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“So that’s who she was running from,” Sara said, leaning against Shane.
“Yeah,” Dare said. “But we’ll make sure he can’t find her. Don’t you worry.”
“I have been,” Sara said with a small smile and a little shrug. “They reminded me so much of me and Jenna. I just want them to be happy like we are now.” She looked up at Shane with so much affection on her face that it sucker-punched Dare. Because he wanted that. He wanted that with Haven. Who he’d let believe all damn day that she wasn’t important to him. In the chaos of planning for the arms exchange, there just hadn’t been time to pull her aside and do the conversation justice, especially when Haven had made herself scarce. No doubt purposely.
“They will be,” Dare said, meaning that down into his very marrow. No matter what, he would take care of Haven Randall just like she deserved. “You’ve got my word on that.”
“Thanks, man,” Shane said. “We appreciate it.”
Luckily there wasn’t much time for more small talk about Haven, because before long they’d all filled their stomachs and were back in business mode. The Hard Ink guys were going in wearing tactical gear that would hide their faces, because the last thing any of them needed was the Iron Cross putting two and two together, especially if that equation hadn’t already been solved. They’d be hidden on the outskirts unless the Ravens needed them front and center. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
At seven-thirty, Nick and his teammates left for the location, wanting to get in place before the other side had time to arrive. As promised, at eight, Phoenix placed the call alerting the Iron Cross to the nine o’clock meeting place, and then the Ravens were back in the saddle and heading there themselves.
Hoping to be done with this city and its fucking gangs once and for all.
CHAPTER 23
At exactly nine o’clock, ten men from the Iron Cross spilled from four black Humvees that had just entered the big, abandoned parking garage in a derelict part of the city. The Ravens had been waiting for fifteen minutes, their positions well chosen, their escape routes well protected, and their rides parked facing handlebars out so they could get out fast if they had to. Nick’s team couldn’t be seen, and hopefully wouldn’t have to be. But it was gold knowing they were there and that they were listening—Beckett and Marz had some kind of equipment that would enable that from a safe distance.
Feet spread, arms crossed, jaw set, Dare stood in front of several nondescript wooden crates filled with wood shavings, guns, and ammunition, Maverick and Phoenix at his sides, the rest of his men at his back.
The men from the Iron Cross had one obvious feature in common—most of them had shaved white heads. Which made their recruitment of the mostly black Church Gang members even more interesting, didn’t it? Not all gangs were racially exclusive, but Baltimore’s racial lines were generally pretty deeply drawn. Had been for as long as Dare had known the city, at least.
Wearing some kind of black military getup that didn’t look too different from the gear Nick’s guys had worn, the tallest of the men stepped forward. “I’m Dominic,” he said in a deep voice, soulless blue eyes like ice. “Who’s Phoenix?”
“That’s me,” Phoenix said with a nod, then he pointed to Dare. “This is our president, Dare. He’ll be handling the deal from here.”
Dominic’s gaze sliced to Dare, and he repeated the name as if it was something distasteful. The guy might’ve had a few inches on Dare, but Dare sure as shit didn’t scare easily, and he didn’t do intimidated at all. Not the way he’d grown up, and not the way he lived his life now. “I want your word, man to man, in front of all our combined people, that you’ll keep clear of our betting activity in the city,” Dare said.
“Which of your men is in charge of that here?” Dominic asked.
“That’s me,” Ike said, stepping up beside Maverick. Ike Young was pretty well known around the Baltimore underground for sports betting, so no doubt the Iron Cross already had a decent idea who he was. “I’ll do my job and stay out of your business if you give me the same respect.”
The two men eyeballed each other for a long moment, and then Dominic nodded. “You have our agreement. The Iron Cross isn’t interested in making enemies.” An agreement between outlaws might not seem like much, but reputation and your word mattered a fucking lot if you wanted to get deals done and keep other groups from stabbing you in the back.
“We’re glad to hear it. Then if you have our money, we assume you’d like to inspect the product,” Dare said.
