Page 28 of Maverick

I took a step back. And then another. “Fine, there are some things I didn’t tell you, but I don’t owe you my life story, Maverick.”

“Maybe not,” he agreed, nodding slowly in that way that said he was trying to control his anger. “But you’re living in my grandmother’s house. What if the trouble you’re obviously running from finds you? Or what if it finds her in search of you?”

His question knocked me down, literally. My legs simply gave out and I fell towards the ground, but I never made it because Maverick was there with his arms wrapped around my waist.

“Whoa, Ruby. Whoa, it’s all right.” He spoke to me like I was a wounded animal, and I liked it. Too much.

I shoved away from him, suddenly angrier than I was terrified. “No, it’s not all right, Maverick.” It was my turn to start pacing the length of the porch. “You think I would dye my hair and change my name because everything was all right? Do you think I would work at a fucking strip club if I didn’t have to?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but it was a rhetorical question and I kept going, suddenly on a roll.

“You have no idea because you don’t know me to tell me what I owe you. Marco paid me under the table so I wouldn’t have to use my social security number or my name, so I didn’t have a choice.” Fear trembled my limbs, forcing me to stop pacing and drop down on the top step. It was foolish to think Trent wasn’t still searching for us, and I knew better than anyone what he was capable of when he was upset, and he was always upset. “But,” I said on a sigh after a long moment of quiet passed between us. “You’re right, I wasn’t thinking about my trouble causing Mabel harm, and I am sorry for that. Truly.”

Maverick grunted in reply, which told me everything I needed to know about how this was all going to end.

Abruptly.

“Right.” I gave myself a minute to make sure my legs were solid before I stood and turned to his angry, scowling face. His furious expression was as good a sign as any that it was time to move on. “I’ll need a week, possibly less, to find a new place to stay and then we’ll be gone. That should give you enough time to find someone else to help Mabel.”

In the next city I would have to keep my head down. Make no connections so there was no one to ask too many questions, and maybe find a way to work online.

Maverick didn’t say a word, which said all I needed to hear. He wanted me gone and I wouldn’t stay where I wasn’t wanted—not ever again—so I slipped inside the house, packed our bags, and spent the rest of the night plotting our departure.

Chapter 13

Maverick

First thing the morning after my big showdown with Ruby, I made my way to Mabel’s house to check on the state of things. I didn’t handle the conversation well last night, but I wasn’t sure anyone would have handled it well. Ruby said she would leave in a week, and even though I knew that was the best option, it didn’t sit right with me. So I woke up, told Diesel I’d be a little late getting to the clubhouse today, and went to see my grandmother.

“Grandma, you here?” I stepped inside and stomped my feet on the mat.

“I’m where I always am,” she called out in a tone that I couldn’t quite recognize.

I followed the sound of her voice to the living room, where she sat with a basket of yarn beside her, knitting needles in her hands. “Since when do you knit?”

She shrugged as if it was perfectly normal for me to find her knitting. “I’m learning a new hobby, sonny boy. You got a problem with that?”

“Nope.” I looked around the living room, noticing it was quiet. Too quiet. “Where are Sophie and Ruby?”

“Out running errands, I suppose, but I called Brenda Peterson, and she hasn’t heard from them either.”

My heart plummeted at the thought that she fucked off before the week was over. It might be for the best, but I still needed someone to be there for Mabel. But that begged another question. “Why did you call Brenda if they’re running errands?”

Mabel’s gaze narrowed in my direction, and she stopped fiddling with her knitting needles. “I’m old, Dylan, but I ain’t stupid.”

I knew that tone, I’d heard it enough over the past couple of decades to know that I was in the shit house with my grandmother, but it didn’t make sense. “I don’t think you’re stupid, Grandma.”

She tossed her head back and let out a loud laugh that echoed off the living room walls. “You must since you’re standing there acting all innocent.”

“Mabel, you don’t know what’s going on.”

She arched her brows. “Oh, so it’s Mabel now? Am I supposed to be scared or worried by your tone, young man?”

“Neither. But you’re upset with me, and you shouldn’t be.”

Her lips tugged into a grin that lacked all amusement. She stared at me for a long time, studying me as if she hadn’t known me my whole damn life. “You think I don’t know that woman and that sweet little girl are running from someone? You think I didn’t pick up on that almost immediately?” She shook her head, disappointment wafting off her in waves. “I knew it the moment I saw how skittish she was.”

“You did? Why didn’t you say anything?”

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