Page 37 of Maverick

“Do you know a skinny guy with wild black curls and very pale blue eyes?” She didn’t answer immediately, and I stepped away from the door as my gaze slid to the front closet and the bat contained within. “Mabel?” I opened the closet and wrapped my hand around the aluminum handle.

“Sounds like Asher. Ask his name.”

“Who are you?”

His full lips tugged into an amused grin. “Most people call me Slate, but Mabel insists on calling me by my government name, which is Asher.”

My shoulders sagged in something that closely resembled relief as I unlatched the chain lock, the deadbolt, and the knob lock, pulling the door open. “I don’t know you, but Mabel does and she’s inside.”

“The name is Slate,” he said again, offering up his hand in greeting.

I took it slowly, carefully. Wary of all strangers. “Grace,” I said slowly. “But you already knew that.”

He nodded, still smiling. “Maverick may have mentioned you.”

“You’re one of his biker friends.” It wasn’t a question and Slate didn’t seem offended.

“I am. How are you holdin’ up?”

I shrugged, uncomfortable with his scrutiny or his kindness. “I’m fine,” I said because it was my default answer. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry,” he answered easily. “Smells good as fuck in here.”

“Try not to say that in front of Sophie. Please.”

“The kid, right. Sorry.” He flashed an apologetic smile and shrugged his bony, broad shoulders. “Still smells incredible in here.”

I motioned for him to head towards the kitchen, following on his heels. “You have a visitor, Mabel.”

Her eyes brightened at the sight of the younger man and then her arms shot out for a hug. “Asher, you handsome devil, come and give me a hug.”

He laughed, smiling as he let the older woman fold him into an embrace. “Lookin’ good, Mabel.” He squeezed her tight and she laughed. “You still smell like vanilla and sugar.”

“You’re only saying that because you want me to make you some cookies.” She laughed and patted his cheek. “Have a seat. Lord knows Grace cooked enough food for a small army.”

“It’s called leftovers,” I shot back, and grabbed another plate along with flatware. “Maverick asked you to come by?”

He shook his head. “No, he didn’t have to ask. Figured I’d see what the surveillance in the neighborhood had to say.”

I frowned. “You’re going to ask all the neighbors to see their cameras?”

Slate laughed. “No. I have my ways.”

I didn’t want to know so I didn’t ask, instead I focused on piling a little bit of everything on Sophie’s plate. If I left it up to her, there would be enough food on her plate to feed a grown man.

“Mommy,” she began as she rushed into the kitchen, and stopped abruptly. “Who are you?”

Slate flashed a wide grin at my little girl. “Me? I’m a friend of Mabel’s. My friends call me Slate. Who are you?”

She looked to me, and when I nodded, she turned her beautiful smile on the man. “I’m Sophie and I’m a friend of Grandma Mabel too.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sophie.”

“Is Grandma Mabel your grandma too?”

“Not technically, but I think of her as a grandma.” He tore open a roll, shoved the juicy meat inside, and bit into it. “Better hurry up and eat, Sophie, before it’s all gone.”

Her eyes widened and she rushed around the table, stopping at the chair between Mabel and me. “You can’t eat it all,” she said, and picked up a piece of meat between her fingers. “It’s nice to share.”

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