by Kay Maree
“Get off her!” she yells as she jumps on his back and starts hitting him.
“Get off me, you little skank. You’re fucking next!” he screams as he tosses her off, and she hits the floor.
“Cam!” I yell. I try to crawl toward her, but Brad yanks me back by my hair. As I start to scramble to my feet, there’s a loud thud. The front door flies off its hinges and lands on the floor with a booming thump.
I’m momentarily confused as the dust settles in the room. I can make out a figure in the doorway, and I shrink down against the chair. I can’t make out who it is with the few working street lights illuminating the yard putting the man in complete shadow, but he’s enormous. But when he speaks, I immediately recognize him. Maverick.
“Get the fuck off her!” he yells as he barrels in the room and scoops up Cam before pulling me up and wrapping a protective arm around me.
“Who the fuck are you? Get the fuck out of my house!” Brad screams as he starts toward us.
“Step the fuck back, asshole. Or you will seriously regret it,” Maverick snarls. “Girls, go outside, now. I think Brad and I have a little something to discuss.”
Brad starts to stand as Maverick releases us, and we scramble toward the front door, but not before I grab my bag.
Once outside, I grip Cam around the upper arms and look into her eyes. “Are you OK?”
Tears stream down her face but she nods. “Y-yes. I-I thought…” She trails off as a sob escapes her lips, and I pull her against me.
“Shhhh. It’s OK, Cammy bear. It’s OK. Shhhh,” I try to soothe her. I rub a hand up and down her back. She hugs me tightly. I’m not sure who is supporting who.
“We need to leave, now,” Maverick says. I jump at his nearness. He doesn’t touch me. He stares at me like I’m a wounded wild animal.
“W-we don’t have anywhere to go,” I manage.
“You can come home with me tonight. You are not staying here,” he growls as he takes me by my arms and leads us the eight blocks back to the gym. No one says a word as we follow him. It’s late and the streets are quiet as we walk. Only the shuffling of our feet echoes along the empty sidewalks.
When we get back to the gym, Maverick walks past the doors to a side door and unlocks it. He turns on a light, and I look inside to see a narrow staircase. I hug Cam to my side, unsure of what to do. I could call Abby, but it’s late and her kids are probably asleep.
Seeing my clear indecision, Maverick turns to me. “I won’t hurt you, either of you. I promise. I have a spare bedroom and bathroom and you are welcome to use them as long as you need them.”
“I…uh,” I start.
“Thanks,” Cam interjects as she walks over to Maverick and hugs him. “I think you saved our lives.”
Maverick hugs her back. “Anytime, little fighter. You know the motto,” he says to her softly.
She looks up and smiles through her tears. “Only fight to protect,” she whispers.
He nods and she pulls away to head up the steps.
“The combination is zero-one-one-seven,” he calls out to her as the outer door latches behind me.
“You’ll be safe here, Bridget. I give you my word.”
I look up to meet his eyes. I know he speaks the truth because the look in them says he’d kill anyone that ever tried to hurt us. We are safe with him, at least physically safe.
I walk up the stairs and can feel the heat and power radiate off Maverick as he follows me. He could have easily killed Brad with his bare hands, and I wonder if he did. I shiver at that thought.
Cam is standing with the door open at the top of the stairs and as I turn to look inside, I’m taken aback by what I see. I expected a bachelor pad, but this is an apartment of an established man. I step into a living room with dark brown leather sofas and chairs facing a large television that’s mounted to the wall. A long table under the television has books on it. There’s art hung around the room and not art you buy at a big box store, but art made by an actual artist. I walk over to a painting and study it. It’s a landscape of the beach and a lighthouse.
“You like art?” he asks as he shuts the door.
“I…guess,” I answer. Because I honestly don’t know. I’ve never given it much thought. I mean, I liked art in school, and I liked to draw, but I’m not much of an artist.
“Zeek’s wife paints,” he says. My mind takes a moment to remember the man I met earlier tonight, which now seems like days ago.
“She’s good,” Cam says as she bounces around the room. My gaze follows her. There’s a dining area with a proper table and matching chairs. Beyond that, there’s a kitchen. It’s clean and has things like stainless steel appliances and granite countertops that I’ve only seen on television shows.
I can see a hallway beyond that which I assume leads to the bedrooms.
“You have a nice place,” I say to Maverick.
“Zeek and his wife, Violet, used to rent it out, but after their last tenant moved out, they offered it to me.”
“Which one is ours?” Cam calls out from the hallway.
“Cam,” I chide.
Maverick smiles at me. “The one you are staring at right now,” he says as he leads me toward the hallway.
I peek around the corner into a bedroom with a queen-sized bed, which is way bigger than the futon we currently share. Brad had sold the two twin beds as soon as he was cleared by the authorities to be our legal guardian. So, this bed looks palatial. Cam must be reading my mind because she dives onto it and makes a snow angel on the giant fluffy comforter.
“Mav, I hope you like roommates, because I am never leaving, like ever,” she says as she buries her head in the oversized pillows. “It even smells good!”
I want to laugh and cry. My sister doesn’t even know what fabric softener smells like. Hell, I only know because when Abby can afford it, she buys it and her clothes smell fabulous.
“The bathroom is across the hall. I hope that’s OK,” Mav says as he turns and flips on the light to a bathroom that looks newly renovated.
Cam whips around and looks over at the bathroom. “Holy shit!” she exclaims as she jumps out of bed and runs into the bathroom, spinning in a circle with her hands in the air.
“Cam!” I scold.
She clamps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she whispers. “But holy cow! This is amazing!” She runs her hands over the granite countertops and fancy brass faucet.
“Z and Violet renovated it before I moved in. They were gonna sell it, but it wasn’t a seller’s market, so they decided to wait a bit,” he explains as though he’s slightly embarrassed to be in such opulent surroundings, or at the very least, out of place in such an apartment.
“There are towels in the linen closet.” He points to a cupboard in the corner of the bathroom. “And help yourself to anything in the fridge. I’m serious. Stay as long as you need.”
“I…I’ll figure something out. I was planning on getting us a place soon, so if it’s not too much trouble, maybe just a few days,” I say to him as Cam opens the cupboard and pulls out the fluffiest towels I’ve ever seen and begins squeezing them. I’m glad the trauma of the evening isn’t freaking her out, but I know the long-lasting effects of it will mean therapy for her someday. I fight the tears that threaten.
“Cam, we should get to bed. It’s late,” I say to her.
“Can I shower?” she asks, looking longingly at the giant bathtub. Then she frowns.
“We don’t have our clothes,” she adds.
“Oh, right,” I reply, as I bite my lip. I’m wearing one of my two work uniforms, and I have one outfit stuffed in my bag because I always do, just in case.
“I got this. Give me twenty minutes,” Maverick says as he turns and heads toward the front door. He pauses and looks back at me. “Don’t open the door, and by all means, do not go anywhere.” And with that, he shuts the door, leaving Cam and me in the lap of luxury.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
MAVERICK
What the ever-loving fuck am I doing? I think to myself as I walk down to my car and head toward the nearest big-box pharmacy. I know they have some clothing items in there because I had to buy a new t-shirt there after a rather colorful night at a local bar.
I shouldn’t have followed them home, but as soon as the door shut, I just had this feeling. I kept my distance, so they wouldn’t see me. I cringed when they turned into a rough neighborhood not far off the main strip of our town. I cringed further when I saw the house they entered. It was dilapidated, to say the least. I saw the dull flashing light of a television in the front room as I approached it. The girls had gone to the back of the house and when I heard talking, I knew why. I could see in the front window and what I saw made my blood boil. Fuck no! Not on my fucking watch. I didn’t even hesitate to break down the door of that motherfucker’s house. He’s lucky I let him live.
My blood boils just thinking about it as I pull into the pharmacy parking lot. I grab some t-shirts and sweatpants, flip-flops, some toiletries, and underwear in various sizes. As I’m walking out, I see a book on the shelf that Zeek and Violet’s granddaughter was reading last summer. I grab it, too.
I clench my jaw as images from the evening play back in my mind. Who does that? Fuck, I know all too well who does shit like that. I heard Bridget use his name, Brad. And that’s all it took, her cry brought me to my edge.
I had been there before. Shit, that’s where I lived, on the edge of reason and sanity. It’s why I was so good at boxing for so very long. Even now, I have to fight to keep myself from going down the dark path I was on so many years ago. I’m a different man now, but deep down, I’m still that same boy nobody loved. The same boy Rick used as a punching bag. Motherfucking Rick. The thought of him enrages me. I push down my past as I pull up and park.
It’s quiet when I walk into my apartment. I walk toward the guest room and peek inside. Cam is fast asleep, wearing one of my shirts. A small smile forms on my lips. I slowly set the bags down. I turn toward the bathroom, but the door is open, and the light is off. I frown and head back toward the kitchen. Then I see her. Bridget is curled up on the sofa, a blanket wrapped around her. She’s staring out the window at the street.
“Bridget?” I murmur.
She turns toward me after a long moment.
“He could have killed us both,” she whispers. I see the tears then. They stream down her face. In three strides, I’m kneeling by her side.
“It’s not your fault. You’re safe now. I won’t let that motherfucker harm a hair on your head or Cam’s,” I promise her.
I can see she’s shaking. I know I shouldn’t touch her, but something in me snaps. I lean forward and pick her up, blanket and all and carry her to my bed.
“You can sleep in here tonight. I’ll take the couch,” I say to her as I set her down before she can protest. I’m about to pull back when her arms come wrapping around my neck and she clings to me for dear life. I sit down and scoop her into my lap. She buries her face in my neck and begins to sob. I rock her gently, running my hand up and down her back. She’s too thin, much too thin. I can feel bones that I shouldn’t feel.
Her hair is soft and falls in waves down her back. I fight the urge to yank it back and claim her mouth. Something about her has me wanting to make her mine. Her sobs slowly subside. She feels so right in my arms like she was made to be there.
“You should get some rest,” I say in a low gravelly voice, so as not to startle her.
“Stay with me, please,” she begs. I clench my jaw. She’s temptation personified. I close my eyes and breathe.
“Just until you fall asleep,” I say to her. She nods and pulls her head back. And her tear-stained face makes me sorry I didn’t obliterate Brad.
I turn us, and she settles down against me, her leg wrapped over mine, her head on my chest. I pull a cover over her. She grips me, and I can’t deny it feels good. It takes all my willpower to keep my cock from responding to the feel of her against me. I wonder what it’d be like to wake up to her in bed, naked. I hate that my mind has gone there. She’s already had one dick trying to force himself on her tonight, she doesn’t need me wet-dreaming about her.
I wrap my arms more tightly around her, and she lets out a deep breath.
“Thank you,” she says so quietly that I almost think I’ve heard her wrong.
“You probably saved our lives,” she adds.
“Cam could have taken him,” I say. She laughs, and I know then that she’ll be alright, she’s a fighter, just like Cam, and just like me.
“Well, regardless, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Bridget. Now, get some rest.”
I’m not exactly sure when she falls asleep, but after a while, her breathing slows, and her body goes limp. I find myself still absentmindedly twirling her hair around my finger. It’s silky and soft and my cock is as aware of her proximity as the rest of me. She’s beautiful, inside and out. And something about her and Cam has unleashed a part of me that I buried a long time ago. I will end that motherfucker if he ever touches a hair on their heads again. And just like that, Cam and Bridget have become my new life priority.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BRIDGET
Warmth. The first thing I’m aware of is that I’m so unbelievably warm, scratch that, hot. I am so hot. I feel like I’m sleeping inside a furnace. I go to move, but I can’t. My eyes fly open, my fight-or-flight kicking in as I wake.
The moment the light hits my pupils, I realize exactly why I can’t move. Maverick. I’m wrapped around him like a vine and his giant arms are holding me against him. He’s the heat source. The man must be nuclear because he has somehow removed his shirt in the night and now only wears gym shorts. He’s not under the covers at all and his body temperature must be well over ninety-eight point six degrees.
“Maverick,” I whisper.
He jumps in his sleep and his eyes fly open. He looks around and then at me, releasing his breath.
“Shit, sorry,” he mumbles as he loosens his grip on me. “I must have dozed off.”
“It’s OK,” I say as I push off of him and sit up. I’m still in my clothes from yesterday. I sigh. I need to wash them or go get my other clothes. Maverick reads my mind.
“You two are not to go over there without me. Do you understand?” he growls in a menacingly low voice.
“I need my second work outfit.”
“Then, I will go get it for you,” he says. I raise an eyebrow.
He puts a finger over my lips. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not letting him lay a finger on you. Why don’t you grab a shower and change into some new clothes? I can wash this in the meantime.”
“OK,” I say slowly as I untangle myself from him and stand up. I stretch. His eyes don’t leave mine, yet I feel like he’s checking me out. I don’t know how I feel about that. He's definitely a beautiful man. He’s strong and protective. But he also has a little edge to him that makes him…scary? Maybe it just makes him a little dangerous, and right now, I don’t need dangerous.
I go to the guest room and find some new clothes. Maverick stands in the hallway.
“Hand me your clothes and I’ll get a load of laundry started. Then we can go train,” he states.
I shake my head. “I have to go get my stuff. My computer, our clothes,” I say to him. He sighs.
“Fine, but first you shower and eat,” he declares. I know I won’t win this argument, so I nod and go into the bathroom.
Once I’m changed and a big fluffy towel is wrapped around me, I crack the door open. He’s leaning against the wall next to it and looks more like a bouncer than a host. I grin and shake my head.
“Here,” I say as I hand him clothes. I had carefully tucked my dirty underwear inside my shirt, mortified he might see that my undies were falling apart. New underwear was at the bottom of my list.
He took the clothes, and I went about
showering. The shower was palatial and spa-like. I was lucky to get a trickle of water at Brad’s house. And I certainly didn’t want to touch anything in that shower, if you could even call it that.
I use the shampoo and conditioner he had bought. A brand that I would have never bought because it was too expensive. Even the body soap was foamy and decadent. When I was finally clean, I was surprised to find underwear in my size and gratefully dressed in brand-new clothes. This was the biggest luxury of all. Aside from underwear and socks, we almost exclusively shopped at the thrift store at the other end of town.
I pull my hair into a ponytail and neatly hang the towel on the bar next to the sink. I step across the hall and go to wake Cam, but a hand reaches out and stops me.
“Let’s go get your stuff first,” Maverick says.
“OK,” I say hesitantly.
“We’ll take my car,” he says as he grabs my hand and leads me down the stairs and outside. It seems unfamiliar and foreign to hold his hand, but a part of me doesn’t want to let go.
He leads me to a sporty-looking car parked along a side street. It’s not what I expected from such a huge man. I was waiting for some kind of giant SUV.
We drive the less-than-a-mile distance in silence. When he pulls up outside the house, he places a hand on my leg.
“I go in first. You do not enter until I say so. Understand?” he commands.
I bite my lip as I feel adrenaline starting to pump through my veins. I nod.
“Good,” he replies, and we walk quietly up to the back door which is unlocked as always.
I wait while he goes inside. A moment later, he appears. “It’s clear. He’s not downstairs,” he adds.
I walk with him behind me to my room. I grab my computer, our clothes, whatever I can fit in the trash bags I always keep in a drawer because you just never know when you have to make a quick escape.
“You’ve been planning to leave,” he states as he watches me.
“I told you. I’ll have enough money in a few weeks. Then I’ll pay you back, and we can get out of your hair,” I say as I stuff a few last things in the bags.
