Dare woke up the screen on his cell. 8:35 A.M. It was too early for all this bullshit. He ought to rain some hell down on these Iron Cross bastards just for making him leave his bed the first time he’d ever brought Haven to it. “Okay,” Dare said, blowing out a breath. Then Phoenix got a funny expression on his face Dare couldn’t figure out. “What’s with the face?”
Phoenix’s lips slid into a smirking grin. “Cora said Haven spent the night at your house.”
“What is this, fucking high school?” Dare asked. Last night, he’d called Bunny to let her know Haven was staying at his place so that no one worried, so he knew at least some of these idiots would find out.
“You really have to ask?” Maverick said, doing a piss-poor job of restraining his own amusement. “Come on, spill.”
“Nothing to spill. I was going to take her swimming. We got caught in the storm, so we holed up at my place and just ended up staying there.” Dare booted up his computer, wanting to see if Marz had shot him any other information this morning while he’d been so busy digging up intel on the Iron Cross.
“Uh-huh,” Maverick said. “And the last time a woman spent the night at your place was . . .” He leaned forward, as if hanging on the edge of Dare’s words. Words Dare had no intentions of giving him.
“None of your damn business,” Dare said, eyes on the computer monitor, his fingers moving over the keys.
“Look, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Maverick said, his tone suddenly more reserved. “We were just thinking that if you’re serious about this girl, maybe we find a plan B that doesn’t involve sending her away.”
Fuck if that didn’t cut too close to where his own thoughts kept straying. But all the plan Bs were shit compared to the certainty of safety—for both the women and his club—that would come from new identities and relocation. Especially if the Iron Cross knew the details about Haven and the reward, the way they’d learned about the Ravens’ gun inventory.
“I don’t need you all playing what-ifs with my life or worrying about who gets my dick wet,” he said, his voice rising with the pent-up frustration he felt. “I’m not fucking serious about Haven, okay? She’s just a client like every other client. Nothing more. So drop it. She’s leav ing, just like we planned, just like the club voted. It’ll be better for everyone when she’s gone.” Better for her, better for the club—or, safer, at least. And safe was the bare minimum he owed everybody. Still, his words were filled with half-truths and outright lies, each and every one of which tasted like ash on his tongue. But maybe if he said them out loud, he’d have a chance in hell of believing them himself. Last thing he wanted was his brothers thinking he was distracted by a woman just as the club was facing off against a new threat.
A creak on the hall floorboards and a quiet knock on the door.
“What?” Dare yelled, annoyance clear in his voice.
The door eased open. And there stood Haven with a plate in her hand. Wearing another Harley T-shirt she’d borrowed from him this morning with that pair of jeans he loved on her so much. Her face absolutely ashen. “Bunny saved you some breakfast,” she said, her voice small.
Dare wanted to smash the plate over his own head. Because everything about her demeanor right now suggested she’d overheard what he’d just said. “Thanks,” he said, willing her to meet his gaze as she settled the plate on the corner of his desk. She wouldn’t.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, quickly backing out of the room.
Dare rose. “Haven—”
“It’s okay,” she said, closing the door. All the way this time.
“Fuck,” Dare said. He stepped toward the door, torn between the business they needed to get done and going after the woman he’d just wronged in a fucking horrible way. And that was when he noticed the plate—along with the bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast sat two peanut butter cookies. He sagged against the wall and dug his hand into his hair.
“Go make that shit right,” Mav said.
He wanted to. Fuck how he wanted to. But Phoenix needed to place his call in less than ten minutes. And this arms deal was the most important thing right now. Or it should be. No, it was. For all the Ravens’ sake, this shit needed to go down perfectly. Which meant Dare needed to get his priorities straight and his head screwed on right.
Gut in a goddamned knot, he threw the entire plate in the trash. “Eyes on the prize, Maverick. Got it? Now, Phoenix, place the fucking call.”
DARE DIDN’T THINK they’d be here again so soon—at the Hard Ink Tattoo building in downtown Baltimore. It was a big, red-brick monster of a building that had clearly been some kind of old warehouse or factory back when Baltimore still had a decent industrial sector. Once L-shaped, only the long side of the L remained, the short side having been destroyed when the Hard Ink team’s enemies had attacked them a few weeks before, killing two of the Ravens’ own.