Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
MAVERICK
Aday and a half since I last saw Mia. It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped thinking.
About her.
About her situation.
About the manager whose pathological need for control keeps tightening.
I glance at my watch, wiping the sweat from my forehead. Eight-minute mile. Still not as long as eight seconds used to feel.
Dawn’s golden fingers peek through the dark sky, heat following close behind. Would rather be out riding this morning. But I need to hurt. To grind down the physical, to set hard boundaries that can’t be crossed.
Back at headquarters, where Grayson offered to let me crash, I shower in silence.
Steam clouds the glass, the sound of water a steady roar, but it does nothing to quiet my head. Or my body. I turn the faucet to cold and wait.
Mia is there anyway.
Golden curls brush her shoulders. The faintest hint of plum and roses—clean, soft, unmistakable. Her mouth, full and expressive, the kind that looks like it tells the truth even when she doesn’t mean to. Those green eyes that never quite stop watching, even when she’s trying to disappear.
I brace my hands against the tile, letting the cold water run down my back. My jaw tightens. My chest feels too full, like there’s no room left to breathe without giving something away.
I shouldn’t want this.
Shouldn’t want her.
But want doesn’t ask permission.
Heat coils low, sharp and unwelcome, a reminder that my body hasn’t gotten the memo about restraint or rules or consequences. I lean my forehead against the glass and close my eyes, breathing through it, refusing to move my hands, refusing the easy out.
I don’t take the edge off.
I don’t reach for anything but control.
Because wanting her like this—unfinished, unanswered—is the point. Anything else would be a lie. A way to pretend I can have part of her without choosing all of her.
The water turns cold. I welcome the bite. Let it burn. Let it remind me where the line is.
Still, her face lingers. The way she leaned back against me earlier, trusting without asking. The weight of that trust settles heavy in my chest.
I straighten, shut off the water, and grab a towel.
This doesn’t end here.
It can’t.
Between swigs of black coffee, I do a background check on Edwin. No arrests. No record. Mia Love’s manager for eight years.
Then, I search her name again, heart pumping as I type out the letters. I find her real name—Mia Lowell. Then, her parents. Divorced when she was ten.
Father’s name: Justin Lowell.
A Southern businessman. Owns his own private jet service with ties to just about every big-money industry in the country. Wouldn’t be a stretch to think he needs occasional security assistance. Or that Lone Star steps in.
“Justin Lowell,” I say out loud, curiosity and guilt fighting for dominance.
I shouldn’t be doing this, researching an asset’s associates. But I keep going anyway.
Mia’s face flashes in my mind—the way she looked at me when she confessed I’m the only person she trusts. It stoked the one need I can’t deny—to protect her at all costs.
Which means the one thing I can’t admit out loud.
She’s no longer an asset.
She’s someone I would cross lines for.
And if it comes to it, I will choose her.
That terrifies me.
Because it changes everything. Just like news of her guardianship. Not sure I’m ready for those stakes.
But I am certain I can’t turn them down.
Mia needs faith in humanity again—peace, safety, something real. I can’t be the one who denies her that. Though it could cost me everything.
I take another swig of coffee. A little too hot, burning on the way down. Not as sizzling as that sliver of touch when she leaned back against me, and we talked about stuff that could get me fired.
“Can’t let that happen, Holt. Can’t let Grayson down.” I speak the words into silence, appraising the minimally furnished compound bedroom.
Ex-military, ex-rodeo.
I’ve always lived by pain and blood … and the ethic that comes with them.
But with Mia, nothing’s that simple. And that’s why I keep typing, and I keep researching until it’s time to report for our morning briefing.
I stare at the stack of papers on Grayson’s desk, the clock ticking in the background. Counting down what we’re almost out of—time.
“A cease-and-desist. Crowe wants her back, and he’s no longer playing.”
“What does that mean?” Jack asks in low tones next to me.
“He’s threatening to have her declared noncompliant … demanding an institutional review.”
I clench my jaw, shoulders tightening.
“He’s talking medications, involuntary return … it’s pretty much all on the table at this point.”
Jack crosses his arms, sits back, and shakes his head.
“How much time?” I ask.
“Forty-eight hours, though the lawyers think we can maybe buy her a week.”
And then, she’ll disappear again. Maybe this time, forever.
I can’t let that happen.
“Anything we can do about it?” I cough, correcting myself quickly. “I mean, her parents can do?”
Grayson shifts uneasily. “Maybe. If she’d open up to someone. Trust them with what’s really going on.”
A warning bell sounds in my head.
“That what this is all about?” I ask, like he and I are the only two men in the room, like chairs aren’t congregated around his desk in a half-moon, rapt faces listening.
Grayson’s eyes narrow. “What are you getting at, Holt?”
I eye him silently. Doesn’t take words for him to know.
He turns to Jack. “How’d it go?”
“Fine.”
“She say anything to you?”
He shrugs. “Not a word she didn’t have to. Made it clear Mav’s the only one she’ll talk to.”
Jack eyes me with a chuckle. “Not sure what you did, but you’re all she wants.”
“For God’s sake,” I grumble, trying to mask the heat that climbs my neck.
“Hmm,” our boss says. The leather of his chair creaks as he leans back, staring at the ceiling.
“How do we help her?” I hear myself ask, like I’m outside of my body. No longer in control of myself. Dammit. I need more space from this case.
Not to care. Not to make it so damn obvious.
“The question on everyone’s mind.” Grayson frowns. “No easy answer.”
The room goes silent for a long, untenable moment.
“Holt, you’re back with Mia.”
What? But I know better than to question a superior, especially in front of the rest of the crew.
“Need to use what little time we have strategically. She’s told you more than anybody else, and it’s clear she trusts you. So, keep us posted on everything.”
I nod, clench my jaw, and stare at the floor for one moment. May live to regret this.
“Sir,” I say, leveling my gaze at him, “mind if we have a word alone?”
Grayson leans forward, face uncompromising. Then, his eyes dart past me. “You heard the newbie. Back to work, everyone. Be there shortly.”
After the shuffling of chairs and footfalls settles, and the door closes behind us, I face Grayson, body tense. Not quite sure what to say or how much to give away.
He rests his arms on the desk, hands folded, waiting.
“You said it yourself, Sir. Mia trusts me, which means I need to know—with certainty—that what I’m doing is for the right reasons.” I pause for a moment, then add, “In her best interests.” I have to say this because no one else will.
“Rest assured, this is for Mia.”
“Not the pop star. The woman.”
His eyes narrow. Then, he nods curtly. “Report back everything. Understood?”
“Understood,” I grunt.
I’ve spent my life believing there is always a right and a wrong way. Hell, it’s how I succeeded in the National Guard and the rodeo ring.
But now, there’s only this…
Protect her.
Or protect the rules that failed her.
I don’t have to think twice about what I’ll do.