trust and believe in his affections. Freedom to explore the sweeter side of life.
Free indeed.
The flurry of leave-taking activities carried her through the sudden terror at seeing her family, so recently reclaimed, drive away in the van. Myrt looked sideways at the motorcycle parked next to where she and Bane stood. The arm he had wrapped around her shoulders tightened, and he rocked her back and forth.
“I’ll keep you safe, darlin’. Promise from me to you. I’ll always keep you safe.”
“I’m as much excited as nervous about riding with you.” She followed when he turned to go inside, their joined hands a tight bond between them. “I trust you.” Ducking under his arm, she went through the door he held open. “Before we go anywhere, can I ask you a couple of questions?” She took the stairs double-time so he didn’t have to slow his pace.
Inside the room, he sat in a chair, drawing her to stand between his legs. “You can ask me anything, Myrtle. I’m an encyclopedia when it comes to bikes.”
She settled on his thigh, steered there by his hands on her hips. Leaning against his chest, she laughed. “I don’t have any questions about the bike.”
“Then what, darlin’?” One large hand slipped down her arm and folded around her fingers, threading through and flexing to hold her firmly.
“Tell me about yesterday. I want to know everything.” He turned to stone underneath her touch, and she pressed closer, lifting her lips to softly kiss the edge of his jaw. “They’re both dead, aren’t they? I just need to know for sure.”
“Yeah, darlin’.” His voice was soft and cautious. In between words, the only movement was the rise and fall of his breathing. She lifted her hand and placed it flat on his chest, realizing his heart was thundering. “They’re both dead.” He repeated her words back to her, flat and implacable. “What else do you want to know?”
“Did they die easy?” She moved her hand to curl around his neck, snuggling closer.
“No, Myrt. They didn’t. They died hard.” His tone was stiff. “Where you goin’ with this?”
“They can’t hurt anyone, ever again?”
Bane relaxed the tiniest amount as he took in a deeper breath. “No, baby. Never again.”
“Daddy beat Marian. Badly and often. So much she said it was a rare Sunday she attended church, and she’d always been one to seek peace in worship.” Myrt chewed on the inside of her cheek. Could I have helped? “I didn’t know, Bane. I promise I didn’t know what her life was like. Every time I saw her, I worried, but I never asked. Why didn’t I ask?” That had been the thought circling her brain when talking to Marian.
“Baby, it wasn’t like you were in a position to have done anything about it. Not trapped like you were with Sallabrook.” Bane stroked slowly down her back, his hand coming to rest against her hip. “In over your head, both of you were drowning in different pools of shit. That’s a precarious balance on a good day. Adding a layer of misery belonging to someone else could have been enough to send either of you under. Don’t beat yourself up over the fact you were worn out simply trying to exist. That’s not on you, but on the bastard who thought he owned you.”
Tightening her hold on him, she asked again, needing reaffirmation, “He’s really dead?”
“Yeah, darlin’. Yes, and yes. Sallabrook will never lay a hand on another person.” She felt pressure against the top of her head and knew he’d laid a kiss there. “Not you, not the boys, and no future anybody. Never again.”
“So what’s next?” She rolled her head and touched her lips to the base of his neck, happily returning the affection.
“Need a decision from you.” He’d gone still again, telegraphing the importance of his question. “Do you want the baby to inherit from their sperm donor? The place on the mountain, and any assets the bastard held, should go to his next of kin.”
“No.” She didn’t have to consider or think; the response was visceral. “He’s got—had—older kids. They should get his things. I—” Myrt hated the tiny bit of hesitation inside her, fear of cutting ties like this, even if it was what she wanted. Saying what she intended to say set her adrift, ending her association with a man who’d owned her for a third of her life. He might not have cared for her, but she’d had food and shelter, and by