Pusher

Bonus Chapter #2

This is a scene from an alternative plot line that never made the cut. It takes place after Mav and Angel started dealing together, but but before anything romantic happens between them. Hope you enjoy!

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I had been expecting the starring.

Of course, knowing something was going to happen and handling that thing were two completely different situations. It didn't stop my gut from twisting every time someone asked me what happened with their wide eyes raking over my own blackened one. It didn't expel the slight quiver in my voice every time I laughed and made some dumb joke about how I had wrestled a bear-shark or tried my hand at underground cage fighting.

"The real story is much less interesting," I told them.

And so they would laugh and let it go, eyes softening around the edges with unsatisfied curiosity. Most were too polite to press the subject.

Of course, Maverick was anything but polite.

His grip closed around my arm as soon as he spotted me in the hallway, pulling me around to face him, close enough so he could scan over my black eye. My own gaze skimmed across his face before I ducked my eyes to the ground. His own bruises were beginning to fade.

A grimace contorted my mouth, but I didn't say anything. Maverick wouldn't listen if I told him to let go anyway.

His free hand hovered, and for a moment I thought his fingers were going to curl around my cheek to hold it steady, but after a moment of hesitation he let it drop back down to his side.

"Where'd you get the black eye?"

"Nowhere in particular," I replied, shaking off his grip. The hallway had almost completely cleared save for us and a few other stragglers on their way to lunch.

"Cut the crap, smart ass. Who did this to you?"

My mouth was pressed into a tight line. This was one lie I didn't have lined up, and it wasn't like I could tell him the truth.

"Was it Tristan? I swear to God I'm going to rip his freaking-"

Maverick was already pacing, the muscles on his arm rigid with rage all the way down from his shoulders to his fists. His mind was lost somewhere else, envisioning all the violent things he was going to do to defend my honor or whatever.

Or maybe this was more about defending his crew. I sold with Maverick now. I wouldn't be surprised if he took this as a personal attack on himself. His pride was lethal enough to be the death of us all.

But whatever his reasoning was for this terribly misdirected, burning rage, I didn't care much.

"No, it wasn't Tristan. Hey, are you even listening? It wasn't him." Maverick stopped in his tracks, his dark eyes glued to mine. I took his brief moment of stunned silence to slip in a few more words. "So you can get off your moral high horse, pal" — I aimed a shove at his shoulder — "I don't need you fighting my battles for me. I can handle myself."

His fingers wrapped around my chin, tilting my jaw so he could take another look at my bruise. "Yeah, sure you can."

I shoved away his hand with an indignant scowl.

"I'm not the only one with a black eye," I reminded him. "Don't act like you haven't got roughed up too."

He released a short, humorless laugh. From the look on his face you'd think I was the most headstrong idiot he'd ever met, or some child meddling in adult business. The condescension was enough to make my blood boil.

"The difference is that I did something about it," he said. "Do you even have a plan?"

"A plan?" The doubt in my voice betrayed me.

"Your next move, genius. You've got a reputation to protect now. As soon as people see they can walk all over you, they will." His reasoning rolled off his tongue like fact, without hesitation, and the weight of his words surprised me.

All this time I figured his cold exterior and ruthless attitude were personality flaws or the consequences of terrible parenting and a failing education system, but with those simple words I could start to see the real reason to why Maverick was the way he was.

I shook off his words, pulling myself back to reality.

"And what's your plan?" I shot back defensively, "To find whoever did this to me and put them in the hospital?"

"If that's what it takes." His voice, once again, was cold and grave. The lethality of it scared me, but to him it was only plain logic. "It'd set it an example."

"Just let me handle this, alright?" I insisted, my voice pleading. His mouth remained a stiff line, untrusting, and I reluctantly added, "If I need you, I'll give you a call."

He nodded, also reluctant, and eased back enough to give me space to breathe. I took that as a sign we were done here and kicked off the wall, trying to shake off his effect as I escaped down the hall.

"Hey, Angelica," Maverick called before I could disappear. I paused at his words. He never called me by my real name. It almost sounded foreign coming from his lips, especially now that his voice had softened to something that resembled concern. "Are you alright?"

My mind reeled at the question and I scanned across his face from the creases in his forehead to the part of his lips, sizing up his intentions. My eyes rolled as my distrust sank in. A small scoff sounded at the back of my throat.

"Don't act like you give a shit about me."