Page 3 of Maverick's Code

"You done?" he asks, his voice surprisingly calm for someone who just had a bat swung at his head.

I should say something smart, something brave. Instead, my legs give out, and the only thing keeping me from crumpling to the floor is his other hand suddenly catching my elbow.

"Whoa, easy there, killer," he says, his grip gentle but firm on my elbow.

The bat clatters to the floor as he releases it to better support my weight. I want to pull away, to run, to fight - but my body has other ideas, trembling traitorously against him.

"Don't..." I manage to whisper, hating how weak my voice sounds. "Don't touch me."

He immediately lets go, stepping back with his hands raised. I grab the doorframe to stay upright, my knuckles white with effort. The spilled coffee and broken ceramic create a hazardous pool at our feet, and the breakfast he was bringing in is now a mess on the hardwood floor.

"Wasn't planning on hurting you," he says, still keeping his distance. "Still not planning on it, even after that lovely wake-up greeting."

I scan his face for lies - I've gotten good at spotting them lately. But all I see is... concern? That can't be right. He's Iron & Blood. We’re at war with them.

The room starts spinning again, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision. No, not now. I can't pass out again. Can't be vulnerable. Can't...

"You should sit down before you fall down," he says, his voice coming from very far away. "I'll clean this up and make you another breakfast. No strings attached."

I want to tell him exactly where he can shove his breakfast, but the words won't come.

Instead, I force myself to take deep breaths, focusing on the rough wood of the doorframe under my fingers. Mind over matter. I've made it this far - I'm not going down again.

"Why?" I croak out, finally finding my voice. "Why help me? You know what I am." I gesture weakly to my shoulder, where my Outlaws tattoo marks me as his enemy.

He stares at me for a moment, "Because someone worked you over pretty good, and where I come from, we don't leave injured women on the street, patch or no patch."

A bitter laugh escapes my split lip. "Right. Bikers with a heart of gold. I've heard that one before."

"Believe what you want," he shrugs, then nods toward the bed. "But you're about ten seconds from kissing that floor, and I'd rather not have to pick you up again. Sit. Please."

It's the 'please' that throws me. That, and the fact that he's making no move to force me, just standing there waiting for mydecision. My legs are screaming, and he's right - I'm running on fumes.

Slowly, carefully, I edge my way back to bed, never taking my eyes off him. The mattress dips under my weight as I sink down, and it takes everything I have not to groan in relief.

"I'll get this cleaned up," he says, glancing at the mess on the floor. "Then we can talk about who did this to you."

"We're not talking about anything," I snap, but there's no real fire behind it.

I'm too tired, too sore, and too confused by this man who's nothing like what I expected.

He just raises an eyebrow.

"We'll see." Then he turns and leaves the room, returning moments later with cleaning supplies.

I watch him clean up the broken mug and spilled coffee, my guard still up but my mind racing. What's his angle? What does he want? And why do I feel safer here, in an enemy's bedroom, than I have in weeks?

Chapter 3 - Maverick

I feel her eyes on me as I mop up the coffee, tracking every move like a wounded animal ready to bolt. Or swing another bat. Can't blame her - whatever happened to her has left more than just physical scars. I recognize that look. I've seen it before, in women who have learned the hard way that trust can be a double-edged sword.

"You got a name?" I ask, keeping my tone casual as I gather the broken pieces of ceramic.

She doesn't answer.

"I'm Maverick," I offer, straightening up with the mess in hand. "And before you ask - yeah, that's my real name. My old man had a thing for Top Gun."

Something flickers across her face - almost a smile, maybe - before the walls come back up. But it's progress. Better than the bat, anyway.

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