Page 27 of August 20

He glanced at Brooke's back again. The talk he'd put off needed to happen soon.

He'd spent the last two days saving his voice for plan B. Yet, he couldn't relax, not knowing if he was doing the right thing.

The continual spasms in his neck were uncomfortable and tiring, day in and day out.

The prison doctor had tried to push some pain pills on him that would help with nerves and contractions—to calm them down and give him some rest. He wouldn't hinder his ability to take care of himself.

In prison, he needed to remain aware of his surroundings. On the outside, he needed to ride for Havlin Motorcycle Club. He needed to stay alert and ready.

He had a purpose. He needed to get his daughter back. And he wouldn't be able to do that if he was drugged up or dead.

Skye yawned. Brooke turned around and approached the table.

She pretended to color intently as if his daughter knew what time it was. Maverick rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide his grin. Skye fought naps and bedtimes since she was three months old but always fell asleep once she put her head on the pillow. That hadn't changed.

"Time for bed." Brooke leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Let's put the crayons in the box."

Skye rubbed off the kiss. "I don't want—"

Maverick cleared his throat. His daughter looked at him and ducked her chin, stopping her nightly argument.

Brooke pulled back the chair and motioned for Skye to walk down the hallway. Skye took two steps, rushed back to the table, and rounded the end.

His daughter threw her arms around his neck and whispered, "Good night, Maverick."

His eyes closed at the onslaught of emotions choking him. He brought up his hand and spanned his fingers across her slim back.

Then, she jumped back and ran down the hallway, past Brooke, and out of sight. His gaze met Brooke's.

Her watery eyes stared back. Or, maybe his vision was clouded by his daughter's first sign of affection toward him.

Brooke ducked her head, and the movement resembled Skye so much it stole his breath. He'd always separated Brooke from Skye. She was the one who had his daughter, and he wanted her gone.

But the truth was, Brooke's blood also ran in his daughter's veins.

Janelle's sister was Skye's aunt.

She was there when Skye needed someone. The courts could've put his daughter in state custody and shoved her into a foster family. But for whatever reason, Brooke had stepped up and rearranged her life for Skye.

Brooke turned away from him.

He leaned back in the chair. "Brooke?"

She stilled without turning around.

The muscles in his throat spasmed. "We need to talk."

She walked out of sight without acknowledging his order. Alone, he grabbed his neck with both hands and massaged the muscles, trying to keep them from tensing. It was now in Brooke's hands whether she would come back out of the bedroom to talk with him.

Chapter Fifteen

For the first time, Brooke wished Skye would've demanded a bedtime story or wanted to talk about the day instead of going right to sleep. She would've even played a game of a hundred questions if it meant keeping her from talking to Maverick.

Whatever he wanted to see her about was bad news.

The whole time she'd lived here, he never sought her out. The last time they were in the same room together without Skye present, he'd pushed her against the wall, and for a hard minute, she thought he'd kiss her.

She'd wanted him to kiss her before she'd come to her senses.

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