
That news made her nausea even worse. She’d gotten free of her father’s house, only to . . . what? Be imprisoned elsewhere? Be imprisoned by her past? Be imprisoned by fear, forever?
“It’s not what you think,” Dare said, his brow furrowing as he peered down at her. “It’s just for your safety.”