Maverick
Present Day
My fists clench so hard my knuckles pop. He’s got her backed into the fucking corner, screaming in her face as she shakes with terror. It takes everything in me not to interfere, knowing it could jeopardize the entire operation.
We’ve been planning this for months; one wrong move and it could all fall apart. I slink away, but not before I notice him slam her head into the wall.
Motherfucker.
This isn’t the first time I’ve gone undercover at one of these events, and every time it makes me sick to my stomach to see how the men treat women here, how he’s treating his wife.
“Mav.” The small, undetectable radio in my ear crackles to life.
I exhale through my nose, reminding myself why I’m here.
“Mav, it’s now or never,” the voice in my ear says again, and I grunt in confirmation, forcing myself to move into position.
The purpose of tonight’s mission is twofold.
Firstly, to infiltrate the Brotherhood’s internal network and download as much information as possible.
And secondly, to rescue as many women as we can, the latter of which being the most important.
We’ve taken in countless runaways over the years, but up until this point, we’ve never attempted to extract anyone from within the Brotherhood’s borders.
It’s risky, but we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to deal such a devastating, multifaceted blow.
The men here have always been arrogant, but they’ve grown lazy, believing they’re invincible—which makes what we’re about to accomplish that much more satisfying.
“I’m almost there,” I respond, knowing I should’ve been in position a while ago. I don’t bother explaining why I’m running late, that I was unable to tear my eyes away from the woman in the black dress, unable to stop myself from approaching Lord Gabriel’s wife. Admittedly, not a part of the plan.
It’s not like I haven’t seen these kinds of women before. The Brotherhood trains wives to be meek and subservient, submissive in every way. The ones that are lucky enough to become wives are just glorified sex slaves, a step above the actual sex slaves and other servants.
But something about this woman in particular caught my eye, aside from her obvious beauty.
She’s young, probably in her early twenties, keeps her head down like all the other wives.
But deep beneath the surface, behind the facade of the woman they’ve trained her to be, there’s a fire begging to be let out.
I saw it in her eyes when I asked her to dance—a spark, a glimmer of the woman she could be, the woman she never got the chance to be.
So much has been stolen from her—from all of them—and she doesn’t even realize it.
Wives aren’t usually high up on our priority list to get out, but I can make an exception. If all else goes according to plan, I should have enough time to get to her and bring her with me, to give her a chance at a better life. To give her freedom.
I check my watch and head to the server room, knowing the sedative-laced alcohol that was served tonight should be starting to take effect by now.
Thanks to the layout of the building we received from one of our inside sources and the minimal security detail—because these bastards are nothing if not cocky—finding my way there is uneventful.
Getting past the locked door, on the other hand, might prove trickier.
I fish the multitool out of my pocket and get to work picking the lock.
Thirty seconds later, I hear the click of the bolt, quickly pushing my way in and closing the door behind me.
The distinct hum of machines and several blinking lights greet me, the temperature several degrees warmer in the tight space. I pull the discreet device out of my breast pocket, squinting my eyes to see better in the dark. “What am I looking for here, Benji?”
“The main rack server. Should be labeled as primary or main.” Ben’s the smartest guy I know; a tech prodigy that escaped the Brotherhood’s early recruitment when he was only fourteen.
I find the server I need and plug it in, hearing the clicking of Benji’s keyboard in my ear. “Done.”
More rapid clicking follows until he huffs in disbelief. “Holy shit. I’m in.”
Benji designed the device himself, allowing him remote access to the Brotherhood’s entire network. He should be able to download any valuable information directly onto his computer, giving us an inside look into our enemies’ future plans. “You good?”
“Yeah,” he answers absentmindedly, no doubt navigating through as much information as he can as quickly as possible.
I exit the server room, blinking as my eyes readjust to the light in the hallway. I retrace my steps back toward the ballroom, knowing that was the easiest part of the evening.
A quick look around the corner tells me our plan is proceeding swimmingly; several people are slumped over, passed out on chairs or the floor, and others are too far gone to notice anything out of the ordinary.
The music still thumps loudly in the semi-deserted room, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the woman I met earlier.
Her prick of a husband is slumped on the table, fast asleep, as she shakes his shoulders in an effort to wake him.
My feet start toward her before my brain has even processed the movement until I’m standing right next to her.
“Gabriel, wake up, please.” Her eyes are glassy and her own movements are sluggish, but it’s not from the drugs. We didn’t bother lacing the champagne since the men only drink hard liquor, but I saw her down a few glasses earlier this evening.
“Perhaps I could be of assistance.”
She startles at the sound of my voice, but when she turns and realizes it’s me who spoke her expression hardens. “No, thank you.”
“Doesn’t look like he’ll be waking up anytime soon, darlin’.” I chuckle as Gabriel starts snoring, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth onto the tablecloth.
Her eyes snap up to mine, alight with anger, before she thinks better of whatever retort was on the tip of her tongue and drops her gaze again, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion. “I just need the key to our room so I can go to bed.”
I grab a fistful of Gabriel’s jacket at the collar, easily lifting his head off the table.
I reach into his interior jacket pocket and find the key card before releasing my hold on the man, failing to hide my smirk as he slumps to the floor unceremoniously.
I hold the card out to the woman, whose eyes are wide with shock.
“How dare you?” she screeches at me, ignoring the outstretched key and dropping to the floor instead to inspect her husband.
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “He’ll be fine.”
She smoothes Gabriel’s hair off his forehead as she checks him over, and it makes me sick to see her caring touch wasted on such a piece-of-shit guy. “He could’ve hit his head!”
“That’s the least of what he deserves,” I grumble under my breath, but she hears me anyway.
She stands, tilting her chin up defiantly, and for whatever reason it makes my chest swell with pride. “You are by far the most ignoble lord I’ve ever met.”
I bark a laugh. “Darlin’, you have no idea.
” I jerk my chin toward the door, flipping the keycard through my fingers.
“Come on. I’ll walk you to your room.” Do I actually plan on walking her to her room just so she can wake up to endure her husband’s wrath?
Fuck no. But she doesn’t need to know that.
She crosses her arms. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
I grin at her, loving that she’s feeling bolder.
Though, this does put me in a compromising situation, seeing as I try not to take a woman’s choice away from her, whatever the circumstance.
The female species has suffered enough over the last decade, and I refuse to be like the assholes we’re trying to overthrow.
However, in this particular scenario, I’m actually saving her life, even if she won’t see it that way at first. “It’s cute that you think you have a choice.
” Before she realizes what’s happening, I bend down and pick her up, hoisting her over my shoulder. She squeals in surprise.
“Who do you think you are? Put me down!” she yells and bangs her fists against my back, the blows pitifully weak.
I ignore her idle demands, heading toward the extraction point. The few people we pass don’t even think twice about another man carrying a woman against her will, which—unfortunately for her—happens to work in my favor.
At the freight entrance where our nondescript black van is parked, Bec—my number two—is there waiting for me, the back of the van already full of women. “Got room for one more?”
Her pierced brow quirks at the sight of me with the woman thrown over my shoulder. “She doesn’t exactly look like she wants to be here, Mav.”
“She doesn’t know what she wants,” I argue, hating how much I sound like the Brotherhood.
Bec’s face says it all, and I sigh. My most trusted partner examines the woman on my shoulder further, and her eyes immediately snap to mine when she realizes what I’ve done. “Are you slow in the head, Stetson?”
I wink at her. “We both know the answer to that question.”
Bec’s features harden and she shakes her head. “She’s a wife, dipshit.”
“I’m well aware.” I grit my teeth, the memory of how she was treated earlier tonight flashing in my mind.
“If you don’t put me down, I will scream,” the woman warns, and I immediately set her down, catching her arm as she wobbles on her feet.
She takes in the sight before her with wide eyes. Bec, a woman who talks and dresses like a man is unheard of in New Athens in and of itself; but the van full of women whose eyes are full of equal parts hope and fear must push her over the edge. “Hel—”
Bec clamps her hand over the wife’s mouth before she can finish screaming for help. We exchange a look, knowing our choice has just been made for us; if we let her go, she’ll undoubtedly alert someone of our presence, which means she’s coming with us, whether she wants to or not.
“Listen here, wifey.” Bec talks to the woman like she’s an unreasonable toddler, slowly and clearly. “If you want to live, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
The frightened woman’s eyes fill with tears, but she nods nonetheless. I hate knowing we’re the cause of more of her trauma, but hopefully, with time, she’ll come to forgive us.
“Good. Now get in the van, and no harm will come to you.” Bec and I both know she would never hurt a woman, but she doesn’t know that.
The women on the left bench all scoot over to make room for the newest addition, who climbs up into the van on shaking legs.
Before she can make a scene, I slam the back door shut and lock it, hoping the other women will keep her relatively calm.
Bec and I round the van and I climb into the driver’s seat, turning the key already in the ignition.
Bec is uncharacteristically quiet beside me in the passenger seat, but I know better. This is just the calm before the storm.
Sure enough, I pull out of the docking bay and she sighs. I can see her rubbing the bridge of her nose out of the corner of my eye. “Whose wife is she, Maverick?”
My grip on the steering wheel tightens inadvertently. “Gabriel’s.”
“Jesus Christ,” Bec groans. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
I grit my teeth. “I wasn’t.”
“Maids and cooks are one thing. But a wife—a high-profile wife? You’ve just started a war I’m not sure we can win.” Bec shakes her head.
“If you would’ve seen the way he treated her, Bec…” I trail off, because we both know it’s just an excuse.
“You can’t save them all, Mav.” Bec’s words hang in the air between us as the rain patters against the windshield.
Benji guides us out of the city over comms, helping us avoid checkpoints and traffic stops, until we pull up to the dock where our small ferry is waiting to take us back to the island where base is currently set up.
We bribed the ferryman handsomely to let us dock here—and by bribed I mean paid, threatened, and knocked out—so leaving the port is uneventful.
Once we’re on open water, I exit the van and unlock the back door, only to catch the fist flying straight toward my face.