“We’ve got a problem.”
Phoenix’s words were still ringing in Dare’s ears as he led Haven into the clubhouse, their stolen night together feeling like way too distant a memory even though he could still smell her on his skin.
“I hope everything’s okay,” Haven said when they got inside.
“Me too,” he said. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, when what he really wanted was to push her against the wall and devour her. One more time. “I’ll see ya later.”
She nodded, and he hated the uncertainty in her expression. But he couldn’t blame her for it.
He found Maverick and Phoenix in his office waiting for him, both of them wearing troubled, agitated expressions. “Happy fucking Monday morning,” Dare said as he pushed the door mostly shut and dropped into the chair at his desk.
“Yeah,” Phoenix said. “That about sums this up. Got two calls this morning. One from Marz and one from the Iron Cross. The two confirmed one basic point—refugees from the Church Gang are not only being taken in by the Iron Cross, but the Iron Cross is recruiting them. Hard. Word on the street is that it’s a join-or-die-type invitation, and it seems to be working. Because Dominic, the buyer who called from the Iron Cross, made a point of demonstrating that he knew the specifics of our inventory. He could only have gotten that intel from a Churchman who knew what the original arms deal—the one where we picked up the hardware—was supposed to entail.”
“Shit,” Dare said. “They’re probably going after intel like that as much as building their ranks.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Phoenix said. “Hoping to defuse this, I told Dominic we were already in talks with another buyer but that we’d be happy to do business with them another time. He told me to walk away from the other deal.”
That feeling of dread that Dare had been feeling the past few weeks ballooned inside his chest and weighed down on his shoulders. And not just because this group could be the source of new threats to the Ravens and their interests. If the Iron Cross could get that kind of specific intel on the arms inventory, they could certainly find out about Haven and the reward. Or maybe already had.
“Makes you wonder why he thinks he has the leverage to make that demand,” Maverick said, those dark blue eyes flashing.
“Yeah,” Dare said. “It sure does. So the question is, do we sell them all, part, or none, and let the shit fall where it may. Damnit, I don’t want to give them anything, especially pulling this bullshit.”
Phoenix shook his head. “Neither do I. We could always call their bluff. They’re clearly desperate for the guns. Maybe without them they’re all bark and no bite.”
“Did Marz have any other insight on them?” Dare asked, his mind racing through all the ways this could play out.
“Just that by all accounts, the Iron Cross is best situated to come out on top when the dust settles. They were already strong competitors of the Church Gang, so they’ve got market share and territory, and they seem to have stepped into the power vacuum the fastest to grab up everything the Churchmen had.”
“So there’s gotta be some bite there,” Dare said, his gut telling him they were going to have to do some kind of business with these jackholes. And this was why the Ravens stayed out of guns and drugs as much as they could.
Knee bouncing, Maverick sighed. “I think we gotta meet them halfway. I hate it, especially pulling this punk-ass bullshit. But if we give them nothing, we risk another war we want no part of. If we give them everything, we let them think they can walk all over us. We give them part of the inventory and it’s a good-faith gesture, one that’s on our own terms, one that says we made an effort despite being in talks with someone else.”
“Yeah. That’s where I’m landing, too,” Dare said. “Which means we need to set up some terms and find a drop spot. Nowhere near here. I want it done as soon as possible. Get these fuckers off our backs.”
Phoenix nodded. “Goddamned Churchmen just won’t die.”
“No shit. You know what? When you talk to this Dominic asshole, make the deal contingent on their agreement that they hold no sway over our betting activities in the city. No doubt they know about them at this point. Ike operates unmolested or they can go fuck themselves,” Dare said. Years ago, that had been one of the points of contention between the Raven Riders and the Church Gang, one that had taken a few knock-down fights before they’d reached an uneasy détente.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Maverick said. “That right there actually makes the deal make sense for us. We don’t want to fight that fight all over again.”
“Agreed. We don’t want to fight at all.” Dare sighed, thoughts racing. “They don’t get any of the sniper rifles. Make it clear those are gone. They can have the AKs and the Glocks. Remind them that our shit is high quality, courtesy of Uncle Sam, and push them on price. Tell them it’s a convenience fee for walking on the other deal,” Dare said, scratching at the scruff on his jaw.
“Got it,” Phoenix said.
“Good. Then make the call, Phoenix. And play it cool.” Dare had total faith that his Road Captain could handle this. Phoenix could be smooth as glass and charming as all fuck when he wanted, winning him guys who wanted to be his friend and girls who wanted to be his lay in equal measure.
“I told him I’d call him back around nine. So consider it done,” Phoenix said.
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 leaving, 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.
The chain-link gate swung open, letting Dare, eight other Ravens on bikes, and a truck full of product into the gravel lot behind the building. The moment gave him a whole lot of déjà vu.
But it couldn’t be helped. Phoenix’s call with the Iron Cross had gone about as well as they could’ve expected. Dominic had pushed back against their demands but finally acceded to their ultimatum on their betting activities and a competitive price on the guns. They’d thrown in more ammo than they’d planned, in order to maintain the appearance that they were meeting them halfway. And both parties wanted it done quickly—the deal was going down at nine o’clock tonight. In just three hours. All that remained was letting the Iron Cross know where the exchange would take place, which was part of why they’d come to Baltimore, and to Hard Ink, early.
As they parked and dismounted their bikes, men spilled out the back door of the building. Dare gave a wave as he hooked his helmet on the handlebars, and then he and his guys closed the distance to where their new allies and friends stood to greet them.
“Welcome back,” Nick said, extending a hand to Dare.
“Just wish it was purely a social call,” Dare said, shaking the other man’s hand. Tall with dark hair and pale green eyes, Nick was the team’s leader and the guy Dare had gotten to know the best when they’d been here a few weeks before.
One by one, Dare shook hands with Nick’s teammates, his guys following suit. There was Shane McCallan, with his Southern accent and pretty-boy good looks; Edward Cantrell, who went by the nickname Easy, a tall, built African-American man who was probably the guy Dare knew least of all; Derek “Marz” DiMarzio, their tech guy, who had provided them with all kinds of useful information about the Iron Cross and Haven’s father’s organization today; Beckett Murda, a big mountain of a guy with a badly scarred eye and an always-serious expression. Nick’s brother, Jeremy, and Jeremy’s boyfriend, Charlie, hung back from the group. They weren’t part of Nick’s Special Forces team, but from everything Dare could tell, they’d been integral to the fight the vets had waged. Jeremy gave Dare a wave.
“Good to see you doing better, Jeremy,” Dare said. The guy had been through brain surgery a few weeks before when he was injured during a fight with the team’s enemies—an injury that was still apparent in the form of a scar visible through his recently shaved brown hair.
“Thanks,” Jeremy said, his expression reserved. Dare knew Jeremy felt some responsibility for the deaths of Harvey and Creed when the building collapsed, but Dare had put that blame where it belonged—on the lowlifes who bombed the building in the first place. And that score had been settled as far as Dare and the Ravens were concerned.
Ike stepped through the crowd and held out his hand. “Didn’t think I’d get to see your ugly mug again so soon,” he said.
Dare clasped his hand. “Shut up, ya bald motherfucker.” A rumble of laughter went through the group.
“Come on in,” Nick said. “We’ve been working on a plan for tonight.”
“Lead the way,” Dare said, even though he and his guys knew the building like the backs of their hands after having helped protect it. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the industrial metal-and-cement stairwell, and then they poured into a huge room on the second level. With cement floors, exposed beams, and brick walls, the big rectangular space looked like the warehouse it had probably once been, though now it was filled with exercise equipment, a giant makeshift table around which Dare and his guys had eaten numerous meals, and a big computer setup in the back corner—the team’s nerve center, where Marz could usually be found clacking away.
They formed a big circle around Marz’s desk, some guys sitting on metal folding chairs and others standing. Who’d have thought that the Ravens would find themselves standing side by side with a bunch of highly decorated Army vets once, let alone twice? But Nick and his men were good guys—guys who understood the values that the Ravens prized. And that was more than enough for Dare.
Nick pointed to an enlarged map tacked to the wall. “We’re advocating using the same garage location where the original deal went down. We know it and have planned ops in that location before. Your men know it. And as usefully, it’s in territory that the Iron Cross doesn’t control right now, which means they’re not going to want to spend any more time there than they have to and are going to want to keep a low profile.”
“Whose territory is it?” Dare asked.
Marz pulled out a sheaf of papers. “A group called the Black Soldiers. They’re small, but they’re on good terms with a few other gangs around the city, which gives them friends if they need them. Official thinking is that the Iron Cross isn’t going to want to give their rivals a reason to band against them, not before their position is more secure. Things are too volatile right now for anyone to get too cocky.”
“One can hope,” Dare said, nodding. “The garage makes sense, and the fact that we know it gives us a tactical advantage.” His gaze went to his guys, and Maverick, Caine, and Phoenix all nodded their agreement. “So let’s play this thing out.”
The group of them spent the next hour brainstorming strategy, personnel placement, and contingency plans should plan A go fubar on them, as plan As were wont to do. Maybe it was overkill, but Dare didn’t want to take any more chances with his guys than he had to. And that went for the Hard Ink team as well. They all had too much to lose, a point that was driven home when a group of women poured in through the door on the far side of the room carrying trays of food and drinks to the big table.
Nick clapped Dare on the shoulder. “Figured y’all might want a quick bite before we get this show on the road. Becca’s idea.”
“She’s a good woman, Nick,” Dare said.
“The fucking best,” the guy said, a look of contentment on his face that Dare would pay good money to feel himself. Just once.
Around the table, a new round of greetings took place. Becca Merritt was Nick’s girlfriend and an ER nurse who’d helped patch guys up more than once during the recent fights. With her blond hair and blue eyes, she looked a lot like the girl next door, but from everything Dare knew, she’d proven herself a fierce ally of Nick’s over and over again. Sara and Jenna Dean were red-haired sisters who all the Ravens had gotten to know pretty well after they’d played a role rescuing Jenna from one of the Churchmen who’d apparently gone a little fucking crazy over her. Marz’s lady, Emilie Garza, was probably the woman among them Dare knew least of all—though he’d heard tale of the gut-wrenching scene that’d played out when she’d found her brother’s slain body dumped outside Hard Ink the same day Dare’s guys had been killed. And then there was Nick’s sister, Kat, a bad-ass chick Dare had gotten to know decently well because she’d taken more than one shift in the sniper’s roosts they’d operated during the height of the crisis.
Everyone dug into the food, and Shane and Sara made their way over to him. “We were wondering how Haven and Cora are doing,” Shane said.
Dare wasn’t surprised that Shane and Sara would want to know—from what Dare understood, Shane had been the one to find the two women locked in the basement of the Church Gang’s storage facility. Once the women had been rescued, Sara had taken them under her wing until the plan for the Ravens to grant them shelter had come to fruition. “They’re still at our compound,” Dare said. “We’re working on a plan to get them set up someplace new as we speak. A whole new life, where Haven can be safe from her father and his whole organization.”
“So that’s who she was running from,” Sara said, leaning against Shane.
“Yeah,” Dare said. “But we’ll make sure he can’t find her. Don’t you worry.”
“I have been,” Sara said with a small smile and a little shrug. “They reminded me so much of me and Jenna. I just want them to be happy like we are now.” She looked up at Shane with so much affection on her face that it sucker-punched Dare. Because he wanted that. He wanted that with Haven. Who he’d let believe all damn day that she wasn’t important to him. In the chaos of planning for the arms exchange, there just hadn’t been time to pull her aside and do the conversation justice, especially when Haven had made herself scarce. No doubt purposely.
“They will be,” Dare said, meaning that down into his very marrow. No matter what, he would take care of Haven Randall just like she deserved. “You’ve got my word on that.”
“Thanks, man,” Shane said. “We appreciate it.”
Luckily there wasn’t much time for more small talk about Haven, because before long they’d all filled their stomachs and were back in business mode. The Hard Ink guys were going in wearing tactical gear that would hide their faces, because the last thing any of them needed was the Iron Cross putting two and two together, especially if that equation hadn’t already been solved. They’d be hidden on the outskirts unless the Ravens needed them front and center. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
At seven-thirty, Nick and his teammates left for the location, wanting to get in place before the other side had time to arrive. As promised, at eight, Phoenix placed the call alerting the Iron Cross to the nine o’clock meeting place, and then the Ravens were back in the saddle and heading there themselves.
Hoping to be done with this city and its fucking gangs once and for all.