“I did. I do.” I licked my lips at that, wondering what he’d say, what his reaction would be, but he didn’t give me much of one. Instead, he kept his face turned away so I could only see his expression from the side.
“Why?”
“I told you why, Maverick.”
“Did I tell you my real name?”
Uncertain, I stared at him. “Well, I mean, we got married. You used it at the courthouse.”
“We got married in a courthouse?” He made an explosive sound under his breath. “I think I sound like a selfish asshole. A beautiful woman like you should have all the white lace and meringue dress and wedding cake she needs.”
“I was happy with the courthouse,” I told him simply, and it wasn’t a lie. “I just wanted to be married to you.” Another truth, even if it was fudged a little.
Our marriage had a purpose, but I’d never have gone through with it if he didn’t make me feel safe. Being his wife meant I was able to step forward and declare to the world how evil Donavan Lancaster was. He’d been thrown to the wolves because of my statement. Had arrest warrants hurled at him because Maverick had helped me shore up my legal position in this country, all while protecting me. Keeping me from harm.
Being his wife had given me wings… but only because he was there to catch me if I fell.
I knew, one day, ICE might come for me. They’d figure out that my marriage was a farce and I’d be ripped from the family I was coming to love, but that was in the future.
In the here and now, I was at this man’s side, and he needed me.
Whether he’d admit it or not, he needed me. He had before, and he would again, because nobody, and I meant nobody, could understand what he was going through—but only one survivor could help another through the labyrinth I knew he’d woken up in.
So, I told him, “Maverick, you can paint yourself anyway you want, but I’m telling you now, I fell for you. You can’t take away my feelings, and I won’t push them onto you, but I’d like to help.
“Maybe it seems selfish to you—of course I want the old Maverick back—but I feel as though this you was always hidden from me. I’d like to learn about you, would love to help you get some peace if you let me.” I cleared my throat when he didn’t argue with me, and I carried on, “I’ve always had nightmares. They’re stupid ones,” I lied. “Yet you never made fun of them, never made me feel dumb. You helped me get some rest, I’d like to help you too.”
For the longest time, he was quiet. So quiet I wasn’t sure if I should get up, if I should head back to my room and find a couple of packets of pain relievers because my throat was already starting to ache, and I thought a hot cup of tea would soothe it, but just as hope fled and I began to realize my words had had no effect, he murmured, “Nic was my rock.”
I barely breathed as he spoke those words, and I barely moved because if I did, maybe he’d wake up and would refrain from sharing the hard truth with me. So I froze in place and let him talk.
Let him do what he needed to start the journey back to me, because no matter what, whether it was the new or old Maverick, he would come back. That was a promise I made to both of us.
Seven
Maverick
“Nic was my rock.”
I hadn’t meant to speak, hadn’t meant to say a word, but there was something about this woman who was somehow my wife.
Not just my Old Lady.
My wife.
I’d wifed her.
My ties to the MC had been unofficial from adolescence. I’d always remained on the outskirts of the club’s boundaries because my long-term goal had been to serve in the Green Berets. But to be promoted into that elite band of brothers, there was a background check—one I’d have failed if I’d been patched in.
For all that, I’d never stopped being a brother to the council, to the rest of the club too. If I could help, I would. Just unofficially.
But the way I worked, even back when my brain was telling me it was 2010, I’d never have thought of wifing a woman. I’d have always branded her as an Old Lady.
She was different, and the ring on her finger, a simple gold band that represented much more than she could know, was proof of that.
Guilt speared me as I thought about how I’d woken up.
Her panicked, dilated eyes desperately peering up at me, her face burning bright red, her throat pinned beneath my forearm, her body struggling but those struggles were starting to die with her as she began to pass out from oxygen deprivation. Death had been too close at hand, and I wasn’t even sure if she knew it.
Tomorrow, there might even be proof of it in burst blood vessels in her eyes and around her mouth, never mind in the bruising on her throat from the force of my attack.
I’d almost killed her.
Christ.
“How was he your rock?” she whispered softly when I fell silent.
Her voice was always delicate, raspy, but now it was worse. I’d done that to her.
Fuck.
“He helped me through some tough times, and we got closer together. He had bad PTSD, but he was so good at what he did, the CO kept signing him off for more duties when he should have been retired out.”
She fell silent at that, processing my words. I’d noticed a slight accent to her timbre, but she spoke English perfectly. At least I thought she did. Had she not understood me?
Tilting my head a little so I could look at her without her knowing, I managed to catch a glimpse of her frown. But it wasn’t of confusion. Combined with her wide eyes, I knew she wanted to understand. Was desperate to.
Had anyone cared that much about me ever?
Nic had loved me, but he knew I was a soldier. More than that, he knew I was a natural born killer.
This woman, this Ghost, she didn’t look at me like that.
Nor did she treat me like I was an invalid.
Unable to pinpoint exactly how I felt when she was gazing at me, I cleared my throat and rumbled, “Aren’t you going to ask what he was good at?”
“What was he so good at?” she parroted promptly.
“My team got all the shitty jobs. We each had our particular talents,” I mused. “So we’d get shipped off to the far corners of hell by our CO. Nic could build a bridge faster than I could fix my hog.” I shook my head. “I’ve seen some damn good engineers in my time, but Nic was spectacular.”
“He built things?” she queried, her surprise evident.
“Yes. He was the weapons man, but his experience was varied. Sometimes we had to get a tank across a bridgeless river or…” I winced, not wanting to think about the less than innocent occasions when Nic’s skills had come in useful. “He was good at everything he did. In English, we say, ‘He was a jack of all trades.’ Except, in his case, he’d been a master of much, not few.”
“What was your specialty?”
“Computers.”
She winced. “Of course. Dumb of me to ask.”
Was it? It surprised me that she knew that much.
“Plus I’m very good at hand-to-hand combat.” And sneaking into locked buildings where I could take out a target with no one being the wiser.
“We all had our place, and Nic wasn’t their leader but we treated him like it because he was the eldest.”
“What made you fall in love with him?”
“One day, we’d just seen this woman blow herself up with kerosene because she’d been forced into an arranged marriage, and Nic cried.” I sucked in a breath. “We were used to seeing so much shit over there, so many things that belonged in a horror movie that we just got used to it. I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t cry. Her screams haunt me,” I disclosed, “but I didn’t cry. Nic did, and it was like when you put a key in the door and turn the lock. It was a revelation.”
“I’m sorry your story together has such a harsh beginning,” she whispered, and the bitch of it was, I heard her sincerity.
Here I was, telling her about how I’d loved some guy she’d never heard of when she was my wif
e.
How fucked up was that?
“Everything about our beginning was harsh. That was why I stuck to him. If he was my rock, I was his glue. Especially toward the end.”
“You remember the end?”
I shook my head. “I just remember Kembesh.”
“What happened?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Don’t I?”
I heaved a sigh. “We were cornered in an outpost the Taliban forces had overtaken. We’d spent days getting it back under our command because there was a shit ton of weapons stored there that we didn’t need getting into their hands.
“They holed up in a mosque, and we were waiting on backup.”
She tensed. “No backup. Pass it on. No medevacs.”
Eyes flaring wide, I whipped around to stare at her. “What did you just say?”
“You were repeating it in your sleep,” she whispered miserably, and she rolled upright so she could press her hand to my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Maverick.”
My mouth quivered at her sympathy. “Why are you being so nice to me? If anything, you should hate me.”
“I can’t hate you. I love you.” Her smile appeared, but it was twisted. Rueful. “I realized it the morning you woke up.”
Now that surprised me. Brows soaring, I asked, “You didn’t love me when we got married?”
Her wince was minute, but I caught it. Before I could ask her what that was about, she shrugged and murmured, “It was more of a marriage of convenience.”
“Why?” Terror flooded me. “Are you pregnant?”
She cleared her throat. “No.”
Relief washed the terror that had just hit me clean. “Thank fuck. Christ, I couldn’t deal with that right now.” Sweat popped out, beading on my temple, collecting down the length of my back. I could feel it, each droplet being squeezed out of my pores like I was a ripe lemon being juiced. “Why did we marry?”
“I’m surprised you can’t hear my accent. I’m not American.”
I’d heard the accent, but it was faint. “Where are you from?”
“Ukraine.”
It didn’t take much to piece things together. “You needed a green card?”
“Yes.” She smiled at me. “Falling in love with you was something I started to do before you proposed, but I didn’t realize it until the relief hit me when you woke up. Facing the fact I could have lost you was the short, sharp shock I needed.”
More guilt hit me. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you.”
“I’m surprised you’re sorry, but I thank you for it anyway.”
“Why are you surprised?”
“Because you keep acting like you hate me,” she said simply.
“I don’t hate you,” I said rawly, turning away from her. “I just don’t know you.”
“And that hurts more than anything else.” A sad sigh escaped her. “Maverick?”
“Yeah?”
“Before the accident, when you found it hard to sleep, I used to sing to you. I know you don’t know me, so you probably would just like me to leave, but if you want, I could sing to you now?”
I twisted back to face her. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course.”
Everything about her was facile. Not because she was dumb, but because she was so open. So guileless.
I wasn’t used to that.
“Why do they call you Ghost?”
“It’s just a silly nickname. My real name is Alessa. You used to call me that.”
Something hitched in her voice that caught my attention, but though it sounded like a lie, I saw no reason why she’d lie about her name. “Alessa. That’s pretty. Did you call me Maverick?”
“Mostly. Sometimes Mav. Never Jameson.”
I pulled a face. “Good. Always hated my name. Mom had the shittiest taste in them. We had like eight cats and she called them all weird shit. Fabio, Clark.”
Her lips twisted into a smile as I rolled my eyes. “Well, I like yours.”
Grunting, I just said, “I can’t promise I won’t hurt you if you stay with me. I think it’d be best if you left. I don’t want to wake up the way we did tonight again.” I couldn’t deal with the stain of her butchered innocence on my soul.
“I’ll leave once I think you’re sleeping,” she offered.
Her generosity hit me, her selflessness too.
She really did care for me.
Only a woman in love would be willing to stay in the same bed with the nutcase who’d nearly killed her because he was stuck in a nightmare.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I murmured, “If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
I didn’t really want to hear her sing—what was I? Five? But I felt obligated. She offered, and she was being kind when I’d done everything but be that to her. The least I could do was listen to a few dumb lullabies.
Only, that wasn’t what happened.
As I lay tensely in bed, my muscles taut as I prepared myself to endure her singing, the first haunting whispers of her voice seemed to trickle around me. Call me crazy, because I knew I was halfway to losing my mind anyway, but as she sang, I closed my eyes at the lilting melody that had the nerve endings behind my eyelids pinging like a light was being shone against them.
Tension oozed out of me, slowly but surely, and gradually, I could feel the taut pressure in my muscles give way as I started to relax.
I didn’t even know when she stopped singing.
Certainly didn’t feel her leave the bed.
I just slept.
Eight
Ghost
Two days later
“Jesus Christ.”
I winced at the blasphemy but didn’t say anything. I was more than used to it, just wasn’t accustomed to having it be related to me. Nobody had cared before if I was bruised—I’d forgotten that had changed now.
People cared about me.
I didn’t look up as Nyx approached me, didn’t say anything as he tipped my chin up so he could look me square in the eye.
“He did this?” was his gruff question.
“It was an accident.” It sounded like a lame excuse but, really, it had been unintentional. Of course, that ‘accident’ had me feeling rough enough not to want to leave my bedroom in the past two days. Well, that and because I didn’t feel like bumping into Maverick yet.
Giulia, wincing as she rubbed at her neck where her sling collided with her throat, scoffed, “Accident, my ass.”
“No. Truly. I surprised him. He’s hyperaware right now. You have to be careful when you approach him.”
Nyx grimaced. “I remember that from before. It’s like he thinks everyone’s an enemy.” His glance at me turned apologetic, like he was saying sorry in advance for not beating the shit out of the brother who was also a soldier who was also my husband.
There was no need for him to look that way though. No need because I didn’t want Nyx to beat Maverick up, didn’t want him to be punished for what had truly been an accident. It was nice to know, however, that Nyx would be there for me if things did devolve to that extent.
I was included in the circle because of Mav, and I was inordinately grateful for that. I didn’t think I could handle losing him and being on the outside looking in with the brothers and their Old Ladies as well.
Giulia, having approached me at the same time as Nyx, slung her good arm around me, and I saw that Sin and Tiffany were standing in the doorway to the kitchen too.
Tiffany bit her lip at the sight of me, which irritated me a little. I appreciated her concern, don’t get me wrong, but that lip bite was a reminder I was an object of pity right now. These women were with their men, their big, strong, manly men who’d go to war for them, kill for them, and mine? Couldn’t remember me.
Because I knew she meant well, I swallowed the dab of irritation. To be fair, I was surprised I even felt it because I’d been trained a long time ago not to feel much of anything. Maybe it was a good sign
I could feel irritated by that tiny gesture. Maybe it was a sign of growth and change.
Because that idea perked me up, made me feel like less of a puppy who’d been tossed into a pack of man-eating wolves, I shoved away my feelings and watched her move over so she could tuck me into a hug.
Wrangled between two strong women, I just let myself flow into her, tensing as she murmured, “You can always call me. I’m here for you, Ghost.”
I knew she meant it and was grateful for it, but what went on between Maverick and me was private. Personal.
They were his brothers, his family, but I was his wife. Even if that didn’t mean all that much right now.
I tipped my chin up, determined to put a brave face on for his sake and mine, before I asked, “Anyone want coffee?”
Receiving a chorus of ‘yes,’ I headed to the coffee machine I’d turned on just as Mav’s people made an appearance, grateful I’d made decaf because Giulia was pregnant. Setting the carafe, sugar, and milk onto a tray I found in a cupboard, I placed some cups and saucers on there as well.
The kitchen wasn’t fully stocked, but it had basics, like coffee and milk as well as some bread and things like peanut butter. Lily said she wanted us to have whatever we needed, but didn’t want us to think we weren’t welcome at the main house.
If anything, I knew I’d need to do a grocery run because Maverick didn’t seem to want to leave his room, never mind the poolhouse.
The kitchen was very sweet, in fact, the whole place was. If I wasn’t an ex-sex slave, if Maverick didn’t have amnesia and we were real newlyweds, this would be an incredible place to start off married life.
The bittersweet thought had me choking up as I twisted around, grateful I’d forgotten about spoons. As I dragged them out of the clean-cut, buttercream colored drawers that matched the caramel marble counter, I managed to paste a smile on my face before I returned to the table.
There was space for all of them, plus me and Maverick if he turned up.
If being the operative word.
Tiffany placed the cups in front of her and started pouring coffee for everyone, and I let her, because it put the focus on her and not me, which was the last place I wanted it.
Maverick: A Dark MC Romance (A Dark & Dirty Sinners' MC Series Book 6) Page 7
