Ride Hard (Raven Riders 1)

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 tomorrow,” 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 assholes 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 fuck-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.

Dare nodded, his gut knowing sending Haven and Cora away was for the best for everyone involved, but his heart regretting the decision more than he wanted to admit. “Let’s get it done, then.”

Having been quiet for most of the meeting, Doc sat forward in his chair, a serious, contemplative expression on his aging face. “This right here is why we do what we do,” he said, meeting each of the men’s eyes. “Because there are people who imprison their kids, treat them as if they’re no more than assets in a business deal, and put rewards out on their heads that make them vulnerable to every kind of low-life scum. You make me proud of what we do here, of each and every one of you.”

Doc’s gaze met and held Dare’s, and he knew that the older man was thinking in part of his own son, Dare’s father. Doc hadn’t said anything about it in years, but Dare knew it weighed on his grandfather that Butch Kenyon had become so corrupt, so morally bankrupt, so selfish and arrogant and downright fucking evil. Doc felt responsible for the way his son had turned out, and, alongside the shit Bunny had gone through in her first marriage to Maverick’s father, it had long ago cemented his grandfather’s commitment to their protective mission.

Dare’s, too.

The meeting broke up after that, although most of the guys hung around to brainstorm or put plans into place or just shoot the shit.

Two bangs on the door, and then it flew open. Blake stood in the breach, turning Dare’s already dark mood black. Prospects didn’t belong in Church. Ever. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry,” Blake said. “But we’ve got a situation.” The guy’s serious gaze cut to Maverick. “Alexa’s here. It’s bad.”