Page 8 of Maverick

I bristled at the teasing note in his voice. “I’m not a princess.”

“Whatever you say. You do you, lawyer girl.” Then, without another glance, he turned and walked off into the darkness, broad shoulders disappearing among the other tents and drunk bikers.

I let out my breath, flustered. Part of me wanted to chase after him, demand to know more about him, about my mom, about this weird arrangement. Another part of me was grateful to see him go, because he unsettled me in a way I didn’t want to examine too closely.

My mother moaned for water, so Nova grabbed a bottle from the cooler, and we helped her drink a bit before she passed out entirely. Apparently, wherever Maverick went, Chigger followed because he was gone as well.

We exchanged a glance.

“What a shitshow,” Nova whispered, brushing hair back from Mom’s face.

I sighed, mind swirling. “I can’t believe she’s messing around with that guy. He can’t be much older than us. And he’s… God, I don’t even know. I’m not sure I trust him.”

Nova carelessly lifted her shoulder, her expression half-dazed from all the tequila. “He did save you from that creep. He might not be so bad.”

“He’s banging my mom,” I said, clearly agitated.

“Possibly he is, but not tonight. Let’s get your mom settled and then we can head back to our room. I can’t sleep on the ground tonight. I’ll break my neck.”

Nodding, I tucked a blanket around my unconscious mother. She snored softly, reeking of tequila. “All right. I’ll see her tomorrow. She can fill me in on who’s threatening her, and maybe we can figure out how to handle it.”

We left the rally, weaving past bikers who whistled at us or offered more drinks. My nerves were on edge, but Nova was valiantly ignoring them, hustling me toward the safety of the car.

Chapter 4

The next morning, I woke early, head throbbing from too many shots. And forced down a few cups of motel coffee. Nova was sprawled across her bed, moaning about the sunlight creeping through the thin curtains.

“You alive, Slutty?” I asked with a yawn.

“Barely,” she groaned. “I’m never drinking tequila again.”

I took a swig of coffee, steeling myself. “I should go check on my mom. Make sure she’s okay…maybe get more info on this threat.”

“Fine,” Nova said, yawning. “I’ll shower and meet you there, okay? You go ahead.”

That worked for me. I wanted to talk to Mom alone, anyway. So I dressed in simpler clothes, a pair of jeans and a book T-shirt, since that was what I packed for Frisco. It read, ‘Men are Better in Books’. But I was still wearing my knee-high boots. I drove back to the rally grounds.

I parked closer this time. The atmosphere was quieter in the morning, many people probably sleeping off hangovers as I approached the tents, scanning for my mother’s pink ribbons.

I found it soon enough, noticing the flap was hanging open. “Mom? Mom, are you awake, yet?”

The words died in my throat as I saw her lying on her back inside the tent, eyes like mine staring blankly at the canvas ceiling. Her chest didn’t rise or fall. A dark bruise marred her neck, and her lips were blue-tinged.

“Oh, my God.” My voice wavered. I crawled inside, shaking her shoulder. The stiffness of her body made me recoil.

She was…dead.

No, no, no.

Tears burned my eyes. “Mom,” I whispered brokenly, checking her pulse even though I knew it was pointless. Her skin was cold. Bile rose in my throat. This couldn’t be happening.

I stumbled out of the tent, shaky and gasping. I had to get help. Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I dialed 911, rattling off the location as best I could. My thoughts were a jumbled mess. My mother, drunken, irresponsible, vexing, was…gone.

My heart ached, but my head kicked into high gear. Had someone hurt her? That bruise on her neck looked suspicious as hell. Why would anyone kill my mom?Because she knew secrets.The threat. My pulse hammered.

I staggered away from the tent, scanning the area. Where was Maverick?

He was with her last night.

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