Maverick (Hell's Handlers MC 2)

“Fucking hell,” he muttered as she arrived at her vehicle, parked way in the back of the lot, nearly out of view of the camera, and so damn dark it was hard to catch any details. Just as she reached the car, a shadowy figure wearing a black hoodie that hid his face seemed to materialize from thin air and was on her like a ninja. She thrashed and probably screamed, but it was a complete waste of energy. Within seconds, the attacker choked her out until she was limp and shoved her unconscious body into her trunk.

For a moment, Mav froze as he imagined Stephanie at the hands of these raping pieces of shit. If he hadn’t been in that basement with her, she’d have had the same fate as this poor soul. All the pain he’d experienced, the broken ribs, the bruising, even the burn and loss of his beloved brand, was worth it to have been able to prevent Stephanie from being raped and sold off like cattle.

Nothing useful on the footage. One attacker. They used her car, which the cops were bound to find abandoned miles away from where they'd stashed her. There wasn’t a lick of evidence to suggest this was Lefty’s work, but Mav’s gut was screaming. So was Copper’s it seemed. And he’d trust their combined instincts with his life or any of his brother’s lives. Even Stephanie’s life.

Fuck yeah, he’d be joining them on a little visit to Lefty.

Mav stormed out of Copper’s office, a nagging restlessness coursing through his blood. He needed to do something, needed action to work out the excess energy. Hell, he needed a good hard fuck. As he glanced around the clubhouse, a few of the Honeys tried to get his attention. Not even a flicker of interest on his part. The only woman he wanted was waiting for him in his room, uptight and in need of a good fucking herself. Too bad she was likely to shut him the hell down if he made the offer.

Maybe he’d get a good drunk on instead. Muddle his brain so he could sleep without visions of Stephanie being sold and used as a fuck toy for sadistic assholes.

As he walked toward the bar, his lips twitched and an idea formed. Steph needed to loosen up, and he had hundreds of questions he wanted to ask her. She’d made a few comments in the past that didn’t quite make sense. Clearly, the woman had secrets. Secrets he wanted. He wanted to learn everything about her inside and out. And since she wasn’t likely to let him inside, what better way to get her to relax and get a little sloppy than to spend some time with a powerful friend named Jack? At the very least, it would help distract him from the fact he hadn’t been laid in over two months.

He circled the bar, grabbed the whiskey, two shot glasses, and booked it to his room.

Steph was reclining on his bed, knees bent, thumbing through her phone. She shot straight when he entered the room. “What’s wrong? You look upset.”

Guess his frustrations were written all across his face. “Let’s play a game.”

Steph frowned and swung her legs around so she was sitting on the edge of the bed. “A game?”

“Yup.” He plopped down next to her, handing her an empty shot glass. “A get to know you game. I ask you a question. You either answer, or if it's too personal and shit, you drink.”

One blond eyebrow rose. “I drink more than two of those, and I’ll be answering anything you want to hear. Might start swinging from that ceiling fan too.”

With a chuckle, Mav opened the bottle and poured himself a shot. “Maybe that’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Hmm,” she hummed.

He tipped the bottle in her direction and waited. Silent, she stared at him for a moment, then at her empty glass, then him again. “Same rules apply to me. You can ask whatever the hell you want.”

That seemed to do the trick. With a sigh, she held up the shot glass and waited for him to fill it, which he did without hesitation. “Ladies first,” he said with a wink when her glass was full. “My policy in all things.”

Steph snorted and rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it is.” Her eyes lit with delight and an adorable wrinkle appeared between them. “Why do they call you Maverick?”

“Going easy on me, huh?” When she just shrugged he said, “I was a little shit growing up. A hellraiser, always bucking the system, very independent, didn’t like to follow the rules.”

Steph smirked. “So totally different than you are now?”

“Funny, smart ass. Anyway, my elementary school principal used to call me Maverick. I spent quite a bit of time in her office. It stuck.”