Ride Hard (Raven Riders #1)(75)

Sometimes it took a whole tankful of fuel before you could screw your head on straight. And as Dare rode home, he felt like it was one of those nights. Fists in the wind, he was glad for the time and space to himself, to replay the night in his head on his own before he and the guys were together and blowing off steam.

A couple things rose to the surface of his thoughts right away. First, he didn’t trust the Iron Cross or that creepy Dominic f*cker for an instant. Second, that deal hadn’t done jack shit to cement any kind of decent relationship between the two—Dare felt that down into his very blood. Third, the Iron Cross didn’t yet know Haven’s whereabouts, which meant things were urgent but not critical on that front. Yet. Thank God for small favors, assuming that could be counted as one.

Shit, yeah, he’d take the good news where he could.

When they got home, his guys were all kinds of in the mood to celebrate, and Dare totally understood why. He did his best to join in, to not be the moody motherf*cker Maverick always accused him of being. But despite the fact that the night had gone about as smoothly as could’ve been expected, doing the deal with the Iron Cross hadn’t done a thing to alleviate the feeling of dread Dare had been shouldering the past few weeks.

Instead, he felt more certain than ever that a shit storm was heading their way.

And that meant he needed to get Haven out of the line of fire while he still had time—and probably faster than he’d even originally planned.

WHO DO YOU want to be?

Haven had been thinking about that question for most of the past twenty-four hours. Yesterday afternoon, as the Ravens had fallen into a frenzy of activity preparing for some meeting that had unexpectedly taken a bunch of them to Baltimore, Caine had found Haven and Cora and asked them that question. He hadn’t meant it metaphorically, he’d meant it literally. They had to pick their new names by lunchtime today, which was when he needed to let his contact working up their new identities know.

Lying on her bed still in her pajamas, the morning sunlight spilling in through her window, Haven had never been more grateful for something to think about in her life, since it kept her from replaying Dare’s words over and over in her head.

I’m not f*cking 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 everyone when she’s gone. He wanted her gone. Because she wasn’t anyone special—not to him.

Oh, who was she kidding? She hadn’t been able to think about anything except his words. She just couldn’t figure out how her instincts had been so damn wrong. Haven wasn’t so na?ve that she equated sex with love, but Dare had said and done things, too. Things that made it seem like she wasn’t the only one getting in deep—holding her, taking care of her, saying he couldn’t get enough of her. Just the memories they’d shared with one another about their lives would’ve made their time together emotional, even if nothing physical had passed between them.

But it had.

It had, and it had meant everything to Haven.

And nothing at all to Dare.

God, she was really going to have to get a whole lot tougher if she was going to make it in this world, wasn’t she? Because if someone she believed to be fundamentally good could hurt her so bad, she’d have to be a whole lot stronger to withstand someone who intended her harm.

And that all started with a new name. At least they got a choice in the matter.

Haven stared down at the blank page in her notebook. Cora lay beside her, scribbling away. They were supposed to be comparing lists. Of course, that was assuming Haven could think about anything except Dare. And her stupid, na?ve broken heart.

“You’re not writing anything,” Cora said.

“I know. I’m thinking.” She pressed her pen to the page and wrote the first thing that came to her mind. Alice. Not because she particularly liked it but because Haven felt like she had a heck of a lot in common with the fairy tale character by the same name. She’d certainly fallen down the rabbit hole, hadn’t she?

Cora peered over her arm. “Be serious. Alice is too old for you.”

Haven collapsed facedown on her notebook.

Shoving her to the side, Cora frowned down at her. “Okay, that’s it. Tell me what’s going on right now. I could tell you were upset yesterday, so I tried to give you some space to come to me when you were ready, but now I’m too worried to play it cool, so just tell me what happened. Did Dare hurt you?” Something close to panic slid through Cora’s green eyes. “Because if he did—”

“No, no,” Haven said, grasping at Cora’s wildly gesticulating hand. “Well, he did, but not the way you’re thinking.”

“Haven, so help me—”

“We had sex. And then I overheard him telling Maverick and Phoenix he didn’t care about me and would be glad when I was gone. Okay?” She flopped onto her back and blew out the breath she felt like she’d been holding since that awful moment before she’d walked into Dare’s office.

Cora stared at her, her brow furrowing into a sharp frown. “Oh, Haven. What happened?”

Why had she thought she could keep all this bottled up from Cora? The time with Dare had just been so amazingly overwhelming that she’d needed to process it and get her emotions under control so she didn’t end up sounding like a love-struck idiot. And then he’d gone and proven she was exactly that. And it had just been too much to share—with anyone.