34. Maverick
34
Maverick
I wanted nothing more than to fuck Sophie into the middle of the night after seeing the awe all over her face as she took in every detail of my passion project, especially when her gaze swept across the views of Vegas from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the bedroom.
But unfortunately, I had bigger problems to deal with than keeping both of us in bed.
Newark wasn’t safe for me. Not right now. Some of my runners were in hot water with the Newark Police Division, and the Mercer name carried too much weight—too much risk. If I was seen crossing the Hudson, it would set off alarms. The wrong people would start asking questions. Was I there to oversee operations? Was I there to see Sophie? Was she taking back the cartel?
Even if my men hadn’t breathed a word, the whispers were already there.
I couldn’t afford to let Sophie get caught in the middle of them.
And I needed her to relax. She was spending too much time in her head these days and it showed—the weight loss, the exhaustion dulling her eyes, the way I wasn’t even sure she was eating when she wasn’t with me.
I wanted to spend every second of every day with her. But I couldn’t. Not when every move I made had the potential to pull her deeper into something I wasn’t sure I could get her back out of.
As it stood, I had already interrogated three other rebels in the last few weeks, and Chavez was on my shit list again, making it an opportune time for me to secure him for Sophie. Not to mention that I was finally fed some information earlier in the day that incriminated my father and brothers as being involved in human trafficking, and I knew that it would bring her closure.
Fuck.
My entire life’s plans were dependent on making this woman happy, yet I knew that she was struggling. She wanted me to visit Newark, but how was I supposed to explain to her why I couldn’t without her taking it personally?
“It’s so different,” Sophie said from her spot in front of the window.
I slowly sauntered toward her, footsteps quiet on the carpet. Our reflections stared back at us, me the portrait of calm confidence and her a starstruck onlooker.
“Sometimes change is necessary,” I murmured, brushing her hair over her shoulder to expose her neck.
She smirked. “How poetic. Are you going to start spewing Shakespeare next?”
I chuckled darkly and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Keep it up and you’ll be on your way to a punishment.”
She hummed and leaned back into me. “It has been a minute since you’ve spanked me.”
Great, now I’m hard and thinking of spanking her.
I stilled, glancing up at her again in the window. “It’s been, like, five days.”
“Feels like an eternity when all I do is work.” Sophie turned in my embrace and looped her arms around my neck. “I’ve missed you.”
My throat clogged with emotion. Why couldn’t I set my cowardice aside to be someone she deserved?
Scratch that. I would never be a man she deserved.
“I’ve missed you, too. And unfortunately I have a meeting to go to. Promise me you’ll eat while I’m gone?”
She nodded.
I brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Good. Go explore. There’s a shopping center in the west wing with upscale stores. D’s guys will be close by.”
“I don’t need a security detail in Vegas.”
I cocked a brow at her. “Trust me, you do.”
Her arms dropped, and I missed her touch immediately. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“This will,” I told her. “See you in a bit?” When she nodded, I reluctantly turned and left the room.
***
“Who are you loyal to?” I demanded.
I circled the rebel we had captured. The bright lights of Vegas were a stark contrast to the darkness that consumed me, away from my woman and filled with rage toward this traitor who blindly followed the wrong crowd.
But was it really the wrong crowd? Loyalties were so fucking blurred in this world we lived in, and I found myself questioning who I truly stood for.
A few months ago, I would have done anything to protect my family from the nonexistent threat of Sophie Reyes, the oldest child and therefore heiress to this cartel, but now… now I couldn’t imagine living without her.
The kid spat at my feet. “Fuck you.”
I stopped in front of him, my arm swinging a punch that made his head snap back. There it was, the fear in his eyes. “Who. Are. You. Loyal. To?”
He swallowed and gritted his teeth. “You, Mr. Mercer.”
I straightened, shaking out my hand. “That’s what I thought. If I hear even a whisper of the Reyes name from your mouth again, consider yourself dead. Do you understand?”
He nodded frantically.
“Good.” I cut his restraints with a flick of my butterfly knife, watching as he stumbled to his feet and fled from the soundproof room. “Tell your friends that there is no escape from what’s coming if they don’t comply,” I said before he made it out the door. My words echoed off the cold walls, sending shivers down my spine as I realized the weight of the threat I had just made.
“You didn’t kill him,” Duane observed, running his thumb over his lower lip as he scrutinized me.
Scowling, I snapped, “If I did, how would he pass the message along to the rest of them?”
He shrugged, still eyeing me. “Coulda done a little more damage before cutting him loose.”
“I’m not my dad, D. I don’t have to be cruel to make myself clear.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not going soft because of a certain detective?”
I barked a short laugh, slapping his shoulder as we left the room. “Fat chance. Nah, if anything, she’s making me more levelheaded.”
“Levelheaded doesn’t exactly scream cartel leader. ”
“Maybe I don’t want to be,” I muttered as we climbed the set of stairs leading to the basement. “Besides, I’m not a cartel leader. I’m still one of my dad’s lackeys.”
Duane stopped on the landing, pausing until I turned to face him.
“What?”
“Mav, you know you don’t just leave the cartel life. Your dad would never let you. It’s life or death.”
I sucked in a breath, knowing he was right. My father had made it clear over the years that should our loyalty stray, we would be offed immediately. We were a family, and that meant undying loyalty.
“Yeah,” I said, my head spinning with thoughts of how to get away from it all.
***
Vegas lights taunted from the tall windows in my hotel suite, a gaudy masquerade of freedom that felt like a chokehold. Here I was, straddling the line between pleasure and a goddamn war zone inside my own family—inside my own mind. A future with Sophie seemed like a mirage in this desert of sin: a beautiful, unattainable dream.
The more I investigated the whispers about my dad’s side gig—the insidious, vile use of women as currency—the worse it became. Finally catching a breakthrough after I’d caught wind of it through encrypted messages I wasn’t meant to see, accounts I’d hacked into that reeked of human despair instead of just cold cash. The more I dug, the darker the hole got, and the deeper I sank into disgust.
The truth was so very clear now, and I’d only just discovered it all in the last forty-eight hours.
The warm water of the shower hadn’t washed away the grime of today’s violence—the kid’s blood still clung to me like a second skin. I scrubbed until my flesh felt raw.
“Fuck,” I whispered to myself as I slumped onto the edge of the bed.
Sophie was there in the sheets, my dark angel wrapped in white cotton, her breathing a soft lullaby against the Vegas debauchery outside. She didn’t stir when I slipped under the covers, her presence a grounding force in the chaos of my life.
I watched the rise and fall of her chest, her features softened by sleep and moonlight. How could I offer her Chavez, let her sink her teeth into the meat of her revenge? How could we claw our way out of this blood-stained pit and stand over the ruins of the empire my family stole?
“Shit,” I hissed under my breath, the thought of going against the cartel’s grain making my heart race. It wasn’t just about tearing down my father’s beloved empire—it was about survival, mine and Sophie’s. I wanted to be better, for her, but the darkness in me clung like a shadow. Sophie… she was the peace amid my storm, the fucking yin to my yang.
Can’t go soft, Mav. Not completely. I curled myself around her, though part of me craved just that—to soften in her arms, to forget the blood and the guilt.
Duane’s words echoed in my head. “Levelheaded” was a compliment where it mattered, but in the cutthroat world I was shackled to, it was a weakness.
I needed to keep the edge, to stay sharp. But the longer I let her warmth seep into my bones…
As I lay there, the contours of my hardened persona seemed to blur, merging with something more vulnerable, something that looked a lot like hope. The desire to feel hopeful after a lifetime of empty, unloving hatred and despair. Between the silence of the room and the noise in my head, I found solace in the gentle rhythm of Sophie’s breathing.
“Tomorrow,” I promised her quietly, “we start tearing them down. For us, for a damn future.”
My eyes finally closed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I let the fight in me rest.