“Why did you say he was going to destroy you, Alexa?” Haven asked, coming to stand right next to her. “What does that mean?” Her eyes radiated concern, and her expression was full of strength and resolution. Haven rubbed her back, making Alexa realize how tense her muscles were, like she was braced against an oncoming blow.
Alexa’s shoulders dropped as she released a long breath. “He didn’t say it this starkly, but he threatened to report my car as stolen and take it away and evict Mom from his house. And he hinted that my job isn’t safe, either. And I . . . I have no idea what I’m going to do.”
I’d hate to see you lose everything you’ve worked so hard for, Alexa.
The memory of Grant’s smug voice made her stomach roll. He’d clearly spent a lot of time thinking about what would devastate her the most, and his attitude was full of confidence that she’d cave. Just like she always did. And who knows, maybe she would’ve if she’d sat there long enough enduring the brute force of his badgering and withering stare. But then Davis had shown up and Alexa had been able to see that things were getting tense between the sheriff and the Ravens. Her worry for them had sent her fleeing from the table, wanting to save them from any further trouble and needing to be free from Grant’s threats.
Any one of which would be a huge blow, but all of them together would be catastrophic for Alexa.
And the issue wasn’t just financial—although it was partly that, too. If Grant fired her, what would that do to her future prospects as an interior designer? She couldn’t even fathom all the doors he could close to her. Even worse, her mother couldn’t easily be moved from Grant’s house. It wasn’t just because she had a tractor trailer’s worth of crap in her house to sort through, but because her mother wasn’t going to want to go. Best case scenario, it would take some preparation and cajoling, and probably a little arm-twisting and bribing, too, to get her mother out of the house without sending her into a complete and total mental breakdown. And that was saying nothing of finding another place where a hoarder could live without good references or credit.
Oh, my God, what am I going to do?
“You’re sure as shit not going back to him,” Maverick said, as if she’d spoken the words aloud. Had she? The situation felt so surreal she wasn’t sure.
Alexa met his gaze again and hated the doubt she saw there, and the little hidden sliver of fear. Maybe the others wouldn’t have seen it, but she knew Maverick, and she did. “No, I’m not. I can’t. Especially not now. But, Jesus, getting free of him means that my mom and me . . . we lose everything. How am I going to tell her? Where am I going to move her? Am I even going to be able to stay in this area if Grant ruins my career and reputation here?” She kneaded at the muscles in her neck. “What an arrogant, twisted asshole he is. I can’t believe it’s come to all this.”
Maverick grasped her hand and leaned down until their eyes met. “We’ll figure it out. Did he attach any sort of a deadline to his demands?”
She laced her fingers with his. “He wants me home—well, back to his place—immediately, but the real deadline is next Saturday.”
“The wedding,” Maverick said.
“Yeah. I don’t show—”
“—and the shit hits the fan,” Mav finished for her. She nodded.
“So we have a week to make arrangements for your mom,” Dare said. “We will figure something out. That’s a guarantee.”
“Shit,” Maverick said, his eyes going wide. He turned to Phoenix. “I hate to ask, man.”
“What?” Phoenix asked. “Name it.”
Alexa loved that about the Ravens. Always had. How they were there for each other, no matter what. Like a family.
“Any chance you’d be willing to let Mrs. Harmon use Creed’s house?” Maverick asked. Alexa gasped. Creed was Phoenix’s cousin who’d been killed a month or two ago in Baltimore. He was older, and she hadn’t known him well, but she knew Phoenix well enough to know that he’d idolized Creed. Which meant Maverick asking him such a thing for her was huge.
She shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t—”
“Hey, that’s actually a damn good idea,” Phoenix said, nodding, his expression thoughtful. “I haven’t touched it since Creed died, so it’ll take some work, and it’s not very big, but it’s just sitting there.”
The kindness they extended to her disproved stereotype after stereotype. Her billionaire businessman fiancé was a manipulative, abusive control freak, and her law-breaking motorcycle gang friends made a habit out of helping people who needed it. “That’s an amazingly generous offer, Phoenix, but my mother’s not the easiest person. She’s not likely to take the best care of the place even with my help, and I don’t even know what I can afford yet.”