Page 96 of Maverick

I reached out, wanting to rest a hand on her shoulder, but paused, unsure if she’d welcome my touch. Her eyes flickered to mine, and for a moment, I read a swirl of emotions, fear, longing, confusion. Then she looked away, heading down the hall to check on the crib.

Chigger cleared his throat. “So, we staying the night, or are we pushing on?”

I sighed, sinking onto the worn couch. “We’ll stay the night. Kid needs rest. Tomorrow, we head north.”

Nova nodded in agreement, then cast me a curious look. “Any word from Kingpin? Did he finalize that deal with Ralph Getty?”

I swept my hair back with my hand. “Yeah, called him earlier. He said he gave Ralph the intel on Marciano’s double-cross about Lexi, so Getty’s wanting to cut a new deal, one that sets Lexi free from her old arrangement with Marciano and Mark. But it requires some bullshit contract that ensures she’s not the rightful heir to the Getty empire.”

Chigger snorted. “Mob politics, man. So basically, if she’s Alexander Getty’s kid, that’s a threat to Ralph’s claim. So they want to disprove her heritage or something?”

I nodded. “Exactly. Kingpin said they’ll have her sign a contract and do a DNA test, but they’ll rig it so it shows she’s not a Getty. They just need someone else to claim fatherhood. Andapparently, Kingpin volunteered. He said it’s not impossible, given how many men Dirty Diana was with back in the day while she was in Nashville.”

Nova let out a disbelieving laugh. “So Lexi’s father on paper will be Kingpin? That’s twisted as hell. Then you’d be hooking up with the daughter of your mortal enemy.”

My stomach knotted at the idea. “Let’s not dwell on that,” I muttered. “Kingpin is not as much my enemy as a necessary evil. Anyway, that’s the plan, so Lexi can be free from any Getty inheritance nonsense and the mob’s interest.”

Chigger chuckled. “Damn. That’s messed up, but if it works, it works.”

I exhaled, glancing toward the hallway where Lexi had disappeared. “Nothing’s certain. We’ll see once the test is done. Then we go to Maine. Let the Kings of Anarchy provide cover.”

Night fell, and we divvied up sleeping arrangements. Nova and Chigger claimed the smaller bedroom, leaving Lexi and the baby the slightly bigger one. That forced me to sprawl on the couch, a lumpy old thing that squeaked whenever I moved. Fine by me. I didn’t want to push Lexi into sharing a room, not yet.

Early morning arrived with the smell of instant coffee that Chigger brewed in the tiny kitchen. I lumbered in, bleary-eyed, running my hand over my jaw scruff. Nova was packing a cooler of snacks while Lexi rocked the baby in the corner, wearing the same tired expression.

“We head out soon,” I said, clearing my throat. “Got the route planned, straight up through Missouri, Illinois, then cut east. Should be a few days’ ride.”

Lexi nodded, adjusting the baby’s bottle. “What about the DNA test Nova mentioned? How does that work if we’re on the run?”

I leaned against the counter. “Kingpin said he’ll have a contact meet us halfway, or we can mail a sample. Once it’s processed, they’ll handle forging the results, assuming you’re a Getty. But if you’re not, we might not need the forgery. Then you sign some contract, say you have no claim, and that’s it.”

She chewed her lip, eyes darting to her son. “And if I am Alexander Getty’s daughter?”

My chest clenched. “Then they’ll fake the test, using Kingpin’s DNA to say he is your real father.” The words tasted bitter. “He volunteered for that, said it’s plausible enough.”

A flicker of shock crossed her features. “Then I’d be Kingpin’s daughter? Some random biker like mom always said. But I guess I wouldn’t be an heir to the mob.”

I forced a nod, ignoring the weird swirl of jealousy. I’d be in love with Kingpin’s daughter? His fake daughter. That would make my ex, Eve, her fake stepmother. The universe had a twisted sense of humor.

We made the grueling ride north over the next several days, stopping only for quick motel stays and to let the baby rest. Chigger drove the SUV with Lexi and Nova while I rode ahead on my Harley, scouting. Each mile put more distance between us and Mark or Marciano’s men. I checked my phone frequently, expecting some kind of pursuit. Nothing materialized.

Finally, after crossing state lines and winding through pine forests, we reached the Kings of Anarchy MC in Maine. Their president, Solo, greeted us with a curt nod. They’d prepared a small apartment above their clubhouse for Lexi andthe baby, ensuring privacy. The place smelled faintly of sawdust and motor oil, but it was livable.

Lexi looked relieved yet wary as she settled the baby’s car seat in a corner. “Thank you,” she told Solo softly.

He just shrugged. “Any friend of Maverick’s is a friend of ours. You’ll be safe here.”

We sent off Lexi’s DNA sample, just a cheek swab. It took Kingpin a couple of weeks to process it through his contact. Those were tense days. We roamed the clubhouse, living in borrowed rooms, uncertain if Mark or Marciano had a clue where we were. But none of their men showed up. Maybe we shook them off for good.

Lexi was distant, though I caught her watching me with conflicted eyes whenever I played peekaboo with the baby. She never forbade me from holding him, but she never invited me either. It felt as if a storm were about to break. We needed a proper conversation, but she kept busy, holed up in the little apartment with the baby. I busied myself constantly on guard, watching for trouble that was bound to find us, eventually. Therefore, we hovered in a strange limbo.

Finally, Kingpin called. I took the call outside the clubhouse, pacing near a row of Harleys under the pine trees. The summer air in Maine was warm enough, not oppressive like the months that were coming, and the distant crash of ocean waves always provided a soothing backdrop.

“Maverick,” came a gruff voice. Kingpin used the right name. “We got the results.”

I was on edge, waiting. “And?”

He hesitated, then let out a low chuckle. “She’s not a Getty. No forging required.”

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