kids.”
Now that she thought about it, Steele had only raised his voice to her last night—for the first time. He’d always been gentle with the children from any of the Swords families. He hadn’t said much, but he’d been unfailingly patient with them. She could imagine he’d be that way with their son.
That brought her up short. Their son. It was the first time she’d ever thought of Zane that way. He’d always been her son. It was the two of them. Zane and Breezy. She would whisper that to him all the time. That she would always keep him safe. A fresh flood of tears welled up, burning behind her eyes, and she turned away from Steele before he could see.
“How old is he?” She whispered it, unable to find her voice. That could be Zane. Terrified. Alone. He could be sold off by his own grandfather. Bridges would do it too. She hadn’t wanted to think of him as capable of kidnapping children and selling them to the highest bidder, but she knew Steele was telling the truth. Now, Bridges had their son and she had to worry, not just about him hitting her boy, but selling him to some horrible pervert.
She staggered over to the bench and put her head down, dizziness welling up along with the tears. She had to pull herself together. She wasn’t going to be of any use to Zane this way and Steele would never agree to her going along to find him if she didn’t stop.
“He’s six, at least that’s what he was advertised as being.” Steele’s voice was grim.
She glanced up at him, unable to help herself at his tone. His face was a mask of anger. Every line was carved deep and shouted retribution. He really despised those who had that little boy and she could read his intentions to take the child back. That was her Steele. The one that made her heart flutter.
“That could be Zane,” she whispered. “Steele, that could be Zane.”
“It won’t be, Bree.” Resolve was there. Absolute resolve. “Even if something happened to me, every one of my brothers and sisters would keep after him, never stopping. It isn’t just me. I know you don’t like clubs, and you have every reason, but we’re not all the same.”
She took a deep breath and forced her head up. “Maybe. Clearly there are degrees of depravity. The Swords are disgusting, but I walked in after one of your parties, Steele. I saw the place and I saw all of you. You were buried under three women, and most of the rest of your brothers were draped over others. No one had a stitch on. I remember the parties, even after we were together.”
He frowned. “What was wrong with the parties after we were together, Bree? I took care of you. I made certain no one came near you. When it got insane, I took you to our room, away from everyone else.”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Babe. We have to talk about the things you object to.”
“No, we don’t. We just need to get Zane back. After that we can talk all you want, but right now, it has to be about Zane.”
His eyes went even darker. He walked right up to her and held out his hand to help her up. She hated touching him. He made her weak. He made her want things she couldn’t have. She had to wrap herself in the hurt he’d caused. Real pain. Three years of it, going over every word, repeating it endlessly, looping the ugly things he’d said to her over and over until they were etched into her very bones. She had to cling to that agony in order to survive this.
His fingers closed around hers and he tugged. His hold on her was at odds with the way he pulled her to her feet. His hold was gentle, but he yanked her up aggressively. Her stomach bottomed out as her body fell against his. His other hand was there, cupping her chin, tilting her face up and then he took her mouth.
The moment his lips touched hers there was fire. Hot. Burning. Wild. Out of control. She tried to cling to the hurt and pain he’d caused, but the storm of flames burned right through those memories, consuming them until there was no way to think. Only feel.
Steele was rough. He was aggressive. Dominant. Totally taking control of