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Not his fucking brother.
Although, never in a million years would Zach cross any lines. He had a damn good woman he loved more than anything.
Goddamn Mav’s fucked-up body.
Shit, it was probably for the best. Mav had no business getting tangled up with any woman. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why he cared so much about this one.
From the safety of Zach’s arms, Stephanie stared at him with glassy eyes. Devastated was the word that came to mind when Mav looked at her. Maybe this had been a terrible idea. Maybe he had made her trauma worse.
“Mav,” Copper called.
He turned and found his president holding a pistol, handle side out. “Finish it, brother.”
With fucking pleasure.
He fisted the gun and risked a glance at Stephanie. Resignation was written all over her face. “Get her out of here,” he said. She didn’t need this image in her head on top of all the others that would haunt her.
With a nod, Zach turned and jogged up the stairs, even with Stephanie’s weight in his arms.
As soon as he was done here, Mav would see to her. Even though he shouldn’t. What would be smarter would be to let Toni and Shell take care of her until her cousin arrived tomorrow.
But he wasn’t very intelligent when it came to Stephanie.
Just a fucked-up situation messing with his protective instincts and emotions.
That’s all.
Mav stepped forward, letting all the hatred and rage of the past week flow through his veins. Tapping the pistol against King’s forehead, he said, “Hey. Look at me, motherfucker.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
HE CAN’T HURT you anymore.
Those words, Mav’s whispered sounds of comfort, played over and over in Stephanie’s mind. They weren’t true. Daniel Rey could still hurt her and nearly had.
Agent Little.
It had been on the tip of his tongue. His way of taking her out with him. Because it wouldn’t matter to the Handlers that King was a federal agent; he was already bound for hell. But Stephanie? Yeah, that would have bought her the next ticket down the drain in the damn box.
Was that why she’d done it? To save herself? Keep him from uttering her secret and blowing her cover? Or was it nobler? Payback for the women he’d killed and the pain he had inflicted on Maverick. Because hearing that he’d killed the women he was sent by the FBI to protect nearly put her over the edge.
Not that any of her good intentions made attacking him the right move.
Halfway up the stairs, a loud bang reverberated off the walls of the small room, making Stephanie jolt in Zach’s arms.
King was dead. Killed by Maverick. And her FBI contact would be here to pick her up tomorrow. How the hell was she supposed to explain it all?
“Hey, hon, it’s all right. You’re gonna be fine. A little bit of time, and you’ll be able to move past it. This will be nothing but a sour memory.”
She didn’t respond. Her mind was too busy spiraling out of control with all the potential ramifications of her actions, Maverick’s actions, the club’s actions. Time wouldn’t help. It was actually her enemy because she would be debriefed by the FBI. And part of that debriefing included informing the Bureau the details of Shark’s murder, King’s murder, and her complacency. Not to mention the Handlers’ role in all of it.
Zach carried her through the woods, into the clubhouse, and deposited her on the edge of the bed Shell had made up. Steph stared, unseeing at the floor.
“Hey,” he said, lifting her chin and forcing her to look all the way up his six-foot-plus stature. “You were fucking fierce in there, darlin’.”
Fierce. Second time she’d been called that in the past few days. She didn’t feel fierce. She felt sick.
Without another word, Zach left, and Stephanie was alone with her rampant thoughts. As she sat perched on the edge of the freshly made bed, staring at the re-opened wounds on her right wrist, her chest tightened to the point of unbearable.
She tried to pull in a deep, cleansing breath, but it was as though her ribcage wouldn’t expand. Instead of a lung-filling inhalation, a shallow gasp left her feeling breathless. Again and again she tried to suck in air, only to be blocked by some invisible stricture around her chest. Soon, the room spun, and she was all-out hyperventilating.
The door flew open, and Maverick was on her in a flash, gathering her into his arms despite his grunt of pain. “Breathe, sweetheart, just breathe.”
She trembled in his arms, still trying to keep from passing out due to lack of oxygen. After what seemed like hours of his large hand stroking a soothing path up and down her back, the snug band around her chest loosened a smidge and she drew in air as if she was dying.
