Maverick (Hell's Handlers MC 2)

“The fuck’s his name?”

“My dad? His name is Steven. Steven Little, but I just called him Dad.”

“You little shit.” Mavs eyes glittered with mirth as he folded his arms across his chest. “Got me good, there, didn’t you? Hope you’re proud of yourself.” He laughed and tossed her a helmet. “Get that sexy ass on the bike.”

Snickering, Stephanie did as asked and had the helmet fastened before Mav mounted the bike. Once he was in position, he spoke to her over his shoulder. “You said ‘called.’”

“What?”

“You said you called him Dad. Your old man not around anymore? He was a cop, right? Was he killed in the line of duty?”

Shit. He’d picked up on that. Leave it to the fun, sexy, playful biker to also be observant and curious. “He’s alive.” It was often impossible to get the words to cross her lips. Especially in her law enforcement circle where everyone’s eyes immediately grew suspicious and their minds wandered to a place of wondering if she’d betray the badge in the same way. And look at that, she had.

Mav wouldn’t judge, though. He lived a life outside the law, for crying out loud.

“He’s serving a twelve-year sentence in a state prison in Maryland.”

“Shit, babe, what for?” His voice was so laced with concern she found herself getting choked up. Why on earth was this man, this criminal, also the sweetest and most caring man she’d met in years?

She shook her head. “That’s all I’m gonna say. I don’t talk about it.”

He was still for a moment then said, “Fair enough,” and wrapped his large hands around the outside of her thighs. With one firm tug, she was nestled snug against his back. Warmth flowed from the hard planes of his body straight into hers.

Talking about her father couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. It was a reminder that if those she trusted most could betray her, she needed to be extra careful around Maverick and his club. Usually, discussion of her father left her cold and distant. Not this time. This time the conversation was practically forgotten as the pleasure of holding Maverick stole all her brain power. She shoved the worries away. It was easy to do if she told herself she was playing a part, acting interested for the sake of the investigation.

Too bad she was lying to herself.

Fighting it was pointless. For the next little while, she had no choice but to wrap herself around Maverick as close as bark on a tree. She had no choice but to hold on. It was that or fall off, so she might as well enjoy it. At least that’s how she was justifying the explosion of joy that zinged through her blood the moment she circled her arms around his taut stomach.

Ninety minutes, one belly full of the most fantastic omelet Stephanie had ever eaten, and another motorcycle ride later, Mav rolled to a stop in front of a no-frills tattoo parlor. “You’re getting another tattoo? At a place called Inked?” she asked as she swung her leg off the bike—no easy feat since the thing was a monster and she wasn’t exactly blessed in the height department.

Mav chuckled and swatted her hands out of the way, unclasping her helmet for her. “Yep. Shop is owned by a guy named Rip. Rumor has it, it’s short for Ripshit because the dude has a temper that rivals an active volcano. Never seen it myself…” He shrugged. “But since he’s the only one I trust to ink me, I ain’t about to push the fucker. Anyway, he’s not big on frills and fuss, so he called the place Inked. Short and to the point.”

“That it is.”

“Come on. Got an appointment in two minutes, and Rip is not a fan of lateness. Don’t want him to tat his face on me, so we better move.” He slid his palm against hers and she pretended the weakening in her knees and quiver in her stomach was just aftereffects of the motorcycle ride.

“Wait, what? He’d put his face on you?”

Mav just winked and towed her toward the door.

Above their heads, a bell jangled and alerted Rip to their presence. Or at least she assumed the tall, potbellied man with a bullring and…holy shit, were those horns under the skin of his head? “Hey, Mav, thirty seconds more and I’d be looking for a spot to add my face to your collection.”

Okay, so Maverick hadn’t been kidding about the lateness thing.

“Hey, Rip. Where do you want me?”

It was then Rip seemed to notice her holding hands with Maverick. T-shirt stretched across his large abdomen, he waddled his way over. “Well, well, well, who is this gorgeous creature? You bring me a virgin?”

Stephanie’s eyes widened and she sputtered, but Mav just laughed and squeezed her hand. “Wipe your drool, Rip. This is Stephanie, and I have no idea if she has any tats, but it doesn’t matter. She’s just here for moral support.”