Page 38 of Maverick

Lexi’s apartment complex rose before us, a squat, three-story building that looked older than either of us. A row of tall oak trees lined the sidewalk, and a small metal gate stood partially open, giving a glimpse of a shaded courtyard. As I pulled into a visitor’s spot, I felt Lexi’s grip tighten.

She didn’t let go until the bike’s engine died. Then she slid off, pulling off her helmet, her hair tumbling in wild waves around her face. She exhaled, staring at the building. It wasn’t the nicest place, faded paint, a cracked walkway. But it was hers.

“Home sweet home,” she murmured, her voice laced with exhaustion. “I can’t believe we’re finally here.”

I climbed off the bike and ran my fingers through my hair, scanning the area like a hawk. No immediate signs of danger, no tinted SUVs lurking, no suspicious characters on the sidewalk. But that didn’t mean we were safe. “You feel okay?” I asked quietly, stepping closer so only she could hear. “We can get in and get out. We don’t have to linger.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah... I just… we need to see if there’s any sign of whatever my mom stashed here. This is the only place I can think of.” She squared her shoulders with a determined look that made my chest tighten. “But let’s be careful.”

I gave a curt nod. “Always.”

We made our way through the courtyard, stepping over uneven paving stones. The space had a shabby charm, a few potted plants, a small fountain that wasn’t running. Lexi led us up a narrow stairwell to the second floor, then down an open-air walkway. Her apartment door was near the end. It took her a moment to fish out her keys. Her fingers trembled, betraying her nervousness.

“You okay?” I asked again, softly, hovering just behind her.

She shot me a quick look over her shoulder, mouth curving in a half-smile. “Yes. Just… wondering if someone’s inside, waiting to blow our heads off.”

The tension in her voice made me want to pull her close, but I just rested my hand lightly on her shoulder. “If so, I’ll handle it.” I forced a little bravado to my tone.

She exhaled, slid the key into the lock, and twisted. The door opened onto a small living room with a worn beige couch, a low coffee table stacked with law books, and an assortment of mismatched rugs covering the scuffed wood floor.

Lexi stepped inside cautiously, half expecting an armed thug to leap out. I followed close behind, scanning corners, my senses on high alert. But nothing looked disturbed. No overturned furniture, no footprints in the dust. The place smelled slightly stale from being closed up for days, but otherwise normal.

“Clear,” I muttered, though I never truly let my guard down.

She let out a shaky breath, locking the door behind us. “Thank God.” Then she flicked on a lamp near the couch, bathing the space in a soft glow. “I guess no one decided to sabotage my apartment.”

“Seems that way. But stay sharp,” I reminded her.

She gave a small nod, dropping our bag on the couch. “I will. Let me show you around. Though there’s not much to see.”

I took in the room like a detective scanning a crime scene, neat rows of law journals on a bookshelf, a second-handTV stand holding a modest flat-screen, a stuffed armchair in the corner. On the walls, she’d hung a few framed prints of famous court decisions, alongside a poster of some half-naked male cover model for a romance novel. My lips twitched at that. She definitely had a thing for smut.

She noticed my gaze and blushed. “Hey, a girl’s allowed to have fantasies,” she mumbled, crossing her arms.

“I’m not judging, princess,” I said with a half-smile. “I’d just pegged you more for the serious attorney type. Not the cover-model-lusting type.”

Her cheeks reddened. “I can be both, you know.”

“Mm. I do know.” My tone rumbled with innuendo as I took in her shirt. “What’s a morally gray man?”

“A bad boy, basically.”

“Like a biker?”

She cleared her throat, turning to lead me down a short hallway.

We stopped at a closed door at the end. She hesitated, hand hovering over the knob. “This is it,” she murmured. “I keep all of my mom’s old stuff in here, at least, the stuff that belonged to her that I couldn’t throw away. Some of it used to be at my aunt’s place. She raised me, but after my aunt died, I had nowhere else to store it. So, I… stuck it in here.”

I studied her profile, noticing the flicker of sadness in her eyes. She’d lost her aunt, the woman who truly reared her, then her mother, no matter how flawed. It was no wonder she was guarded. “You sure you’re ready?”

She pressed her pretty lips together. “I have to be.” Then she twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

Lexi clicked on the overhead light, and a single naked bulb flickered. The room was small, filled with boxes. Some were stacked neatly along the walls, others haphazardly piled in the corner. A battered trunk sat against the far side, and a few plastic bins were labeled with marker. I smelled a faint mustiness, like old clothes and yellowing paper.

She took a step inside and gestured helplessly. “Here we are. A lifetime of Dirty Diana’s junk.”

I whistled low. “We got our work cut out for us.” Part of me was impatient to rummage through everything, but I also sensed Lexi’s emotional turmoil. “We’ll find whatever we can, if it’s here.”

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