Chapter 5 - Maverick
Watching Sadie take a seat at the Iron & Blood table, something shifts in my chest. She sits with her spine straight despite her injuries, chin lifted in a show of strength that impresses even Wrath, judging by his grudging nod.
She's either the bravest woman I've ever met or the most desperate. Maybe both.
The revelation about her father hits hard. John Miller - a legend among soldiers, according to the stories Hellfire used to tell. To think his own club murdered him, that his daughter had to learn about it from the bastard who tried to claim her... My hands curl into fists under the table.
"Start from the beginning," Hellfire says, his voice gentler than usual. "Everything you know about Jake and Marcus's plans."
Sadie glances at me briefly before starting to speak. I give her what I hope is an encouraging nod, trying to ignore how my protective instincts have gone into overdrive since she walked into my life twelve hours ago.
"They're restructuring what's left of the Outlaws," she begins. "After you took out most of the leadership, they saw their chance. Jake's been gathering supporters, promising them pieces of territory, connections, whatever they want to hear. But Marcus..." she pauses, something like fear crossing her face. "Marcus is the one with the real plans."
Angel leans forward. "What kind of plans?"
"The kind that make the trafficking ring look like small-time crime," Sadie says quietly. "They're talking about moving into terrorist territory. Selling information, weapons... Jake was drunk last night, bragging about connections with some serious players. International ones."
"Fuck," Butcher mutters, voicing what we're all thinking.
I watch as Sadie's hands tremble slightly on the table. Without thinking, I reach over and cover one with my own. She starts at the contact but doesn't pull away. If anything, she seems to draw strength from it.
"There's more," she continues, her voice stronger. "They're planning something specific. Something big. I don't know all the details, but I heard Jake mention a shipment coming in next week. Whatever it is, it's worth enough that they're willing to risk moving it through Iron & Blood territory."
Hellfire's eyes narrow. "Through our territory? They're either stupid or too confident."
"They need to learn a lesson," Wrath and Crow say almost simultaneously, sharing a look that speaks of violence to come.
Hellfire nods slowly. "Can we find them now?" he asks Sadie. "Before they get wind that you're here?"
She shifts in her chair, my hand still covering hers. "Last I knew, they were holed up in the abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. The old paper mill?" She glances around the table. "Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes from here. They're keeping a low profile - no lights, barely any running water. But..." she swallows hard. "They've got enough weapons to start a small war."
"Then we'll finish one," Hellfire stands, his presence filling the room. "Butcher, get everyone geared up. We move in thirty."
I feel the familiar surge of pre-mission adrenaline as I reach for my weapon. We've been waiting for a chance like this, a clear shot at Jake and Marcus. I turn to tell Sadie she'll be safe here, that we'll handle it, but Hellfire's voice stops me.
"Maverick, you're staying with her."
"What? No, I need to be there. I'm an Iron & Blood member!"
"Exactly," Hellfire cuts me off. "And right now, I need you here." His eyes flick to Sadie. "She might be telling the truth - my gut says she is - but we can't trust her completely. Not yet. Someone needs to make sure she doesn't go anywhere or do anything that might compromise us."
I start to protest again, but Sadie's voice stops me.
"I understand," she says quietly. "I'd do the same in your position."
"Smart girl," Hellfire nods approvingly. "Johnny taught you well."
The others start filing out, checking weapons, preparing for what's to come. I stand there, torn between my duty to the club and this inexplicable need to be part of taking down the men who hurt her.
"Mav," Hellfire pauses at the door. "Keep her safe. If this goes sideways, they'll come looking for her first."
I nod grimly, watching as my brothers prepare for battle without me for the first time in years. When the door closes behind them, leaving Sadie and me alone in the suddenly quiet room, she squeezes my hand.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to keep you from the fight."
I look down at her, at our still-joined hands, and feel some of my frustration ebb away.
"Not your fault. Hellfire's right - it's the smart play."
"Still," she starts to pull her hand away, but I tighten my grip slightly.
"Don't," I say, softer than intended. "You've got nothing to apologize for."
The sound of bikes firing up outside fills the silence between us. Through the window, I watch my brothers roll out, heading toward what could be the biggest fight since we took down the Outlaws' leadership last month. And here I am, benched.
"They'll be okay," Sadie says, reading my tension. "Jake and Marcus... they're not expecting anyone to find them. They think they're untouchable."
"Yeah?" I pull out a chair and sit beside her, still holding her hand. "Like they thought you were under control?"
A bitter smile touches her split lip.
"Exactly. Their arrogance..." she shakes her head. "It's their weakness. They never think anyone would dare stand against them."
"But you did," I say, staring at her. "Even knowing what they'd do to you if they caught you."
She turns to face me, and suddenly we're closer than I expected. Close enough that I can see the golden flecks in her brown eyes and the slight tremble in her injured lip.
"I couldn't stay," she whispers. "Not after learning what they did to my father. Not after Jake..." she breaks off, but I can fill in the blanks.
"Hey," I reach up without thinking, gently touching her unbruised cheek. "He's never going to touch you again. None of them are."
She leans slightly into my touch, her eyes closing briefly. "You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple," I say, even though nothing about this situation - about the way she affects me - is simple at all. "You're under Iron & Blood protection now. Under my protection."
Her eyes open, meeting mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"Why?" she asks softly. "Why are you doing all this for me?"
It's a damn good question - one I'm not sure I have the answer to yet. Or maybe I do, but I'm not ready to admit it.
"My old man," I say finally, letting my hand drop from her cheek but not releasing her other hand. "He was this grumpy ex-military bastard who drilled a code into me before I could even ride a bike. 'Protect those in need,' he'd say, 'even if they were your enemy five minutes ago.' Never understood it when I was a kid, thought it made him soft."
"And now?" she asks, something vulnerable in her expression.
"Now I think he was the strongest man I knew. Standing up for what's right, even when it's hard - that takes more guts than following the easy path of hate."
"You have a good relationship with him?"
"Had," I correct gently. "He died a long time ago. Cancer."
"Oh God, I'm sorry," she stammers, squeezing my hand. "I shouldn't have-"
"It's fine," I assure her. "Really. I've made my peace with it."
A small, almost mischievous smile plays at her lips. "Well, look at that. Seems we have something in common - we're both members of the dead dads club."
I stare at her for a moment before a surprised laugh escapes me. "I can't believe you just said that."
"Too soon?" she asks, but she's fighting back a smile of her own.
"Way too soon," I shake my head, still chuckling. "You're something else, you know that?"
"So, I've been told," she says, "Usually not as a compliment, though."
"Well, I meant it as one," I say, suddenly very aware of how close we're sitting, how her hand fits perfectly in mine. "You're brave, Sadie. Crazy brave."
The playfulness fades from her expression, replaced by something more intense. "Brave or desperate?"
"Maybe both," I admit. "But either way, I'm glad you swung that bat at my head this morning."
A genuine smile spreads across her face. "I'm glad I didn't hit you too. It would have been a shame to ruin such a pretty face.
I raise an eyebrow at that, and a faint blush colors her cheeks - the first time I've seen her truly flustered. It's oddly endearing.
"So," she says quickly, obviously trying to change the subject, "did you follow in your dad's footsteps? Join the military like him and my father?"
"Marines," I nod. "Eight years, two tours. I got out when my old man got sick and came back to help take care of him. I found the MC after he passed - they became my new family.”
"Is that where you learned to be so..." she gestures vaguely with her free hand, "gentle? With injuries and stuff, I mean. The way you took care of me last night."
"Combat medic training," I explain. "Figured if I was going to be in a position to hurt people, I should also know how to heal them." I pause, studying her bruised face. "Speaking of which, we should probably get some ice on that cheek again."
She shakes her head. "I'm fine. Tell me more about your time in the Marines. Did you... did you like it?"
There's something in her voice, a need to focus on anything but our current situation, that makes me understand. She's trying to stay distracted, not think about what might be happening at the warehouse right now.
"Most of the time," I say, playing along. "Taught me discipline, purpose. How to be part of something bigger than myself." I smile slightly. "Also taught me that I hate desert sand with a burning passion."
That draws another small laugh from her. "My dad used to say the same thing. Said he was still finding sand in his boots years later."
"Your old man wasn't wrong," I chuckle, then grow serious. "He was a good man, Sadie. The stories Hellfire used to tell about him... he was legendary."
Her eyes get bright with unshed tears. "I wish... I wish I'd known him better. Really known him, not just the version the Outlaws wanted me to see."
Without thinking, I reach up and brush away a tear that's escaped down her cheek.
"Hey, you knew the real him. The man who stood up against trafficking, who protected the innocent - that was the real John Miller. And from what I can see, you're just like him."
"You're too kind," she whispers, leaning slightly into my touch. "Sometimes I wonder how different things might have been if I'd met someone like you before... before everything went wrong."
"Maybe," I say softly, my thumb tracing the unbruised part of her cheekbone. "But we shouldn't waste time thinking about the past when we could be making a future."
Her breath catches. "What do you mean by that?"
I stare at face for a moment - the strength in her eyes despite everything she's been through, the gentle curve of her lips even with the split, the way she's looking at me like maybe she feels this too, this inexplicable pull that's been there since I first saw her in that white dress.
"I hope I'm not taking this too far," I murmur, and before I can talk myself out of it, I lean in and press my lips to hers, gentle enough not to hurt her injuries.
For a heart-stopping moment, she's completely still. Then her free hand comes up to grip my cut, pulling me closer as she kisses me back. It's soft and careful and tastes like coffee and something sweeter, something uniquely her.
When we break apart, her eyes are wide, searching mine for... something. Regret maybe? She won't find any.
"I shouldn't have done that," I say, even though I don't regret it for a second. "Not with everything that's happening, not with what you've been through-"
"Maverick," she cuts me off, her hand still gripping my cut. "Shut up."
And then she's kissing me again, harder this time, like she's trying to prove something - to me or to herself, I'm not sure. All I know is that I'm kissing her back, my hand sliding into her hair, careful of her injuries but unable to hold back entirely.
Somewhere out there, my club is fighting her old club, and here I am, kissing her like a teenager.
It's crazy and probably stupid and definitely complicated, but right now, with her lips on mine and her hand in mine, I can't bring myself to care about any of that.