Page 49 of The Maverick

That earned her a quiet growl of satisfaction.

Then his arm tightened around her, and they lay in silence.

Outside, the world was still dangerous. Still spinning.

But in this room, in this bed, in this moment—she wasn’t afraid.

She was his. Fully. Completely. Finally.

And for the first time in a long time, Vanessa didn’t feel like she was waiting for the next battle… she felt like she was ready to win it.

12

HAWKE

Hawke didn’t like the way Vanessa was pacing.

She stood before the whiteboard, which someone had dragged into the safe room’s corner two days prior; half was covered in plot points and color-coded sticky notes, the other half blank. Her hair was up again, pencils jammed through the knot like weapons, and her mouth moved as she silently debated some internal plot twist he didn’t understand and didn’t need to.

What he understood was the tight line of her shoulders.

“You’re not a hostage,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the reinforced steel door.

She didn’t stop pacing. “No, I’m a glorified caged bird with Wi-Fi and aftercare.”

“You’re safe.”

“I’m suffocating.”

His jaw flexed. She’d been patient. Disciplined. Sharp when she needed to be, soft when she let herself. But she was also used to control—over her words, her world, her space. And this vault wasn’t hers. Not really.

“Say what you want,” she added, “but I haven’t slept in my bed in nearly a week, and I’m behind on two deadlines. I havenotes scattered across three hard drives and an entire outline I can’t even think about finishing because I can’t concentrate in this place.”

“You’re alive.”

“Great. I’ll put that in the acknowledgments,” she snapped.

He didn’t move. Didn’t react. Just waited.

She exhaled hard through her nose and dragged her hands down her face. “I’m not asking to go into the dungeon. I’m not even asking to go into the lounge uncollared.”

“I’m glad you understand as soon as I can find one worthy of you, I’ll buy it, but you’re not going anywhere uncollared.”

“Neanderthal,” she quipped with a grin.

“Brat,” he returned with no malice.

“I’m not even asking to go to a grocery store or have Amazon deliver. I just want to go home. With you, with a security team, with both… whatever it takes. I need my space, Hawke. I need my rhythm.”

“And if he’s watching?”

“Then let him watch me take my life back. That ought to piss him off. And didn’t you say he was going to have to get angry before he made a mistake?”

“No. That’s what Dawson said, right before I decked him.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes, but his gaze never wavered. Not because she wasn’t making sense—but because she was. She was right, and he hated it. Hated that he couldn’t lock her down without hurting her and the growing bond between them.

He pushed off the wall and walked toward her. “You want to go home?”

---