Page 4 of Maverick's Code

"You want to tell me why you were stumbling around my territory last night looking like you went ten rounds with a meat grinder?"

I lean against the doorframe, deliberately making myself look relaxed and non-threatening. Well, as non-threatening as a 6'2" biker can look.

She lifts her chin, defiant in spite of everything. "You want to tell me why you brought me here instead of killing me?"

"Already told you. Not in the business of hurting women."

"No?" Her laugh is sharp, bitter. "Just in the business of killing Outlaws."

"Only the ones who deserve it." I meet her gaze steadily. "Like whoever did that to your face."

That hits something. I see it in the way she flinches, in how her fingers curl into fists in her lap. Bingo.

"Was it an inside job?" I press gently, watching her reaction. "Your club's been a mess since we took out most of the leadership. Power vacuum tends to bring out the worst in people."

"Shut up," she hisses, but there's fear beneath the anger. "You don't know anything."

"I know enough." I set the cleaning supplies aside, keeping my movements slow. "I know that dress isn't yours - too flashy, too revealing for someone who keeps trying to cover up. I know those bruises are fresh, probably not more than twelve hours old. And I know you've got the look of someone who just found out their family isn't what they thought it was."

She's trembling now, whether from rage or something else, I can't tell. But I've struck a nerve.

"You want me to keep guessing? Because I'm pretty good at connecting dots. Like how the timing of this lines up perfectly with certain Outlaws trying to consolidate power."

"Stop," she whispers, but I can't. Not when I'm this close to the truth.

"Betrayed by your own, weren't you?" I ask quietly. The way her shoulders tense tells me all I need to know.

"Shut up," she snaps, eyes flashing. "I'm never going to trust an Iron & Blood member, so you can stop with this whole knight in shining leather act."

I can't help but chuckle at that, which only seems to piss her off more.

"That's rich. You won't trust me, but you trusted the Outlaws? How'd that work out for you, princess?"

Her eyebrow arches, and despite everything, there's a hint of pride in her posture. "You wouldn't get it," she says, voice cold. "I was born into this. The Outlaws... it's not just a club to me. It's who I am."

"Was," I correct her gently. "Based on those bruises, I'd say that bridge is pretty much burned."

She moves faster than I expected, on her feet in an instant despite the pain I know she's in.

"You don't know anything about me or my life," she snarls, getting right in my face. "You think because you picked me up off the street, you've got me figured out? You don't know shit."

I hold my ground, looking down at her. This close, I can see the golden flecks in her brown eyes and the slight tremble in her split lip.

"Then enlighten me. Because from where I'm standing, you've got two choices - trust me enough to let me help you or walk out that door and take your chances with whatever's waiting for you out there."

For a moment, we just stand there, toe to toe, neither backing down. She's close enough that I can smell a faint trace of jasmine beneath the antiseptic I used on her cuts last night. Close enough to see the pulse racing in her throat. Too close.

"Trust you?" she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. "The enemy? The man whose club killed half of mine last month?"

"The man who didn't leave you bleeding on the street," I counter. "The man who could've dropped you at any hospital or called the cops but instead brought you somewhere safe."

She takes a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. "Why did you? Really?"

It's a fair question, one I've been asking myself since last night. "Because contrary to what you might believe, we have a code. And because..." I pause, choosing my words carefully. "Because sometimes the real enemy isn't who you think it is."

"And what do you want in return?" she asks, eyes narrowing. "Information? Names? Because I won't-"

"I want you to eat some damn breakfast," I cut her off. "And maybe tell me your name. Rest can wait."

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