Maverick: A Dark MC Romance (A Dark & Dirty Sinners' MC Series Book 6)

by Serena Akeroyd

  Twenty or so feet from the point of my collision with the bricks, I found the promised basement window, and when I was inside, I sucked in a sharp breath of air as adrenaline whacked me in the gut.

  Hands to my knees, I propped myself up, trying to calm myself down, well aware that this was only a third of the journey done.

  Today would either end with me in a body bag or in handcuffs, I was well aware of that, but the sacrifice was worth it.

  My family had been torn apart by the Italian cunts sitting in this building, discussing gang wars when they had no business to be discussing shit. I had to end them before they took any more from me, because if I didn’t, then who would have the guts?

  The New World Sparrows sounded like some kind of football team that was trying to rebrand themselves after having a racist name for a century, but they weren’t a football team. They were a bunch of dirty alphabet agents, scratching each other’s backs, getting each other out of the shit and making their people money in the interim. Worse still, they had links to the Famiglia and only the fuck knew what else.

  I’d be doing humanity a goddamn service, and while I’d never been into lamb before, I’d be the sacrificial variety any day of the fucking week if it meant purging my country of this scum.

  As I peered around, I knew this had to be a section the Irish secured, because I saw no one. Not a single soldier of any nationality. In fact, the next person I heard was from within the summit itself.

  Several persons, in fact.

  When I wended my way through the warehouse, I eventually discerned four different accents arguing and bickering, and I used that as a guide to reach them.

  Though I’d heard about these meetings before, I’d never imagined what they’d look like.

  Recognizing Aidan Sr. and his son, Aidan Jr., who were seated north on a compass, I took note of Finn O’Grady who stood at their back.

  East held the Russians, west the Chinese, and to the south, as expected, were the Italians.

  Each unit had two people seated at the table, and one person at their back.

  Studying them from behind a door, I watched the argument continue, but as I listened, watched, learned, in the distance, I heard something.

  The sound of thunder.

  The unmistakable burgeoning roar of bikes.

  They were getting closer too. Closer, closer. Until the snarl of their straight pipes felt like they were rumbling in my ears, making the ground beneath my fucking feet throb as if an earthquake was heading my way.

  My lips quirked up into a smile, especially when I felt my phone give off a constant vibration against my ass as a ton of messages poured into my inbox.

  I had no idea who’d figured this out, no idea how they’d gotten here in time other than the fact it must have taken me longer to get into the warehouse than it felt like, but someone had worked it out.

  Somehow, they knew exactly where I was.

  Sinners—even if one of us wanted to be lost, we’d never not go hunting for a brother.

  I should have remembered that.

  My gaze drifted back to the table where I caught Finn O’Grady’s eye. His mouth curved into the faintest smirk before he arched a brow—telling me to move the fuck on.

  So, with an army of my own at my back, one that had to be outside the warehouse, one that had the leaders at the summit, everyone apart from the O’Donnellys, peering around as if they could see the bikers from their seats, I strode forward, raised both arms, pointed one of my guns to the left, uncaring which it was, just needing for the Famiglia to feel the fucking pain of losing not just one, but all three of their Dons within sixty days, and took my shot.

  Then, with the other gun, I fired again.

  And again.

  Until all three Italians were dead.

  That was when all hell broke loose.

  Twenty-Six

  Alessa

  “Ghost?” he rasped, the words so weighed down with agony that I immediately moved across the kitchen to go to him. “I-I need my chair.”

  I immediately froze. And all around me, as Lodestar mobilized the troops, somehow hijacking Rex’s cellphone to call in brothers to head his way, everything seemed to move at hyper speed. But for me? I was stuck.

  Hope was a painful thing to possess. In fact, it was so beyond painful it was dangerous.

  Every step I took toward him, I throbbed with hurt. With hope. With need. With resolve.

  I dared to breathe even though my lungs felt choked, and I dropped to my knees beside him, feeling his pain.

  “Maverick, you don’t need a chair. Don’t you remember?”

  I let the chaos whirl on around me, well aware that Lodestar would make sure this was in hand, but I cast her a look and saw that even as she was working hard, even as her face was lined with the discomfort from her injuries, even as she spoke to someone called Digger, she was watching Maverick too.

  I bit my lip before I gave him all my attention and in Ukrainian, I rasped, “Lord, please let him remember who I am to him.”

  It was the first prayer I’d made since I’d been sold to my second owner who made Attila the Hun look gentle.

  Reaching out, I ran my hand over his head, moving to his neck where I quickly started the massage that had soothed him before. The tension in him began to abate, dripping out of him slowly but surely as I lifted my other hand and tried to calm him down.

  He slouched, rocking forward into me, until I wasn’t surprised when he was laying on the kitchen floor, curled up on his side while I worked on him.

  By the time I looked up, I recognized I was alone with Lodestar and Kati. Both of whom were watching me care for Maverick.

  I sensed Kati’s curiosity, and wasn’t surprised when she murmured, “You really love him, don’t you, Lessie?”

  Swallowing thickly, I whispered, “I really do.”

  He groaned as I worked on a knot in his shoulders, and even though my fingers were starting to ache, I persevered because he needed me.

  Because he was close.

  Because he pushed his face into the side of my thighs, and his arms weren’t around his legs like they would have been before—they were tucked around me. The position was so awkward that it couldn’t be anything other than intentional. But it felt different than the field beyond the clubhouse. This wasn’t him using me as a prop, a means of hiding from the bright sun. It was for comfort.

  Pure and simple.

  “What’s happening?” I asked softly, not wanting to stir him but needing to know what was going on.

  Lodestar cleared her throat. “I called in Digger—he’s one of the bikers en route to the Canadian border. Nyx messaged Rex last night to say there was a delay in the warehouse with the shipment, so they were still stuck in the city.”

  “Why did you call Digger and not Nyx?”

  “Because MaryCat’s getting due and her mom is insisting she gives birth at the Cedar Sinai clinic… that means he always picks up his phone. It’s early in the AM, Alessa. You know these fuckers don’t usually wake up before eleven.”

  I let my teeth dig into the inside of my cheek. “He’s rounding them up?”

  “Yes. I sent Nyx coordinates of Rex’s location through ‘Find My Friends.’” She tapped her fingers against the table. “Goddamnit, I hate being out of the action.”

  I frowned at her. “You’re in the middle of the action—just at a distance. Someone has to coordinate things, don’t they?”

  Lodestar shot me a disgusted glance which told me she wasn’t happy about being the coordinator.

  “Where did everyone else go?” I questioned, deciding to change the subject. With anyone else, I’d say they couldn’t get involved, but Star wasn’t exactly a rational kind of person. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to ride a bike with a cast on her leg and everything.

  Apparently the U.S. Army taught their soldiers to be kamikazes when injured.

  “I told them to get out. They were clucking around like pregnant hens,”
she muttered disgustedly, before she let her glance drift over to Mav. “Can you get him functioning? I need his input.”

  “He isn't a computer and I’m not a programmer,” I retorted, thoroughly disgruntled. “He’s in pain. Can’t you see?”

  “You gotta buckle up and get through the pain,” she said unsympathetically. “What do you think I’ve been goddamn doing since the blast? Managing the work of three people, that’s what.” She harrumphed, then muttered under her breath, “If you want something done, do it your fucking self.”

  “She’s right,” Maverick rasped as he started to surge to his feet, wobbling as he did so. “I need to get to the city. I have to help Rex—”

  Lodestar snorted. “You’re about as much use as GI Joe like this.”

  I glared at her, then snapped, “Maverick, you’re in no state to be going anywhere, never mind to the city. You need to relax. Your mind is clearly at war. You must take it easy!”

  “Don’t think he could take it much easier,” Star grumbled.

  “Shut up, Lodestar!” I snarled, for the first time in a long while, God, years, raising my voice. “You’re not helping!”

  She arched a brow at me, her surprise clear, but I ignored her and let her focus drift back to her work and returned mine to my husband. Taken aback to find he was staring up at me, I swallowed nervously. He wasn’t looking at me with that vacant stare that terrified me because it represented how little I meant to him, but neither could I translate what that stare meant.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he rasped, and his words floored me.

  Mouth working, I whispered, “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “When the ceiling came down…” His brow puckered. “All I could think was, ‘Ghost isn’t safe.’”

  Ghost—again. Not Alessa. When he’d been making a concerted effort to call me by my true birth name.

  “I’m safe,” I countered thickly, trying not to get my hopes up and utterly failing. “The Sinners kept me safe.”

  “They couldn’t protect you like I could.”

  Star snorted. “Hiding in a fucking wheelchair doesn’t make you Hannah goddamn Montana.”

  My eyes bugged at that, and I swore I could feel a nerve under the right one start to tic. “He never claimed to be.”

  The other woman just scoffed under her breath, while Maverick set my heart alight by reaching up and touching my face with the tips of his fingers.

  Dear God, the reverence in the caress was enough to make my eyes water when they hadn’t watered in so long.

  How had I—

  Pizda. How had I lived without this?

  How had I coped this long?

  A choked cry escaped me even though I tried to contain it, and I wanted to scream and rail because I’d thought I’d never see this again, but here I was. Basking in his love.

  It was love too.

  He loved me.

  It was clear in his eyes, in his touch.

  Just not his trust.

  But now wasn’t the time to make demands. Now was the time to feel relieved over the fact he was with me, even if it was for only a handful of moments.

  Unable to stop myself, I leaned forward, and while it was clumsy and difficult, I didn’t care. I needed to kiss him, to reconnect with him.

  As I pressed my lips to his, I imbued it with every ounce of feeling inside me. All the emotions I’d denied and hidden and avoided, I pushed past them, pulling back only to whisper, “I love you, Jameson.”

  His eyes were closed, but his smile made a swift appearance, and when he opened them again, the love in them burst out like a ray of light through a wall of gray clouds. “You promised you’d never call me that except on our wedding day.”

  I nipped a bit of my bottom lip with my teeth. “You remember that?” I asked, trying not to feel slighted that he didn’t tell me he loved me too. It was still early days, and…

  “Course I do.” He released a breath. “Alessa, I love you too.”

  My jaw ached with how hard I clenched it, but I reached down and trailed my fingers along his chin and over his cheek. “Do you remember what happened after the clubhouse collapsed?”

  His eyes fluttered closed again. “No.”

  “Do you remember why you went in?” Star queried, her tone clinical. Too clinical. I scowled at her—he wasn’t some lab rat in an experiment. But of course she ignored my scowl.

  He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think I do. I had to make sure I grabbed the hard drives in the safe in Rex’s office. But…” He flinched. “Something to do with you, wasn’t it? You needed something from there too?”

  Lodestar and I shared a look.

  “Did you manage to get it before the clubhouse collapsed?” I rasped.

  Releasing his hold on his nose, he swiped his thumb over to rub his eye instead. “I don’t know. Were you given my personal belongings from the hospital when I left?”

  I blinked. “I don’t think so. The day you came home was a little crazy.”

  “One of the brothers will have grabbed that stuff and put it in your room, Mav,” Star stated urgently. “Alessa, can you go look for it? See if the USB drive is there?”

  “Maverick? Will you be okay while I’m gone?”

  His smile was weak. “I’ve been better—”

  “He’s a goddamn soldier,” Star rumbled. “Doesn’t matter if he’s been retired for years or not. Leave him alone, Alessa, and stop fussing around him.”

  I scowled at her, but when Mav patted my leg, I got to my feet with a huff and did as Star asked.

  Not for the first time did I register the hard truth—Lodestar was a pain in my ass.

  Twenty-Seven

  Rex

  The moment the sound of the silenced bullets rang free, I grabbed everyone’s attention.

  When, the second after I’d disposed of two potential Dons and a consigliere, I placed the weapon on the floor, only the Triads got to their feet, their unease clear.

  According to O’Donnelly, when you sat at this table, when you entered this room, you were stripped of all weapons. That was why I was here—I was the gun for the Irish. For Declan. I wasn’t the only one who wanted those bastards dead, who wanted to pour grief on the Italians.

  They were like Hydra—you cut off one head and two sprouted up, so today, there’d be repercussions, but any stories about the Sinners being weakened had just been put to bed.

  For good.

  I raised my hands high, even as I turned my focus from the conference table where the Triads’ leader, the Dragon Head, Zhao was starting to mutter orders to his vanguard, his deputy, but the Triads aside, all was calm.

  Uncaring if I lived or died helped matters as, still with my hands high, I moved around the table. The Bratva eyed me warily, but they were clearly in on this, which meant the O’Donnellys had shared the information with their allies—not that I blamed them. It was a clear indicator that the Triads were very much tolerated but weren’t friends with the Westies—the Irish.

  Staring down at the sightless eyes of one potential Don, and seeing the other had already died too, I smirked before I caught a glimpse of the last sputtering moments of the consigliere’s life. His mouth curled into a sneer as our eyes tangled, so I decided to end it by grinding my booted foot on the gushing chest wound.

  As he groaned out his pain, his arms and legs buckled as he tried to avoid me, but there was no avoiding this.

  I’d hit the Dons with better targeted shots, but had failed with this fucker. Still, three kill shots in under ten seconds—hardly bad. Dad would be proud of me.

  My jaw tensed at the thought of my father whose future was uncertain, who might as well be on the ground with these cunts for all he’d want to survive if he managed to wake up, and I dug my heel in harder, not stopping until the hate in the consigliere’s eyes was frozen forever in place.

  Only then did I back off, wiping my foot on the cunt’s suit as I moved away, which was when
I realized there was silence outside in the hall, no sound of bikes, and there wasn’t much talk going down in here either.

  “Gentlemen, who is this person?” Zhao asked, his English clearly accented.

  “He’s an ally,” Aidan Sr. rumbled, his voice amused as he peered down at the corpses on the floor.

  “That I managed to discern,” the Triads leader rumbled back. “This is clearly a targeted attack and goes against the laws of the summit—”

  “There are no laws when we’re at war,” Vasov, the Bratva Pakhan, retorted, his hunched shoulders straightening as outrage had him sitting up in his wheelchair. “Those Italian bastards shot out my kneecaps—”

  “Targeted my grandson,” O’Donnelly snarled.

  “And blew up my fucking compound,” I growled, staring Zhao down. “If none of that doesn’t deserve a takedown in your eyes, Dragon Head, then I’m not sure what will.”

  The leader narrowed his eyes at me. “Who are you? Aside from an Irish ally?”

  “I’m the Prez of the Satan’s Sinners MC. The mother chapter.”

  Zhao arched a brow. “I’ve heard tales of you. You target pedophiles, do you not?”

  Though I was surprised news had spread about that, considering Maverick worked hard to keep things on the downlow where our kills were concerned, I didn’t let it show. Because Zhao sounded impressed, I cautiously replied, “We do.”

  At my confirmation, he hummed under his breath and began tapping the table with his pointer finger. His two subordinates spread out, but as I tensed up, they moved over to the dead bodies, and shoving on gloves they retrieved from the inside pockets of their black Fendi suits, they dragged the corpses away.

  The chair in which one of the Dons was still sitting, slumped over, a Bratva goon hauled away, tipping the body onto the floor like the trash it was, as O’Donnelly murmured, “Might as well take a seat, Rex. We have business to discuss still.”

  “You want me at a summit?” I repeated, surprised by the offer.

  “As he said, we have business to discuss,” O’Grady concurred.