Maverick (Hell's Handlers MC 2)

King nodded and tossed the iron at Maverick’s feet. “What? No smartass comments about my dick now?” He threw back his head and laughed like he was watching a hilarious comedy special. “Didn’t think so.”

With that parting shot, he was gone.

Maverick looked at Stephanie. The skin on his arm screamed with a pain so all-consuming it was challenging to get his brain in gear and think of something pithy to say.

“Mav—” she started, but the words were lost in a sob.

“Shh, ’sokay, wildcat.” Shit. Those were some severely slurred words. He rolled his head across his shoulders, trying in vain to breathe through the pain. It was just too damn intense.

Under Stephanie’s watchful eye, he closed his eyes, counted to five, then looked at his left arm.

Shit. Fuck. Damn.

There was nothing there. Nothing but singed, over-cooked flesh where his beloved brand had been. His heart squeezed with pain almost worse than the touch of the iron. He’d been so damn proud the day he earned that brand, and never once had he taken for granted the brotherhood, the family he gained when he patched in. He’d die for any one of his brothers. They’d saved him from himself.

And now he might be out. All because fuckin’ Shark got greedy and wanted to take over the Hell’s Handlers territory.

“If your brothers are as much of a family as you say they are, they’ll never kick you out over this, Maverick. It was completely out of your control. You saved me from…” Her voice hitched, like she couldn’t bear to say the word. “I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t think about it right now. About possibly losing the one thing in his life that he gave a damn about. “Tell me a story, wildcat,” he said as a wave of dizziness hit him.

“A s-story?”

“Yeah, babe. Make it a good one. Tell me about when you lost your virginity.”

She huffed out a shaky laugh. “Thought you said you wanted a good story.”

“Oh, I bet it will be good. How old were you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Shit, wildcat, that’s young.”

“Yeah well, it was just the once, then not again until I was twenty, so that might tell you how wonderful the experience was. Can’t I just tell you the punchline? How my cop father caught us?”

Her old man was a cop? Would the man come looking for her? Probably wouldn’t like a one-percenter sniffing after his baby girl.

Maverick let his eyes close as he laughed. “Fuck, that hurts. And no, I’m gonna need the whole story.”

Stephanie was quiet for a long moment, then she broke out into a lengthy story about how she’d boned a junior on the wrestling team in the back seat of her pop’s car only to have her in-uniform father knock on the window five thrusts in.

He had no idea if the story was real or if she’d made up some bullshit to pacify him. Didn’t matter.

All that mattered as the pain grew too extreme and the darkness came for him was Stephanie’s soothing voice guiding him to oblivion.

CHAPTER FIVE

“MAVERICK? MAV?” WHEN it became clear he’d passed out, Stephanie lowered her head to the table and blew out a breath. The movement made the hard metal rings of the cuffs rub against her raw wounds, ripping a gasp from her.

God! What they’d done to him. His arm looked like something straight off the set of the Walking Dead. The pain he’d endured, she couldn’t begin to fathom. And all because he ran his mouth to save her from being violated. The relief she felt when King left without really touching her was staggering. But it was muted by the overwhelming guilt over Maverick’s suffering.

Without so much as a grunt of pain, he’d locked eyes with her and rode it out as though the iron was nothing more than a fly landing on his arm.

It had to be excruciating beyond what she could comprehend.

He was brave.

And selfless.

And honorable.

And a criminal.

That last element was becoming murky in her mind, and that wasn’t acceptable. Just because he didn’t want to watch her be raped didn’t mean he was a good man. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t have to arrest him when this was all over. Once the FBI got involved, the Handlers would be on their radar even if they hadn’t been before.

Yet, still, she’d screamed and begged King to return his attention to her. She’d meant it, too. She’d have endured the horrors to keep Maverick from being burned so brutally.

The guy needed a hospital and soon. Infection would set in fast given the raw, exposed flesh on his arm and the conditions around them. Being in a dank, dirty basement had to be the wort thing for him. Part of her was tempted to wake him. Check on him and make sure he wasn’t feeling feverish. Or maybe the best thing for him would be to remain passed out until his MC came for him.