Chapter Three

Maverick was impressed. She had no fear as she talked to the loud men, yet at the same time she was very respectful to them. At the moment, her gaze was not on him but on the loudest of the group. His eyes roved over the jeans that hugged her bubble butt to perfection. She had a profile any goddess would envy.

“Sorry,” the slurred word came. “We are on our last vacation before Matt here gets married.” The man slung his arm around his friend. “You know, kind of like a last fling. Sending him off with a bang…so to speak.”

“Well,” she said with a smile. Maverick noticed how the bouncer slipped away. “In that case, let me get you a round…on the house. Just don’t get into a shouting match.” Determined to get her beautiful face on him, Maverick spoke up. “That is so kind of you; thank you.”

That tone, that voice, sent shivers through her body. Tempest turned to face him. The second their eyes met, that shiver changed to dread and then downright rage. It was a huge struggle to remain calm.

Maverick noticed her eyes looked panicked before they were reined in under control. He watched her run russet gaze over his seated frame. His body hardened from her close proximity to him.

It was, however, when she spoke again, that he flashed back up to her face. He knew she was trying valiantly to be nice, but he could hear the strain in her voice. “Well, I aim to please.” She waved to the same waitress who’d been attending them very well. “Mili, give a round of drinks to these men; they are celebrating.”

One last hard stare at the tall man and Tempest was gone. Heading through the crowd, she slipped into her office and shut the door. Moments later, she was crumpled on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Tears formed and began pouring down her dark cheeks.

As Tempest closed the front door of the house behind her, the question came. “Are you okay, Mom?”

Without turning she merely nodded. “I’m fine, Dak, don’t worry. Just a bit tired.” Tempest continued on to the kitchen. She lived in the same house that she’d since she arrived here. It was left to her when Aunt Bertha died.

“I will let you get some sleep, then,” he spoke from behind her. “I have some more work to do before I crash. See you in the morning.” Dakota kissed her on the cheek and strode out of the kitchen and off to his room with his long legs. “Love you,” he tossed back at her from the hall.

“I love you too,” Tempest hollered back as the tears threatened to begin again.

She also left the kitchen for her room. Closing the door behind her, she walked to her bathroom, dropping clothes along the way. Turning on the shower to as hot as she could handle it, she stepped in, stood under the spray, and let the tears win.

Looking into those eyes had nearly killed her this evening. What the hell was he doing here? It didn’t look like he knew who she was, but maybe he was biding his time. “Not like twenty-one years isn’t long enough,” she hissed to her shower wall.

Tempest pounded on the speckled tiles that lined her stall until her hands went numb. She cried and cursed Maverick as her fists couldn’t take anymore. Turning off the water, Tempest walked nude back into her bedroom and stood in the middle of her room, letting the dry desert air suck the remaining moisture from her skin.

Her body moved over to the tri-fold full-length mirror that was in a corner of her room. Positioning her body so she could see the lower part of her back, Tempest placed her eyes on the tattoo that rested just above her tailbone.

It was a bed of thorns that squeezed a word and there were drops of blood visible. In and out of each letter the thorns wove. The word: Maverick.

“This tattoo hurt like hell,” she whispered as her heart hardened. “But it was a reminder of you and what you put me through.” Tempest dried her hair, lotioned her body, and climbed into bed.

Sleep was a long time in coming, for she was haunted by memories she’d believed long buried. And beyond them was a pair of black eyes that seemed to penetrate her soul.

Dakota frowned as he heard his mother crying. It was so unlike her. His mother was the strongest woman he knew. She’d been the rock at Bertha’s funeral. His mom worked her ass off to give him everything she could.

He knew the cost of her being a single mom. For a while, he’d wanted to know his father, until she’d said he didn’t want them. And she didn’t try to stop his anger at being abandoned by his unknown father, allowing him to vent and get it out of his system.

But unlike many kids at school who couldn’t care less about the strain it put on the single parent, he always did his best to help her out. She would thank him and send him on his way to play sports or do homework. No matter how busy she was, she always made sure she was there during anything he was participating in, school or otherwise.

He’d spent many nights in her office at work while, prohibited from coming out to the front. His mom would come back there to check on his homework and him. He’d learned how to mix drinks at a young age, but she’d refused to let him serve any until he was twenty-one. So this year, he’d begun to serve in the bar, even getting his certificate and it was all legal.

Dakota worked hard in school, determined to excel and make his mother proud of him. He would be able to provide for her and let her relax. For a while, he’d encouraged her to date, but she’d staunchly refused. Nevertheless, recently there had been a military man whom she’d been seeing off and on.

Tonight, Dakota had never seen that look on his mother’s face. Something had spooked her and scared the crap out of her. Anger began to burn inside Dakota. He would stand for no one hurting her.

His hand reached for the door to her room. He wanted to console her; but at the last second, he dropped his hand. His mama was a proud woman. “I love you, Mama,” he whispered to the door before he headed back to his room.