Chapter 2
MAVERICK
Some facts of life are undeniable. Some things we can’t change.
The way you’re raised, the scars left by your parents’ mistreatments, your genes.
In a society where you can conceal and hide and change every part of you, it’s impossible to pretend you’re not the tallest, biggest man in a crowd.
I learned to curl my spine, diminish myself somewhat, and walk in the shadows.
Still, everyone who sees me reacts the same.
There’s surprise, then fear. I’m a threat just because I’m this big.
But not this woman.
She’s the first person since I’ve become a full-grown ass man that gapes at me with interest. Being on the train was just part of the job, a place people never noticed me, an easy spot to hunt.
But she found me, and she was interested.
Why? She’s gorgeous, with short black hair that looks so damn soft, and those full curves that make my mouth water.
Big eyes, lined with full lashes that looked straight into my soul.
What did she see in me? Why is she interested when no one else ever was?
A shoulder pressed against the alley’s wall, I pull the business card again and read it.
Lyra. Such a pretty name, just like her.
There’s her phone number, and it says she’s a nurse who does house calls.
I flip the card even when I know there’s nothing there.
It’s a fantastical hope that somehow words will appear on the white background, handwritten, something more of her.
These past days, I’ve become completely obsessed with this woman. At first, I told myself it was because I’d never met anyone remotely interested in me. Now, I don’t even try to fool myself.
She saw me when nobody else ever did. She’s the one I’ve been waiting for, even when I shouldn’t have hoped.
A normal person would pick up their phone and give her a call.
I’d ask her out for a date. Take her to a nice restaurant, open the door for her, and pull the chair.
I’d compliment her; she’d smile. We’d have a nice steak with roasted potatoes; she’d tell me family stories.
We could make that our thing. It would be our restaurant, and we’d have our song and our meal.
None of these things I can have. I’m not a normal person. And though her interest in me kickstarted my heart, I can’t pursue this. Not if I want to keep her safe.
The building’s door opens. Lyra comes down the front steps, then ambles up the sidewalk as she scratches sleep away from her eyes.
Though ludicrous, this is the one chance I have of seeing her.
Of imagining a life we can never have together.
Sticking to the shadows, keeping myself several feet behind her, I follow her steps.
Shit, she’s so fucking gorgeous. Her dark hair dances, touching her jaw with the breeze. Her fantastic ass has my full attention for an entire minute. What wouldn’t I give to have that in my hands. My pants grow tight, tighter, an effect she, and only she, has ever given me.
Lyra walks two blocks to a bakery and enters. I cross the street and keep my eye on her, watching closely for the things she enjoys. I’ve come to create a mental journal of the things she does and likes. No reason for it. Not that I’ll ever have the chance to put it to use.
But a man can dream, and she’s the first dream I’ve ever had. If the one thing I can do is stalk her and obsess over her, then fine. That’s exactly what I’ll keep on doing.
Lyra exits the bakery, and I step into the alleyway so she won’t see me.
She keeps going in the train station’s direction.
That’s where I’m going to lose her. The chances of her recognizing me in a contained space are too big.
I can’t risk it. What would I tell her? That my job is too dangerous and I can’t put her at risk?
She wouldn’t believe me. She would think I just don’t want her, which is a blatant lie.
I can hear her humming something as she sips from her black coffee with a shot of espresso and caramel syrup.
Found that out yesterday. It was simple to slip into the bakery and steal the top receipt from the trash can.
Lyra chews on a bagel—cream cheese filling—and aims her pace at the station.
I slow down, giving her some distance. The sight of her disappearing down the steps is the last thing I see.
For today. Until she comes back from her shift.
My heart squeezes in my chest. I already miss her, and we have never talked. Shit. I would give anything to have her in my life.
Whirling around, I cross the street again.
I have to go back home and get started on the next job.
A man throws a newspaper in the trash can as I reach the pavement, then he shoots a doubtful glance at me.
I get those a lot. I’m about to turn and make my way home when the image on the newspaper’s front page catches my eye.
It’s the woman. That senator from the subway, the day I met Lyra.
It looks like they found the body.
Not that they can connect that to me. They never can. I’m too good at it. The problem is—the police are never the one group chasing me. I have clients, and I make enemies daily. The sort of life I would never bring Lyra into.
No matter how hard it hurts.