Maverick

by Irish Winters

He had already known, but seeing the body bag made it real. Killed the last shred of hope. The whole damned world stopped revolving right then and there. The fight to live and enjoy life, too. It poured out of him onto the tarmac the second the chopper’s skids touched down.

  His buddy Taylor Armstrong had looked as hard and mean as Maverick had ever seen him that day when he stepped boots to the concrete. He jockeyed to be first off, while Maverick ran straight for him. Got straight away in Maverick’s face. Pushed him back. Shoved him. Bellowed some shit about, “You need to back off and let him go, Corporal.”

  Like any brother could do that.

  Taylor made Maverick mad as hell. Didn’t let him even touch the bag. Kept him away from Darrell. What was left of Darrell. Hugged him so gawddamned hard it hurt to breathe, not like he could have caught a breath anyway.

  That sonofabitchin’ medic, Eric What’s-His-Name, called to Taylor to back off. Angry black eyes full of tears. Red smears on his latex gloves that had to have come from handling what was left of Darrell. “It’s okay, man. Let him help. He knows. He knows.”

  “Knows what? That I let him fucking die?” With that unanswered shriek at heaven, Maverick had dropped to his knees and fell into outer darkness because that was exactly what he had done. Let his little brother die when he should’ve been watching out for him. That’s what big brothers were supposed to do. That was what he had promised his mother he would do.

  A vortex of suffocating black quicksand had opened beneath his feet and anchored him to shithole Afghanistan to rot for time and eternity. Maybe longer.

  And there he had stayed. Stuck in time. Stuck in Hell. His soul couldn’t seem to exist inside his mortal frame anymore. It dissolved that day out there in the desert. Like ice. Bit by bit and drop by drop. It didn’t even linger long enough to puddle at his feet, just evaporated into—nothing.

  The fearsome duo was gone.

  Batman failed Robin.

  The Caped Crusaders, otherwise known as the Carson brothers, died that day.

  Only one brother remained. The wrong one.

  Hell sucks.

  Maverick had never realized until that telling moment how much Darrell filled his soul. How much an integral part of him a brother could be. Hell, he was a pain in the ass, but baby brothers were made that way. They whined to tag along everywhere their big brother went. They teased until their big brother elbowed or punched them a good one to shut them up. They squealed that their big brother hurt them, then grinned because they got big brother in trouble when they tattled.

  Spoiled brats. Every last one of them.

  God, I miss him.

  Baby Darrell was so damned small the first time his mother put him in Maverick’s arms. He had smelled like powder, but his breath smelled sweet, like milk. His hair had been combed into a curl on his rosy forehead. His lips were perfect, pinched together like an old man’s into a funny smile. The kid had long, straight fingers, all stiff under his chin, as if he needed to be ready to twiddle them or something.

  “Be careful you don’t hold him too tight. He’s just a baby, you know.”

  Older brother Maverick had nodded to his mother, and a damned smile had nearly cracked his face. He felt the connection on the spot. A brother. I’ve got a brother. And he’s all mine.

  Hell, he had never been prouder. I’d give anything to have him back.

  Recrimination sneaked up on Maverick sometimes, even months after the funeral. The chaplain said it took time to process grief. Hell. There wasn’t enough time in all of eternity to process this kind of empty. This barren, hollow hole where a reason to get up in the morning had once existed. A reason to feel. A reason to live. To laugh.

  All he’d gotten stuck with was a reason to cry.

  The Corps taught keeping on no matter what, but Maverick had walked away from the Corps and all their high, patriotic ideals. The TEAM, too. Walking helped, but it didn’t change what had happened. The medical field hadn’t come up with prosthetic hearts yet. Doctors still couldn’t heal the empty, brotherless feeling.

  Maverick put the guitar back in its case, zipped it shut and leaned against his bedroll. The busy day caught up with him. He’d rescued a horse and its owner from a little landslide, then walked what felt like twenty miles, but was more likely five, to said owner’s ranch. He helped with a few domestic chores. Ran a biker club off China’s property. Witnessed a blessed miracle. Not bad for a guy who hadn’t had a clue where he was headed when the sun came up.

  Well, he knew now. Tomorrow would be busy. He had stalls to muck. Chickens to feed. Fields to plow. He’d already done a quick load of laundry in the bunkhouse while he had showered, then dried his jeans and raggedy shirts in the dryer and repacked everything in his backpack.

  The scent of alfalfa and straw filled his nostrils. He didn’t want much, and he sure as hell didn’t expect much, but the comfort of the barn lulled him into a more peaceful frame of mind. The last thing he felt was the foal’s hard head against his chest again. A pointed knee in his ribs. The sweet, milky breath of a newborn in his face.

  Friendly, old Star nickered from another stall. The big guy didn’t seem fazed in the least that he had a new roommate. Stall mate. Stable mate? Whatever. Maverick let the farm terminology go. A couple of cats roamed the stacks of baled hay in the corner. Life seemed simple again.

  She couldn’t sleep.

  It honestly felt like Christmas morning, only the best gift had been stashed out in the barn. China eased out of her bed. Kyrie was still fast asleep, so China kept her movements quiet. She wrapped her robe around her tank top and flannel shorts. Silently, she padded down her stairs and opened her screen door as slowly as possible to avoid the squeak. So far, so good.

  The quarter moon cast shadows across the empty lawn from the west. A spring moon, it would be over the horizon by sunrise. Just as carefully, she closed the screen door behind her and tiptoed down the steps and across the yard. The bunkhouse lights were off. X and Z were no doubt sleeping off their liquid lunch from Shorty’s. The Milky Way glittered overhead in the dark sky. What a night. It seemed somehow reverent and holy.

  She smiled with each step. With one hand pressed against the doorjamb and the other on the handle, China pulled it slowly open so as not to disturb her new baby.

  Gorgeous nickered. A soft glow glimmered at the edge of the stall.

  China’s heart melted to a puddle at her feet. Her eyes went misty, her knees weak.

  Oh my.

  There lay Maverick, on his back, fully dressed. The most beautiful, long-legged foal in the world was snuggled sound asleep in his arms. She lay with her back even with his side, her long legs spread out on the barn floor next to him, her head on his shoulder like a faithful puppy.

  Gorgeous nickered again, as if scolding China. ‘Shouldn’t you be in bed, too?’

  She pressed her fist to her mouth to keep from voicing the song alive in her heart, Joy to the World.

  He looked like a kid, his hair mussed and his handsome face relaxed. Not one defensive line etched his forehead. His brows didn’t flex into that perpetual, pesky V. Both hat and dark glasses were somewhere else instead of hiding those beautiful eyes, now closed in slumber. The man looked like he hadn’t a care in the world.

  She took a few steps into the barn, not wanting to disturb him or the foal, but needing to see more. What a perfect picture. Warmth flooded her chest, rising high in her throat. The thickest dark lashes curled against his cheek. All the grumpiness he projected during the day had been replaced with innocent boyish charm. She wanted to kneel beside him and smooth a hand over that manly face. Hell, she wanted to wake him up and kiss him.

  Instead, she kept her hands to herself and retreated, her heart full of emotion she had to wipe the excess of it off her face. In the middle of her torn-up yard with its broken clothesline and ruined garden, she paused to gaze heavenward. The Milky Way glittered across the top of her world. Her father was up there somewhere, maybe smiling down. Only he cou
ld understand.

  She sniffed one more time and wiped her eyes.

  Oh, Daddy. Isn’t it cool? Our barn is full of magic again.

  Chapter Ten

  “Aww! She so cute!” Kyrie stood on the lowest rail of the stall, pointing in excitement.

  The foal turned into a bouncing livewire one minute and a sleeping baby the next. The innocent similarities between all newborn animals, including those of the human variety, made China smile. Nothing sweeter than babies in spring.

  She had come early to the barn, last night’s tender picture still on her mind. Kyrie had tagged along. Maverick was nowhere in sight, but he had packed his bedroll in the corner outside the stall.

  “Kin I give her a name?”

  China tested the name Maverick had chosen. She liked it even more this morning, especially, after what she had seen last night. “She’s already got a name. China Love.”

  “China what?” Leezel was already awake and hung-over. Crabby. No surprise there.

  China shot her a quick glance, not sure where her sister slept last night. Her bed was still made when she had walked by earlier. “I’m going to register her as China Love.”

  “Figures you’d name ’em all after you.” Leezel huffed.

  “I didn’t. Maverick chose it, and I happen to like it. Besides, it fits. She’s pure-white like a piece of fine china, and she’s a love.”

  Leezel came to the stall gate, her hand extended through it, snapping her fingers to coax Gorgeous closer. Oddly, her hair was washed, her makeup already applied too thickly for the day, and her eyes darkened with extra liner.

  China looked twice. Leezel wore a tinier pair of shorts than yesterday, if that was even possible. Those stupid red heels. The skimpy T-shirt she’d chosen resembled a corset of all things. She was on the prowl, but not for horses.

  When Gorgeous didn’t move a hoof in her direction, Leezel flicked her fingernails at the mare in dismissal. She turned and planted her backside against the stall gate. “Not like it would stop me, but you got something going on with that cowboy you just hired? That Maverick fella?”

  China glanced at Kyrie to make sure she wouldn’t overhear. It was uncanny that Leezel had picked up on that lone gunslinger, cowboy quality Maverick hid beneath that unsmiling face, but then, Leezel knew men.

  “Come on, Sis. How long’s he been hanging around? A week? A month? Spit it out.”

  “He showed up yesterday. Maverick helped me rescue Star from a slide just past Kotter’s cabin. That’s all. I was out riding and—”

  “I don’t care what you were doing. You’re always riding or racing. What I want to know is, is he fun? Does he drink? Smoke? Pop pills? Anything?”

  “No. He’s a good man.” He had a knack for showing up at the right place at the right time. Her horses liked him. What else was there? Heck, I like him. He’s a gentle man who honestly cares about others. Maybe even—me.

  “He’s a hunk.” Leezel bit the edge of a manicured nail. “Kinda uptight, but I’m working on that.”

  “You are, huh?” Anything in pants and breathing made Leezel’s list. If she had her sights set on Maverick, well, China didn’t care. He seemed the kind who could take care of himself.

  “Come on.” China reached for Kyrie’s hand and pulled her off the ground and into her arms, in case the girl might say something Leezel wouldn’t like. It was too early in the day for another confrontation. “I’ll bet you’re hungry. Let’s go make breakfast.”

  “Kin you make pamcakes?” Kyrie whispered, her hand cupped against China’s ear.

  “I can make pamcakes that look like horses,” China whispered back.

  Kyrie scrunched her shoulders. “Kin you make ’em wook wike puppies and kitties?”

  China chuckled. She would make pancakes fly if it made her niece smile. The rumble of an approaching motorcycle brought her to a halt. She shielded her eyes from the early morning sun. Damn it. Not Reardon again.

  “Sounds like you got company, Sis.” Leezel walked a few steps behind China and Kyrie.

  Reardon gunned his Harley into the yard. He rode alone.

  China planted her feet and glared. Troy had a lot of nerve showing up. Bike trails and ruts still circled her yard and the ruined vegetable garden. She hadn’t had the time to clean anything.

  Then she looked twice. The clothesline posts stood straight in their holes, the lines re-strung. Her ruined vegetable garden didn’t look so bad, either. Although wilted and bedraggled, the pepper and tomato plants were upright, some staked. A circle of dark soil around each plant declared all had been watered. Carefully.

  The spinach, cucumbers, and carrots resembled plants again instead of the roadkill they looked like yesterday. Even the birdbath had been restored to its proper place, its basin filled with water. No copper statue rose up from the center of the dish yet, but everything else looked—damned good.

  Had Maverick already fed the chickens? Mucked the stalls? She hadn’t noticed earlier if those chores were done, but she wondered now. Her eyes sought the chicken coop. The hens scratching near the entrance seemed content. Darn. He would be hard to replace when the time came that he up and left.

  Leezel already stood with Reardon at his bike, their knees interlocked and her hands under his leather vest. He had removed his helmet, and silenced his bike. Judging by the salacious smirk on his ugly face, Leezel must’ve been saying all the right things.

  China couldn’t tell which was worse. He kept coming back for more crap and Leezel kept dishing it out. Kyrie snuggled deeper into her arms and buried her face in her neck. Her little body trembled. China’s hackles lifted. This baby was scared. Why?

  China squared her shoulders and prepared for another standoff. “What are you doing here, Reardon? You need to leave.”

  He stuck his insolent chin at her. “Came to see my woman. What else?”

  Leezel glanced back. “Do you mind? We’re talking here.”

  “I don’t care if you’re baking a cake. Get off my land. Now.”

  “This ain’t just your land.” Leezel turned on China. “It’s half mine too, and my man can stay if he wants.”

  “Your man? Now he’s your man? Who do you think did all this damage to your land?” China waved her hand around the yard. “He and his club tore this place up yesterday. He threatened me with a gun, Leezel. Don’t you get it? He’s trouble, and I’ve had enough of him coming around here whenever he wants. It stops now. Take your game somewhere else, Reardon.”

  He shot an arc of brown spit between his two front teeth and grinned. “Why? You think you can hurt me with that little pea shooter you keep behind your back door?”

  “You bet your ass.” She meant to sound tough, but her heart thudded. How did he know where she kept her father’s rifle? He had never been in her home, unless—Leezel let him in. China pressed Kyrie to her breast, scared for the first time in a long time. Leezel wouldn’t do that, would she? Oh, my God. She would.

  China sensed him behind her before she turned around and saw him. Maverick. He hadn’t said a word, just appeared like he had some sixth sense for trouble.

  Reardon noticed him. So did Leezel. She untangled her arms and legs from Reardon’s and turned, her eyes gleaming and her hips twitching. “Morning, cowboy. You’re up kinda late this morning, aren’t you?”

  He didn’t respond. Didn’t even grunt in acknowledgement that he had heard her. He had set his jaw in a hard line, locked in a stare behind those dark glasses and the brim of his ball cap. There was nothing threatening in his stance, but China saw what Leezel and Reardon couldn’t possibly understand. This man had backbone. He might not talk much, but he stood for something.

  Leezel sauntered flirtatiously toward Maverick, straight through his and Reardon’s line of sight. She always had to be the center of attention, causing trouble with every step.

  “Git yer ass back here,” Reardon ordered, his index finger stabbed toward the dirt at his boots.

  Leezel paid her ex-bo
yfriend no more attention than she paid Kyrie.

  Reardon bellowed again. “I didn’t come all the way out here to watch your fat ass walking away from me, woman.”

  That did it. Leezel spun around and the war was on. She would’ve made it more believable if she hadn’t bent forward while she shook her finger at Reardon. Then China knew. This wasn’t an argument. It was a show for Maverick’s benefit. Want to or not, he was getting an eyeful of her sister’s ass in those tiny shorts.

  “I know what you came for and I got news for you, Mr. Troy Reardon. You can’t have her.”

  China’s heart stalled. Her?

  Reardon took a step away from his bike, his lip lifted in a sneer. “I can if I want. I’ll take her. Wanna watch? Court says she’s mine, too.”

  His pockmarked chin defined his whole face. He stuck it out like no one could make him leave. Like he would take Kyrie when he did.

  China clutched the child tighter. Her mouth went dry. My God, Leezel. What have you done this time? You wouldn’t. Not to Kyrie.

  “You don’t really want her. You and me both know that. All you want is to make trouble and the answer is no. No. No!” By the time Leezel ended her dramatic rant, she was red-faced and screaming, her backside shaking plenty. “You can’t have my baby girl. Now git the hell out of here like my big sister said.”

  She almost sounded convincing, but fear flooded China’s stomach. She knew her sister. Kyrie was a helpless pawn in a nasty power play between two selfish punks. Or—Leezel thought she could manipulate Maverick into coming to her rescue. All that ‘poor me’ bullshit was nothing but a show for his sake. She had said he was uptight. Was this part of her plan to loosen him up? Get him to fight Reardon to save her child, when in the end, Leezel would cast both men aside the minute she tired of the game.

  China couldn’t swallow. Leezel was capable of both scenarios. China turned her niece’s face into her shoulder and marched to the porch. Bile lifted up the back of her throat just thinking of this precious child with the likes of a scumbag like Reardon. Leezel was bad enough, but Reardon?