The Honourable Maverick

The men looked at each other. One shook his head in disbelief. One gave a resigned nod. The third— Max—moved to open the door.

Please, please…please…

Ellie squeezed her eyes tightly closed to hold back tears as she prayed silently, raising her hand to knock for the third time. What in God’s name was she going to do if Sarah wasn’t home?

It was enough to make her want to hammer on the door with both fists. Her arm moved with the weight of desperation only to find an empty space. Too late, Ellie realised the door was moving. Swinging open. It was all too easy to lose her balance these days and she found herself stumbling forward.

Staring at a black T-shirt under an unzipped, black leather biker’s jacket. An image flashed into her head. She’d passed a row of huge, powerful motorbikes parked outside this apartment block and she hadn’t thought anything of it.

Oh…God! She’d come to the wrong door and here she was, falling into a bikers’ den. A gang headquarters, maybe. A methamphetamine lab, even. Huge, powerful male hands were gripping her upper arms right now. Pulling her upright. Pulling her deeper into this dangerous den. Her heart skipped a beat and then gave a painful thump.

‘Let me go,’ she growled. ‘Get your hands off me.’

‘No worries.’ The sexy rumble from somewhere well above her head sounded…what…tired? Amused? ‘I’d just prefer you didn’t land flat on your face on my floor.’

It was a surprisingly polite thing for a gang member to say. Ellie could do polite, too.

‘I’ve made a mistake.’ She had to step forward again to get her balance. It helped to drop the small bag she’d been carrying to plant both her hands on the chest in front of her and push. Good grief, it felt like a brick wall. Ellie risked an upward glance, to find the owner of the chest looking down at her. Dark hair. Dark eyes that held a somewhat surprised expression. No tattoos, though. No obvious piercings. And didn’t he look a bit too clean to be part of a bikie gang?

She swung her head sideways and emitted a small squeak of dismay. There were two more of them. Staring at her. No, one was glaring. They were clad from head to toe in black leather. Jackets that were padded at the shoulders and elbows and tight pants that also had protective padding. Heavy boots. The gleam of zips and buckles might as well have been chains and knuckle-dusters. They were holding beer bottles. She had interrupted something and they weren’t happy. There didn’t seem to be quite enough air in this small room because there were three very large and potentially very dangerous men using it all up.

Ellie straightened to her full height, which was unfortunately only five feet three inches.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, as briskly as she could manage. ‘I’ve come to the wrong door. I’m looking for Sarah Prescott. I’ll…I’ll be going now.’

She turned back to the door only to find the first man blocking her escape route simply by standing there and filling the space. Ellie swallowed. Hard.

‘Look, I’m really sorry to have disturbed you.’ She inched sideways. Maybe she could squeeze past and get to the door. She might have to leave her bag behind but that didn’t matter.

The man didn’t appear to move but somehow the door was swinging shut behind him.

‘I…have to go,’ Ellie informed him. Dammit, she could hear the fear in the way her voice wobbled.

‘To find Sarah?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is it urgent?’

‘Oh…yes.’ Ellie had no trouble making this assertion. She even nodded her head vigorously for emphasis.

‘Why?’

Ellie’s jaw dropped. As if she’d start telling a complete stranger about any of this. If she had the time, which she didn’t, why did he want to know anyway?

Lost for words, she stared up at this man.

‘It’s OK,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re safe here.’

How did he know that those were the words she needed to hear more than anything? How did she know with such conviction that she could believe him?

For another heartbeat Ellie simply kept staring.

And then she burst into tears.

The heavy, straight fringe of deep chestnut hair made her face seem fragile as Max stared down at it. He saw this woman’s fear and he saw the effect his words of reassurance had.

She let go.

She didn’t even know him but she trusted that she was safe. Now he could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. What had he been thinking?

And then those huge, hazel eyes filled with tears and he groaned inwardly. This was the last straw.

No. As he put his arms around this small, unwanted visitor and felt the firm bulge of her abdomen, which had been disguised by her baggy sweater, his heart sank even further.

Somehow, in the space of just a heartbeat or two, he’d offered protection to a woman who looked as though she was running from something. Or someone.

A very pregnant woman.

‘Max…’ The word was a warning. ‘What are you doing, man? She’s come to the wrong apartment, that’s all.’

‘No.’ Max held onto the body shaking with silent sobs and did his best to guide her towards the sofa. ‘Sarah Prescott was the previous tenant here. She took off to the States last week.’

‘What?’ Max felt a determined push against his chest that felt familiar. ‘No.’

Tears were scrubbed from her face and she gave a rather unladylike sniff. ‘She’s going on Friday. Tomorrow. That’s why I’m here. I’m going to go with her.’

‘She did go on Friday. Last Friday.’ Max sighed and let his gaze drop to the oversized sweater. ‘You really think they would have let you on an international flight? When are you due?’

Her mouth dropped open and he could see the wheels turning in her head. She realised he’d felt the shape of her body when he’d taken hold of her. A flush of colour stained pale cheeks but she said nothing.

Resentment at the intrusion into a private moment was long gone. Max could sense the spark of curiosity from the others now, albeit reluctantly, particularly on Jet’s part. But this was a damsel in distress. She needed help.

‘Come and sit down,’ Max suggested. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Ellie,’ she said, but didn’t move any closer to the sofa. ‘Ellie Peters.’

‘I’m Max. That’s Rick, who’s putting his helmet on the table over there, and this is Jet.’

That surprised her.

‘His real name is James,’ Max added. ‘But he’s always had a thing for flying and his hair’s really black, see?’

Ellie gave a slow nod as she flicked a cautious gaze towards the other men.

Rick was near the window now. ‘His hair’s only that colour ‘cause he dyes it,’ he said casually.

Jet’s snort told Rick he would pay for that comment later but Ellie’s lips twitched. Good. She was starting to relax. Maybe they could find out why it was she needed to find her absent friend so urgently, offer some advice to solve the problem and send her on her way. The others had to head away themselves very soon and they didn’t get together often enough to make sharing the last of this time a welcome prospect. No wonder Jet was looking so impatient.