Page 27 of Forsaking All Others

“And it can’t be about you and Holly either. This is about you doing a job for me. We’re not moving drugs, Colt. We’re moving firearms—fucking AK-47s and MAC 10s, we’re gonna have to cut the lining on those caskets to hide them.”

I gauge his reaction, waiting to spot fear… apprehension…anything that tells me he’s having second thoughts. But the man remains completely impassive.

“Then I guess you got your work cut out for you,” he says evenly.

He snatches the empty beer bottles from the counter and tosses them in the trash. I don’t think the man comprehends what the fuck he’s getting himself into.

“If Holly finds out—”

He turns around and cuts me off midsentence.

“She’s not going to find out shit. You’re here to discuss your recycling business and I’m just the gracious guy who offered her ex-husband a beer.”

He holds out his hand.

“Do we have a deal?”

It’s risky as fuck and I don’t care what he says, if Holly finds out we’re both fucked and if this shit goes sideways and Colt gets pinched—well, I don’t even want to think about what the fuck she’ll do.

Still, even with that knowledge and the pang of dread swarming around in my gut, I shake his hand.

“Deal.”

“One more thing,” he says, gripping my hand a little tighter. “Quit fucking with Holly. You had your chance, and you blew it. She’s mine now, Maverick, and I don’t share.”

I squeeze his hand, watching as he flinches.

“I take it back, you ain’t a smart man. You may have put a ring on Holly’s finger but make no mistake about it—she’ll always be mine, Colt. She knows it, I know it and it’s time you know it too.” I release his hand and slide off the stool. “But you’re right, I had my chance. That don’t mean I won’t be there for Holly when you blow yours.”

Chapter Eight

Holly Armstrong

“Holly, a word,”Maverick clips.

I throw the empty Chinese cartons in the trash and lift my head to look at Maverick. He kisses the top of Tara’s head, ruffles Shep’s hair and winks at Theo before bringing his eyes to me. I’m familiar with the look he gives me, it’s the one he uses when he’s about to tell me something I don’t want to hear. A shame considering how well things went when we told Colt about H & M.

Biting back a sigh, I turn to Colt who continues to wash the dishes.

“I’m going to walk Maverick out,” I say.

Removing his hand from the soapy dishwater, Colt’s gaze cuts to me. He tags my hand, tugging me against his side and bends his head, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

“Don’t be too long,” he murmurs against my mouth.

He’s been doing a lot of that—stealing kisses and touches—ever since I got home and found him and Maverick in the kitchen, shaking hands. As well as they got along, they weren’t the type to sit around the kitchen with a couple of beers. They didn’t shoot the shit and they most certainly didn’t shake hands.

I didn’t know what to make of the sight, but I didn’t harp on it.

Maverick is a master manipulator who considers every angle when plotting a move. I may have come to him with the idea, but as soon as he agreed to help me, he took control. Asking Colt’s permission before he made a show of propositioning me with the reboot of H & M wasn’t a courtesy to my husband, it was a skilled chess play and I chalked up the awkward handshake as part of it. You see Mav may call himself a Knight but he’s a fucking king on the board—always protecting the queen.

I have to hand it to Mav, though, whatever it is he did, worked. Colt is completely on board with everything, so I’m not really sure why Mav is giving me that look.

I give Colt another peck and flash him a smile before following Maverick through the house and out the front door. Closing it behind me, I wait for him to turn and tell me whatever it is he wants to say, but he keeps walking. He’s got a good six inches on me, his long legs eat the pavement with every stride toward his bike, making it hard for me to keep up.

“Jesus, Maverick, slow down.”

Reaching his Harley, he hooks his hands around the handlebars and throws his thigh over the seat of the bike. I finally catch up to him and cross my arms over my chest, waiting for him to explain why I’m out here.

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