Page 50 of The Maverick

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Then I’m going with you. You don’t open a curtain. You don’t step onto the porch. I’ll rotate my team in shifts. Three outside, one inside with you at all times. Motion sensors at every window. Facial recognition tracking across your entire block.”

She didn’t flinch at the list. “Okay.”

“And if you so much as roll your eyes at protocol, I will put you over my knee and remind you who you belong to.”

Her lips curved slightly. “Promise?”

He grabbed her jaw and kissed her hard.

Three hours later, Hawke pulled into Vanessa’s driveway, the black SUV sliding smoothly into her garage like it had been there a hundred times. The gates had let them through without issue—code changed, surveillance adjusted, security system fully synced to his backup net. She had said little during the drive. Too busy looking out the window like the world might look different now that she was back in it.

It did. Everything did.

He killed the engine, glanced over at her, and reached for the rear latch as four Silver Spur bodyguards—all former special forces—exited the waiting black SUV in the drive. Hawke pulled into the garage and closed the door behind them.

“Wait for me to clear the house.”

But before he could open the door, his phone vibrated. He checked the screen. Gavin.

He answered on speaker. “Talk.”

“He’s awake,” Gavin said without preamble.

Hawke’s spine straightened. “Charles?”

“Yeah. Banged up, full of painkillers, but lucid. And he’s talking.”

Vanessa leaned in. “What did he say?”

Hawke didn’t take his eyes off the windshield. “Go on.”

“He confirmed it was Miles Brenner,” Gavin said.

Vanessa froze.

Hawke’s pulse kicked up. “Brenner was banned from the Iron Spur two years ago. I signed the file myself.”

“Charles says he’s the one who contacted him. Fed him the threats. Paid him to get close. Blackmailed him when he didn’t play ball.”

Miles Brenner. Tech consultant. Freelanced backend work for the Spur’s original operating system. Polished. Well-educated. Brilliant behind a keyboard. Too smooth on the floor. No active violations in the beginning, but the red flags had stacked fast—Dom arrogance with no foundation. Got obsessed with power, not connection. Vanessa had informed Gavin and the rest of the guys after Brenner cornered her post-scene and tried to start something she hadn’t consented to. She’d shut him down fast.

He hadn’t taken it well.

“Where is he now?” Hawke asked.

“No fixed address,” Gavin said. “Someone scrubbed all his contact data, but Reed’s digging. We’ll find him.”

“Find him faster.”

“I’ve already pulled the security request logs,” Gavin added. “He had brief admin access six months ago—claimed it was maintenance, but Reed thinks he built in a ghost line. An open tunnel into our system.”

Hawke’s jaw locked. “That’s how he’s been tracking us.”

“Looks like it.”

“Shut it down. And find him.” Hawke killed the call.

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