I scoff. “That will never happen.” I take a giant step back, removing my gun from his neck and holstering it into the back of my waistband. I spin to exit when he calls out to me.

“You’ve got both, by the way.”

His words halt my movements, curiosity getting the best of me. “What’s that?”

He approaches, though veers off to the right, moving around me rather than into my space. Halting at my side, he leans forward but still doesn’t come too close. “Style and grace, baby.” He references the lyrics on the back of my sweatshirt. “You’ve got both.” His lips twist up into a devilish smirk that ignites something deep inside me. A feeling I almost don’t recognize since I didn’t think myself capable of it.

My head jerks forward, baring my teeth as I snap a bite into the space between us.

A low growl works its way up from the back of his throat. Without another word, he pops his sleek black-on-black aviators into place and slips out the door.

He takes all the air with him.

Maverick Bishop is my brother’s archnemesis. He’s not just a drug dealer, but a gun runner as well. I know for a fact he’s killed just as many people, if not more, than Nicky. Gun or not, that man could have had me on the ground in two seconds flat, but he didn’t. He heard my boundaries loud and clear, and then actually respected them. Even in his retreat, he didn’t encroach on my space. Which leaves my head fucked in the wake of the craziest revelation of all. Maverick Bishop is a drug-dealing, gun-running murderer… but he’s also a gentleman.

CHAPTER 7

MAV

I bust out of the restaurant like a bat out of hell with my dick so hard it’s a miracle I’m even able to walk.

Emerging onto the sidewalk, I inhale large gulps of air as I try to clear my brain of the fucking spell she’s cast over me. All I see are those blue eyes. Those crystal clear, haunted-as-fuck, piercing blue eyes.

I’m still too close. I need to put distance between us before I run back up in there and drag her kicking and screaming home to Hydetown with me.

I make my way down to the end of the block and bang a right, heading back toward my bike. As soon as I round the corner, I see Bentley and Finn. They’re standing next to my Harley scanning the area for what I can only assume is me.

Finn spots me first, slapping the back of his palm against Bentley’s chest and gesturing in my direction. Bent tosses his arms up in frustration before pointing to his watch, letting me know we are undoubtedly late for this meeting.

“What the fuck, Mav?” Bent spits as I tear past him, heading straight for the building where our appointment is scheduled.

“I’ve been here since ten-thirty, douche,” I snap back. “I had to take a piss.”

“All the way down the block?” Bent questions as he and Finn follow me inside.

“Last time I checked, I don’t answer to you.” I stab the button on the wall outside the elevator, waiting for the steel doors to part.

“Jesus, Mav,” Bentley exhales as the doors open with a ding, prompting us to all step inside. “What’s your problem?”

Bent and Finn position themselves at my back. I lean forward, pressing the number 4 on the panel. Bentley scoffs when I don’t answer him, but I’m so lost in my own thoughts I barely hear it.

I can’t tell him my problem.

Because my problem is I thought I was on the board with a pawn… but I just got checked by a motherfucking Queen.

I am so fucked.

CHAPTER 8

MAV

I stare at the file sprawled open on my desk, committing every detail to memory.

Joanna Claire Hunter

AKA “Jonsie” / “Jones” / “Baby J” / “J”

Born: October 31st, Seventeen years old