57. Sophie
57
Sophie
A s soon as I was out of Maverick’s sight, I doubled over and vomited. The adrenaline was waning, making my nerves rattle through me.
I’d cut it close. Way too fucking close.
Straightening and wiping my mouth, I made my way to the side entrance, the cold steel of the warehouse door handle cooling my heated skin as I eased it open. Duane’s instructions were sent in a long text, but he was very clear about the steps I needed to take. The faint glow from the streetlights outside barely penetrated the vast shadows, but it was enough for me to find the first switch he had described. I flipped it with a satisfying click that brought dim lights to life in a sequence, like stars slowly appearing in the night sky.
With the space lit now, I could see that the windows were heavily tinted and high enough on the walls that no one could easily peer in. I reached the security panel, its blinking lights and buttons giving me pause as I took it all in, overwhelmed. I read his message over and over again until I was confident of which codes to enter, which wires to pull. With a few motions, I disarmed some of the systems and kept others armed, just in case we were ambushed. Next went the cameras so that there was no evidence.
My thoughts raced back to earlier this evening. To the razor-thin margin I had at saving Maverick. If I’d literally been a second longer, if my instincts hadn’t kicked in… my stomach threatened to heave again.
I almost lost him. It would haunt me for a long time. Images of him bleeding out on the ground morphed with the memories of my dad’s battered body in my childhood home. He was inches away from being another casualty at the hands of his family. Another unnecessary life taken too soon. But he was tough, tougher than I gave him credit for. His ribs were grazed by a bullet yet his spirit was unscathed. It was a miracle if I’d ever seen one.
Emotions washed over me as I got the sense that my dad was watching and protecting us. My guardian angel both in life and in death. I turned my face to the ceiling, as if I could see his face as I whispered, “I avenged you, Daddy.” The words echoed in the vast, empty space. My heart pounded, and I knew this was our destiny.
Saints be damned, I thought as the quiet surrounding me felt like a testament to my tarnished halo. “But you’re still with me, aren’t you, Daddy?” I imagined his nod, the crinkle around his eyes that always softened the harshness of our world. My crimes, each one engraved in my soul, were committed in his name. And though they weighed heavy on my conscience, I felt his pride in my relentless pursuit of justice. The right kind of justice, not the lawful kind.
Maverick and I—bound together by a loss that his family caused and fueled by a burning need for vigilante justice—we would be the ones who would end this cycle. For my father, for ourselves, for those who couldn’t fight back.
With the warehouse now prepped, I retreated back into the shadowed corners, watching the front entrance closely. It didn’t take long before approaching headlights snapped me out of my thoughts. They parked, signaling it was time, so I made my way back to the McLaren, my feet splashing through puddles in the rough, vacant parking lot.
I stopped at the passenger door, pulling it open. When the lights illuminated the interior, I was relieved to see Maverick’s dark blue eyes gazing up at me curiously, amused as ever. Yet tension still bracketed the corners of his mouth. He was in pain, I could tell, but he’d get another surge of adrenaline here shortly.
“Get out,” I told him, and he immediately climbed out, towering over me without saying anything. “Do you trust me?”
He reached up and cupped my face, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. “Yes. And I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you earlier.”
I grimaced but kissed his thumb before pulling away, shoving my feelings down. “Come on.” I turned on my heel and led him toward the side entrance. He followed, no questions asked, and that action alone made me feel powerful. Like I had all the power here.
When we were just outside the entrance, I stopped and looked up at him. “It’s now or never, Mav.” I leaned in closer, rising on my toes. “You’ve got to be fucking ready for this. No more half-assed hopes, no more playing it safe. You remember how it felt when I took down Chavez? That rush, that fucking pure hit of closure?” My fingers reached out, tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the clench of his muscles.
His eyes met mine in the dark. “Like I could forget my newlywed wife killing someone in cold blood like that.”
I ignored his comment. “Tonight, it’s your turn for that sweet taste of retribution.”
He finally seemed to understand. For once, he looked nervous as he gulped. “For your dad, for yourself, for us. Together.”
I nodded once. “Let’s end this, babe,” I said, not waiting for him to agree as I slipped through the entrance to the warehouse.