Ride Hard (Raven Riders #1)(39)
Caine’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his brothers seated around the big meeting table. “Procuring quality documents and making all the necessary arrangements will take the better part of two weeks. Ten days at best. So it’s not really an either-or scenario. We need to plan for the threat and figure out what comes next for Cora and Haven.”
Nods and low words of agreement rumbled around the table.
Purchasing new identities wasn’t something they did often, but they had done it a handful of times over the years in the most dire cases, when the system failed a client altogether and their safety couldn’t be secured any other way. The thought of this as one solution had crossed Dare’s mind, too. But he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit it f*cking hurt in unexpected places to think of Haven becoming someone new, someone he couldn’t know or see or touch. Ever again.
Probably made him a selfish bastard, especially after the way he’d jumped all over her back at the lake, but that didn’t make it any less true. Not to mention, a new burr had settled itself under his saddle on the torturous ride back to the compound—he’d gone on the attack over her lie of omission, and he still felt some justification in that, despite the fact that part of him had understood her rationale for holding out on him. But at the same time, he was keeping something from her now, too. That he knew about her notebook. That he’d read it. That part of his behavior today had been about wanting to help her check things off her list—wanting it to be him, specifically, to give her those experiences.
Yet he hadn’t admitted any of that. Which made him a goddamned hypocrite, didn’t it?
All the more reason it was probably better for Haven—and for all the people he was supposed to be taking care of—if she was gone and Dare got his head screwed back on right again.
Because right now, he was f*cked.
“In the meantime, the two of them shouldn’t go out in public without at least two of us with them,” Phoenix said, his hand scrubbing over the scar from a knife fight that had nearly taken his eye. “Actually, trips into public should be limited period. Oh, and I hate to say it, but Haven’s hair is too f*cking unique. You should probably have her change it.” Phoenix directed those words to Dare, as if he held some special sway over the woman—which meant his brothers were probably keyed in that something was going on between him and their client. Fantastic.
Dare worked to keep his expression a careful neutral at the thought of making her change one of his favorite things about her, of making her change at all. Given how she’d lived these past years, how she’d been forced to play a role for so long, he hated that he was going to have to ask her to do it again.
Dare just nodded, knowing the precautions Phoenix suggested made good sense. “I should have images of Randall and some of his known associates tonight or to morrow,” he said. “As soon as I do, I’ll shoot them around. Phoenix, let’s get them into the hands of our contacts to see if anyone’s seen these *s in our backyard.”
“You got it,” Phoenix said.
Thoughts of the photos brought a new idea to mind. “Meanwhile, I’ll put in a call to the guys over at Hard Ink and see what help they might be able to offer.” During the weeks they’d worked together, Dare had seen enough of the former Special Forces soldiers’ investigational techniques, computer savvy, and willingness to stray to the wrong side of the law if it meant achieving a greater good to know their help might be invaluable. Anyway, they owed the Ravens. And this was as good a reason as any to call in some favors.
“We’re not thinking this sitch should cancel next Friday’s race, are we?” Jagger asked, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table.
“Shit,” Dare said. He really didn’t want them going without their racing income for yet another week. They’d already lost a month’s worth of betting and other racing revenues, and they faced expensive identity, relocation, and setup expenses for Haven and Cora, on top of the relocation and setup expenses they’d just absorbed for the client they’d moved to Pennsylvania. The Ravens made good bank from their various businesses, and they weren’t hurting for money. But that stemmed in part from the fact that they were judicious in managing everything they brought in. They might wear leather and denim and care f*ck-all for authority, but that didn’t mean they weren’t good businessmen. “Not unless we have specific intelligence that necessitates doing so.”
Jagger nodded. “Well maybe you should ask Nick and his guys to come provide extra security at the event while you’re at it. If we’re gonna open the compound up to the public, it wouldn’t hurt to have more boots and guns on the ground. And they obviously know how to handle themselves.”
“Will do,” Dare said. “Otherwise, the threat level is officially set at high, which means we’re instituting watch rotations beginning immediately.” Over the years, they’d put routines and protocols into place whenever high-profile targets resided on the compound—to keep their clients and themselves safe. A high threat level meant constant manning of their security camera feeds, concealed carry of weapons by all club members, and twenty-four/seven on-compound watch rotations, among other things. “Anyone gets any news, get in touch with me day or night. I don’t care what time it is. All in favor of this plan?”
Every hand around the table rose.