Ride Hard (Raven Riders #1)(79)

“Thanks,” Jagger said. “You know that track’s my baby.” Responsible for managing the maintenance and operation of the track, Jagger was one of a handful of Ravens who the club paid full-time for their services. The guy lived and breathed that racetrack and did a helluva job for the club.

Out in the mess hall, they dropped into seats at the table. “I’m surprised you aren’t staking out Alexa’s place,” Dare said to Maverick.

“She has a class on Tuesday nights,” he said. “I’ll head there later.”

Dare didn’t comment on how well Maverick knew her schedule. “You been seeing anything when you’ve been over there?” he asked, knowing Mav had been spending all the time he could keeping an eye on her place the past few days.

“No,” Maverick said, his expression dark.

“Well, no news is good news.” Dare dug into his chili, which was spicy, thick, and full of flavor.

“Or it’s just no news,” his cousin said, shoving up from the table, empty bowl in his hand. He returned a few minutes later with a second helping. “Gonna miss Haven’s cooking when she’s gone.”

The comment lodged a big ball of regret in the center of Dare’s chest. Because he was going to miss a helluva lot more than that about her. For that matter, all the Ravens were going to miss her. Word had gotten out that all the sweets and some of the meals they’d been raving over the past few weeks were hers, and she had more than a few die-hard fans as a result. The Ravens might be hard asses, but they weren’t complicated. Loyalty. Good lovin’. Good food. All of these were direct routes to a man’s heart around here.

Certainly to his.

Which, f*ck.

“Where is she, anyway?” Dare asked, hating the idea that what he’d said had driven her back to the solitariness of her room again. Just when she’d been coming out of her shell.

“At Slider’s.” Maverick ate a big spoonful.

Dare’s gaze snapped up. “What?”

“She’s at Slider’s house,” Maverick said.

“What the f*ck is she doing at Slider’s house?” Dare asked, something dark and needy rising up in his chest.

Maverick’s brow arched in an expression full of chill the f*ck out. “She’s babysitting Sam and Ben. Cora’s with her. Slider was in a bind, and I told them they could go. They’ll spend the night there and be back tomorrow.”

Dare didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t like that she was out there on her own. He didn’t like that she was at another man’s house. And he didn’t like the useless feelings of protectiveness and possessiveness welling up inside him. Because if he felt like this when she was temporarily ten minutes away, how the hell was he gonna feel when she and Cora were permanently relocated—and out of touch—seven states away?

And he sure as f*ck didn’t like how Maverick was looking at him, like he knew exactly where Dare’s head was right now.

Four hours later, every one of those feelings had grown stronger until Dare was a ball of goddamned restlessness sitting at his desk. Despite the fact that he’d been parked there for a while, the pile of contracts he was supposed to be reading and signing hadn’t gotten any smaller, because he couldn’t concentrate worth shit.

Missouri. That’s where Caine’s contact would be setting up Haven and Cora with a whole new life. The logistics message had come in after dinner and distracted the hell out of Dare ever since.

All of which was why, within another hour, he found himself standing sentinel in the darkness outside of Slider’s two-story white house, Dare’s bike parked along the side of the road in the shadows of a big tree. Out of sight but close enough that he could see silhouettes move past the lit windows. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Including his damn head, now that he knew Haven was just fine. Thank you very much.

Christ, he was f*cked six ways from Sunday, wasn’t he?

The porch lights cast a golden glow over the barren flowerbeds that lined the front of the house and the badly faded wreath that hung on the front door. Both spoke to the loss this house, this family, had suffered. After Slider’s wife had died, that once colorful garden never saw another flower, and the springtime wreath she’d hung had never been changed. It was like the house was frozen in time, or slowly but surely decaying under the weight of that loss—a description that equally fit the man who lived inside, too.

Standing there in the dark, Dare realized for the first time how much Slider’s grief weighed on his own shoulders. Because he loved the guy like a brother and couldn’t do a goddamned thing to make it better, to fix what was broken, or to help ease the guy’s burden. Even if just a little.

And yet here was Haven, helping Slider. Finding a way to lighten his load. Helping someone she barely knew just because she could. Helping his brother in a moment of need, when she wasn’t in the best of places herself. And the thing was, she wouldn’t even know how meaningful helping Slider was. But Dare did, and the generosity and selflessness of her actions reached inside his chest and made things ache like a motherf*ck. Gratitude, admiration, respect—he felt all of these for her. But that wasn’t all, not by a long shot.

Around one o’clock, the house went dark. Dare kept telling himself he’d go in another five minutes, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Which was why he was still there when the living room lights came on a little after three. Instinct told him that it was Haven who was in there awake and moving around. She’d told him she wasn’t a very good sleeper, and he knew enough about what her life had been now to know exactly why. And hell if he didn’t want to be the one who helped her finally find enough peace and security to give in to the pull and vulnerability of sleep.