Ride Hard (Raven Riders 1)

Given all that, Dare had a really fucking hard time believing the dust would just settle and life would go back to normal without any blowback.

As Carly got into a crouched position at his feet, Dare opened his eyes and tried to shake away all the churn and burn in his head. But then his gaze snagged on a girl in the doorway across the room. Clarity stole over him, pushing away the fog of lust and the haze of troubled thoughts. The girl had the longest blond hair he’d ever seen, like some fairy-tale princess, or a fucking angel. Pale, small, almost too beautiful to look at. She stood out so starkly that it was almost as if she glowed in the dim room. Like a beacon. Bright and shiny and new.

One of these things is not like the other. And it was the timid beauty wearing too-big clothes and no makeup, hovering on the edge of the room.

And Dare wasn’t the only man who noticed.

CHAPTER 2

Without thinking, Dare stepped back from Carly’s reach and did up his jeans.

“What’s wrong?” Carly said. “Dare?”

He gave her a hand up, but his eyes were all for the angel-faced beauty Joker was currently bearing down on, his walk full of swagger, his expression like he’d just won the lottery. Gut-deep protectiveness rose up inside Dare, the instinct as well-tuned as the engine on his bike. “Sorry, sweetie,” Dare said. “Duty calls.”

Carly’s expression was pure exasperation and not a little pissed off. He gave her shoulder a squeeze, then worked his way through the crowd, trying like hell not to get pulled into any storytelling or jokes or conversations along the way.

Crossing the room felt like it took forever, and by the time he got clear, Joker had the girl pinned up against a wall in the hall. Not because he’d put her there, necessarily, but because she’d retreated as he’d advanced and backed herself into a corner.

Jesus, she looked terrified. Who the hell was this woman? Or was she just a girl? He honestly couldn’t tell how old she was, but her skittishness was crystal clear.

Dare put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. The guy was as big as a mountain but as harmless as a mouse. Well, mostly. “Joker, how’s it going?”

“Goin’ good, D. I was just introducing myself to . . .” His words trailed off, encouraging her to fill in the blank. Only she looked like she was two seconds from having a full-blown panic attack.

“Hey, whoa,” Dare said, stepping closer to the blond. “You okay?”

She gave a quick nod, but the movement was jerky and forced, like she thought she was supposed to say she was fine. Dare frowned as a flush poured into her cheeks.

He eyeballed Joker and nodded for him to clear out. A concerned expression on his face, the big guy shrugged and made his way back into the thick of the party.

“I’m Dare, the club president. You’re okay here,” Dare assured her. “You know that, right?” Who the hell was she, anyway? He knew all the regulars, and she certainly wasn’t one of them. Frankly, it was usually outgoing, confident women who gravitated to an MC, not shy girls. . . .

All of a sudden, he realized who he was talking to. “Wait. Are you Haven?” One of the two women who, in the midst of the club’s fight against enemies in Baltimore, had been rescued from a gang and given refuge at the Raven Riders’ compound. In all the chaos of the past few weeks, Dare hadn’t met the women when they’d arrived at the compound, which was out of the norm for him. He’d only met the other woman, Cora, at dinner earlier in the night.

Her eyes went wide, the blue color so vivid it was almost electric. “Y-yes,” she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head like she was frustrated. “Yes. I’m Haven,” she said again, stronger, clearer.

“Haven,” Dare repeated. “Well, okay.” He held out a hand, gesturing down the hall. “Can I show you something? Something I think might help make you feel more comfortable here?”

Wariness crept into her gaze, but finally she nodded and followed him down the hall. She walked almost huddled against the wall, her body as far from his as she could make it given the width of the hallway. Anger curled into Dare’s gut. Someone had taught her that fear, had given her a good reason to keep her distance. He saw it so damn often. And even though he wouldn’t do it, her anxiety made him want to comfort her, to take her hand or put his arm around her shoulders. But he kept his distance, too.

He guided her toward the front door of the clubhouse, which had once been a mountain inn connected to the Green Valley Race Track his club owned and operated as one of their primary business ventures. Now the building housed the club’s main social spaces, a kitchen and mess, meeting room, workout room, and a dozen rooms upstairs where people could crash or fuck or otherwise find some privacy.