Maverick (Sin City Saints Hockey 1)

“That would be great,” I say, turning to face the window.

I’m not in the mood for anyone’s shit. The past couple days have been brutal. I miss Maverick, and I hate the way I treated him. I don’t think he understands the depth of my feelings about Will Roan. Anyone who has never had a loved one murdered can’t understand the pain and the rage that surpasses your grief. I always wonder how long my dad knew he was going to die before it happened. I always think about how unfair it was. And I know that a bullet to the head is a better end than Will Roan even deserves.

I’ll have to buy a gun when I get to Philadelphia. I have enough cash that it won’t be a problem. Then I’ll rent a hotel room for the night and tomorrow morning I’ll start looking for Will Roan. It may take me a few days. I don’t want him to hear that I’m looking for him.

I’ve waited eight years, though. What’s a few more days?

It only took me one day to find him. Will is still an illegitimate businessman, but he’s expanded his portfolio. Now, in addition to gambling, he’s also a drug dealer with connections to a Mexican cartel.

Learning about that shakes me up a bit. It’ll be practically impossible for me to get close enough to take out Will Roan and survive. If his bodyguards don’t catch me, his associates will. And while I knew that someone would eventually seek revenge before I put this crazy plan in motion, it’s really sinking in now that I’m here.

My mom and brothers will be devastated, especially when they find out why I died. Everyone else mourned my dad and moved on. As far as they know, I did, too. But they’ll discover I was really just playing a part while waiting for my opportunity to strike. And Ro. Ro will probably just think I left town without bothering to say goodbye. I haven’t officially moved out of the apartment, and the rent is paid up. I don’t have anything of value there.

Come to think of it, I don’t have anything of value anywhere. I’ve never bought nice furniture or spent a lot of money on collecting clothing or jewelry. I only value the people I love.

And Maverick is one of them. He crept up on me, but over the past four months, I’ve fallen for his wry sense of humor and his warm, thoughtful manner. He’s honorable, sweet, strong and loyal. We’ve barely scratched the surface of a relationship, and I physically ache when I think about how much more we could experience, together.

I’m approaching a run-down convenience store in a crime-ridden neighborhood. In the alley behind this store, there’s a door I’m supposed to knock on. Apparently, the guy behind this door will sell me a gun, no questions. Or he could shoot me. Or I could get arrested for illegally buying a gun. I just found out about this place from someone at a card game last night.

If Maverick were here, he’d tell me this is crazy. He wouldn’t be wrong.

I sink down on a metal bench outside the convenience store, the word cunt carved into one of the slats. The convenience store has bars on its windows and this whole neighborhood smells like garbage.

A couple walks out of the convenience store hand in hand. They look like they’re in their twenties, a tall white man and a short Black woman. He’s wearing a backward baseball cap, and my heart clenches when I remember Maverick turning his hat around the other night for our first kiss.

“You can have the M&M’s, baby,” the man says, leaning down to kiss the woman on the head.

“No, those are your favorite,” she says in protest. “Those are for you.”

“But there was only one pack of M&M’s left, and if there would’ve been more, you would’ve wanted those, too. You like M&M’s more than gummy bears.”

She smiles up at him, adoration in her eyes.

“I like gummy bears, baby.”

He shrugs. “But you love M&M’s, and I love seeing my baby happy, so I’m gonna feed you these M&M’s one at a time while we watch your favorite show.”

They walk over to a small sedan with a crooked bumper and a cracked windshield, and he opens the door for her, closes it behind her and then walks around the hood to the driver’s side, grinning.

It doesn’t hit me all at once; it’s more like a sensation that forms and then grows stronger second by second. Those two people are incredibly lucky. All they need to be happy is each other.

Are they lucky, though? I furrow my brow, considering. Couldn’t any of us look around at the love we have in our lives and decide it’s not just enough, but everything we could ever want or need? Or seek out the love we want and then cherish it?