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Suddenly Gunny rushed into the kitchen through the back door. “Get ready to move. Now,” he said in a voice that was all business.
Haven looked to Cora as she rose from the table. “What’s happened?”
“I don’t have the details,” he said, gesturing to her and Cora to get moving. “But Dare will be here in five to get you.”
Maybe Caine was back with the documentation they needed? Haven took a step toward the mess hall door, but then turned and threw her arms around Bunny. “In case I don’t see you, I just wanted to say that I’ll never forget you, Bunny. Thank you so much for everything.”
“The feeling is entirely mutual, honey,” Bunny said as she wrapped her thin arms around Haven’s back. “You take care of yourself and each other.” Bunny hugged Cora next.
And then Gunny hustled them through the mess hall and into the front lounge, where Jeb and Bandit were waiting.
“What’s happening?” Haven asked again. “Is Caine back?” But the guys just shook their heads and kept their gazes trained out the windows. Not knowing made Haven about ten times more anxious than if they’d just tell her.
Headlights swung into the parking lot and zoomed in on the front windows, the sound of tires crunching on gravel reaching her ears despite the roar of the races. The minute the truck came to a hard stop, the men were shepherding them outside and toward it, even as Dare hopped out of the driver’s seat. He left his door hanging open as he rushed up the porch steps, where a small crowd had formed. Haven waited near the passenger door, wanting—no, needing—to hear what was going on.
“Randall and his men are here somewhere,” Dare told Doc. “I can’t spare enough people to secure this location, so I’m taking the women down to the control room and bringing the men back down to the track. We need all the bodies we can get down there.”
He’s here?
She grasped the edge of the door for support as the world spun around her. The reality of that statement was like a punch to the gut. He was here. So close. And maybe closing in.
Cora slid off the passenger seat and put her arm around Haven’s shoulders. “I hope they kill him,” she said. “I hope they kill them all.” Never in their whole friendship had Haven heard such anger and hatred in her best friend’s voice. Not that she disagreed with the sentiment. Not even a little.
“Count me in,” Doc said, jogging down the steps toward the other Ravens who were climbing into the bed of Dare’s truck. Bear followed suit.
“I’ll lock up and head home,” Bunny said. “Go. Do what you have to do.” She placed a quick peck on Dare’s cheek.
“Okay,” Dare said, squeezing his aunt’s shoulder. He returned to the truck and called out, “Jeb, stay here until Bunny’s gone and then come down.”
“You got it,” Jeb said, hopping back down from the truck’s bed.
Cora and Haven got in and shut the door as Dare climbed in through the other door, his expression filled with so much cold anger that it sharpened the angles on his already harsh face. He jerked the truck into reverse.
“How do you know he’s here?” Haven asked, bracing her feet against the floorboard to keep herself steady on the large bench seat as the truck lurched.
Dare met her gaze for a brief moment, and there was so much emotion in the flash of his dark eyes that it made her heart race. “The sheriff found your father’s and two of his crew’s cars parked in a commuter lot off I-70. Traffic camera near that exit reveals they came into town late last night. Which has given them an entire day to get into place, and they’ve done it using vehicles we didn’t know to fucking look for.” His words absolutely seethed.
“Oh, God,” Haven said. Her gaze darted from the trees along the side of the road to the lights radiating from farther down the mountain. With all that lead time, her father could be lurking anywhere, everywhere.
Dare’s hand landed on her thigh. “We’ll get through this,” he said.
She grasped his hand tight in hers. “I know.” She believed him. She had to, because the alternatives were totally unacceptable, which led her brain to unhelpfully conjure up all the possible worst-case scenarios—and made her consider what she’d be willing to do if any of them actually happened.
THE CONTROL ROOM was a long, narrow space with white-painted cinder-block walls, a big safe built into one of them, and two desks that had been pushed together to create a makeshift security station. Joker and Blake sat before a series of monitors that had her father’s guys’ photographs and cars taped in front of them, but the Ravens were only paying one of the screens much attention—the feed from the camera trained on the two open box office windows.
