away from the house, down a little path that meandered through an overgrown garden. Through blurry vision, she could see the neat little pavers that made up the trail through vines climbing up and over archways and a mixture of grasses warring for room in a variety of colors of green, blue and even pink.
“I’m sorry.” She hiccupped. Tried to pull herself together. His arms were strong. His body warm. It was impossible not to cling even when she’d promised herself she wouldn’t—not ever again.
He stopped in the middle of a round circle, surrounded by neatly carved wooden benches and covered with a small roof so one could sit, even in the rain. Roses of several varieties were planted around the little sitting area. Climbing roses, tree roses and bush roses, all different colors, some exotic. The place was ringed and shielded by very large grasses, tall ones, that made the area extremely private.
“Bree, you have every right to fall apart. I feel like falling apart.”
“But you don’t. You hold it together.” She detested that she couldn’t stop weeping and he was so stoic.
“Only because I’ve had a lot more practice shutting off emotion when I need to. You’re supposed to be emotional. You give that love to him openly. You make him feel it. I know you, sweetheart. You always were good at that. Every child in the Swords club felt it from you, and they needed it. I know Zane felt it every minute of his existence. He’ll feel it again because, baby, I swear to you, nothing will stop me from getting him back for us.”
She believed him. She had to believe him, or she was going to lose her mind. She let herself cry it out because no matter how hard she tried to stop, she couldn’t close the door on terror. She had to take back control one minute at a time until she managed to find a way to breathe again.
Very slowly she became aware she was clutching his jacket in her fists. His colors. She had the leather bunched tightly. Immediately she let go and tried to step back. “I’m such a mess, Steele, but I can do this. I just get so scared sometimes, afraid for him. Bridges isn’t a good man. Unfortunately, Junk follows in his footsteps. My hope is, Bridges hates being around children so much he’ll have someone else watching Zane.”
She stepped back, and he let her, his arms falling to his sides. She turned away before he could see her red, swollen face. She wasn’t a pretty crier. She’d read about women who wept in front of men and just looked all the more beautiful. That wasn’t her. She pushed at her hair, hoping she didn’t have helmet hair. It shouldn’t matter how she looked, not when her son was missing, but this was Steele. Her Steele. He’d crawled out from under three women and she could describe each of them. They didn’t look anything like her with her red face, swollen eyes, messy hair and stretch marks.
“I’m counting on you. I know you’re tenacious. I know once you make up your mind, you won’t stop. I’ll help. I won’t keep falling apart.” It had happened every hour the first day. Then she’d managed to let it happen only at night. She hadn’t thought she’d have a complete breakdown in front of him.
“Stop apologizing, Bree. I would think it was strange if you didn’t have a meltdown once in a while. Just take some deep breaths and we’ll go join the others and come up with a plan to get our son back. You’ll love Blythe, Czar’s old lady. She’s an amazing woman.”
She needed him to keep talking so she could get herself under control; hopefully the cool air would help with the results of her loud, noisy, sobbing. “Tell me about her.” She walked to the very edge of the circle and pretended to examine a particularly large rose.
“We were hitting the Swords’ traveling prostitution houses. They would set up with the girls they kidnapped. Some were ‘trained’ right there, gangbanged and beat. We divided into two teams. Czar took one out and I took another. We’d hit as many of the chapter’s houses as possible and shut them down. Czar’s team hit a group that had several young girls being trained. One had fought back hard because her little sister was there. He had a feeling about them. Not all kids have homes. Blythe looked them