Page 6 of The Maverick

“Vanessa.”

Her mouth snapped shut. He stepped in, took the bag from her shoulder, and dropped it near the door. Not harshly. Not carelessly. Just enough to remind her who was in charge now.

“I’m not leaving you here. That’s not up for discussion.”

“I don’t need you to protect me like some hostage in stilettos.”

“You’re not a hostage. You’re a target. And that makes you my priority.”

“Still sounds a lot like control.”

“Because it is,” he said. “Control keeps people alive. It’s what stops mistakes. It’s what separates the people who walk away from a threat and the ones who bleed out because they didn’t want to listen.”

Her nostrils flared. “This is about more than the stalker.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It is.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Not even a little.”

“Really? Because you’re acting like dragging me out of my home and barking orders is just your idea of foreplay.”

He stepped closer. Close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. He didn’t touch her. Didn’t have to.

“If I wanted foreplay,” he said low, “you’d already be on your knees, and I wouldn’t be doing it in the middle of a crime scene.”

She flushed a deeper shade of red, but she didn’t step back. Didn’t drop her gaze.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re still fighting battles you don’t have to fight.” He paused. “I told you once—you call me, you get me. That includes the parts you don’t like.”

“Like the part where you take over my life?”

“Like the part where I make damn sure you don’t get killed because you’re too proud to admit when you need backup.”

She broke eye contact then, just for a second, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He saw it in the tightness of her jaw, the way her hands fisted at her sides. The fear was there. Just buried under all that defiance.

He let it sit between them for a beat. Then he laid it down, steady and calm.

“We can go over the rest of the rules when we get to my place,” he said. “You do exactly what I tell you.”

She crossed her arms. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I take your phone, and we go into silent mode until this is over.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.” His voice stayed calm. “Because I’d rather have you pissed at me and alive than cooperative and dead.”

She stared at him like she wanted to slap him. Or kiss him. He never could tell with her. That unpredictability was part of what made her so addictive. Vanessa wasn’t easy. She didn’t bend. But when she finally surrendered, it was complete.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” she muttered.

He picked up her bag and opened the door, offering her his hand.

“You’ll know when I begin to enjoy it, Nessa.”

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