MAVERICK

“Augustine Maverick Bates II, we need to talk,” said the woman in her authoritative tone, who blocked my way in her fine suit.

I didn’t have to ask what kind of work she did— it gave it away— it was a white-collar job. But what did she want with me?

“Excuse me?”

“We need to talk in private.” She looked at Cooper and then back to me.

“Look, lady, whoever you are, you can tell whatever you want in front of me because I’m not leaving by her side.”

“I don’t think so, Cooper Greene.”

“Gee. You know my name.” Cooper laughed nervously.

“I know more than your name,”...