Maverick (Carter Brothers Book 5) Read online

  “Hey, Lake,” I wave, wanting to change the subject and fill in the awkward silence. Although there’s nothing I can do about my flushed face or the way my belly flutters from hearing him call me beautiful, even if it was pushed on him.

  “Hey, Teagan. Hi, Faith.” She waves back, standing next to Max who pulls her into his side, kissing her temple.

  “Oh, that reminds me. Did you get a date for the wedding? Denny and Mason were on my ass to find someone for you, but because I’m in a relationship, it’s hard. All the girls think I’m asking for myself and my girl… she won’t be happy,” he states, smirking up at Maverick, that glint still in his eyes.

  “You know I haven’t,” Mav growls at him, his eyes narrowed into slits.

  “I can be a date. What’s a date, mummy?” Faith calls, sitting on the top step near Maverick, picking up the nails that have fallen and putting them back for him.

  We all laugh, and I decide to be the one to answer. I tell myself it’s because I’m a good mum, but really it’s the wide-eyed, scared look Maverick gets, seeming torn on what to say.

  “It’s when a man takes a woman he likes out for food, or somewhere fun,” I explain, chuckling.

  “Cool! I like food.” She nods enthusiastically, thinking it over. “I can be your date.” Maverick smiles tenderly down at her and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep myself from sighing.

  That smile could seriously melt some panties straight off. His grin, his smirk―hell, even his laugh―have nothing on his smile, especially when his eyes go all soft like melted chocolate.

  Yep, my knickers are soaked.

  This is so embarrassing!

  “Faith,” I warn gently, not wanting her to push herself on them. It’s hard to say no to the little madam. She’s just too darn cute.

  Besides, he probably has some super-model girlfriend lined up to take with him, anyway.

  “How could you turn down the perfect date? Or shall I say dates? You’re game, aren’t ya, T?” Max grins―a little too widely if you ask me.

  He’s up to something.

  “I-I… um…,” I stutter, wondering what the hell I should say. I’m not normally shy, yet for some reason, Maverick makes me incredibly shy and on edge.

  “See, she’s game,” Max announces, and my cheeks heat. I turn to Maverick to find him glaring at his little brother. “And how can you say no to this one?” Max coos, staring up at Faith who’s still sitting at the top of the stairs. Maverick’s moved so he’s guarding the gap, making sure to keep an eye on her so she doesn’t have another fall.

  God, why couldn’t he be someone who didn’t make me so nervous?

  Maverick coughs, looking uncomfortable. “I….”

  “It’s okay. Ignore him,” I say, letting him get out of this without things becoming more awkward.

  “It will be fun,” Lake pouts, then smiles at me. “We’ll finally be able to get to know each other better.”

  “I don’t know who’s getting married though,” I answer, wondering why that came out of my mouth when I should be making up some excuse not to go.

  “It’s our brother,” Max replies. “And you’ll need to meet him sooner or later.”

  “Oookay,” I say slowly, not following.

  “So, it’s a date? Can I wear a big princess dress? Please, pretty please,” Faith gushes, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.

  I notice Maverick staring at me again, an intense, broody expression on his face. Even while brooding he looks freakishly good.

  I really need to get laid.

  “It’ll be good for us to get to know each other,” Maverick agrees lamely. “You do rent a flat off me.”

  Ouch!

  Great boost for my ego.

  Although, I have to admit my heart still takes a sudden turn, beating wildly in my chest at the notion of spending time with him in an intimate setting instead of in this car park. The urge to get to know him is too strong to ignore.

  “You don’t have to,” I tell him, feeling like we’re being forced into it by his weird little brother.

  “I want to. It’ll be fun. They’ve been on my ass to get a date for weeks,” he explains, sucker punching me once again.

  “Yeesh, make a girl feel special, Mav.” Max chuckles, shaking his head.

  Faith makes her way down the stairs to me, pulling on my shirt. Leaning down so I’m eye level with her, I ask her what’s wrong.

  “Maverick said a naughty word,” she whispers, her eyes wide as she stares back at Maverick.

  He must have heard because a small smirk forms on his lips.

  “Sorry, squirt, I didn’t mean to,” he tells her and she blushes, nodding at him. He turns back to face me. “I’ll grab the information for the wedding and bring it over later. That’s if you’re okay with coming?” he asks.

  “Well….”

  “She’d love to,” Max answers and I turn, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “I’ll get this finished, then. I’m just going to grab a drink.” Maverick rushes down the stairs, giving me a quick, nervous nod as he passes, making sure to ruffle Faith’s hair on the way inside the club.

  I’m still staring after him, stunned and completely speechless, for almost a minute after he disappears.

  How the hell did this happen? Am I really going on a date with Maverick? My landlord? The hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on? One I have a serious crush on? He couldn’t possibly have been serious. Could he?

  “How cute,” Lake sings. “They both have an issue with staring after each other.”

  I shake my head, my face heating. “I’ll see you guys later.” I force a smile, taking Faith’s hand and getting us out of there as fast as our feet will take us.

  I hear Max say something behind me. I’m pretty sure it was “See you at the wedding,” but I can’t be sure, not with my pulse pounding so hard in my ears.

  I’m out of my element here. I don’t even know what I should do. Deciding I need my best friend, I grab my phone, turn the TV on to occupy Faith and head towards the open kitchen, dialling Tish’s number on the way. I need to hear her tell me this is all a joke, that it’s not real and I should go back out there and make up some lame excuse as to why I can’t make it.

  But the second I finish blurting out the whole ordeal, she’s screaming and hooting down the phone, rambling on about my vagina.

  I’m so screwed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MAVERICK

  The police arriving at the club has become such a regular occurrence that I’ve given them their own parking spot out back.

  It started the night V.I.P. was raided for drugs and underage drinking a few months back. What I first presumed was someone trying to ruin my club’s reputation actually turned out to be a little more complicated. It seems the cops have been watching my club for a while now and, as I’m majority owner, keeping track of me. Luckily, they’ve ruled me out as a suspect for selling drugs.

  The second time I met up with them was when they finally came in and filled me in on everything that was going on in my club. It was the first time I was informed of any wrongdoing.

  Long story short, a number of patrons have overdosed on drugs that were sold to them here, at V.I.P.

  In the beginning, I thought someone was just playing some huge prank on me. A sick one, but a prank nonetheless.

  I was wrong.

  Once I asked Evan, Denny’s brother, to look into it, I got confirmation back that there was indeed someone selling drugs here. I’ve been working with the police ever since to find out who it is. It could be a patron who frequents the bar or someone who actually works here. I’ll be seriously pissed if it turns out the latter is true. I’ve handpicked every member of our staff, knowing one wrong move could ruin the entire business. I wanted girls who genuinely wanted to dance, not because they’re being forced to. I’m not that kind of boss―or a sick bastard.

  We’re not even close to finding out who’s bringing the drugs into the b
ar, but hopefully after today’s meeting, we’ll be one step closer. It’s been hard to ask around the club since I’ve been told to keep the investigation on the down-low.

  The knock on the door gives me a second to prepare myself before it opens, and the two detectives working the case walk in with grim faces.

  Fuck! This can’t be good. Usually the moody fuckers walk in looking bored or a little pissed, so I can only imagine what news they’re going to bring me today―especially if their sour expressions are anything to go by.

  “Just get to it. I can already tell you’re here to be the bearers of bad news,” I say dryly, my patience with this whole fucking thing wearing thin.

  The eldest of the two detectives, Paul Barrett, clears his throat, slapping a folder down on the desk in front of me.

  Glancing away from Barrett, I eye the folder with mild curiosity before actually picking it up. “What’s this?”

  “A man was found dead this morning in his apartment by his girlfriend,” he explains, then gestures for me to open the folder.

  I do.

  Fucking hell!

  I’ve seen a dead body before―my dad’s, to be exact, and I’d been the cause of it―but seeing the young lad in his early twenties, his eyes bloodshot, face pale and foam pouring from his blue lips, is just something else entirely. My stomach churns, this morning’s breakfast threatening to make a reappearance the longer I stare.

  Grabbing my water, I take a sip, slamming the folder closed as I do. I hand it back over to Barrett, using more force than necessary, my eyes narrowed. I swear the fucker gets off on showing me sick shit like this, trying to get a reaction out of me.

  “He was here, I take it?”

  I’m not really asking. If they’re here about a dead body, then they must know he was here last night; they most likely just need it confirmed.

  “We interviewed his girlfriend ourselves. She didn’t understand how this could have happened and was adamant about the fact that he didn’t do drugs and that this wasn’t an overdose. The only reason she was there this morning is because she knew he couldn’t handle his liquor and would need some help nursing his hangover,” Barrett explains.

  I scrub the scruff on my jaw, trying to remember if I had seen the lad or not, since I was working. We’d been busier than normal so it’s hard to pick out a face from memory.

  Calvin Grant, the other detective, much younger than Barrett, speaks up, leaning forward in his seat, elbows on his knees. “We’re going to need to see your tapes from last night. We’ve got the names and addresses of everyone he was with, but when uniforms went out to interview them, none of them knew anything about any drugs. Either they’re all lying to cover their asses or someone spiked his drink. Even the deceased’s mother told us he wasn’t the type of kid to do drugs and had always been against them. We’ll need the security footage to see if their stories add up.”

  “Not to be a prick or anything, but everyone says their kid or friend was an angel when they die. No one likes to speak ill of the dead.” I shrug, wishing I didn’t have to deal with this shit right now. It’s one thing for someone to willingly take drugs and overdose, but it’s another when someone is spiked.

  “True. Although we’ve done a background check on him and everything seems to add up with the mother’s and girlfriend’s statements.”

  “I’m thinking we need to put someone undercover,” Calvin chimes in, sitting back in his chair.

  I groan, looking up to the ceiling. Not getting any answers from there, I look back at Calvin, an idea forming. My gaze flickers between the two detectives, wondering if they’ll agree to my terms.

  “Let me sort something out. My sister-in-law’s brother is a PI. He’s been looking into my staff for me. We’ll come up with something. It’s not that I’m not comfortable with having someone come in from your team, but I need someone I can trust too. If you get someone to become a regular, get them to feel out the customers, I’ll deal with backstage.”

  “We do think it’s a staff member,” Calvin admits, sounding superior.

  Prick!

  “How?” I ask, pissed that they haven’t bothered to say anything until now. All this time they’ve made me think it could be anyone and now they drop this shit on me.

  “If it was someone who frequented your bar or, hell, different people who came in to deal so it didn’t look suspicious, then they would go upstairs and do it too. It’s a large venue―more college kids, more sales―but whoever this person is has only sold drugs in this part of the club. It has to be a member of staff. What we don’t know is if they sell to customers at random, or if people use this place as a way to pick up their supply.”

  Running my fingers through my hair, I want to pull at the strands. All of this is so fucking frustrating. Four hours in the gym again this morning didn’t do me much good; I want to go pound my fists into the punching bag once again, this time until my knuckles bleed.

  “I’ll find someone. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll let you do this your way.” I sigh.

  “Okay. Can you get one of your staff to bring the tapes over to us as soon as they can?’’ Barrett asks, seeming to realise I need some space.

  “I’ll get Matt to bring it over later.” I nod, knowing I can trust Matt with this. He’s the only one who’s been filled in, and he’s just as shocked and appalled as I am.

  “We’ll get whoever is doing this, but in the meantime we want to keep this quiet. We don’t need to remind you to keep it low-key. We don’t want to spook whoever it is.”

  “No,” I grit out, really wishing Calvin wasn’t an officer. Something about him gets me riled up. He’s probably a stand-up guy, but the last few times he’s been here I’ve wanted to smash my fists into his face.

  “Good, keep us up to date,” Barrett says as he shuts the door to my office behind them.

  Groaning, I slam my fists down on the table. Why can’t I find who the fuck is doing this? At the rate this investigation is going, my club will lose customers and be closed down before long.

  I thought I could trust my staff implicitly―apart from Dore―and knowing one of them is betraying me is tearing me up inside. It’s not like I don’t pay enough either; I pay more than most bosses do in this business.

  Kicking my feet up on my desk, I lean back, contemplating on who I can use to fish out the dealer. There’s no way I can let the police come in undercover.

  *** *** ***

  I’m a grown-ass fucking man and yet it takes me two days to get the invitation to Teagan. The first day I’d forgotten, getting caught up in paperwork. The second day, I had all the shit with the cops going through my head. Now my nerves are getting the best of me.

  Staring down at the invitation, I groan, wondering if I can just get away with posting it through her letterbox. It’s an informal way to invite her, and by now she probably thinks I’ve changed my mind anyway.

  But I also wanted to talk to her about some safety measures that might need to be put in place around the apartment for Faith. I’ve been worried about it ever since she fell off the ledge the other day. The knowledge that there could be something else that could cause her pain, plagues me. It’s why I need to do something to prevent that from happening.

  “Bro, you missing me already?” Max calls as he staggers into my office. He plops his ass down in the chair, kicking his feet up on my desk like he owns the place.

  Could this day get any worse? Not that I’ll voice that shit out loud; Max might take it as a challenge. No, I know he will.

  Pushing his feet off the desk, I let out a frustrated sigh. “What are you doing here?” I glance over at the time, noticing it’s ten at night. I can’t see Lake being happy about him still being here, especially when the girls take the stage in ten minutes.

  “Lake made me help her clean the dressing rooms. Apparently, make-up is a bitch to get out of the carpet,” he mutters. “Women say men are messy, but have they seen the shit they leave while getting ready? I’ve seen c
leaner bins.”

  “Been spending a lot of time in them?” I ask, half curious.

  He looks confused for a second until he catches on, slow as ever. “Yeah, I’ve been bin diving once or twice this week.” He shrugs and I roll my eyes.

  “Seriously though, why are you still here?” I ask, tired and ready to go home.

  “Lake sent me to make sure you take that invitation to Teagan’s. When she asked Teagan yesterday if she’d gotten it, Lake was surprised to find out she hadn’t. What’s holding you back, Maverick?” he asks, sounding like Dr Phil.

  “Nothing, I’ve just been busy with all of this shit going on,” I tell him, not divulging in too much information. He’ll try to investigate somehow and end up ruining the whole thing. He knows as much as he needs to, that’s the main thing.

  “True dat,” he says, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest.

  I give him a dry look. “What’s with the gangster shit?”

  “Trying new shit out with Lake, see what gets her hotter,” he tells me, going way too far.

  “Too much information, bro,” I choke out, rolling my eyes again.

  “Nah, never too much info.” He chuckles, and leans forward, his bent elbows resting on his knees.

  “Shouldn’t you be going home before the show starts?” I ask, hinting again for him to leave already. I’ve had a banging headache all day and he’s only adding to it.

  “No, not until you leave to take the invitation to T’s,” he counters.

  “What?” I ask, louder than intended. He can’t force me to take it. Fuck no! “I’ll take it when I’ve got time. I’m busy at the moment.”

  “Now is perfect, then. I spoke to Matt before coming in here and he said you don’t need to be in tonight, it’s quiet.”

  Why do I let him out of the house? Oh yeah, because he’d end up burning it down. He nearly did it once…okay, twice, but who’s counting?

  “I’m not going now. It’s gone ten, Max.” I give him a hard look, wishing he’d just drop it.

  “I knew you’d say that. She’s awake. Her lights are on.”