Chapter 9
9
MAVERICK
T he heavy courthouse doors close behind us, and I stop to suck in a big breath of fresh air, trying to push down the annoyance and frustration from the last hour. Alexis walks beside me, head down, arms wrapped protectively around herself.
"Hey," I nudge her gently with my elbow. "It wasn't a total loss in there."
She nods, but doesn't look convinced. I get it. That asshole ex of hers spun so many lies, it's a miracle the judge didn't hold him in contempt. In the end, not much happened. I guess that's how Family Court operates, though. Everyone gets multiple chances. In the average custody situation, maybe that's a good thing, but when one of the parents is a colossal asshole, it seems like a big fucking waste of time, for everyone.
"We'll nail him next time," I assure her. "He can't keep this bullshit up forever." If he actually cared, maybe I'd be more inclined to try and help her work things out. But when a man refers to his own daughter as 'that kid', well, I'd prefer to nail him to the fucking wall.
A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Thanks, Mav. For everything."
"Don't mention it," I say, patting her shoulder. My mind is already racing ahead to the stack of files on my desk, the meetings I have scheduled, emails that need returning.
But a nagging worry settles in my gut as I glance back at Alexis. She's barely keeping it together, the custody battle clearly taking its toll. Tugging my phone out of my pocket, I send a quick message to Trixie, asking her to keep an eye on her. She'll let me know if there's anything I need to worry about.
I can't help but worry about everyone, all the damn time. My brothers, the employees, the damn dog I saw tied up outside the courthouse. I'm a freaking mess, honestly, and it's not healthy. At least, that's what Ransom says. But he's even worse with the worrying, so I'm choosing to ignore him.
We reach the car and I hold the door open for her. Alexis slides into the passenger seat, that same haunted look in her eyes. I circle around to the driver's side, rolling my shoulders. I wonder if any of my brothers are up for a night in the ring? I could use a release, and trying to punch one of my brothers in the junk is a pretty good one.
Of course, I could also go for another kind of release, but that's not likely to happen. My dick is focused completely on Cadence, but despite my best efforts, she's put me firmly into the 'hands off' category in her head.
After that night we went to dinner, I've shown up, I've chatted, I've been casual, and the whole time, I want her. And yeah, I might have made moon-eyes as Bree put it, whatever the fuck those are, but otherwise I've been trying to do what Nick suggested, and just show her I'm a good guy.
Though I'm starting to doubt this plan. I'm not sure how mopping floors and walking dogs is going to convince her I'd never let anything between us fuck with her job. At least I've figured out the poop thing. The idea is still completely disgusting, but if it makes Cady happy, I'll do it.
I still gag every fucking time.
As I merge into traffic, I can't shake the knot of tension between my shoulder blades. I sneak a glance at Alexis, chin resting on her palm as she stares vacantly out the window. She's been through hell with this custody case, and it's far from over.
"Was he always like that?" I ask her. What the hell did she ever see in him? A lot of the women from the club predate me. I instituted drug testing, just to make sure anyone working for me was healthy, but otherwise, if they were willing to go along with the changes I made, they were welcome to stay.
All of them did. But just because there's no drugs in my place doesn't mean there aren't other problems. Most women don't grow up dreaming of being strippers. They fall into it because it's good money, and allows them to support themselves, but it sure as fuck isn't something most of them want to put on a resume. There's still a lot of stigma around it, so I know being able to call themselves dancers at my club, rather than strippers, matters.
But those problems they were dealing with before I came along? The deadbeat families or boyfriends, the debt, the lack of options, they don't just magically go away.
She sighs and rests her head on the window. "Was he always a colossal asshole?" Her lips curve sadly. "No, he wasn't. Though I guess, looking back, he's always been a bit of a jerk. But I looked past it. When it was directed at someone else, it was easier to ignore. I told myself it's just the way he is in restaurants, or the way he talks to other guys."
"In my experience, the way someone treats waitstaff or anyone else in the service industry is a good indicator of the kind of person they are. You must see it all the time too, at the club?"
"Um…I guess?"
"Think about it. A big group of guys come in, and they make rude comments to you, act suggestive, and generally make assholes of themselves. They're like that in the rest of their lives too, even if they try to hide it." Something about a club makes men reveal themselves. If they're assholes, that comes out pretty fucking quick. The combination of booze and beautiful women acts like a truth serum.
"And the ones that say thank you, and please, and who just laugh if someone spills a drink on them?"
"Those are the good guys. I see it all the time in my business. The most secure men are the ones that treat people with respect. I mean all kinds of secure. Financially, emotionally, all of it."
"You always talk nicely to us. I've never seen you raise your voice. Not once."
"I don't need to. I get my point across just fine without it."
"So I should be looking for someone like you?"
Something in her tone sets off a warning signal in the back of my brain. "Someone who's secure in who they are, sure. But you need someone a lot younger than I am. Someone closer to your age."
"You're not that old. Women my age date men in their thirties all the time."
"Maybe." Shit. What do I do here? This is going in a direction I have no interest in going? "But dating someone young enough to be my daughter? Not for me."
"I'm not that young," she mumbles, but thankfully lets it drop. Fuck, that could have been bad.
She's a good kid. But she's a kid. Barely twenty three and she already has a child. The last thing she needs is a jaded old man like me. Rationally, I know thirty-eight isn't old, but I feel ancient most days. And the last thing I need is an employee chasing after me. She's a wonderful girl…for someone a decade younger than I am.
Plus, dating an employee? Bad idea.
I'm a fucking hypocrite.
I spend a few hours at the office, my mind split between the case files in front of me and a certain brunette turned blonde with kind eyes. I'm not sure how much work I actually accomplish, but I'm pretty damn good at looking busy.
There’s a firm rap on my door, and Colton pokes his head in. “Hey man, I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”
“Of course.” I close the file in front of me, and fold my hands on my desk as Colton paces my office. He’s worked up, but not angry, so I just let him do his thing until he’s ready to speak.
“I want to adopt Mia.”
I’m shocked, and yet I’m not. He and Evie are married, and Mia already calls him daddy. It’s the logical thing. It’s just fast.
“Okay. And you’ve talked with Evie about it?”
“Not specifically. I just,” he groans and rubs the back of his neck. “I want to give them my name. Both of them. Evie has it, but she doesn’t really use it since Mia is a Collins.” He drops into the chair in front of my desk. “I want everyone to know I’m theirs. I want all the ties. I want all of the paper.”
“I get that man. I really do. I can get the paperwork started, but you really have to talk to Evie, and make sure she’s on board.”
“What if she says no?” he asks in a near whisper, expression tight. Colton’s regular state could generally be described as enthusiastic, or chaotic. He can go to stone cold in less than a heartbeat when it involves protecting his family.
But this expression? It’s different. I’ve never seen him look so unsure. And immediately I want to make it better. “You are a good man, Colt. The best. And you’re already a fucking great dad. Why wouldn’t Evie want you to be Mia’s daddy for real?”
He stares at the tip of his shoes, big chest moving with his exhale. “I don’t want to lose them. Some days, I’m so fucking happy, it scares me. If they get taken away, I don’t think I’d survive it.”
Less than a year, and his whole world revolves around Evie and Mia. Everything is changing so fucking fast. And maybe it’s scary. But I’m going to do whatever I need to do to make sure he doesn’t have to worry about it.
“I’ll start on the paperwork. And tonight? You talk to Evie.”
A few hours later, another knock on my door snaps me out of my thoughts. Jonas pokes his head in, one eyebrow raised. "You're late for drinks. Everyone is already in Ransom's office."
I glance at the clock, surprised to see how late it's gotten. "Yeah, I'll be right there." I shuffle some papers into a haphazard pile, promising myself I'll deal with them tomorrow, and put Colton’s adoption file right in the middle of my desk.
Jonas gives me a piercing look. "You okay, Mav? You seem...much more distracted lately."
"I'm good," I assure him, standing up and stretching. "Just a long day in court."
He nods, but I can tell he's not entirely convinced. Jonas has always been too perceptive for his own good. Or for mine.
We walk down the hall to Ransom's office, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses growing louder as we approach. I push open the door to find my brothers sprawled out all around the room, drinks in hand.
"About time," Colton calls out, raising his glass in greeting. "We were about to send out a search party." Thankfully, he seems more like himself.
I flip him off good-naturedly and head straight for the bar. I pour myself a generous finger of whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing against the sides of the glass.
"How'd it go in court today?" Ransom asks as I drop into the empty seat beside him.
I take a sip of my drink, savoring the burn. "About as well as expected. Her ex is a piece of work."
"You'll get him," Nick says confidently. "You always do."
I nod, but my mind is already wandering. I can't seem to shake the image of Cadence, her hair falling out of its messy bun, a smudge of dirt on her cheek as she laughs with the dogs. There are a million other things to focus on, but it's her face, her smile, her laugh that fill my mind.
"Earth to Maverick." Declan's voice cuts through my thoughts. "You with us, brother?"
I blink, realizing they're all staring at me expectantly. "Yeah, sorry. What were we talking about?"
Zach snorts. "We were discussing our days, but it seems like yours might be more interesting."
I roll my eyes, taking another sip of my drink. "Just thinking about a case." The hardest case.
The conversation flows easily, the way it always does when we're together. A familiar combination of business, strategy, and shit talking. We never planned these post-work meet-ups. We see each other all the time. But the twenty or thirty minutes here, without any distractions, are sacred now. Attendance isn't mandatory, but most of us want to be here. Even Micah tries to stop in a few times each week.
"How are things coming along on the new headquarters? We made any progress?" I ask.
Everyone shuts up and looks straight at Ransom. He throws back the rest of his drink and clears his throat. "They took a little convincing. Negotiations were slow."
"Yeah," Nicks says with a low chuckle. "They saw fucking dollar signs and figured they could squeeze us. It took a little while for them to realize we weren't going to play that game."
Ransom grins. "It's all tied up. We'll have the keys in hand by the end of the month. Construction will start the same day."
"How much work does it need?"
"Most of the floors are in good shape. A little carpet, some lighting, new desks and we're set. We'll have to build out the daycare of course. I'm thinking the main floor for that. We have to put in a door to some outside space, and Colton can secure the fuck out of it to make sure the little ones are safe." Ransom rubs his cheek absently. "Our floor needs more work. We'll gut it and make it whatever we want, provided it can get done in six months.
"And the space for Micah?"
"I've got a new prefab steel building going in right next door. He'll be close."
"Fuck, yeah, he will," Kade says, clapping his hands. "It's about time."
"Yeah," Ransom murmurs, "it is."
Most people would think the ten of us living in one apartment building would be enough togetherness. Most people would be wrong. We're a codependent, very attached family, and none of us would ever want anything different.
Or at least we used to be. But if one of the women wanted something different, I can't say that my brothers wouldn't change.
And that thought scares the shit out of me.
"I was doing some reading," Jonas says out of the blue, drawing our attention to him. "It was a paper on a technique psychologists are using to help people overcome their phobias."
"Yeah?" Zach leans forward, interested. "How's it work?"
"Well, it's a combination of exposure therapy and some new techniques. But they've had a lot of success with it, apparently."
I see where this is going a split second before Jonas turns to Colton with a solemn look. "We should try it on you, Colt. For your thing with small, furry creatures."
Colton's eyes widen, and he shakes his head vehemently. "No way. No fucking way."
"It is a liability, your fear," Jonas insists. "What happens if there's an emergency with one of the children, and you're the only one in charge? Suddenly, a mouse runs across the room. Are you going to drop the baby and climb onto the counter?"
"Don't be an asshole," Colton says, scowling at Jonas. "I'd take the baby on the counter with me. For fuck's sake, It's not that big a deal."
Jonas's head tilts as he studies Colt. Then he nods, and moves around to Ransom's desk. "Well, let's test that theory." He leans down like he's about to pick something up, and Colton's eyes widen.
He shoves to his feet, and backs carefully toward the door. Kade, grinning, blocks his way. "Where you going brother? What's the problem?"
"You fuckers better not have a fucking hamster down there." Colton grabs the front of Kade's shirt, and yanks him close, spinning him in a move that could be considered graceful, if not for the panic on Colt's face. Then he’s out the door, his heavy footsteps moving rapidly down the hall.
Ransom's hand is over his face, shoulders shaking. "You are a devious son of a bitch, you know that Jonas?"
Jonas grins and straightens up, nothing in his hands. I crane my neck to peek behind the desk. Nothing there.
"You were just fucking with him," Zach says, laughing.
"I was testing him," Jonas corrects, pushing up his glasses. "He failed miserably."
"He's never going to go for any kind of exposure therapy. No way he'll sit still for it."
"He would if we strap him down."
Zach’s eyes get wide. "Umm, I don't think a psychologist would do that shit."
Jonas smirks. "I am not a therapist. And it needs to happen. He can't be afraid forever."
"Listen," Declan says, chuckling, "with our luck, he'd come out of it still afraid of hamsters, and with a fear of metal, or people, or confined spaces."
"Or all fucking three," Kade mutters.
Jonas scowls, and props his hands on his hips. "You might be right. I'll think on it." His gaze drifts to the still open door, and something warm, and right washes across his face. "Janey."
And he's gone, leaving the rest of us smiling at the abrupt exit. And leaving me with a pool of jealousy sitting in my chest. I'm not proud of it. I'd never admit to anyone, but it's a feeling I'm getting way too familiar with.
Uncomfortably familiar.
Maybe that's all this Cadence thing is: timing. Maybe I wouldn't find her nearly as attractive a year ago. Or I would have found her attractive, but it would have been easier to move on. Am I just feeling left out, and I've made her my target?
There's only one way to find out.
Waiting while the office clears out - not sure why we need so many goodbyes considering we'll probably see each other later tonight - I lock eyes with Ransom, who's leaning back in his chair, hands crossed over his stomach.
Finally, it's just the two of us.
"Any plans tonight?" I ask him.
His gaze sharpens, and he looks at me with that familiar, assessing look he often wears dealing with all of us. "None that can't be canceled."
"Good. I need a wingman."