by Laura Kaye
Maverick didn’t have time to worry about any of that just then, because the two Hummers lurched into drive, a piece of burning siding on the hood of the first. Time slowed to a dreamlike crawl as he slid under the car, using the tire for cover from the shots and the heat. He couldn’t tell how many people were in the vehicles careening around the flaming debris. Mav only knew that the Iron Cross refugees were still spraying bullets like they thought they had to shoot their way through. And then the Ravens started to return that fire. The storm couldn’t quite hide the sound, but it hardly mattered. Because everyone in the city would’ve heard that explosion, and there wasn’t anything Chen could do to cover their asses now. They just needed to get out as fast as they fucking could. Setting up a shot, Mav debated what to do—
Another explosion erupted from inside the building. Maverick felt it in his chest against the pavement. The heat was searing.
“Fuck,” he said, flinching and watching as the second Hummer spun out of control and crashed into the closest of the parked cars. The first one had been clear of the building when the new detonation occurred, but it suddenly spun out of control, too—and it was coming right for him.
Rolling hard and fast, Mav made for the opening on the far side of the undercarriage and had just about made it when the collision occurred. Metal scraped upon metal like a building was coming down on top of him. The Hummer pushed the sedan so hard that the far tire he’d just been hiding behind settled against his shoulder again.
He’d barely managed to swallow his heart when movement caught his eye and someone spilled out of the Hummer’s driver’s side maybe ten feet away. The man hit the ground hard, but Mav knew he remained lucid when he adjusted the grip on his weapon and scanned the scene with wide searching eyes. Pissed-off eyes. Then those eyes found Maverick through the darkness, and the man raised his gun.
Maverick got a shot off first because he’d had his weapon at the ready. It was the only thing that saved him. He knew the slug found its target when the man’s head and arms slumped. Mav didn’t feel great about that, but the situation was too hot to sit and spin on it. And no one made it through life without losing a few pieces of themselves along the way, did they?
He waited for another moment, making sure no more Iron Cross were going to come out that side door that the flames hadn’t yet reached. But all was suddenly still. Time to fly.
He’d no more had the thought when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Maverick looked at it to confirm the message.
Pull back. Follow assigned route home.
No kidding.
Racing to his Harley, his boots hit deep puddles and slipped on the grass, but then he was astride the bike and underway. Hauling ass away from the blaze. Maverick looked back once more in time to see one of the walls collapsing inward in a loud crack of flying sparks and flame.
Despite Chen’s assurances, Maverick expected the authorities to appear on their tails at any second. The only comfort was in seeing the groups of motorcycles forming up—each complete group of five a reassurance that their men had survived. It wasn’t until they were out on the open highway and heading west toward Frederick that Mav believed that they were truly free and clear.
The Bluetooth inside his helmet picked up an incoming call. “What?” he answered. He heaved a breath, trying to shake off the stress of the night.
“You okay?” Dare asked.
“Fuck, I don’t even know. Yeah. You?”
“I’m good,” Dare said. “So, that was some shit.”
“What the hell happened?” Maverick bit out, dark farmland flying by on both sides of the highway.
“I talked to Chen. He said there was some sort of power play inside the Iron Cross that tilted the whole fucking night on its axis, for starters. He’s not sure why the initial blast occurred like that, though they had a meth lab and were building explosives. For what, he wouldn’t say. They also had some kind of fail-safe destruct system hardwired in, which they apparently tripped,” Dare said, his voice sounding tired. Or maybe that was just their connection.
Building explosives? So the Iron Cross were into even more bad shit than they knew, just like Chen said. That lightened a little of the darkness inside Maverick’s chest over the man he’d taken out tonight. He sighed and shifted in the saddle, his back aching after being knocked on his ass.
“Are we whole?” Mav asked, still worrying about their men even though the bike count had been right on the way out of the city.
“Two not serious GSWs. Joker and Bandit. Otherwise, yes.” Dare’s voice didn’t sound like they weren’t serious. But the guy felt every hit the Ravens took personally and always had.
“Damnit,” Mav said. “Did Chen mention the women?”
“His men got them, and took a number of other Iron Cross out in the process,” Dare said. “They apparently got what they needed before it all went down.”
“Good. That’s good.” Those women could’ve been Haven. Cora. Alexa. Goddamnit.
“Yeah. Tonight sure as fuck didn’t go like we’d planned but hopefully it did what we needed it to do,” Dare said.
Well, that was an understatement if Mav ever heard one, but his cousin was right. “I’m just glad things might be settled with the Iron Cross now,” he said on a troubled sigh. “For Bunny, for Jeb, for all of us.”
They hung up, and Maverick tried to embrace the peacefulness of the open road for the rest of the trip. All told, it wasn’t long. Just about an hour door to door. Usually, having his fists and knees in the breeze was the surest path to chilling his ass out when life had him wound tight. Tonight was no exception, though perhaps he was wound a little tighter than normal.
Because of their own dead and injured. Because of what they’d just done. Because of his worry for Alexa.
He really was worried about her, and equally worried that there wasn’t much he could do. Not if she wouldn’t let him.
But at least with tonight behind him—with the Iron Cross finally out of the picture, Maverick could put his focus on watching out for her without feeling like he was letting the Ravens down.
He couldn’t do more to help those women, but he could help Alexa. And he would.
If she needed him, he’d be ready. That was all he knew. And for now, that would be enough.
CHAPTER 7
Dealing with her mother two mornings in a row was a special kind of hell. Guilt gripped Alexa for feeling that way, but she couldn’t help it. Yesterday after the doctor’s visit, her mother had broken down into hysterical tears that were, Alexa suspected, a ploy to get her to stay at the house longer. Which she’d done, making herself even later for work. Of course, Grant hadn’t appreciated that.
This morning, Alexa had brought over an order of groceries just like she’d promised, but getting any cleaning done was proving harder and taking longer than it had in a long time.
So far, Alexa had washed and put away the dirty dishes and washed several loads of laundry, and every step had been filled with tears, negotiations, and protests. Her mother hated having things put away because then she couldn’t see them, and she fiercely resisted any attempts to throw things away, even stuff that was obviously trash.
“Okay, Mom,” Alexa said, coming into the living room again. “We need to make more of a walkway in here for you so you don’t fall. Why don’t you keep the last week of newspapers and the last month of magazines and catalogs and let me recycle the rest?”
Wearing a T-shirt and a pair of capris, her mother sat in her recliner wringing her hands. A pile of used Kleenex sat on the chair beside her. “I need my magazines. They have coupons and recipes and good stories, and I haven’t read them all,” she said, voice filled with threatening tears.
“Then how about I recycle the newspapers and catalogs and you hold on to the magazines for now?” That would get rid of three huge stacks of paper. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
“Oh,” her mother said, frowning. “Oh, I don’t know.” She sighed as s
he grabbed a photo album and pulled it into her lap. She’d always found comfort in pictures of the past, and her needing to hold that album revealed her escalating stress level. “I guess.”
“Okay, thank you,” Alexa said, moving before her mother changed her mind. She grabbed a black trash bag and crouched next to one of the piles. Halfway through, a headline from last Saturday’s local paper caught her eye.
5 KILLED IN ATTEMPTED KIDNAPPING AT GREEN VALLEY RACE TRACK
Alexa’s gaze raced over the story. Green Valley belonged to the Raven Riders, and Alexa had spent many weekend nights there with Maverick watching stock-car races or the occasional demolition derbies the club hosted. Maverick’s uncle had inherited the track and the huge piece of property that surrounded it, all of which the motorcycle club now called home.
According to the article, a gang of out-of-state criminals had tried to kidnap a woman under the club’s protection, causing a shoot-out in the middle of a race.
The black band she’d seen tied around Maverick’s arm . . .
What if he’d been one of the five?
She shuddered as goose bumps erupted over her arms. But he wasn’t. You saw him with your own eyes. He’s fine.
“What are you looking at there?” her mother asked.
“Oh,” Alexa said, holding up the paper. “The shoot-out at the race track. I hadn’t seen this.” Which made her wonder why. They got the newspaper at her house, but she hadn’t seen one around in more than a week.
Her mom shook her head. “Terrible what happened. That Kenyon boy got shot and Maverick’s mother got hurt, too.”
“Oh, God. Are Dare and Bunny okay?” Alexa asked. Suddenly, she remembered the anguished look Maverick had worn that day in her office when she’d asked about the band he wore. An ache took up root in her chest for him. He’d lost a friend, and his mother and cousin had been hurt, too? And here Alexa had told him to stay away. Worse than that, she’d told him his presence could ruin things for her. Nausea curled through her belly.
“I don’t know the specifics, but I think so,” Mom said. “Bunny was treated and released. I think Dare was in the hospital for a few days. How have you not heard about this? It’s been all over the news.”
“I . . . I don’t know,” Alexa said. She didn’t always read the newspaper, but Grant usually left it on her desk after he’d read it in the morning. Seeing this made her realize he hadn’t done that all week, and in the midst of everything—including the aftermath of their fight, Alexa hadn’t noticed. Was it possible he’d taken the papers so she didn’t see this? No. Surely not. Frowning, Alexa stuffed the paper she’d been reading in the trash.
Before long, the papers filled the bag, so she grabbed a second and turned to the stack of catalogs.
“I want my catalogs,” her mother said in a small voice. “I like to look.”
No, she liked to shop. “Mom, there are so many of them.”
“I like my catalogs,” she said, her voice rising. “I don’t know why that’s so much to ask.”
“You don’t need them. You order from the internet anyway,” Alexa said, grabbing a handful.
“But I like to look at the bigger pictures in the catalogs first,” her mom said.
Don’t lose your temper, don’t lose your temper. The minute Alexa did, her mother would burst into tears and refuse to make another concession for the rest of the day. And that would be totally counterproductive. Alexa needed to keep this place clean—not just for her mother’s health and safety, but because Grant would flip if he ever saw exactly how bad the inside of this house sometimes got. It was why Alexa came over here most Saturdays to clean. He’d been inside this house exactly one time since she’d moved in, and he’d nearly had a panic attack at seeing it—and that had been early on, before it had really gotten bad. So he didn’t help because he couldn’t stand the mess and didn’t like to spend time with her mother, anyway—he said she made him uncomfortable, and his discomfort made her mother nervous and anxious. It was just better to keep them separate, even though it made Alexa sad.
“Let me take these, Mom. You’ll get more in the mail. By the end of the week, you’ll have half this many right back again. You won’t miss them. Please,” she said, giving her mother a pleading look. “I worry you’ll trip and fall with so much right around the foot of your chair.” Especially since the pillow and folded blanket stacked next to her meant that she was sleeping in the chair again, too. More evidence that her bedroom had probably become unlivable.
“Why do you make me do this, Alexa? You know I like my things,” her mother said. It wasn’t a no. Progress.
“I know. But I love you. And I want you safe. It’s not safe to have all this in here.” She held up a handful of catalogs. “Okay?”
Her mom hugged herself and waved her hand dismissively.
It didn’t take long to fill the second bag. Though getting rid of the newspapers and catalogs did clear some floor space, their removal hardly made a dent in the overall state of the room. “I’m going to take these outside. Be right back.”
It was always best to remove things from the house after getting her mother to agree to part with them; otherwise Alexa would turn around and find her mom pulling stuff out of the trash. With more than a little difficulty, Alexa hefted the bags over her shoulders so they would clear the piles of junk she had to navigate on her way to the foyer.
Awkwardly, she made her way through the front door and then she walked the bags to the end of the driveway, her biceps burning. She set them down with a groan next to a row of other bags she’d brought out earlier. Catching her breath, she braced her hands on her bare knees and enjoyed the warm June breeze blowing across her neck. She’d been working for a little over three hours and she was beat.
She needed to get back into her routine of doing the elliptical a few times a week. Really, she had no excuse not to since Grant had a fully decked-out workout room in the basement. Well, no excuse except for the fact that her final project and all the last-minute wedding planning took up the time she might otherwise have devoted to the elliptical. Still, Alexa had a wedding dress to fit into in just two weeks. And Grant seemed to notice the minute her weight fluctuated more than a few pounds. Of course, she wasn’t sure she knew someone more fit than Grant, who ran on the treadmill and lifted weights almost every morning.
“How ’bout I give you a hand?” came a voice from behind her.
Alexa whirled, heart in her throat. “Oh my God, Maverick. Don’t sneak up on me.”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” he said, looking sexier than any man had a right to look in a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, and his Ravens cut hanging on those broad shoulders. And here she was, sweaty, grimy from cleaning her mother’s house, and with her hair thrown up in a messy knot. Not that her appearance mattered, of course.
“Then where did you come from? Again?” She arched her brow and gave him a look. “I thought I said you shouldn’t be keeping an eye on me?” Though she didn’t manage to put the heat behind the words she probably should have.
“I have a problem with listening,” he said with a smirk.
“No kidding.” Alexa planted her hands on her hips.
“Besides, I like keeping my eyes on you,” he said with a wink. His gaze swept over her in a slow, satisfied up and down. Heat rose into Alexa’s cheeks, because he’d said the words jokingly but there was an intensity and a seriousness to his expression that made her think of dark rooms and frantic kisses and messed-up sheets. Molten-hot memories of the two of them together—memories she’d kept boxed up tight for the past five years—threatened to come roaring back.
She couldn’t let them, so she changed the subject. “Hey, how’s your mom? And Dare? I’m sorry I didn’t ask the other day. I didn’t know what’d happened.”
The amusement melted off Maverick’s rugged face. “Both doing better. They’ll be okay.”
Relief flooded through Alexa. “Oh, thank God. I was worried.”
Lips
pressed into a tight line, Maverick nodded as his gaze drifted toward the house. “How’s your mom?”
“Oh. She’s . . .” Alexa shrugged. She couldn’t help but be struck by another comparison. Grant rarely asked after her mother, except to ask how long Alexa would be gone on Saturdays. “You know. Pretty much the same.” As much time as Maverick had spent with Tyler and her over the years, he would know what she meant. In that moment, Alexa realized Maverick was the only other person left who truly understood Cynthia Harmon’s problems—and what it took to deal with them.
“Yeah. So let me help.” The sincerity in those dark blue eyes reached inside her chest and played with long-buried needs and desires.
“Okay,” she found herself saying. She shook her head, confusion swamping her even as she went with it. “Yeah. Sure. Um.” She gestured toward the house. “Come say hi?”
Maverick smiled. And holy wow. It had been a long time since Alexa had seen him smile that way. It stole her breath. Because Maverick Rylan smiling was stunningly gorgeous. The smile brought out deep dimples on both sides of his mouth, and combined with the stubble covering his jaw and those blue, blue eyes—
“We going in?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked.
So busted. “Of course,” she said, hugging herself and looking down at the blacktop of the driveway as she led him toward the house. “When we get inside, let me give Mom a heads-up that you’re here in case she wants to put herself together a bit. Or something.”
“Sure,” Maverick said from beside her. Out of nowhere, Alexa was swimming in the most overwhelming sensation of déjà vu. How many times had Maverick come to visit her mother with Alexa? How many times had he helped drop off groceries or take out trash or sat and chatted with her mom while Alexa took care of something that otherwise would’ve caused her a lot of stress? Him being there was suddenly so familiar and so foreign—because it had been a long time since she’d felt like she had any companionship in dealing with her mom. Going all the way back to Tyler’s death.
A weird little knot of tension settled into Alexa’s gut.
