Maverick pushed away the not-quite-empty glass of whiskey and slid off his stool. He needed to send out a meeting alert to the brotherhood, and then he needed to get his ass to Alexa’s house. He clapped Dare on his good shoulder and pressed a quick kiss to Haven’s temple. “Thank you,” he said to her. She gave him a shy smile as pink filtered into her cheeks.
“Hey, where’s my kiss, asshole?” Dare asked.
Maverick threw a look over his shoulder and flipped Dare the bird, but the approval he saw in the other man’s gaze told him he was doing the right thing.
Because Dare was right—if there was any chance that Alexa was pushing him away out of fear, Maverick couldn’t stay away. She could be pissed at him. Hell, she could hate him. As long as she was safe and sound, he could stand just about anything else.
CHAPTER 4
The air was tense and weighted as everyone filed into the Ravens’ meeting room at seven the next evening for Church. Maverick took the seat next to Dare’s at the head of the long rectangular table. The room had probably been a lounge back during the inn’s heyday, which explained the cabin-like floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace and the exposed wooden beams on the ceiling. The Raven’s logo hung on a carved panel of wood above the mantel.
Ride. Fight. Defend.
Dare banged an old, beat-up gavel against the table and eased into his seat. “I’m calling this meeting of Church to order.” Everyone settled into chairs at the table or along the side walls. They had a decent-sized crowd here today.
Clearly, Maverick wasn’t the only one who wanted revenge for the attack on their people and property.
“Dare, it’s good to see you and Meat here and in one piece,” Bear Lowry said. Maverick nodded in agreement with the Old Timer who also was one of the club’s founders. Bear had served as the secretary/treasurer for years because Dare and Doc trusted him implicitly, not to mention he had a damn good head on his shoulder for investments.
The guys on either side of Meat, whose real name was Craig Miles, clapped him on the shoulder, and he gave a nod. The night of the attack, Haven’s father had shot Meat point-blank in the abdomen to prove that he was serious about his intentions to take out innocents for every ten minutes that passed without the club delivering her up.
And the Iron Cross had been the ones to send that asshole their way.
Dare shifted uncomfortably in his chair, whether from his injuries or his unease at the attention, Maverick didn’t know. Raking a hand through his brown hair, Dare looked down at the table, his brow furrowed. “What we faced at the track that night . . .” He shook his head. “It was unprecedented. And what you did”—he looked up, his dark gaze intense—“what all of you did was above and beyond. It—”
“No, D,” Meat said, looking the club’s president in the eyes. “It was exactly what we should’ve done. Exactly what we should always do. Nothing more.”
The visible emotion on Dare’s face reached inside Maverick’s chest. Because he couldn’t agree with Meat more. Maverick only wished that he could’ve gotten to Dare to shield him from those bullets, or at the very least gotten to Haven before she’d been forced to kill her own father to protect them both. And God knew he wished he could’ve kept his mother from getting hurt. Mav knew that his cousin was shouldering a shitload of guilt over all the people who’d been hurt that night. They were alike that way. Not that Maverick thought any of it was Dare’s fault, because it wasn’t.
Only two groups were to blame. Haven’s father’s crew, who were all either dead or in jail. And the Iron Cross.
Sitting at the far end of the table, Doc nodded. “Meat’s got it right. This is a family. And every man here is your brother. You can always count on us having your back. And that goes for everyone here. That’s what the Raven Riders are about. That’s why we exist.” Frank “Doc” Kenyon was Dare’s grandfather, the club’s founder, and co-owner with Dare of the Ravens’ property, which the older man had inherited decades before. Doc was also Mav’s uncle. With whitish hair and beard that made him a shoo-in for playing Santa for the kids among the club members’ families, Doc was fiercely protective of the club and everyone in it.
So Dare came by that naturally. Mav did, too.
“That’s right,” Maverick said. “Now we focus on getting justice for Jeb and for everyone else who got hurt.” Murmurs of agreement circled the room. And even though his focus needed to be right here on these men, he couldn’t help but think of Alexa. Because she’d been hurt, too. And Maverick hadn’t yet thought of a way to make that right for her. It was eating at him like an itch he couldn’t reach.