Chapter 22
Lexi’s kitchen was small, Formica countertops, old linoleum floor that peeled at the edges, and cupboards that creaked whenever we opened them. But she had an impressive collection of spices and cooking tools for such a tiny space. I perched on a stool near the counter, watching as she bustled around with an excitement I hadn’t seen since we got shot at in the last motel.
“What are you in the mood for?” she asked, rummaging through the fridge. “I’ve got some frozen chicken, veggies. I can do a stir-fry?”
“Sounds good,” I said, leaning an elbow on the counter. “I’ll eat whatever you whip up. Just don’t poison me.”
She shot me a playful glare. “I’m a better cook than you might think.”
I smirked. “I don’t doubt it. I’m just used to bar food and takeout, so anything homemade is a treat.”
She laughed, pulling out a bag of chicken, a variety of vegetables, and some sauce bottles. Soon, she was chopping onions, peppers, carrots, the rhythmic thunk of the knife oddly soothing. I watched the way her hair fell across her cheek, the curve of her jaw, the grace in her movements. Beneath the exhaustion and tension, there was a woman who knew how to take care of herself, and who found comfort in cooking. A caretaker, even if she pretended she wasn’t.
“You said you love to read,” I said, my gaze flicking to a shelf of romance novels in the corner of the open space. “Gotta say you have quite the collection. Must be hundreds, maybe thousands, of pages about big, tough guys and the women they fall for, huh?”
Her cheeks turned pink as she stirred the chicken in a pan. “Um, yeah, well, it’s my escape. Some people watch reality TV or go clubbing. I read. And I guess… I always liked the idea that the men in those books wouldn’t let anything happen to the heroine, you know? No matter how dangerous the world got, they’d protect her. It was comforting, in a weird way. Not having parents, maybe I wanted to be protected like that.”
I nodded, a pang of guilt hitting me. She’d lost her mother, was nearly killed multiple times, and here I was, a real-life biker with a complicated past, trying to protect her. Did I measure up to those fantasy heroes? Probably not. But I sure as hell was trying.
Telling her I also lost my parents as a child, and I turned to books too, studying to become a cop felt too cheesy. We had so much in common, but I was reluctant to open up. “You never had a boyfriend or anything?” I asked quietly, watching her body language.
She paused, the spatula in hand. “Not really. I mean, I dated guys in college, but it never worked out. They found me too nerdy, too bookish. Or they were intimidated by me wanting to be a lawyer. I don’t know. It’s not like I aim to be some power-hungry lawyer. I just want to help people. And after law school started, I just… didn’t have time. So, no. After that, I somehow landed my dream job, and now that I’ve passed the bar, that job is only going to consume more of my life. The men in my books have been my only consistent relationship.”
I felt a strange protective surge, annoyance at those men who’d brushed her off. “Their loss,” I said, voice firm.
Her eyes flicked up, a soft smile curving her lips. Then she turned back to the stove. “How about you?” she asked. “You said you had an ex… two, actually. Eve and Sky?”
My stomach twisted at their names. Fuck Chigger for telling my business. But if she was opening up, perhaps I could do the same. “Yeah. Eve was my fiancée back in Nashville, before I joined the Road Monsters. We… lost a baby. Things fell apart. She ended up with my president, of all people.”
Lexi frowned, her gaze sympathetic. “I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”
I shrugged, forcing the old pain away. “It is what it is. Then there was Sky. Another complicated story. She was Kingpin’s wife, but she wanted out. We ran to Alaska together, had our own heartbreak. She left me for someone else. A mobster. Seems I have a knack for choosing women who prefer men in powerful positions.” The bitterness in my voice surprised me.
She set the spatula down and turned off the burner, stepping closer. “Then… why are you here helping me?”
I met her gaze, unable to look away from those green eyes. “Because you needed it,” I said simply. “Because I can’t let you get killed. And maybe because… I’m not quite as jaded as I pretend to be. Something about you, it’s different.”
Her face colored. “Oh.”
“Yeah. ‘Oh.’” I swallowed. “I told you I was passionate for you. Maybe I’m just a fool, but I can’t ignore that pull.”
She breathed out shakily, then turned back to the stove, fiddling with the pan. “I, um, the stir-fry’s basically done. Let me just get it on plates.”
I smiled softly, letting her have that moment of composure. The fact that she was flustered around me gave me a thrill I hadn’t felt in a long time.
We ended up at her small dining table, a rickety wooden thing that wobbled unless we set a folded napkin under one leg. She’d plated the stir-fry and served it with rice.
“Damn, this smells incredible,” I said, taking a bite of chicken. “You weren’t kidding about being a wonderful cook, princess.”
“Thanks,” she murmured. “I didn’t get to do it much with law school… but it’s nice to share it with someone.”
I caught the slight tremor in her hand as she lifted her fork. Fear still clung to her, no matter how relaxed we tried to be. My protective instincts flared again.
Over dinner, we talked more about everything and nothing, her law school memories, the time she spent preparing for the bar, how she’d always dreamed of working in criminal defense to help the underprivileged. And how she was stuck at some high-powered firm for now.
I told her about my own dreams once upon a time, about how I’d joined the police force in Columbus as a fresh-faced recruit who believed in justice. “My illusions were shattered when my partner shot an unarmed guy. I attempted to do what was right, but the system ate me alive. That was how I ended up on the road, drifting, eventually crossing paths with the Royal Bastards MC and then the Road Monsters.”
Then I told her about the endless string of meaningless women. “None of them hold a candle to you.”
“How many women?” she asked, crinkling her nose.
“Honestly, countless. And you, how many men have you been with, Princess?”
She gave me a confused look. Then she reached across the table, curling her fingers around mine. My heart thumped as I looked into her eyes, soft, vulnerable, but shining with curiosity. She licked her lips, voice barely above a whisper. “I have to admit something.”
“Shoot.” My own voice was hoarse.
“I’ve never… done this. Or anything, really. You know, physically. Sexually.” Her gaze darted to the plate, cheeks reddening. “I’m a virgin.”
Oh, I recalled her words from the other night at the hotel. When she said she’d never done anything like this before, she meant literally, not just that things were moving too fast or that she didn’t know me well enough.
I stayed quiet for a long moment, letting it sink in. A swirl of emotions ran through me, surprise, protectiveness, and a flicker of something raw and primal. She was twenty-five, a lawyer, gorgeous, and somehow untouched. I forced myself to speak calmly. “I should’ve figured, from what you said before. And it doesn’t bother me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Her lips parted. “You’re not put off?”
I squeezed her hand gently. “Hell no. If anything… it makes me want to be careful with you. Make sure your first time, whenever it happens, is right. Not overshadowed by fear or bullets.”
She exhaled shakily, relief washing over her face. “Thank you. I just… Everyone in those romance novels, they jump into bed so fast. I guess I’m… behind.”
My chest tightened with affection. “You’re not behind, princess. You’re just living your own story, not a cliché. And trust me, with how we’ve been shot at, chased, and threatened, you’re more than heroic enough.”
She let out a breathy laugh. “Good to know.” Her hand tightened on mine. “I… I’m glad you’re here with me, Maverick.”
My heart thudded. “Me too.”
We both leaned in, our faces inches apart. I could feel the warmth of her breath, smell the faint fragrance of the soy sauce on her lips. Slowly, we tilted our heads, and my lips brushed hers, a gentle, tentative kiss. She sighed softly against my mouth, her hand sliding up to grip my shirt.
My entire body lit up at the soft pressure of her lips. I deepened the kiss slightly, letting her feel my hunger, but also holding back so I wouldn’t scare her. She trembled, kissing me back, a sweet uncertainty in her response. I was already hard as a rock, just from her saying she was a virgin. Our brief connection was driving me insane. Fuck, I needed more. But I kept it gentle.
Then, suddenly, there was a crash. The kitchen window shattered, shards of glass spraying inward. I instinctively threw myself forward, knocking Lexi off her chair and onto the floor. A bullet whizzed through the space we’d occupied a split second earlier, embedding in the opposite wall with a thud. Another shot rang out, blowing chunks of drywall near the doorframe.
“Shit!” I roared, scrambling to shield Lexi with my body. She let out a sharp gasp, eyes wide with terror.
A third shot splintered the door. My heart pounded like a war drum. “We gotta move!” I hissed, flattening us both against the floor.
She nodded, face pale. “Yes.”
I risked a glance around the table. The window was gone, glass all over the floor. I couldn’t see the shooter, but I knew the vantage, probably from a building or alley across the way. Another bullet pinged, hitting the stove. We were sitting ducks.
I dragged Lexi to her feet, half-crouched, and bobbed into the hallway. “We’re going out the front. Stay behind me.” She clung to my jacket, trembling. We inched toward the door, praying the shooter didn’t have an angle. No more shots rang out for the moment.
I yanked open the door, scanning left and right. The courtyard was empty, however that didn’t ensure our safety. “Go, now!” I hissed, pushing her forward. We sprinted down the walkway, footsteps echoing in the still air. Another shot ricocheted off the railing behind us. Apparently the bastard had repositioned. My chest hammered with fear and rage, but I forced us onward.
We flew down the stairs and around to the parking lot to find my Harley. A bullet whizzed overhead, and my shoulders stiffened. We had to get out.
“Helmet!” I barked, tossing Lexi hers. She jammed it on, hands shaking. I swung my leg over the bike, turned the key, and fired it up with a roar. She scrambled onto the seat behind me, arms locked around my waist.
Tires squealing, I tore out of the lot, ignoring the startled shouts of a couple of neighbors who’d come outside. Another shot pinged off the pavement behind us. But then we were on the main road, weaving into traffic. Lexi clung to me desperately, and I tried to calm my breathing, scanning the rearview mirror for any sign of pursuit.
Whoever it was, they didn’t follow. Or if they did, they were too far behind for me to see. After a few hectic turns, I relaxed fractionally, though my pulse still raced like I’d downed a pot of black coffee.
Lexi’s voice trembled behind me as we idled. “That’s it,” she said. “I’m never going back there. That was my home, Maverick. And they shot it up like it was nothing.”
A swell of anger burned in my gut. These bastards had taken everything from her. Her mother, her security, even her personal space. Enough was enough. “I’m not letting them keep you on the run forever,” I growled. “But for now, we need to be smart.”
She nodded, pressing her helmet against my shoulder. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m so tired of running. But I don’t see another option.”
“I have a plan, or something close to it. We’re going to Kansas.”
She stiffened slightly. “Kansas?”
“Yeah. The Road Monsters MC has a clubhouse there, somewhere safe, with men I can trust to keep watch on you while I do what needs to be done. I can’t guard you twenty-four-seven and also track down whoever’s gunning for you. So, we’ll hole up at the clubhouse. Then I start pulling strings, calling in favors, sniffing out leads.”
She was quiet for a moment, then she nodded. “All right. I’ll trust you.”
My chest squeezed. “Thank you.” I merged onto a busier street.