Maverick: A Dark MC Romance (A Dark & Dirty Sinners' MC Series Book 6)

by Serena Akeroyd

  I knew why he was crying. For his Nic. Someone I’d never met, a stranger who’d helped forge Maverick into the man he was today—the man I loved. I mourned him as Maverick did, shared his pain, and just carried on holding him because in all the years since Nic had died, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Maverick had never been held while he mourned his lost love. I knew that, maybe, just maybe, he’d never even cried either.

  It was awkward and unwanted, he didn’t want my touch, but I couldn’t stop myself from bowing over him and pressing my lips to the crown of his head. He didn’t feel it, didn’t register the touch, but my heart did. My heart needed to help him get through this—not just so it would lead him back to me, but because Maverick had given me the support I needed when I’d been dying, he deserved as much, if not more, from me.

  So I held him as he cried, said nothing as he wept for his Nic, and was there for him.

  Like he’d been for me.

  Today, that was all I could do.

  But maybe tomorrow, there’d be another opportunity. Something I could do to help ease his burden, his woe, because in my arms, Maverick was burning through ten years’ worth of grief, and that wasn’t healthy.

  Not at all.

  “Maverick?” I whispered, hating to hear his sorrow, hating that I felt it.

  He tensed up some, but otherwise didn’t respond to me, so I plugged on, knowing I needed to speak, knowing he had to understand something.

  “You don’t know me. To you, I’m a stranger. But if you don’t trust me, and you don’t trust yourself, then you need to trust in your brothers. They know what I am to you. They know what we were coming to feel for each other.” His tension transmitted itself to me, and rather than give up, I carried on regardless. “So this morning in the shower when I said you weren’t ready for this, you heard those words come from a woman who means nothing to you… But I love you, Maverick, and I want what’s best for you.

  “If you respect nothing else, respect that. You’re sick right now,” I mumbled. “Let me care for you.”

  When he maintained that abyss-like silence, I wanted to weep, and then he nodded, his forehead rubbing against my stomach, and it felt like I’d won a major battle when, really, all I’d won was the right to tell my husband when he was on track to killing himself…

  Not much in the grand scheme of things, but more than I’d expected this morning.

  Which was saying a lot.

  Fourteen

  Maverick

  “I just sent it priority,” I rasped as I stared at an old comrade in the camera, an old comrade who, to me, was someone I’d seen that morning I’d woken up in the hospital—when the nightmare that was my life had begun.

  That morning in Kembesh, he’d been young. Normal. Now he’d grown a shocking pelt of hair, all of which was white instead of the dark brown I was used to seeing.

  At first, I’d wondered if he’d doused it in that paint you used for a Halloween costume, but it was natural. He’d gone gray.

  “I need the results ASAP,” I said uneasily, trying to reconcile the past and the present and, as per fucking usual, failing.

  “I still can’t believe—” Ken shook his head. “Six years, man. Ain’t heard from you in six fucking years!”

  I winced. “I’m sorry about that, brother.” A breath escaped me. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking cutting communication like that.”

  “You being serious when you say you can’t remember shit?”

  “Wish it was a lie, but it isn’t.” My throat tightened. “I didn’t even know Nic was dead.”

  Ken’s gaze softened. “Goddamn Kembesh. Still have nightmares about that mission. I got out a few months after. Liam did as well. Got to be too much, you know?”

  I really fucking did.

  “Nic, man. Been a long time since I thought about him.”

  “That’s what the living do, isn’t it?” I said tightly. “Forget.”

  Had I forgotten Nic? Had the Maverick Alessa loved stopped thinking about him every damn day? Was there light at the end of this tunnel—one that pricked the gloom of the abyss of grief that was choking me?

  “Sometimes, but every Memorial Day, I go through my list. Too many brothers gone, Mav. Too many fucking brothers gone. We’re lucky we got out in one piece.”

  If you could call this one piece.

  I blinked at him. “Do you have any idea why I’d pretend to be in a wheelchair?”

  He frowned. “No. You mean, you weren’t disabled?”

  Embarrassment hit me. What I’d done was fucking shameful. It didn’t even matter that I’d needed a wheelchair in the early days of my recovery, it left me feeling like I was letting down the brothers who genuinely needed them.

  Reaching up, I rubbed at my eyes and muttered, “No. I wasn’t.”

  When he cleared his throat, I knew he was embarrassed too. “This is all kinds of messed up, Maverick.”

  I dipped my chin but refused to let our gazes bridge. “Damn right it is.” A sigh rumbled from me. “I really need your help, Ken.”

  “Figured as much since this is the first time I’ve heard from you in over six years,” he said dryly, “but I don’t work for the—”

  Before he could finish, I raised a hand and said, “I know, man, I know. No one is where they used to be. Trust me, I get it. But I’m pretty sure you have contacts still.” His grimace confirmed it. “I need the samples to be matched against the database of veterans, active duty soldiers, cops, fucking firefighters… you name it.”

  He snorted. “How about we throw in CIA agents too, huh? Just for shits and giggles.”

  “If you’ve got their NOC list, go for it,” I told him, my voice utterly serious.

  His eyes bugged out a little. “You shitting me?”

  “Do I look like I’m shitting you? I need to know.”

  He pursed his lips before he asked, “Long time ago, I’d have done this without question. But it ain’t a long time ago, brother. You gotta tell me what’s going on.”

  Though inwardly I cringed with yet more shame, I murmured, “You remember my family?”

  “Your ma died—”

  “They’re not blood, but they’re still family.”

  “The MC?” He nodded. “I remember them.”

  “Well, their compound was bombed. They sent in the father of one of my brothers, had his bike hooked up with the bomb, and then had a sniper detonate it.”

  His brows rose, but it was a testament to the crazy shit we’d had to do in the name of Uncle Sam that he didn’t do much else by way of a reaction. “You want me to identify the sniper then?”

  Bowing my head, I said, “Yeah. Remember Lodestar?”

  Ken laughed. “How could I fucking forget that crazy-ass bitch? Thought you and she weren’t on speaking terms.”

  “Seems like the Maverick pre-blast got on like a goddamn house on fire with her.”

  “Apparently the bomb doused those flames.”

  “It sure as hell did. But she managed to find the nest, and though the bastard was clean today, where he’d set up is a major pain in the ass for anyone trying to make a spot for himself. There’s bristle and bush every-fucking-where.”

  “It’s a blood sample?” he guessed.

  “Well, it’s a part of a bush but there’s blood on it, yeah. As well as a tiny piece of fluff from what he was wearing that he thought he collected before he left.”

  “Dumb prick,” he muttered.

  “No Green Beret,” I confirmed drolly as the pair of us shared a grim but satisfied nod.

  “I’ll see what I can do, Maverick, but I make no promises.”

  “I expect none, and am grateful for what you can do. Whatever that might be.”

  His hum was disbelieving and dissatisfied. “Is it gonna be another six years until I hear from you again, you prick?”

  My lips curved into a rueful smile. “Naw.”

  Maybe something in that smile caught his attention because h
is head tilted to the side a little. “Maverick? What’s going on?”

  Gaze darting from his again, I rumbled, “Nothing, Ken. Nothing. Aside from the craziness that I just told you about.”

  “Yeah, you told me some fucked up BS, but there’s something else going on.” He grunted when I kept my attention averted from the camera. “Fucker, tell me what’s going on.”

  It was the ‘fucker’ that did it.

  The fucker that took me back to that day at Kembesh, and it pierced my memory, reminding me of the last time I’d heard him call me that.

  Or, at least, the last time I remembered him calling me that.

  He’d hollered at Nic and me to get our asses out of bed, told us that the Taliban were starting to mobilize—like we hadn’t figured that out ourselves with the goddamn bullets tearing through our tent.

  He was a bridge, at that moment. A bridge that joined me to Nic.

  “It’s like this,” I told him gruffly, sharing the whole sorry fucking tale of the state of my brain, of my life right now. Offloading onto him like I’d never offload onto my MC brothers because they’d never understand.

  Would never truly get what it felt like to feel this way.

  Having served, Sin might understand, but this Maverick didn’t know him. Wasn’t close to him at all, so opening up simply wasn’t going to happen.

  “Just like Nic before he died in Kembesh,” Ken rasped after I finished telling him all the shit I was going through, and that right there was why I’d told him.

  Confirmation.

  I’d needed it.

  Nic had been a dead man walking long before that battle, and it seemed like fate was destined to fuck with me too. Only, my death wouldn’t be honorable like Nic’s.

  “You’re not thinking of doing something stupid, are you?” Ken rumbled, tension gripping his features. His café au lait coloring had blanched a little at my recounting of my symptoms, ones that mirrored Nic’s, and he leaned forward, closer to the desk like he could urge me that way to stop myself from doing something I might regret.

  He’d done well for himself. His desk was fancy, a rich mahogany beast that suited him, that came complete with ornate photo frames that housed pictures of his wife, Tameka, and some kids that I’d never met because when I knew him, he and Tameka were newlyweds and weren’t pregnant. The wall at his back had molding around the walls, and in the center was an oil painting I knew was an original.

  He’d gotten out of the army, and unlike some of our fellow brothers who ended up on the streets or who lost everything, he’d made something of himself, and I was proud of him for that. The street rat who’d enlisted because he had no family, no home, and no future had turned his life around.

  Picking up on that, I mumbled, “I’m surprised you still have this number.”

  He blinked, not anticipating that as my response. “I kept it for my old army buddies. Glad I did now. Never thought I’d be hearing from you today, or ever if I’m being honest.”

  I grimaced, and yet again, guilt hit me hard. “To me, I saw you the morning I woke up in the hospital. It was before that final showdown in Kembesh.”

  He sighed. “It’s fucked up, man.”

  “Sure is.”

  “Please, Maverick, don’t…” His mouth puckered up, twisting into a hard line that told me he was trying to fight his emotions and failing. “Mav, don’t reach out like this only to take you away from me. I don’t think I could—”

  “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, Ken. I don’t know what to do, where to go, how to be. I’m still a soldier in my head, but I’m not, I’m a biker for an MC.

  “Somehow, I’m married and I have a wife who looks at me like I’m breaking her fucking heart every time I glance at her and don’t remember her. Then the people who are like my family are under threat—that’s the only thing I can focus on right now. That’s what’s keeping me going.”

  His jaw tensed, and he rumbled, “If I get you this information, do you think it’s going to resolve the problem with your MC?”

  “Meaning you won’t help me out just in case?” I shook my head. “Please, Ken, don’t. We need to know who did it.”

  “You going to kill them?”

  It was my turn for my lips to twist. “Ain’t gonna admit to shit over WhatsApp.”

  He snorted but reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll get the results to you, Maverick.”

  “I appreciate that, brother.” Then, softly, I murmured, “Congratulations on the kids.”

  His smile appeared, and he picked up the frame. He didn’t turn it to me, didn’t move it so I could see it better or so he could point out the kids’ names. He just looked at it and said, “Some days, they’re the only reason I get out of bed. We’re all still fighting, Maverick. Don’t forget that when you’re questioning why you’re sticking around—it ain’t for you, it’s for the people you’ll leave behind.”

  And with that, he cut the call, leaving me reeling, because I knew he was right, and I still wasn’t sure if I cared either way.

  Fifteen

  Alessa

  I shouldn’t have listened to his phone call.

  I shouldn’t have.

  Not only because it was private, and the two men had been reconnecting, but it had also been business.

  One thing I’d learned in my time in the States was that men didn’t like it when women heard them talk about their business.

  But when you were treated like a piece of furniture, nothing more than something to rest your feet on like a footstool or to be ignored like a coat stand, you got used to hearing things you weren’t supposed to.

  You also got used to eavesdropping because a pissed off owner was an owner to be wary around.

  I’d been beaten bloody too many times not to take advantage of whatever information I could get, so I listened. It was a habit. One I needed to break, especially as how disheartened I felt at the end of the conversation, which told me the old adage was true.

  Eavesdroppers never heard good of themselves.

  In this instance, it was proof I hadn’t gotten through to him. Him weeping against me meant nothing.

  Or, as Giulia would say, bupkis.

  But his conversation triggered something in me, something… fatalistic.

  My eavesdropping had taken place by the small patio that overlooked the pool. With its comfortable table area and loungers where I’d been enjoying a pot of tea, unable to help myself from appreciating the landscape of a home that had once belonged to a man who had pissed on me because he could, because I was worth less to him than a toilet. But after the conversation, my appreciation withered and I moved away, heading across the manicured yard toward the main house.

  I slipped inside the great room, knowing Kati hated that room and was less likely to see me in there. I could hear her squeals around the house, and despite myself, had to smile. Tiffany’s mother had already complained to Lily about it—I’d overheard that conversation too—but Lily didn’t appear to mind, and it was she who was keeping us all.

  The level of wealth that took, especially when I thought about how often the Prime van was here for Tiffany’s mom, and the fact that there were so many of us staying here, boggled my mind.

  I’d never had much, and somehow, I’d been transported into a world where whatever I wanted could be purchased in the blink of an eye because I knew that if I wanted something, an expensive trinket or a speaker from Amazon, Lily would buy it for me.

  That was the level of her guilt.

  Maybe I should capitalize on that, but it wasn’t in my nature. I didn’t need much.

  I just wanted Mav.

  Could she Prime him overnight for me?

  If that was in the cards, then I’d definitely do it. A Maverick who looked at me with love and affection, the burgeoning hope that spoke of a promise in the future where there’d only been shadows before. A Maverick who held me with tenderness, who curled up to me in sleep where we chased each other’s
nightmares away…

  No, I didn’t think Lily could overnight that to me.

  If only she could.

  The tears pricked my eyes yet again, and I wondered if Maverick was going to reap another miracle in that he’d make me cry when I hadn’t managed that feat in years.

  “Ghost?”

  The soft utterance of my name had me freezing as I crossed the marble-lined hall with its checkerboard floor. Peering over my shoulder, I blinked at Lily and murmured, “Hello.”

  Her smile was wary. For some reason, since the bombing, she’d grown more hesitant around me. The strides we’d made toward friendship as Tiffany made all of Donovan Lancaster’s victims discuss what they’d endured at his hands had disintegrated into dust.

  I didn’t like that.

  Lily was nice. Kind. Good people. My grandmother would have liked her. She’d have called her a bila vorona—a white crow, or in English, the black sheep of her family.

  And thank God she was too.

  “Is everything okay?”

  I shot her a tight smile. “Not really.”

  Distress appeared in her eyes, and I watched as she reached down and twisted the ring that was new to her ring finger. “Can I do anything to help?”

  “Would you please drive me somewhere?”

  She perked up, shoulders straightening. “Of course,” she said eagerly. “Where to?”

  I hesitated, but admitted, “Two places if that is not too much to ask.”

  “It isn’t,” was her quick response.

  Nodding at her, I murmured, “If you say so.”

  I watched as she dashed down the stairs to meet me on the ground floor. Before she reached me, she diverted to a closet that was tucked under the staircase, one I’d been in and that was larger than the entire first floor of my childhood home, a closet which housed only coats and shoes and gloves…

  She returned with a light cardigan hanging over her arm, one that perfectly matched the smart white blouse and tailored pants she wore, and which offset the navy bottoms. On her feet, she sported high heels with enough of a spike to remind me of the days when I’d been forced to wear such shoes.