Maverick
Present Day
I force my shoulders to relax and my jaw to unclench, taking a deep breath.
Before, Delilah going back to New Athens was merely an idea, a hypothetical concept in the realm of possibility.
Now, it’s actually happening. In three days.
The thought of her being back in Gabriel’s vicinity induces a level of anxiety I haven’t felt for ages—maybe ever.
“You’re worried,” Delilah says from behind me.
I finally turn around to face her, hoping I look calmer than I feel. “Come on. We gotta go.”
I help her into the speedboat and start the engine, gunning it toward the small, neighboring island. Once we’re close enough, I chuck the spare phone Benji gave me onto the shore, hoping that if they do track its location, it will lead them even farther from our base.
Only once we’re headed back toward home at a steady pace does Delilah speak again. “Maverick.”
I don’t slow down—can’t slow down. Not until we’re back where I know they won’t find us. We chose an island that’s about a thirty-minute boat ride away from our camp, and god, now that doesn’t feel far away enough. What if they send a helicopter or a drone to find us?
A singular, pivotal thought plays over and over in my head: Keep her safe.
How the fuck am I supposed to do that if I’m not with her? And I have no doubt Gabriel will make good on his promise to hurt her if he thinks we’ve been together.
“Maverick,” Delilah says again, louder this time. “Talk to me.”
I shake my head. “Not here.”
She doesn’t push me, just sits in silence with her arms wrapped around herself to combat the biting wind as the boat skips across the water.
Half an hour later we’re back on our island and the boat is stored and hidden, but I still can’t bring myself to look at her.
I trudge back inland, Delilah’s footsteps sounding behind me as she struggles to keep up.
“What is wrong with you?” she huffs.
“Nothing,” I grumble, still not bothering to slow my ruthless pace.
“Maverick!” she shouts. “Stop!”
My feet freeze on the brush-laden path, as if under some sort of spell. Perhaps I am; she entranced me from the moment I saw her, after all. She catches up to me and comes around to my front so she’s looking up at me, her wild curls sticking out at countless angles around her face.
“Please talk to me,” she pleads, reaching up and tentatively placing her hands on my chest.
“It’s nothing.” A lie. “I just have a lot on my mind now that we know the time and place of the exchange.”
“I’m not scared,” she says, lifting her chin.
A choked laugh slips past my lips as I run a hand through my windblown hair. “I am! I’m fucking terrified.”
“He won’t hurt me. Not more than he already has, anyway,” she adds under her breath.
I glare down at her. “Not helping, darlin’.”
“I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“You don’t understand. He will hurt you just to hurt me. He’s never forgiven me for how our friendship ended, and if he finds out I care about you…” I trail off, though there’s no shortage of gruesome thoughts playing out in my mind.
“He won’t. I can do this.” She grips the front of my shirt in her fists.
I grab her hands, bringing them up to my mouth and pressing my lips to her knuckles. “It’s not your capabilities I’m doubting. It’s your husband’s capacity for cruelty that worries me.”
Delilah chuckles sadly, turning her head and looking off into the distance.
“I spent the last eight years thinking abuse was love, that being raped was normal, and that the only thing I was good for was to be a vessel for a man’s offspring.
So believe me when I say I understand my husband’s aptitude for brutality better than most.”
My jaw clenches as the disdain I feel for Gabriel is reignited, until Delilah reaches up and runs her thumb along the tense muscle in my cheek.
Attention back on me, she gives me a sly smile. “I know how he expects me to act, which means I’ll have the upper hand. I can manipulate him.”
“But what if—”
She cuts me off by pressing her pointer finger to my lips. “Shh. There are a million what-ifs, none of which are going to help us achieve our goal.”
Holy shit, I’m so proud of her. She’s grown from a meek, submissive woman under the Brotherhood’s control into this formidable, confident person who’s prepared to rage against the system that hurt her.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her smile beams. “I like the sound of that.”
Her confidence helps me relax, if only minimally.
Either way, I’m clearheaded enough now to focus on what needs to be done in the coming days instead of going over all the fucked-up hypotheticals in my head.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and turn toward camp.
“Let’s go put that creative mind of yours to good use. ”
???
Four hours and a council meeting later, we’ve got the details hammered out for Friday’s meeting.
The spot Gabriel mentioned is the abandoned campground where we spent countless days of our childhood, the same one where our friendship ended over a decade ago.
It’s right on the border between Canada and New Athens, so it’s technically a neutral location, though all the memories I have there make it less so.
As kids, we made mud pies in the dirt and splashed in the lake.
As middle schoolers, we talked about girls we had crushes on and our first kisses.
When my mom got sick, we skipped rocks for hours, his familiar, silent presence a comfort in and of itself.
But all of those good times we shared are forever tainted by our last meeting there—even more so now, which is probably why he chose it.
Everything Gabriel does is calculated, intentional.
I have no doubt his choice of location for this meeting is no different.
Benji will monitor our location from the back of the van to ensure we make it in and out of New Athens unharmed.
Bec will come with me to help the new women feel comfortable and safe.
V will be on standby when we get back to the island to do physical and psychological checks on our newest arrivals.
And lastly—and arguably most importantly—Delilah will be outfitted with a small phone and radio for communication and a hidden button camera that will live stream to us.
One, for her safety, and two, to collect irrefutable evidence of the Brotherhood’s crimes.
While she’s in New Athens, Delilah will connect with as many of our contacts as possible to gather information on the lords.
She wanted to take things a step further than basic reconnaissance, but we all decided it was too risky for her to try to make a move against Gabriel or anyone else when she could be discovered.
Back in my tent, I flop down on the chair at my desk, utterly drained.
I snuck out while Delilah was finishing her conversation with Bec, needing a moment alone to process.
Maybe Delilah was onto something when she tried to put some distance between us a few days ago.
Maybe it will hurt less when she’s gone if I don’t allow myself to fully embrace my feelings for her.
I chuckle pathetically and bury my face in my hands.
I’m so far gone for this woman, no amount of physical or emotional distance is going to change that now.
I hear the tent door open and lift my head to find the one woman who never seems to leave my thoughts.
She stands on the opposite side of the room, studying me.
We stay like that, just watching each other in silence, until her breathing quickens.
She bites her lip as her eyes roam over my body shamelessly, until her gaze connects with mine.
She takes a step toward me, slowly, seductively.
“Delilah,” I warn, my voice a low growl. We both hear the desperation—the animalistic hunger—in my tone.
Without a word, she grips her shirt at the bottom and pulls it over her head, leaving her perfect breasts right at my eye level. Another step, even more self-assured than before.
“Please don’t tempt me, baby.” I’m pleading—begging—this woman not to touch me. I must be the dumbest son of a bitch alive.
She halts her steps, a wrinkle forming between her brows. “You can just tell me if you don’t want me, Maverick. I’m a big girl, I can handle a little rejection.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mumble, clenching my fists to keep from reaching for her. “You heard what Gabriel said. He’ll find out if anything happens between us.”
“Fuck Gabriel,” she says. “I refuse to let that asshole decide anything for me ever again.”
Despite her passion that has me biting back a smile, I shake my head. “It’s not worth the risk.”
Her disappointment is written all over her face, and I hate myself for causing her any kind of pain.
“But just because I can’t touch you doesn’t mean you can’t come, darlin’.” My smile is a challenge, and I see her eyes light up in response.
Her thighs clench together. “Tell me what to do.”
My cock is already rock hard in my jeans, but hearing her eagerness has it dripping. “You sure?”
She nods enthusiastically. “Yes.”
“Promise you’ll tell me if it gets to be too much.”
“I promise.”
I jerk my chin at her pants. “Take those off.”
She does as I say, never taking her eyes off me as her jeans drop to the ground in a pile around her ankles. She kicks them away, ready for my next instruction.
“Sit on the bed.”
Again, she listens.
My cock pulses at the sight of her. “Show me.”
“Show you what?” she asks, breathless.
“Show me how you touch yourself.”
She doesn’t hesitate. Her hands reach up and run along her neck before moving down her chest. She grips her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers and thumbs, tipping her head back with a breathy moan.
Holy shit. I haven’t even touched myself and I’m ready to explode in my pants right now like a fucking teenager.
She moves her hands down further as she spreads her legs apart, rubbing herself over her underwear.
“Like that?” she asks me, sounding unsure.
“Just like that,” I reassure her, swallowing roughly.