Maverick (Hell's Handlers MC 2)

“No.”

“Fuck.” Copper blew out a breath. Part of what made him such a good leader was his innate ability to read and understand the men under him. He threw his arms up as he turned, muttering, “Now I’ve gotta deal with an ex-fucking-fed in my house,” before entering the room.

Steph sat on the edge of a bare queen-sized bed. Dried blood coated her chin and ran down the front of her shirt. It had slowed to an ooze, but the wound looked dirty and gaped about a half inch. Dark smudges of exhaustion rimmed each eye, her skin was pale, and her hands trembled slightly, making her appear scared and defeated. Not the wildcat he was used to. His heart ached at the sight.

Now that Mav was in the room, he didn’t know what the hell to do with himself. Go to her, glare in anger, fall to his knees and profess his love, shake her and demand answers? He could have done any one of those things, but Jig showed up, and the decision was made.

Sit on the sidelines and watch while another man patched her up.

“Check out her face and anything else she injured,” Copper said.

Jig walked in, knelt at her feet, and opened his kit. After working his hands into a pair of too-small gloves, he gently raised her chin. “What the hell happened?” he asked. “This thing has a few chunks of rock or something in it.”

“Yeah, it’s gravel,” Stephanie said in a tight voice. “I fell in the parking lot outside the Townsend Motel.”

“You fell, huh?” Copper asked.

A feminine grunt was the only response.

“Well,” Jig said. “I’m gonna have to pull them out, and you’ll need a few stitches. Let me numb you up before I clean it; otherwise it will hurt like a bitch. I’m no doc so it might leave a small scar.” He rummaged around in his kit as he spoke. “Shouldn’t look anything like my ugly mug, though,” he said and winked at her.

A small chuckle left her, and Mav had the inexplicable urge to ram his fist into Jig’s face. God, he was such a psycho. There wasn’t a single sexual or inappropriate thing about Jig’s handling of Stephanie, yet the green-eyed monster barged his way into the room.

After a few more seconds of sifting through the bag, Jig pulled out a small vile of liquid and a long-needled syringe. Steph’s eyes grew wide, and despite the gravity of the situation, Mav chuckled. His tough woman had once confessed a panicky fear of needles.

“Sorry, just one or two pinches,” Jig said.

Mav moved to the bed and sat next to her, taking her hand. She flinched when their palms met. Gently, he released her and turned up her palm up. The fleshy part had been torn to bits, probably by the same fall. “Jesus, Steph, what the hell happened to you?” Instead of holding her hand, he rested his on her thigh. She stared at the spot where they touched for a moment, then looked him in the eye.

Longing, fear, regret, and sorrow all stared back at him. But what he saw above all was love.

“Maverick, you can make fucking moon-eyes at her when we’re done. I want to know what the fuck she’s doing here.”

“Lift your chin,” Jig said. He glanced over his shoulder at Copper. “Can she talk while I work?”

“Yeah, get to it.”

Stephanie did as asked and tilted her chin toward the ceiling. Mav got the impression it was easier for her to tell the story without actually looking at any of them.

“I’ve been staying at the Townsend Motel for the past few days and—”

“Why?” Copper asked. “That Baccarella asshole have a change of heart? And I swear to God, woman, if you lie to me, my boys will be rolling you out of here in a body bag.”

Maverick ground his back teeth together. Copper was pissed and mouthing off, but he’d never do it. Still, it made Mav want to rip the man’s red beard right off his face.

“Change of heart from basically giving you guys license to kill me?” She laughed, but it was an ugly sound. Not the tinkling sound of happiness he loved to hear. “I don’t think so. I haven’t spoken to him. And that’s the truth. You can check my phone if you don’t believe me.” She ended the sentence on a high-pitched me and jumped as Jig injected the needle into her skin.

Mav tightened his grip on her leg.

“Go on,” Copper said. “Why did you stay?”

Even though her head was tipped back, Mav could see the blush that stole across her cheeks.

“I couldn’t go,” she whispered.

“What?” Copper barked.

“You can relax your neck until that kicks in,” Jig said.

Stephanie lowered her chin and stared at the ground. “I couldn’t make myself go.” She turned her head and looked at Mav.