Chapter 1

Chapter One

Maverick

N ova and Haze immediately start to whine and circle our feet when they see Gunner and me gearing up to head out. The two massive German shepherds always get antsy when they're in a new place, but they're highly trained.

They think we're leaving for a job, but tonight is all about relaxation, and they can manage a few hours on their own.

Gunner grunts, shaking his head.

I don't have to hear him say it to know he's worrying about them being upset.

My partner at Assurance Security is the black cat to my golden retriever, but he's a giant softy when it comes to kids and animals.

Gunner and I make for a solid team but we couldn't be less alike if we tried.

His straight black hair falls over his forehead as he zips up his leather jacket. He's armed to the teeth under the ridiculous thing. I'm pretty sure it's unnecessary for him to be strapped into his holster with a knife in his boot when all we're doing is going out for a drink.

It's better to be safe than sorry, though.

I don't complain about his eclectic ass; that way, he won't heckle me. And to be fair, women do love his edgy style.

"You two, chill the fuck out, and don't destroy the place while we're gone," Gunner says, bending down to give Haze a goodbye scratch.

I laugh, eyeing Haze. "He means you, ya asshole."

Nova is mine, and she's a perfectly well-behaved lady.

Haze is a pain, but he's also vicious as fuck in the field, so I put up with his high-maintenance ass.

Now that I think of it, I stride into the kitchen, grabbing the trash can and dropping it on the counter.

"Dick," Gunner grumbles. "He hasn't dug in the trash in years."

"Yeah, but we aren't at home." I shrug. "They're both antsy. Add in the unfamiliar environment, and I figure it'll save us the risk of getting back to a mess."

Our visit to New York to see Gunner's family has been uneventful. We're here for a vacation, but we've barely had a second to ourselves until tonight. It's time for a beer and some actual downtime.

Gunner stands up, nodding as he glances around the rented house, like he's checking for anything else Haze can destroy in our absence.

"Ready?" I ask, rubbing my hands down my jeans.

"Yeah, let's go."

We end up at a bar just down the street. It isn't rundown, but it's not exactly high-class, either. That's New York for you. I didn't grow up here like Gunner. It's beautiful, and there's nothing like the city lights at night.

I'd still take where I grew up in Virginia any day of the week. The traffic here is so bad that it's faster to walk than it is to drive and fight for parking.

The ambience isn't bad. There's live music, and the place is packed.

I smirk, raise my beer, and wink at the women dancing nearby. They've been consistently shooting fuck-me eyes at me and Gunner.

It's a shame.

None of them are Gunner's type.

He's a picky son of a bitch.

I, on the other hand, can find beauty in just about any female form.

The waitress stops by and drops off another round. I watch her backside sway as she returns to the bar.

"You're really going to have to be less particular," I grumble, aiming my beer at my best friend. "My dick is about to riot."

Gunner scoffs, not taking his eyes off something across the room.

"I'm serious." My head swivels until I catch sight of what has him so intrigued.

That would do it.

There's a woman with long, dark-brown hair that falls in waves down her back. She'd seem a little out of place in her white knit sweater if it wasn't for her little black flirty skirt.

Oh, yeah, she's Gunner's type to a T.

He likes the chase.

She has hazel eyes, if the low lighting isn't affecting my ability to tell, and she's cute.

She's got that girl-next-door style, with curves that have me licking my lips like a total fucking creep. I don't mind it when women objectify me , but I don't like feeling like I'm objectifying her .

Gunner growls a low and dangerous sound. I follow his line of sight back to the woman. She's with two men, and something in her posture as she backs away makes me sure my best friend is about to do something stupid.

My boot slams into his under the table. "I've got this."

Shoving myself out of the booth, I slide past the ladies that immediately come over. It makes me feel like a dick because I would normally stop and at least flirt, but alas, I have a damsel in distress to rescue.

The chick steps back from the guys again, and this time, her ass bumps the wall. Those pretty hazel eyes of hers widen as she scans the room, like she's searching for security, or maybe she just needs a friendly face.

I smile, waving as her eyes slide past mine. It's only a few more long strides before I'm directly in front of her.

Turning to the side, I toss my arm around her shoulder.

The guys don't say a word, and yet, the looks they shoot my way say it all.

I get close to her ear. "So, you can tell me to fuck off, but I thought you could use a save."

She nods, curling deeper into my plain white T-shirt. Her head tilts, and I catch sight of those huge sparkling eyes right as her scent hits me.

She's a fucking unbonded omega.

No wonder she's garnering so much attention.

Her fruity apple pie scent is so complex, my nose twitches as I try to pick out each of the individual smells. There's cinnamon, creamy vanilla, and something like tart green apples.

I tighten my hold on her shoulder and smirk at the dicks now glaring at me. "Sorry I'm late. Thanks for keeping an eye on her for me."

"You never said you were waiting for anyone," the dipshit on the right growls.

Of course, he's an alpha.

"Come on, sweetheart," I say, nuzzling my cheek to the top of her head. "We've got a table. I can't believe I missed you when we first came in."

"It is busy," she says in a soft-as-silk tone that makes a shiver run down my spine. "Have a good night, you guys."

I pull her toward Gunner without a backward glance. Once we're about five feet from the table, he shoves himself out of the booth.

I guide her to slide in on the side I was on as Gun handles the two idiots, who seem to have multiplied when I check because there are now four.

"Will he be okay?" she asks, gripping my forearm with her cold fingers.

Looking back, it's clear Gunner has it. Even four on one, they couldn't take his ass down if he was wasted.

"Yeah, he's good." I scoot in at her side, leaving a foot of space between us. "I'm Maverick. You can call me that or Mav. Just not Rick." I give a fake shiver of disgust. "Definitely not Ricky." I bump my shoulder against hers. "I'd shake your hand, but I don't want to blow our cover."

"Brooklyn." A bright smile takes over her face, and a set of deep dimples pop in her full cheeks.

Jesus fucking Christ.

She's really pretty.