Page 4 of The Maverick

“That’s not how the public will see it.”

“To hell with the public.” His voice dropped. “I’m not here to protect your brand, Vanessa. I’m here to protect you.”

That shouldn’t have made her chest go tight, but it did. She hated how easily his voice could slide under her skin. How safe it still felt to hear her name from his mouth.

“I didn’t call you for a lecture,” she muttered, brushing past him toward the kitchen.

“Good. I didn’t come here to give one.”

She opened a cabinet, pulled out a bottle of bourbon, and poured two fingers into a glass.

Hawke leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “It’s a bit early, don’t you think? You planning to drink to try to get some sleep or to forget someone is stalking you?”

“God, you’re an asshole. If I’m going to drink, it’ll be because I don’t want to talk about how you somehow knew where I was two seconds after picking up the phone.”

His stare didn’t flinch. “I’ve been keeping tabs.”

“You don’t have that right.”

“I never gave a damn about having the right. I cared about keeping you safe.”

She took a long sip. “You’re still an arrogant bastard.”

He took a step toward her. “And you’re still the most frustrating woman I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not some damsel in distress who needs saving, Hawke.”

“Never said you were.”

“You showed up like you’re ready to move me into a panic room.”

His voice dropped an octave. “If I thought that would keep you breathing, I’d carry you there myself.”

Her breath caught, and she hated how easily he could do that to her. With just a few words, a look, he could undo the armor she’d spent years perfecting.

“You don’t get to protect me now after walking away,” she said, voice quiet but sharp.

“I didn’t walk.”

Vanessa stilled. “No, you ran.”

Hawke watched her for a moment, then stepped back, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, we need to secure this place.”

“I’ve got cameras. Locks. Alarms.”

“And he still got in.”

She had no argument. He paced the perimeter of the room like he was taking inventory. Paused at each entry point.Checked the window seals. Every move he made was efficient, precise, calculated. The soldier in him had never faded.

She sat on the edge of the couch, bourbon in hand, watching him. “I’d forgotten that you always come prepared.”

“Only for the important clients or ones I care about.”

The silence after that was thick. Heavy with everything that had been unspoken between them for years. She looked away first.

“So, what’s your plan?” she asked, swirling the last of the bourbon in her glass.

“You’re coming with me,” he said.

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