Page 111 of You Owe Me

And she’s staring at me with an expression I can’t quite read—relief and fury and something else, something deeper and more complicated than either emotion alone.

“Hey,” I say, and my voice comes out rougher than expected. Like I’ve been gargling gravel.

She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t rush to my side. Just sits there, studying my face like she’s trying to decide whether to kiss me or kill me.

“You’re awake.” Her voice is carefully controlled. Too controlled.

“Apparently.” I try to shift in the bed, and the movement sends a wave of soreness through my chest. “How long?—”

“Six hours,” she cuts me off. “Six hours since they called me and told me you were in surgery. Six hours since I found out my boyfriend was having his heart operated on while I thought he was driving to see his grandfather.”

There’s acid in her tone now, the kind of controlled fury that’s more dangerous than shouting. This is Ainsley when she’s hurt—not explosive, but surgical. Precise in her anger.

I deserve it.

“Ainsley—”

“Your heart stopped,” she continues, like I haven’t spoken. “On the table. For forty-three seconds, your heart stopped beating, and I was sitting in Carter Mills’s apartment, playing fucking power games, while you were dying.”

The words hit harder than any physical pain. Not because my heart stopped—Dr. Patel warned me that was a possibility, a brief pause while they mapped the electrical pathways. But because she was with Carter while it happened. Because whatever she’s been hiding, whatever secret she’s been carrying, led her to him while I was under anesthesia.

“They got me back,” I say quietly. “Obviously.”

“Forty-three seconds, Maverick.” Her voice cracks just slightly on my name. “Forty-three seconds where you weren’t breathing, weren’t existing, and I didn’t even know. I was sitting there, threatening him with academic fraud charges while you were?—“

She cuts herself off, pressing her lips together like she’s said too much.

“Academic fraud charges?” I try to sit up straighter, and she’s on her feet instantly, hands hovering near my shoulders like she wants to push me back down but doesn’t quite dare touch me.

“Don’t. Don’t move too much. They said you need to rest.” Her hands flutter uncertainly. “The procedure worked. Dr. Patel said your heart rhythm is perfect now, but there’s still healing, and if you?—”

“Ainsley.” I catch her wrist gently, carefully, because my depth perception is still fuzzy around the edges from whatever drugs they’ve pumped into me. “Sit down. Please.”

She does, but she perches on the edge of the chair like she might bolt at any second. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, and I can see her fighting to keep herself together.

“We need to talk,” I say.

“Ya think?” The sarcasm is sharp enough to cut glass. “Because I’ve been sitting here for six hours, trying to figure out what else you’ve been lying about. What other medical emergencies you’ve been planning without telling me. What other ways you’ve decided to protect me from the truth.”

She’s right to be angry. I lied to her, kept her in the dark about something that could have killed me, chose control over trust in the most fundamental way possible.

But she’s been lying, too.

“Carter Mills,” I say, and watch her flinch. “You want to tell me the rest of what’s been going on? Because I already know about Jin.”

Her expression shifts from defensive to resigned. She knows I’ve known since the tattoos, since I called her out for using my favor without permission.

“I was protecting you.”

“From what?”

“From him.” The words tumble out in a rush now, like a dam breaking. “From Carter and his threats and his IRS investigation and his plan to destroy your family’s business. He’s been blackmailing me, Maverick. For weeks. Threatening to expose your grandfather’s company, to make sure federal auditors found every gray area you’ve ever operated in.”

The beeping from my heart monitor stays steady, which is probably a miracle considering what she just told me. Carter Mills has been targeting my family. Using them as leverage against Ainsley. Threatening the people I’d burn the world down to protect.

“What did he want?” My voice is deadly calm, the tone that makes smart people stop talking and stupid people keep going.

“Information. About your operation, your network, how the IOU system works. He wanted me to help him understand your business so he could take it over.” Ainsley’s hands are shaking now. “And when I wouldn’t cooperate, when I got the tattoo with you, he escalated. Called the IRS, filed anonymous tips about tax irregularities. He’s building a case, Maverick. Multiple reports, multiple angles of attack.”

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