She was four houses down the street when a flash of lights from behind her illuminated the sidewalk. Dread ignited inside her. If it was Grant, what would she do?
Panic nearly making her take flight, she looked over her shoulder. It was just a pickup, not Grant. Relief surged through her, and then an even bigger wave of it hit as she realized.
Maverick. It was Maverick.
The truck pulled to a stop beside her and the passenger door pushed open. “I’ve got you, Al. Get in.”
CHAPTER 12
Maverick was nearly shaking he was so pissed off.
From the moment he’d seen Alexa walk off her front porch into the rain, his body had gone on high alert. Because there hadn’t been a damn thing normal about that. And when she’d rushed down the street in the darkness, in the middle of a goddamned storm, he’d known. Some kinda shit had gone down.
Thunder cracked so loud it rattled the old truck’s windows. For a long moment, he concentrated on the roads, the traffic, just getting her away. “I know it’s a stupid fucking question, but I gotta ask it anyway. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He tried really hard to keep the rage out of his voice.
“He didn’t hit me,” she said, her voice barely audible over the rain and the windshield wipers. “Can we just . . . not? Not yet?” The anguish in her pretty eyes nearly slayed him.
He gave a tight nod. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t dying to know what the hell had happened. That Slater hadn’t hit her was the only thing keeping the asshole above ground right now. But she hadn’t said she was okay, had she? In the light that shone into the cab from oncoming cars, her skin appeared pale, her eyes unfocused, and there were angry scratches on her neck. Though given the constant low yowls coming from the cat curled in her lap, maybe the strange-looking thing had been responsible for those.
All she left with were the clothes on her back and her cat.
What. The. Fuck.
When they came up along the outskirts of the Raven Riders’ property, Alexa finally spoke again. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“I’m taking you home.” Maverick felt the rightness of those words down deep, even if she wouldn’t hear them the way he felt them. And even if he couldn’t keep her.
“Home.” She said the word with so much hollow despair that it made him need to touch her. He reached across the old bench seat and grasped her cold hand in his. She clutched him right back. Which was when he realized that she was shaking.
Everything inside him wanted to go ballistic. But he had to keep the urge to flip the fuck out under control. Whatever had happened hadn’t been pretty, and he didn’t need to make things worse for her. Because the only other time he’d seen Alexa Harmon look so fragile, so vulnerable, so lost, was when Tyler had died five years before.
Maverick had known Alexa Harmon long enough to know that Ty’s death had been the worst moment of her life. And it had changed everything—about her life and about his own. Which meant whatever had happened tonight had been bad.
But Mav would have to let her open up at her own pace, because pushing her to explain what had happened hadn’t worked worth shit two weeks before when she’d shown up at the clubhouse with a bloodied face.
Soon, he was parking on the circle as close to his front door as he could. “Sorry. We’re gonna have to get wet to get in.”
She shook her head. “God, Maverick, please don’t apologize.” For a moment, she stared out the rain-blurred window at his place, and then she hugged Lucy close and opened the door. She moved mechanically, like her brain wasn’t fully connected to her body.
Marrow-deep concern lanced through him as he hauled ass around the truck, the rain pelting his face and drenching him straight through in seconds. Under the cover of the porch, he opened the screen door and unlocked the front, and then he pushed it open for Alexa and gestured for her to go first.
They stepped inside, both of them dripping all over the place. “I’ll get some towels.” He rushed into the hall bathroom and grabbed two, then returned to find Alexa standing right where he’d left her by the door, her nose pressed to the cat’s head.
“You can put her down if you want,” he said as he offered Alexa a towel. He was trying like hell to do what she needed, even though what he really wanted to do was haul her into his arms and make sure she was okay with his hands and his mouth and his body.
Alexa placed Lucy on the floor and grasped the terry cloth, pressing it to her face, squeezing it around her hair, and wrapping it around her shoulders like she was cold. Or like she needed the fabric to hold her together.
Fuck.
“Alexa—”
“Please.” She gave a quick shake of her head, and those hazel eyes cut up to his.
Not knowing what she was asking for, Maverick just nodded as he gave his face and hair a quick swipe of the towel. “Do you want to, uh, sit? Or have something to drink? Or . . .” He shifted feet and dragged a hand through his wet hair.
“I’m soaked,” she said, looking down at herself. When she looked up again, she had a strange expression on her face, one that quickly shifted into amusement. Laughter spilled out of her, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. “I don’t—” More laughter, this time with a slightly hysterical tinge to it.
Maverick frowned.
“Oh, my God,” she finally said. She cupped her hand to her forehead. “I don’t have . . . anything. I don’t have clothes or my purse or my keys or my schoolwork. I literally have nothing.” She peered up at him, her expression full of incredulity.
Anger lanced hot and fast through Maverick’s blood. “Anything you need, I will give you or help you get,” he said, meaning in the short term, but he wasn’t opposed to meaning it otherwise, too.
Alexa let go of the towel, dropping it to the floor, and pressed both of her hands to her mouth—and that was when he noticed. She wasn’t wearing that big-ass rock. Her ring finger was bare.
Chaos erupted inside his head.
He couldn’t help it. Maverick stepped closer and gently grabbed her left hand. For a long moment, he looked down at the pale indent where the ring had been, and something that felt dangerously like hope flared through him. Except he beat that shit back—hard—because he couldn’t afford to make assumptions here. He wouldn’t survive it. And that wasn’t what she needed right now anyway.
Finally, he looked up at her, the air between them heavy with so much. Unanswered questions. History. Desire.
Alexa’s grip tightened around his hand, her eyes shiny and bright as she looked into his. And then her whole face crumpled and she burst into tears.