in. Heame Junior. had dispensed with his duty belt, wore only a simple hip holster to carry his service weapon. When his gaze landed on their table, he smiled broadly, Bane bristling at his unmistakable pleasure at seeing Myrtle.
Heame nodded at Bane, then held out his hand to Myrt, bending at the waist so she didn’t have to rise from her seat. Bane stood slowly, unfolding to his full height and staring down his nose at the deputy.
“Myrtle, I’m glad to see you looking so well. You had us all worried—” Heame dashed a glance at Bane, then cut his gaze back to Myrtle. “And, well, I’m sure glad you’re okay.”
“I’m doing well, Thomas.” The familiarity in her voice hit Bane like a brick wall. For some reason he hadn’t expected her to know this man, hadn’t anticipated Mason’s professed cousins would have personal experience in Myrt’s life that excluded Bane. He didn’t like it. Myrt tugged at his hand, and he realized he’d kept his grip, holding tight. She tugged again. “Isn’t that right, Will?”
Her denial to give Heame his club name was confusing until he looked at her, really looked at her. She was concerned, and he remembered she hadn’t been on the call with Mason and the older Heame earlier, only having what Bane had told her to go on.
She’s protecting me. He relaxed his grip, then gave her a gentle squeeze. So fuckin’ cute.
“I didn’t catch what you said, but I still agree, darlin’.” He knew the hesitation Heame had showed earlier was because he’d nearly called Myrt a sweet name. “Whatever you want, babe.” Fuck this dude. “Anything you need, honey.” There, he’d covered about all of them in one fell swoop. “Sweetheart.” Nearly forgot one.
“Silly man.” Ignoring Heame, who still hadn’t officially greeted Bane, she stared up at him. “I could ask you for anything and you’d cave.”
“Before the request was even off your sweet lips, yes, ma’am.”
“I’m gonna have sweet tea and a piece of pie, Deloris. Server’s choice.” Heame pulled out a chair and sat, looking over his shoulder at the waitress. “Myrt’s Mr. Crow here said he’s buying, so I’ll take a chance on whatever looks good today.”
“You got it, Thomas.”
Heame tipped his head to the side and looked at Myrt for a long moment, his expression serious. “Myrt, I’m sorry to tell you I’ve got bad news.” Myrt’s muscles tensed and her fingers gripped hard. “Sallabrook’s cabin burned to the ground. He was in it, unfortunately.”
Her gasp was real, shocked, and Bane was glad he hadn’t told her the specifics on anything that had happened. “Oh my God.” She didn’t glance around, staring straight at Heame. “The barn, did it burn, too?”
“No, it didn’t. Funny enough the fire was completely contained to the cabin. Hardly any of the yard around got even scorched.”
“Oh, thank God. Do you need to know anything about the animals or anything?”
Bane studied the side of her face, dissecting the expression he could see. She wasn’t being disingenuous. This was a real question for her. Heame must have come to the same assessment, because he answered her question directly, without implying she should have any other kind of reaction.
“Nah, all taken care of.” The man’s lips pulled to the side in a puzzled smile. “It’s all covered.”
“Oh, okay.” She glanced down and seemed to realize how tightly she was gripping Bane’s fingers, easing up and throwing him a quick smile that didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. Chin angled towards the large plate glass window across the front of the diner, she murmured, “I’m sorry for his family’s loss.”
“Really?” Bane cupped her chin in his palm, turning her face towards his. “You’re sorry for that son of a bitch’s death?”
“His kids always treated me nice. I used to tell myself they didn’t know the man their daddy’d become.” She gave him that tiny smile, the real one, then pressed her lips against the tip of his thumb. “I can be sorry they’ve lost a member of their family without mourning the death itself.”
“Better person than I am, Myrt.” Heame broke the moment with his interjection as Bane and Myrt both turned to look at him. “There’s more news, hon—there’s more news. You tell me when you’re ready.” The server approached with a plate of pie, a tall glass of iced tea, and the coffee carafe dangling from one finger.
By mutual unspoken agreement, they all sat quietly while food was distributed and drinks were refilled. Once