head and pressed it down on his shoulder. Only then was he sure she could relax and use his warmth to stop the trembles that rolled through her.
The fire, on his right, snapped and crackled as it consumed the green branches.
Twyla gave up the fight of staying away from him and molded her body against him, twining her legs behind him. He rubbed her back. It wouldn't surprise him that through all of the excitement tonight, and after working a full eight hours earlier, she'd fall asleep. He'd never met a person who could slip into her dreams the moment her eyes closed.
His chest thrummed, having her with him after the fear of losing her. He loved her spirit, thrived off her temper, and loved her passion. She had enough of everything to make her stand out from other women, and she owned it all.
Damn, she was strong. She'd stood up to him and everyone in the clubhouse, fighting for herself, not worried about the consequences, with no concern for her personal safety.
Priest wanted him to let Twyla go. In his head, he knew he should. It would be easier for her if she was far away from Missoula.
But he couldn't let her go. He wouldn't.
For most of his life, he'd given everything to Tarkio. He'd spent four years in prison to protect his sister because of the actions of Cusclan.
During that time, he fought for someone else. He protected someone else. He gave up his freedom for someone else.
But now he wanted Twyla, and he wasn't willing to give her up to someone else.
"My sister was sixteen years old and home with my parents when Cusclan Motorcycle Club members broke into the house. It was close to midnight, and while my sister was sleeping, the two men held my parents at gunpoint," he said into the dark of night.
Twyla's body stiffened, yet she never moved.
He stared into the flames, remembering that night as if it was yesterday. "My sister woke up and walked into the dining room and witnessed them shoot my mother because they knew it would destroy my dad to see the one woman he loved more than life die in front of him. My father, having seen my sister come into the room, moved to protect her. They shot him as my little sister screamed his name, begging the killers not to kill her daddy."
His heart pounded, knowing what he had to tell her next could change her mind about him. He also knew that he would go to the grave, protecting his sister. It was detrimental that no one, especially Cusclan, finds out that his sister, at sixteen years old, found the strength inside of her to pick up their dad's rifle and shoot the two Cusclan members as her parents lay on the floor in front of her, taking their last breaths—saving her own life.
"I arrived home and shot the motherfuckers who killed my parents, and in return, I spent four years in prison," he said, continuing the lie.
He might not have committed the crime, but there were crimes he'd committed since. Too many to count.
Anyone who loved him would have to know what he was capable of doing.
Twyla lifted her head. He pressed her back down to his shoulder. If he had to look in her eyes and see the disgust on her face, it would kill him.
"You asked if I used you for a chance to kill Big." He blinked, looking away from the fire, letting his vision adjust to the dark. "The truth is, I did. I convinced you to stay at the club, hoping your presence there would bring Big and the rest of Cusclan into Missoula and try to attack Tarkio. Within the city, we could overpower Cusclan. We could protect you."
His throat tightened. That was then.
During the time she'd stayed at the clubhouse, he'd grown closer to Twyla. His feelings toward her had changed.
"Today. Yesterday. Three weeks ago. After getting to know you, I wouldn't have done that to you," he whispered. "Not now."
He let go of her head. She straightened, looking him in the eyes. He tremored, holding on to her hips, making sure she wouldn't leave him.
Her gaze traveled back and forth from his right eye to his left eye. He vibrated at the bond they had. This was Twyla. His Twyla.
"What changed your mind?" she said, her voice soft and breaking.
"If you would've stuck around and not threatened to shoot me, I would've told you