Maverick huffed, his gaze absolutely on fire as it raked over her face and settled on her lips. He leaned toward her, just the littlest bit, and her heart lurched into her throat. She was suddenly sure he was going to kiss her. And, oh, God, she wanted him to. She should push him away, say no, but she didn’t know how to say no to him, never had, and especially not with five years of suppressed need roaring through her. She licked her lips, her breath catching, her mouth hungry for a taste . . .
Meow.
Lucy wound her body around Alexa’s legs, and Alexa jumped back, breaking the spell that had wrapped around them. God, what was she thinking? Needing a shield, Alexa scooped the hairless cat into her arms and hugged her tight.
Mav eyeballed the cat and made a face. “What the hell is that?” he asked, more than a little amusement in his voice. He stepped back from her, like maybe he needed the space from whatever had just happened between them.
“It’s Lucy,” Alexa said, kissing her soft head.
“But . . . what is it? Or . . . happened to it?”
Alexa rolled her eyes. So her cat was bald. And had wrinkly skin. And was wearing an argyle sweater. And had the world’s disproportionately biggest ears. “It’s a sphynx cat. They’re hairless. And they’re awesome. Coolest cat you will ever know.”
“It’s really—”
“Don’t you dare say she’s ugly.” Alexa nailed him with a stare. The house she’d grown up in had been so cluttered and filthy that Alexa had developed terrible allergies and asthma, so hairless cats were the only kind she could have. She’d adopted Lucy from an animal shelter less than a month after Tyler died.
Maverick chuffed out a small laugh. “So ugly she’s cute?”
Shaking her head, Alexa held back the smile that threatened. “I suppose that’s acceptable. Just.”
Giving Alexa a wink, Maverick held out his hand to the cat’s nose. Alexa braced for Lucy to freak out and bolt, but though her little muscles did tense, she merely sniffed at Maverick and then turned away.
Whoa. Grant couldn’t get within ten feet of Lucy. “Wow, she likes you.”
“Of course she likes me. I’m awesome.” He folded his arms, his expression full of challenge and humor.
Joking around with him felt all too comfortable, easy, relaxed. Which was really, really not good.
Alexa gave Lucy another kiss and turned away. Maverick needed to go—and he needed to stay gone—so that whatever had just nearly happened between them didn’t happen again. “Well, thanks for your help,” she said. “I’ll walk you out.” In the foyer, she dropped Lucy to the floor and opened the door.
All the easy affability faded from Maverick’s expression, and the hard-ass biker was back in its place. “I’m worried about you, Alexa.”
She ignored the pang in her chest caused by his concern. “There’s no reason to be.”
“Think Tyler would agree with that?” Maverick’s gaze was filled with as much skepticism as his tone.
“Tyler would believe me,” she said, knowing deep down that her brother would’ve flipped his shit if he’d seen her face. But he wasn’t here now, was he? And she had responsibilities she had to take care of on her own. Still, Maverick’s question set off an ache inside her—an ache for what used to be, and maybe even for what might’ve been. “Because I’m good. No, I’m great.”
She would have to do better if she was going to keep Maverick from coming around.
Her stomach knotted as words came to mind, and then she let them fly. “But if you hang around and Grant finds out, you’re going to mess things up for me. So please, don’t come here again. I made a mistake coming to you last week, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again either.”
Now Maverick’s expression was rankly pissed off. He stared at her a long moment, like he was debating how to respond. “Fine,” he finally said, his voice like it had been scoured with sandpaper. “Have a good life, Alexa. Hope it’s what you really want.” He wrenched open the door and stalked out.
The silence seemed loud all around her. She quietly closed and locked the door, then turned and leaned her back against it. “Me, too, Maverick. Me, too.”
CHAPTER 3
Sitting under the blue tent, his brothers gathered all around, Maverick couldn’t hear the pastor’s words. Mav’s head was too full of churn and burn. Over the loss of one of their own. Over the attack on his club just last week. Over confronting Alexa an hour before. Damnit, why had he gone over there when coming to this funeral already had him so torn up?
You know why. Something’s not right. She’s not safe.
The bruises she’d had—that she still had—proved that. Whether she wanted to admit it or not. And he couldn’t let it go, not when he might be able to do something about it.
Heaving a deep breath, he stared at the flower-draped casket and hoped this was the last funeral he and his brothers had to attend for a long damn time. This loss hit him and everyone in the Raven Riders Motorcycle Club particularly hard—because it had happened on their own turf. Inside their own clubhouse. And the victim—prospective member Jeb Fowler—had been too young and too good to get taken out in cold blood.
The proof of Jeb’s goodness was sitting right beside Maverick. Bunny McKeon, Maverick’s mother, whose face still bore the bruises and scratches from where she’d been struck and her mouth duct-taped. But she was alive because Jeb had taken the bullet intended for her when a group of low-life criminals had broken into the clubhouse looking for something—or someone—that wasn’t theirs.
Mav’s gaze slid over to his right, where the club’s president, Dare Kenyon, sat with his girlfriend, Haven. Three days out of the hospital, Dare’s face was pale, and dark circles ringed his eyes. He’d been shot twice in the same attack that had hurt Bunny and killed Jeb. An attack by Haven’s abusive father meant to kidnap her and force her back under his control by whatever means necessary. An attack that had ultimately failed, despite the losses the Ravens had sustained.
It all could’ve been so much worse.
A sentiment that had his thoughts returning to Alexa. Last week it had been a few bruises, a busted lip. What would happen the next time her bastard of a fiancé “took care” of her? That very question was why Mav had been shadowing her ever since she’d shown up bloodied and frightened at the clubhouse. Which was how he’d known she’d locked herself out. Seeing her looking so defeated had reached inside his chest and hauled him to her side. And seeing her cry made him not care that he’d just blown his cover. He couldn’t have stayed away at that point if he’d tried.
The service concluded and people around Maverick rose to their feet. Despite the evening hour, the June air hung humid and gray. Almost oppressive. The weight of it was fitting. It was as if their collective grief had taken on a physical form.
Maverick held out his hand to Bunny. With her white-blond hair and dark blue eyes, she was still as pretty as she’d ever been. And every bit as feisty. Well, usually.
Accepting his help, she gave him a sad smile and rose. Her husband, Rodeo McKeon, steadied her from her other side.