Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
MAVERICK
The suited guys come over—the ones who’ve given me the creeps ever since we got here.
“She’s okay?” Edwin Crowe asks. Something about the tone of his voice, the look on his face, gets a permanent spot in my memory.
I’ve observed the talkative man more than I care to since arriving on this job. No insults or shouting. No cruelty in tone. He speaks like an HR rep or a lawyer. He gives off the air of a concerned caretaker around the main act, Mia Love.
Everything about him is inauthentic. Fake as fuck. Thin-framed and gracile, eyes sharp as a vulture’s beak—watching, waiting. But words precise enough to cut.
Crowe doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t threaten. He just … waits.
And people act scared shitless around him. Because what he represents—success, fame, the music industry—is far more terrifying than any one man could be.
“Need to move her fast. Get her safe,” I grunt.
“We can take it from here—”
I grimace, eyeing the men. Something about this isn’t right.
Grayson’s voice blasts in my ear. “Shooter down. Local PD taking perimeter. EMS staging. Holt, you still have eyes on the asset?’
More like arms locked around her. “Asset safe and secure,” I reply.
“Good,” my boss grits between clenched teeth.
The woman in my arms shakes, her perspiration-kissed body melting against mine. She grips me like a fucking lifeline in shark-infested waters. My eyes meet hers, a question on my lips.
But I already know the answer. She’s not ready to stand alone yet, to feel the weight of it all. So, I hold the space with her, let reality sink in slowly.
“Don’t let me go,” she whispers, staring up at me. And then, there’s what she doesn’t say. The disparaging look toward the suits. Like her eyes plead, Don’t leave me with them.
I should say something. But I’m no good at that.
Instead, I nod. Nodding’s never gotten me in trouble.
An hour later, Lone Star Security debriefs with the police. My arms still feel warm where Mia Love filled them. I try not to think about it, though my gaze sneaks her direction more than once. I catch her watching me back.
“Thanks to Holt here,” Grayson says, drawing my attention back. I grunt, setting my jaw. “Wouldn’t advise taking down an asset that abruptly. But a concussion’s better than bullet holes.”
I shrug, my cheeks heating, though I don’t know why.
“Yeah,” Diesel cuts in, green eyes snapping, “you were giving off NFL vibes—not Pbr ones.”
Mia’s face is a question as she silently mouths Pbr. Totally clueless. But what do I expect from a big city, Hollywood type?
“Bulls or bullets. All the same to me,” I grumble, never one for good one-liners.
The woman steps closer, face taut, listening.
Grayson’s eyes cut between us, settling on her flushed cheeks. “Sure you don’t want to get checked out by the paramedics?”
She shakes her head, raising her chin resolutely. “No one was injured,” she whispers, voice threaded with awe. Like she cares more about her audience than herself. Like she doesn’t fit the mold. She hugs herself, body still trembling. “And I’m fine. So, no.”
I fight the urge to pull her close, let my flesh eat her fear. But she’s my asset, for God’s sake. Can’t look soft in front of the crew, especially on my first job.
“Looks like you’re off the hook,” Hayes chimes in, quieter than the rest, eyes tracking the room. “No concussion means job security.”
Grayson’s jaw tenses, silently correcting Hayes.
“Your man saved me,” Mia cuts in, looking at Grayson like she expects him to do or say something. “Rough or not.”
I shift uneasily. Don’t need acknowledgment. Don’t need recognition. “Part of the job.”
“Any idea who might have it out for you?” Grayson asks, removing his Stetson and running his fingers through his hair.
She shrugs. Something about the gesture makes her look fragile, tiny. My eyes dart back to the men in suits, lingering around the edge of the backstage crowd like hungry lions.
Edwin steps forward again, slimy, slippery. The kind of man I despise. “Likely just a crazed fan. She gets lots of those, you know.”
“A stalker,” she says, lips pressing into a thin line. “I collect those the way some girls do handbags.”
He nods. “Fortunately, he’s in custody now. No one was hurt, and you can get back to what you do best.”
“No,” she says firmly.
Edwin’s mouth curves. “No’s not in the contract, Tiger.”
“I told you. I need a break. I need—”
The air tightens. Even the suits stop moving.
She continues, “Not after a shooting at my concert. No, I won’t do another show until…”
“Until?” his eyes narrow, the pupils black and glistening.
“Until I have time to think things through. Think about what needs to change.”
“Wait, what?”
“What needs to change,” she hisses. “Like security. If my parents hadn’t…
” Her voice falters. “If Lone Star Security hadn’t been here, I don’t even want to think about what could’ve happened.
And as for your security detail. They were supposed to have every entrance covered tonight.
They had metal detectors. This wasn’t supposed to happen. ”
“Whoa. Hold up for a minute. Are you trying to blame this on me?” Edwin snaps.
My hands ball at my sides. Never cared much for men who intimidate women. I step forward.
“Ms. Love, Lone Star Security would be more than happy to provide temporary protection, if you’d like?” Grayson offers. “At least until all of this can be sorted out.”
Edwin’s face simmers.
Mia looks like a weight has lifted. “Really? You’d do that for me?”
Grayson nods, eyeing Edwin skeptically. “Got a daughter who’s a huge fan—”
“Wait, is she here tonight?” Mia butts in, eyes rounding.
“She begged,” Grayson admits. “But I said no.”
“Thankfully.”
He shrugs. “Been in this business long enough to know better.”
She nods.
“Figure some merch and an autograph or two should settle up the cost of our services,” he adds.
“Oh, I can pay,” she says, face darkening when Edwin clears his throat.
“Actually—”
Grayson cuts him off again. “No need. Might ask for a testimonial later, though.”
“Deal,” she says, face beaming. “But only if I have a say in who protects me.”
“Of course.” Grayson nods.
A low laugh rumbles beside me, and the quiet one shifts—all eyes on me.
“This one’s who I want,” she says, eyeing me like a prize stallion she just won at auction.
Fuck. First assignment. Worst complication possible.
“This newbie?” Symon chides in, his laughter a low boom.
“Newbie?” Mia asks, and my shoulders drop a little, relief in sight.
“Yes,” Grayson says with a nod. “Tonight’s his first assignment. If you’d like somebody with a little more experience—”
“Nope, I’ve seen more than enough to know. If he’s already this good, I’m in safe hands.”
“If you don’t end up with a concussion,” the quiet one grumbles.
“Yeah, no more tackling her, Rookie. Alright, let’s get back to command and sort everything out. Ms. Love, you’re coming with us. Anything you need to bring along, Holt can grab for you.”
“Holt?” she asks imperiously, arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow.
“Maverick Holt,” I say.
She cocks her head to the side, eyes taking me in from head to toe like I’m a living, breathing commodity.
“Mia Love,” she says with the kind of smile that could break open a rawhide heart. Fortunately, that part of my anatomy quit working when my rodeo career ended.
I grimace, then, look away. “Not much of a talker. But safety. That I can do.”
“Sounds like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
The crew laughs, and I fold my arms, frowning. Not enough pay in the world for this.
The pop star’s eyes snap to Grayson. “Let’s go meet your daughter.”
“Wait.” Edwin steps between us, irritation animating his face. “You are not allowed to go with these men. You are not allowed to make agreements without—”
Anger flares. I push between them. “Ms. Love’s spoken.”
I glower.
He caves.
Mia’s body relaxes.
“She’ll be in touch when she’s ready.”
“This isn’t how these things usually end,” he says quietly. “You’re going to regret this.”
I glare.
Edwin narrows his eyes, then he turns and strides away, the rest of the suits following like a pack of hyenas.