Sliding his hand behind her neck, he released a troubled breath. “I need you to come home to me. Safe and sound. You understand?”
Her expression went so soft and sweet. For him. “Aw, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
He scowled. “I mean it.”
“So do I,” she whispered. And then she leaned across the big bench seat and kissed him.
He wanted to convince her with his mouth and hands and cock not to go. But he finally released her. “Have a good day,” he managed.
She chuckled. “Thanks, even though it sounds like what you meant is, I sure hope that house burns to the ground.”
He grinned and nodded. “Pretty much.”
She shook her head, and then her expression grew serious. “Keep me posted on Dare and Jagger. I’m really nervous for them.”
“I will,” Maverick said, his gut in all kinds of knots over the fact that his cousin and one of his best friends had been sitting in a fucking jail cell overnight. At least their bail hearing was today. “We’ll get them out on bail and go from there.”
“Yeah,” she said, sliding out of the truck. She turned and leaned back in. “You and me against the world?”
The words came out sounding like a question, and Maverick looked her right in the eye. “You better fucking believe it.”
He watched her walk up the sidewalk through all the brand-new landscaping and disappear inside the big brick colonial. Pulling away and leaving her there was one of the hardest things he’d had to do in a long damn time. Besides Renner and Blake, the only thing that gave Mav any ease of mind was the belief that what Slater wanted more than anything else was to get her back under his control and walking up the aisle to the altar. So she was probably safe for now.
After she left him standing at that altar? All bets were probably off.
“WAITING FUCKING SUCKS,” Phoenix said, expressing all of their views as they cooled their heels at the Ravens’ clubhouse. Walter had thought that Dare and Jagger would have a better chance of a lower bail if the whole club didn’t show up and emphasize the fact that, you know, they were a big fucking motorcycle club. So only Haven, Bunny, and Doc—wearing a suit instead of his colors—had gone.
“Christ, it really does,” Maverick said, dropping his head back against the leather couch. This whole day sucked as far as he was concerned. Between his worry about Alexa being at work, the anticipation of hearing from Walter, and the tension ricocheting around this room, Mav felt like a rubber band pulled tight and ready to snap.
“It’s gonna be fine,” Cora said, sitting on a stool at the bar next to Phoenix. “The hearing will be over any minute and then the guys will be on their way home.”
Murmurs of agreement went around the room.
“That’s right,” Rodeo said, the stress of the situation clearly weighing on the old man—Dare’s great-uncle by marriage. It looked like Rodeo had aged five years since Maverick saw him here the night before. Doc had looked even worse.
Maverick heaved a breath. Crossed his ankles on the table. Got up and went to the bathroom. And still the fucking phone didn’t ring.
“It’s taking too long,” Caine said. He’d been leaning up against one of the pool tables, standing statue still and not saying a word since they’d all gathered.
Fuck. The words struck a chord with the feeling of dread stirring in Mav’s gut.
Sitting on the coffee table by his feet, Maverick’s cell phone finally rang, the ringtone cutting through the thick tension like a knife. He wrenched forward and grabbed it, then held out a hand to quiet everyone as they moved closer. He answered and put the call on speaker. “Mr. Walter, it’s about time.”
“I’m sorry for the delay, Maverick. The hearing just concluded.” Walter’s tone deepened that sense of dread.
“And?” he asked, fearing he already knew the answer.
“I have good news and bad news.”
“Just say what you have to say,” Maverick said, working to restrain the anger welling up inside him.
“Dare’s out on fifty thousand dollars bail, but Jagger was denied bail.”
The room erupted in angry denunciations of the news.
Maverick held up his hands to quiet them again, his pulse a rushing roar in his ears. “He what? Why?”
“It’s clear the district attorney has a stronger case against Jagger because he’s the track manager and Dare’s been laid up because of his injury. And the judge deemed Jagger a flight risk,” Walter said.
“Jesus, this is utter fucking bullshit,” Maverick said, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Jagger wouldn’t run. The guy didn’t have it in him. He wouldn’t abandon his brothers in the club, his duties at the track that he loved, or his younger sister who lived in Baltimore. “How in the world does illegal dumping warrant all this?” Because fifty grand wasn’t chump change. Not that they wouldn’t spend it to free Dare—they’d do that in a heartbeat, and then some. But wasn’t this all a little excessive?