Page 76 of IOU

“Shut up and choose your weapon,” I tease, offering up a baseball bat with a few playful swings. “Unless you’re scared.”

He casts a dark predatory gaze at me. “I’m not scared.”

Sure.

“You know what?” I chirp.

He groans. “No. I don’t want to know.”

Too bad. “I think you’re scared you might actually enjoy it.”

Maverick likes to go around being the cool kid. Asking him to step outside his comfort zone and join us mortals is a scary place.

He scoffs. “It’s just breaking shit. We could have gone over to Sebastian’s and done the same thing. He would have loved to have new footage.”

The guy who checked us in hands over two helmets, vests, and face masks.

“I’m not wearing this shit,” says the sourpuss in the room.

I offer the Crush It guy a smile and take the safety equipment. “Thank you. We appreciate it.”

The guy looks warily at Maverick, who stands there with a perpetual scowl on his face and his arms crossed at his chest. “Press the button when you’re ready to start,” he tells us.

“Will do,” I say excitedly before he turns—eyeing Maverick one more time—and leaves.

“Come on, Mav. You signed acknowledging the rules.”

Another scoff. “Fuck the rules. I signed a waiver too. If I get hurt, it’s on me. And don’t call me Mav.”

“Wouldn’t you rather not get hurt?” I argue. I’m not addressing the Mav thing. I will call him what I want. It’s time he crawls out of the denial hole.

“I’m willing to risk it. I’m not wearing a face mask like some kind of pussy.”

Whatever. Everyone sees I tried, right? If he loses an eye, he loses an eye.

“Fine.” I sigh, setting the vest and helmet he refuses to wear on the floor.

I slip on my mask. “Okay. But don’t be mad when I accidentally miss and you get a nut shot.”

That comment gives him pause. “What do you mean, ‘When you miss’? Is there a chance you’re going to miss?”

Men. They’ll lose an eye, but heaven forbid the jewels take a hit.

I cut him a look. “I’m just saying I don’t have that great of an aim.” I shrug like he should know this. I did miss hitting Tucker with a candle and almost set my previous apartment on fire.

He eyes me suspiciously.

I grin. “I could ask the guy for a cup.”

His lip quirks before he shakes his head. “You won’t miss.”

“How do you know?”

He rounds one of the tables and approaches me, placing his hand on the bat at my side. “Because that’s not a debt you’ll want to repay.” His voice is low, and the warmth of his breath tickles the hair at the back of my neck.

“Got it,” I manage to choke out not because I’m scared but because I’m kind of excited. I’m indebted to Maverick up to my eyeballs, including this little outing—three IOUs if you must know—but the way that particular threat sounded, seemed like it was on a whole different payment scale.

“Good,” he clips when I just stand there gawking. “Now press the fucking button and let’s do this before I change my mind.”

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