The Honourable Maverick

Jet opened the door. ‘The lady doesn’t want to talk to you,’ he said politely. ‘Why don’t you play nice and get lost?’

‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ Marcus snapped. ‘I happen to be the top surgeon in the orthopaedic department of Auckland Central Hospital. I don’t care what kind of gang you belong to. Get in my way and you’ll regret it.’

‘What are you going to do to us?’ Rick said softly. ‘Botch some surgery perhaps and leave us to suffer on a ventilator for the rest of our lives?’

‘What did you say?’ The stare Rick received now was intense enough to send a prickle down Max’s spine. This man was dangerous. He tightened his hold on Ellie. ‘Good God…I don’t believe it. You’re that upstart neurology registrar who thought he knew more than I did.’

‘It was a few years ago,’ Rick reminded him. ‘I’m actually a neurosurgical consultant these days.’

‘And I’m an emergency medicine consultant,’ Max informed him. ‘Your status isn’t helping you much here, mate.’

‘I’m on an ED locum run while I’m in town,’ Jet murmured. ‘But I’m usually a medic with the SAS. Your threats don’t hold much water, either.’

Max heard Ellie’s sharp intake of breath. Had she really thought they were gang members, too? She’d still trusted him, though, hadn’t she?

He liked that.

Whatever was going through her head, she seemed to be feeling braver.

‘Go away, Marcus,’ she said. ‘I told you a very long time ago that I never wanted to see you again.’

Marcus Jones was looking less and less sure of himself. He shifted his feet and glanced over his shoulder at the open door behind him.

‘She’s with me now,’ Max added for good measure. ‘My woman. My baby.’ He smiled grimly. ‘Now get the hell out of here and don’t come back. Ever.’

They all watched from the window as Marcus Jones scrambled into the waiting taxi and left.

Rick chuckled. ‘Nice one, Max.’

Jet shook his head yet again. ‘Yeah…you certainly pulled a good rabbit out of the hat. Gotta love you and leave you, though, man. It’s getting late.’

‘Sure is.’ Rick was reaching for his helmet. ‘Gotta go, too, mate. We’ll catch up soon.’

‘But…’ The ground was shifting under Max’s feet. His mates were about to desert him and Ellie was still here. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

His friends knew perfectly well they were dropping him in it. They were enjoying it, for God’s sake. Grinning broadly, even.

Max walked to the door with them, doing his best to think of some way he could beg them to stay without becoming the brunt of their mirth for years to come. They were having none of it. Rick thumped him on the arm.

‘You’ll think of something,’ he said. ‘Hey…your woman, remember? Your baby.’

He could hear the echo of their laughter even well after the door closed behind them.

CHAPTER TWO

THE throaty roar of powerful bikes faded but Ellie could still feel the reverberations.

Or was she still shaking from the face-to-face encounter with Marcus Jones?

Unbidden, her legs took her to one of the chairs around a table and she sank down onto it. Her worst fear had been realised. Marcus had found her. He knew she was pregnant and sounded absolutely confident that the baby was his.

But she had won. Not completely, of course. Her legs were probably still shaky because she knew he wouldn’t give up this easily but she had won this round thanks to a most unlikely team of dark, leather-clad angels. They were, without doubt, the most impressive array of masculinity she’d ever been this close to and they had stood up for her.

Protected her.

Sent Marcus Jones scurrying away with his tail between his legs.

He wouldn’t like that.

The tiny smile Ellie had been quite unaware of, as she had thought of her guardian angels in action, faded abruptly.

‘You OK?’ A chair scraped on the tiled area of the floor as Max took a seat at the other end of the table. He pushed a black, full-faced helmet to one side, where it clunked against the trio of beer bottles.

‘I’m fine.’ The sound had caught Ellie’s attention. ‘I’m sorry I interrupted your party.’

The corner of Max’s mouth lifted. ‘Hey, if it had been a party there’d be a damn sight more than three lager bottles left over and they’d be empty, what’s more.’ He rubbed at his face. ‘No…this was…a toast, that’s all. A token one at that thanks to the guys having to work tonight. It’s a bit of an annual ritual, I guess.’ His voice softened into a sadness that tugged at Ellie’s heart. ‘An anniversary.’

She had been watching his face as he spoke. Such serious lines…His eyes were dark brown—a match for wavy hair that looked like it had been squashed under that helmet for some time. The odd, wayward end of a curl was valiantly poking out here and there, giving him a rather charmingly dishevelled look that was enhanced by the faint shadowing of his jaw.

She watched his fingers as he rubbed the uncompromising line of that jaw. Funny, but she could almost feel the catch of stubble on her own fingers. Just a little rough. As though he usually shaved at least once a day but hadn’t bothered on this particular occasion.

He had shadows under his eyes too and lines that looked emotional rather than age related. He couldn’t be much older than her. No more than his mid-thirties. The echo of his tone lingered.

‘Not a happy anniversary?’ The query was tentative. It was none of her business, after all, but she owed this man something. Rather a lot, actually, and if he wanted to talk about whatever was on his mind, the least she could do was take the time to listen.

He was watching her now. Warily. Then his gaze slid sideways and he sighed.

‘There used to be four of us,’ he said simply. ‘See?’

He was indicating a silver framed photograph that had pride of place on the bookshelf beneath the window. Four young men, probably in their early twenties, were lined up in front of four gleaming motorbikes. They all wore leathers and held a helmet under one arm and they were all grinning. The picture was resonant with the thrill of being alive and young and with the promise the future held. Ellie recognised Max and Rick and the one with the odd name—Jet. The fourth man was shorter than the others and had wildly curly hair. He looked younger. As though he was out with his big brothers.

‘Matthew died ten years ago today.’

‘Oh…’ Ellie stole this opportunity to let her gaze rest on his face again. The bond between the three men when they’d decided to protect her had been unmistakable. He was capable of caring very deeply for others, this man. He still cared about a member of their group who had been dead for ten years. He was also capable of very deep loyalty.

Heavens, he’d been prepared to protect her—a complete stranger. No wonder her instincts had told her so convincingly that he could be trusted.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly.

Max looked up. ‘Fate has the oddest little twists sometimes,’ he said with an attempt at a smile that came out with an endearing crookedness. ‘Matt died because there were people who were protocol police. A bit like your friend, Mr Jones.’

‘He’s not my friend,’ Ellie whispered fiercely, but Max didn’t seem to hear her. He had closed his eyes. He had the most astonishingly long, dark eyelashes.

‘There were rules in place and they had to be followed.’ He opened his eyes again but he was seeing a very different place from where he was sitting with Ellie on this quiet Sunday afternoon. ‘Their egos wouldn’t allow them to even consider they might be wrong. We were fresh out of medical school and what consultant would bend rules just because we had a hunch? Or let us juggle rosters so we could keep an eye on Matt? Even he said he was fine. It was just a headache. He’d sleep it off.’

Max paused to drag in a slow breath but Ellie stayed silent. She was happy to listen even though she knew this story wasn’t going to have a happy ending.

‘Didn’t help that we were legends for the way we partied but by the time we came off duty, Matt was in a coma from a ruptured aneurysm. They kept him on life support only long enough for his family to think about organ donation.’