He kissed her. Hard. Just one long, thorough, breathless kiss. Finally, he pulled his mouth away from hers. “You’re right. I won’t. But the fact that we both believe Slater would is why we’re doing this my way. Got it?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Okay.”
He gave a nod. “Okay. Now get your pretty ass on my bike and let’s do this.”
The minute she was straddling his ride, her arms and legs wrapped around him, he felt about a million times better. Her embrace, her heat, her heartbeat against his back, it was all proof of life. Proof that she was safe. Proof that she was right there by his side—right where everything in him demanded she belonged.
He backed out of the driveway of the big brick McMansion and made his way through the yet-to-be-built development to the main road. From there, it was less than fifteen minutes to his rendezvous point—a downtown restaurant called Dutch’s. Maverick pulled his Harley in line with seven others waiting there. Eight members of the Raven Riders Motorcycle Club ought to make the point—and be more than able to handle any shit should it go down.
Turning off the engine, Mav gave Alexa a hand off. “We have a few minutes to kill,” he said. He raked a hand through his hair as he dismounted.
She just nodded as she peered at the big picture window that lined the street. His brothers were visible sitting at the counter just inside.
“Hey, com’ere.” Maverick pulled her into his arms. More gently this time. “I know I’m being an insufferable prick, but just roll with it a bit longer. Please.” He stroked his hand over the long, thick silk of her ponytail.
Alexa gave a little chuckle. “Can I remind you of that later?”
He bit back a grin. He liked Al when she was feisty. And he definitely liked her standing up for herself. “You really gonna listen if I say no?”
“Probably not.” He felt her smile against his chest.
“That’s my girl. Come on.” He took her hand and led her into the diner. Dutch’s sat on the corner, and had a long, narrow interior that filled the whole first floor of an old brick building. A Formica counter with spinning stools and red-and-white booths with juke boxes on the wall completed the old-timey look.
Somber greetings met them as they walked through the door, the bell jingling overhead. Phoenix, Caine, Jagger, Bear, Joker, Blake, and Mike Renner were all there—Maverick had insisted Dare keep his still-healing ass back at the clubhouse. His brothers were ready to stand with Maverick. Ready to fight with him, if it came to that.
Though the place used to be open later, because of Dutch’s age, it now typically closed at five. But Dutch was a friend to the club and had agreed they could hang there for a bit after closing. The restaurant Slater had picked—after realizing he wasn’t going to get Alexa to agree to come to his house—was only two blocks away.
“Maverick,” Dutch said, extending his wrinkled brown hand across the counter. Despite owning a diner his whole life, Dutch Henderson was tall and thin. He had a friendly face and graying black hair, and he never forgot a name or a face. “Good to see you, son. How’s your mother doing?”
“Better every day, Dutch. Thanks for asking,” Maverick said. Dutch and his wife had been at the racetrack the night all hell broke loose, so he knew exactly what’d gone down.
“You tell her and Rodeo to come on in for some breakfast or lunch, and it’ll be on me,” he said.
“You bet,” Maverick said. “She’ll love that. But how are you? Dare said you’ve got a surgery coming up.”
“Hip replacement,” he said, patting his right hip. “Never get old, Maverick. Never get old.”
“I’ll remember that,” Mav said with a grin. He turned to Alexa. “Dutch, do you know—”
“Alexa Harmon, of course I do. Though I don’t think I’ve seen you in a whole lot of years.”
“Hi, Dutch,” Alexa said, giving him a smile. “Being here makes me remember how much I loved your milk shakes. Do you still make them with the whipped cream and the little cookies that slide over the straw?”
The question flashed a memory before Maverick’s eyes. Him and Tyler and Alexa when she was seventeen or eighteen. Some asshole boy had spread a rumor around school that he’d scored with Al, and she’d come home upset but not wanting her mom to know why. So Mav and Tyler had brought her to Dutch’s because she loved those damn milk shakes so much. They had the ice cream first, and then got dinner after. By the end, Alexa was smiling again. And the next day, Tyler put the fear of God into that kid. Best Mav knew, he never gave her another problem.
“I surely do,” Dutch was saying. “I can make you one if you like.”
“Oh, no,” Alexa said, giving a quick shake of her head. “I don’t think I can eat anything now. But another time.”
“You know where to find me,” he said with a wink.
“It’s time,” Caine said, icy blue eyes flashing.
“Let’s do this,” Phoenix said. “Fucking Slater.”
“Fucking Slater,” Jagger groused. Of anyone, Jag probably had to deal with Slater’s bullshit the most. The wealthy prick hated the racetrack because it hurt his home-building business, or so he argued. He was constantly making noise—with the mayor, the city council, the sheriffs, the press—that the Green Valley Race Track was bad for Frederick. Occasionally, Slater managed to stir something up that would bring the sheriffs sniffing around. Once, he almost had the city council agree to debate zoning ordinances that would’ve seriously hampered the Ravens’ business. And every time, Jagger had to deal with the brunt of the bullshit. Of all of them, the guy was probably the hardest to ruffle and the smoothest talker, and he’d memorized all the relevant rules, policies, and laws pertaining to the track like the brilliant motherfucker he was, so he thwarted Slater at pretty much every turn. It was a thing of beauty.
So Maverick nodded, joining in with the sentiment. “Fucking Slater.” Everyone got up from their stools and moved toward the doors. Toward Alexa.
“Before we go,” she said, bringing all the guys to a halt. Maverick eyed her, no idea what was about to come out of her mouth. “I just want to say thank you. For being here for me. And for Maverick. I know you’re mostly here because he asked you, but I wanted to tell you that I appreciate it, too. I know I flaked after Tyler died”—she paused like it took something out of her to say her brother’s name—“and I’m sorry for that. But that was more about me than it was about you. So, yeah, that’s all I wanted to say.”
“We’re doing this for both of you,” Phoenix said, giving her a flirty smile that under other circumstances Mav might’ve wanted to knock off his face. “Don’t you worry none.” The other men nodded.
Jagger rubbed her arm. “Losing Tyler was a damn shame, Alexa. We all regretted it. You were allowed to be messed up by that. No apologies needed here.”
The men filed out, offering kind words that made Maverick proud to be one of them. Taking Alexa’s hand, he squeezed. “Thank you for that.”
“It was the least I could do,” she said, her expression uncertain, maybe even a little overwhelmed. Had she expected them to do anything other than appreciate her gratitude?
He leaned down to look her in the eyes. “No, the least you could do was say nothing at all. Or, worse, disrespect them. Instead, you gave them your gratitude and respect. In our world, that means a helluva lot.” When she nodded, he turned to Dutch, who was clearing the counter of a few soda glasses and coffee cups. Maverick put a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “Thanks for always taking care of us, Dutch.”
“Always,” he said. It was just that simple. “Ride safe now.”
Maverick gave a wave over his shoulder as he guided Alexa out the door.
And then they were on their way, riding through town in four sets of two. Maverick and Alexa rode at the front of the group with Phoenix at their side. They roared into parking spaces right in front of the restaurant’s long windows. Eight Harleys. Eight bikers in full colors.
And what do you know? It was perfect tim
ing. Because just then, Slater pulled up in his Mercedes and valeted the car. Alexa was standing at Mav’s side, and he could feel anxiety rolling off of her. He wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her, reassure her, let her know that they’d be right there the whole time. But she knew that. They’d talked this through. And Maverick didn’t want to do anything that might cause her dinner companion to get any more pissed off than he already looked.
Without a word, Alexa made her way up the sidewalk toward the front door where Slater stood waiting, scowling, looking like he wanted to break something with his hands. None of the Ravens moved. They just stood there watching. When Mav and Alexa’s abusive prick of an ex made eye contact, Maverick arched a single brow. Touch her, hurt her, and I’ll fucking make you pay.
The guy’s face was red and his mouth was pressed into a tight line. He bit something out at Alexa that Mav couldn’t hear, and it took everything he had to keep his feet planted and let this bullshit play out. They disappeared inside, but only for a second. Because then they appeared in the window, visible behind the pale, sheer curtains. They stood there long enough that it seemed like some sort of debate was going on, and then Maverick smiled. Because they sat at one of the tables in clear view of the street. Of the Ravens. Just like they’d planned.
That’s my girl, Al.
For the next forty minutes, the Ravens waited. They got a lot of strange looks from passersby on the sidewalk and traffic slowed as it went by as if trying to figure out what was going on, but he and the guys didn’t pay attention to any of it. Maverick couldn’t tell a lot about the conversation taking place inside because the curtains obscured facial expressions, but he could see Alexa. And that was all he needed. For now.
The brief, high-pitched whoopwhoop of a siren sounded out from just down the street. Maverick turned to see one of Frederick’s finest rolling up behind the farthest of the bikes, lights flashing. And of course it was Davis behind the wheel. So Slater had called in his lapdog.
The guy got out, all five-foot-seven-inches of him, and glared at the lot of them. You never saw a man with a bigger fucking power trip than Curt Davis. The blowhard swiped his hand over his slicked-back brown hair and put on his cop hat. “Y’all need to move along.”
Caine turned his lethal stare on the little weasel. “We’re citizens peaceably inhabiting public property. What’s the problem, officer?”
“The problem is you. All of you. We’re getting complaints from business owners. You’re loitering. And you’re impeding the flow of traffic,” Davis said, sounding a whole lot like he was trying to think of anything that might be relevant to harass them with. Maverick listened to the conversation, but mostly tried to keep his focus on Alexa. The cop’s appearance wasn’t really a surprise—it was a total Slater douche move—but it felt like a distraction. And distractions were dangerous.
Caine looked up and down the street, then back at the cop. “We all know who called you, Davis. You moonlighting as Slater’s security detail while on duty these days?”
“That doesn’t seem strictly kosher,” Phoenix said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Caine said, arching a brow.
Davis planted his hands on his hips, though one fell on the butt of his holstered weapon. “Move on. Now. Or I’ll add disturbing the peace and throw the lot of your sorry asses in jail.”
“Remember when the football team stuffed his sorry ass in a locker?” Phoenix asked one of their brothers, just needling the cop.
As if Davis had no sense of self-preservation, he got up in Caine’s face and spouted off with indignation and more threats.
“Go ahead. Try to arrest me,” Caine said. “Please.” If Davis couldn’t hear the deadly intent in the Raven’s tone, he was an idiot. And Maverick believed his brother meant it, which meant shit was about to escalate. Fast.
Inside, the curtains parted, briefly revealing Alexa’s unhappy face, and then she pushed up from the table. Slater followed quickly after. As she spilled out onto the street, her ex grabbed her wrist. She stumbled as the asshole reeled her in against him.
Maverick saw fucking red, already moving to get her free.
“Oh, shit,” someone said from behind him.
“Grant, let me go. Okay? Haven’t you said enough?” she cried, her voice clearly upset.
“Don’t forget what I said,” he said. “And know that I’m dead serious.”
“If you don’t get your hands off of her, you’ll be dead all right,” Maverick said, coming up to them.
Alexa tugged her arm free and crashed into Mav’s chest, pushing him back with both hands on his pecs. “No, Maverick. Don’t.”
He nailed the bastard with a murderous stare, letting Alexa hold him back. But just barely.
“Oh, please do, Maverick. By all means,” Slater said. Arrogant goddamned sonofabitch.
Mav’s blood fucking boiled with the need to take a swing at him. Which was exactly what he wanted.
“He’s not worth it, Mav. Come on.” She pushed him harder. “Come on. This we’re doing my way. It’s over. Let’s go.”
He pointed at Slater over Alexa’s shoulder. “Hurt her again, I rain down twice as much hurt on you.” Then he let himself be pushed, not waiting to see or hear what baiting comeback the asshole would throw at him. He hadn’t heard the other Ravens gather around him, but they were all right there on his six and walking with him back to their bikes.
“Have a nice evening, officer,” Jagger said with a smile as they all got on and started their engines. Alexa held Maverick tight, way tighter than on the way there, and he didn’t know whether she was still holding him back from Slater or just needing to feel him there. Whether her touch came from protectiveness or need, both sent heat through his blood.
One by one, they pulled out. Caine glared at Davis, while Phoenix flipped him off with a grin. But Maverick only had eyes for Alexa’s ex. Because that was not a man who thought this was over. Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER 19
The ride back to the Ravens’ compound passed in a blur. Because Alexa had no idea how she was going to resolve the situation Slater had backed her into, or whether to believe he’d really do all the things he threatened to do.
As if he sensed her worry, Maverick squeezed her hand where it lay on his chest. She hugged him tighter, wishing she could get closer, needing him inside her, wanting him to just make all of this go away, even if for only a while.
His little gesture of caring escalated her worry on a whole other front—Grant was off-the-scale irate about what he deemed the Ravens’ interference in his life and their relationship. In fact, she’d never seen Grant less in control than at that dinner. Obsessively arranging the flatware. Cutting the steak she hadn’t stayed long enough for him to finish into precise, same-sized squares. At one point he’d actually stammered, his eyes blinking almost like a tic. The fact that he’d called in Davis at some point proved he wasn’t going to let that interference go unaddressed.
It had been all she could do to keep Maverick from jumping Grant and beating him to a pulp right there in the middle of downtown Frederick. But then Maverick would’ve ended up arrested, shot, or dead. No doubt all things Grant would either like to see happen or maybe even was actively planning. Given what she could finally see about him now, Alexa wouldn’t put such things past Grant. Not anymore.
If only she’d seen it sooner.
A nauseating flutter of nerves rushed through her when they returned to the clubhouse. The way Maverick had been when they’d left the restaurant, there was no way he wasn’t going to be enraged at Grant’s efforts to blackmail Alexa into giving in. And at the same time she hated to do anything that might pull the Ravens further into this mess.
But Maverick was like a dog with a bone. She knew he wasn’t going to let this go, either.
“So what did he say?” Maverick asked when they got inside. The nine of them headed straight to the bar in the big rec room for a drink, and caught up with Dare, who was hanging there
waiting for them to return.
“What happened?” Dare asked, rising from the couch where he’d been sitting with Haven and his grandfather.
“Exchanged some words with Slater and Frederick’s very own Barney Fucking Fife,” Mav said. “But nothing major. Except whatever happened inside. Alexa?”
Everyone looked to her.
She took a deep breath and tried to collect her thoughts. Alexa couldn’t believe she had to give voice to Grant’s wild demands. She was overwhelmed and worried and stunned. She should’ve been panicking about the implications of what Grant was trying to do. Instead, she was just . . . shocked. All the noise inside her was too much. She’d gone numb. “I . . . he . . .”
“What?” Maverick asked, worry and a banked rage emanating from him.
Finally, she summed it up as succinctly as she could. “If I don’t do what he wants, he’s going to destroy me.” She crossed her arms and squeezed, trying to hold herself together. How was this her life? How was this her life?
“Sonofafuckingbitch,” Maverick bit out, raking at his sandy blond hair.
“And he wants?” Dare asked, his voice low and lethal.
“Me. To have me back. To marry me. Why would he want to marry someone who doesn’t want to marry him?” She shook her head, “bewildered” too small a word for what she felt. “He could have anyone. Why would he go to all this trouble . . . over me?”
Maverick was in front of her in an instant. “One, because you’re you. You’re smart, you’re caring, you’re talented, and you’re beautiful, and any man would want you. Don’t ever let me hear you ask such a bullshit question again.” He arched an eyebrow and nailed her with a fierce stare until she nodded, his words piercing a hole through her numbness and letting in a little heat and light. “Two, because he’s a control freak, and you’re denying him something he wants. That makes him want it even more. Three, because he doesn’t want to lose face by having it known that you called off the wedding and broke up with him. I’m sure he wants to avoid the questions that will naturally arise from that, not to mention the personal embarrassment at having been jilted, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to do so.”