Page 22 of August 20

Her stomach flipped. Those were the facts told to her when she gained custody of Skye. She had a court order that gave her guardianship over her niece.

Garren Jenkins, who she now knew as Maverick, would never get Skye back, no matter how patient he was with her now. It was an act. He only had one purpose.

He couldn't be trusted.

"Aunt Brooke? Look." Skye moved the sparkler. "I'm making an S. Do you see it?"

"I do." She clapped. "Good job, honey."

Her enthusiasm was forced for her niece's sake. Despite not wanting to, she was jealous of Maverick. It was supposed to be her and Skye enjoying their first Fourth of July in their new home. Instead, she was an outsider to the fun.

Maverick had become the fun person in Skye's life. He brought her toys, books, movies, and a bike. He was the one who brought her Happy Meals, took her to the beach, and shot fireworks off.

Now, he was showing her how fun sparklers were when Skye had never experienced such a thing. Brooke had always kept Skye from anything to do with fires because she hadn't wanted to trigger any memories.

Despite Skye only being four years old when she lost her mom, there were times afterward when Skye questioned where her mom had gone. She knew a fire had taken her away, but she was missing the small details to understand what kind of mother she had. That would come later when she was older and more mature.

She stared at Skye running around Maverick with a sparkler, laughing. Fires didn't trigger her niece.

Nor Maverick.

The fact that he seemed unbothered by everything infuriated her. He belonged in prison.

Skye stopped, bent over, and brought her hand down. Reading her intent to throw the sparkler straight up in the air, Brooke jumped up from the step and ran forward.

"No." She lunged as the sparkler left Skye's hand and sailed upward.

Instead of reaching Skye and getting her safely out of the way, a strong arm caught her around the waist and whirled her away. She lost her breath, frantically looking for Skye as Maverick swung her in the air.

As the world slowed and righted, she found Skye. Maverick held his daughter with his other arm.

Somehow, he'd reacted faster and kept them both out of the way of the falling sparkler.

Skye giggled, looping her arms around their necks and pulling them closer. Held tight against Maverick's chest with her feet off the ground, there was nothing she could do. The shock of how intimate her body was against his froze her in place.

Maverick turned and let her go. Not fast. Slow. Slow enough, she slid down his hard body, landing on the ground with his thigh between her legs to balance her.

She sucked in her breath at the tingle that detonated low in her stomach.

Then, Maverick moved away, still holding Skye, bent over, picked up the still-sparkling sparkler off the grass, and handed it back to his daughter.

"Don't throw." He put her down.

He looked at Brooke. She turned away. Afraid he'd see how she reacted to his touch, she returned to her lonely spot on the porch.

Maverick had everything under control.

Meanwhile, she was falling apart.

Chapter Twelve

Maverick pulled the ski mask off and tossed it into the barrel behind the Havlin clubhouse. The briny air swept over his overheated face. It was fucking July. Too hot to wear more than a pair of jeans and a T-shirt at night.

Link, Dio, and Bane added their masks to the container.

Jagger stepped up with a gas can and lit the barrel's contents. They needed no evidence left behind.

While nobody died tonight, there was enough blood splatter to incriminate them. Hopefully, the street gang from Portland would take HWY 101 off their map and not show their faces again.

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