Page 15 of Maverick

I sat down on a log next to her, ignoring the smirks of the old guys she’d been chatting with. They lost interest fast once I joined in, drifting off to find more drinks or easier women. She turned to face me, leaning in close.

Her breath reeked of stale beer and cigarettes. I forced myself not to recoil. “You’re new,” she purred, letting a hand settle on my upper thigh. “What’s your name, sugar?”

Thankfully, my cock didn’t even twitch. I gave her a lazy grin. “Maverick.”

She made a show of batting her lashes, though they were caked with cheap mascara that’d started to flake. “Maverick. Mmm, I like that.”

She leaned closer, but I twisted slightly so her hand slid off my leg. The last damn thing I wanted was to have her pawing all over me. Still, I needed to keep the conversation flowing. “I hear you’ve got a story or two to tell, Dirty Diana. Word says you collect secrets like some folks collect baseball cards.”

A flash of something. Fear? Excitement? Crossed her eyes. “Who told you that?” she asked, voice sharper.

I shrugged. “People talk. Or it could be that I simply have good ears.”

She snorted. “Yeah, well, maybe they should keep their mouths shut.” She took a long swig from her beer can. Then, abruptly, she turned to me, eyes wide. “You know what? You might not be safe talkin’ to me. There’s a man named Grinder, some big mob boss. He’s put a hit out on me.”

Fuck, that was easy. The woman really did have loose lips. I kept my face neutral. “A hit, huh?” I asked. “Why’d he do that?”

She glanced around, lowering her voice. “’Cause he thinks I’m talkin’ about stuff, I shouldn’t. I know a lot of shit, Maverick. Dangerous shit. And he wants me dead. Hell, he wants my daughter dead, too. He threatened her name specifically.”

My detective instincts, long buried, stirred. She was either telling the truth or spinning a story. She had that sweaty, jittery look of someone in real fear, but it could be an act. I’d known plenty of hustlers. “Your daughter?” I asked. “Does she know she’s in danger?”

Diana’s eyes darted. “I… mighta hinted. But she’s busy, you know, has her own life. She’s in Texas. No sense dragging her into my mess, right?”

What a load of bullshit. If she really thought her kid was in danger, she’d call her. Well, maybe a normal mother would. Then again, Dirty Diana sure as hell wasn’t normal. “If Grinder is for real, you should warn her,” I said flatly. “More than a hint. Unless you want to see her in a casket.”

She pursed her lips, her face twisted with concern or guilt. “Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled. “Maybe I will. Could use a lawyer’s mind on this anyway, and she just passed the bar.” She rummaged for another cigarette, lighting it with shaky fingers. “But what about me, Maverick? You gonna keep me safe?”

I avoided making any promises. “We’ll see. Let’s talk more after I catch my breath.”

She gave me a considering look, then nodded. Seemed I’d earned a tiny shred of trust.

I left her by the fire, telling her I needed to take a leak. In reality, I had to find Kingpin. He’d texted me earlier that he was in a big black RV near the south side of the field. I was supposed to give him updates, like some fucking errand boy. My lip curled with anger, but I forced it down.

Chapter 10

Spotting the RV, I knocked once and stepped in. The inside was surprisingly spacious, with a little living area. Kingpin sat at a small table, a cigar clamped between his teeth, while a man I recognized as Murder, the president in Charleston, sat across from him, swirling moonshine in a plastic cup. Both turned at my entrance.

“About goddamn time,” Kingpin growled, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Murder lifted his chin in greeting, though he gave me a once-over. “So, you’re the one Kingpin set to sniffin’ around for that mouthy broad?” He had a gravelly voice that reminded me of a man who’d smoked a hundred cigarettes for breakfast.

“Lucky me.” I crossed my arms over my chest. I hated being in the same room with Kingpin. He’d stolen everything from me, my first love, my illusions, my sense of belonging. Now I was his lacky, forced to do his bidding so he wouldn’t have me fucking killed. Living the dream.

Murder poured me some moonshine. “Good to see you, again. Picked some up from the Black Rebel Riders on our way,” he explained. “Local shit’s the best.”

“Mind the smoke,” Kingpin said with a sneer, blowing another puff in my direction. “Eve hates it, so I gotta catch my puffs when I can.”

I nearly flinched at the mention of Eve’s name, but I covered it by taking a long drink of moonshine. Shit was good. But I didn’t want to think about Eve, or how she’d been mine once upon a time, how we’d lost a baby, how she’d run to Kingpin after.Fuck, I hated even hearing her name.

“She’s not here, so you can calm your tits, son,” Kingpin said dismissively.

Murder gave a wheezing laugh. “Poor old Kingpin, pussy-whipped by his hot, young, new wife.”

Kingpin shot him a glare but didn’t disagree. “So, Maverick,” he said, turning his gaze on me. “You find ol’ Dirty D yet?”

I nodded, knowing he was inviting me to speak in front of Murder. Made sense. The two presidents were as thick as thieves, and twice as cunning. I wondered momentarily if he was one of the Road Monsters' aces himself before I answered Kingpin, “She’s here, all right. Says some mob boss named Grinder put a hit on her. She’s spooked. Told me the asshole’s after her daughter, too.”

Kingpin cocked his head, “Diana has a daughter? That’s news.”

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