A soft press of flesh was the start. Heat and wet followed as his mouth opened and his tongue slid along her lips. He stroked insistently across her bottom lip while working the width of her mouth with his lips. His hand gripped her hip when she opened for him, and she whimpered as Bane’s taste swirled across her tongue. He kissed her, the caress waning and rebuilding, breaths coming hotter and heavier. Myrt arched her back, pressing her aching nipples against his chest. Arms twined around his neck, she let her fingers trail through the curls he always tried hard to keep tamed, pulling and plucking them back into existence around his ears and the nape of his neck. His arm across her legs slid up, a palm solid against her thigh. His other hand curled around her side and traveled side to side along her belly, then up, finally landing over one breast. His fingers stiffened and gripped, and she arched again, enamored with the way he made her feel. It was like nothing she’d known before. This wasn’t an imposing of his will on hers. He makes me want so much. No, Bane teased and coaxed her along with every kiss and caress. Every soft touch and low moan against her skin, he brought her along willingly to see what he’d offer next. So much.
Heavy hammering rattled the door in its frame, and Myrt rapidly found herself deposited on the edge of the bed, Bane standing at attention between her and the potential intruder. He was breathing heavily, and she found her breaths matching the cadence, as if a connection still tied them together. He shifted and flexed, hand moving to the small of his back as naturally as if he made the movement every day, flipping his shirt out of the way to rest his fingers on the handle of a gun.
Bane leaned close to the door, one eye to the peep hole. “Son of a bitch.”
She startled and flinched at the recognition of the weapon. When Bane turned around, she was immediately glad he hadn’t seen. His expression was already halfway between pleased and a grimace, and she tucked her chin, waiting to hear who it was.
“Gunny’s here.”
“Sharon’s husband?”
“Yeah, she’s his ole lady. He’s here to assist if needed.” The pounding resumed and he turned around, shouting at the door, “Hold your fuckin’ horses, asshole.” Extending his arm, he pushed the lever handle down with two fingers and retreated to stand next to Myrt.
The door opened and a man as large as Bane walked in. A wave of energy coming with him had Myrt on alert. The two men met with that curious handhold and a pair of grunts, then pulled into a one-armed hug, each seeming to compete with hardest hit as they pounded the other’s back.
“You must be Myrt.” Gunny aimed towards her with his hand out. She stared at the large palm and scarred and calloused fingers, then began lifting hers. Bane stepped between them and brushed Gunny’s hand away. The scowl on the big man’s face matched his tone when he barked out, “The fuck, man?”
“Just…don’t, okay?” Bane took a step backwards, crowding closer to Myrt. The outline of the gun was clear underneath his shirt, and she wondered how she hadn’t noticed it before now. “Myrt, darlin’, this is Gunny.” In a swift movement, he shifted and was down on a knee next to her legs, faces close. “He’s safe, okay.” That sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as her, and she glanced from his features to Gunny’s, noting the expression of amusement now on the man’s face. “Swear, he won’t hurt you.” The earnestness of his voice brought her gaze back to him. “If he does, I’ll kill him.”
“Sharon’d kill me if you didn’t, man.” The humor she’d seen on his features bled through to the words, and Myrt found herself smiling. “I heard a little bit about you.” His chuckle filled the room, and as it trailed off, the energy she’d felt from him before rolled through again, setting her teeth on edge. “And a lot more about the mission. Got a debrief for me, brother?”
“Yeah.” Bane’s gaze hadn’t shifted, his eyes still looking directly at Myrt. “Yeah, but…give me a minute. Got the room next door, too. Connecting’s are already open. Key’s on the dresser in there. Make yourself at home.”
Gunny’s footfalls moved away, muffled, and then disappeared as he left the room, taking that wash of dark energy with him. Myrt shivered, then relaxed as Bane’s hands found hers.
“He’s a dirty cockblocker.” He shook himself, rattling his leather vest as he closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath. “But it’s probably for the best. Woulda been a thousand times worse if he’d been ten minutes later.” Eyes open, he stared at her again. “Before I got so beautifully sidetracked earlier, what I was going to say was about Sallabrook. I’m not going to let him hurt anyone else, Myrt. Won’t leave him breathing, not if he’s touched a hair on those boys’ heads. Might not anyway, just as painment for what he did to you.”
“Painment?”
“Yeah, pain as payment. If ever a man deserved it, he’s one.” Myrt felt a chill as Bane shifted, releasing her hands. He reached up and cupped her cheek with a palm, and then she felt his other hand settle at her middle, covering the tiny bump she still tried to keep hidden under her clothing. “I won’t ever, not ever, let him or anyone else hurt you.” His message was clear, and she felt her certainty about the right paths changing as he spoke. “No matter what, I’ll keep you safe.”
She pulled back a fraction and stared into his eyes, giving him the only thing she could, her trust. “I know you will.”
He leaned his forehead against hers, fingers slipping along her jaw to curl around the back of her neck in a possessive hold. “Darlin’, the things you say.” The hand on her belly pressed tighter as she covered it with her own, cradling that tiny spark of life together. “I would do anything for you. Will do.” This close, his noisy swallow emphasized the emotions raging through him. “Anything.” Then his mouth was on hers, his tongue sliding inside to twist and dance. Their breathing grew heavy, fast, and he tipped her head to better feast on her lips. This time when the kiss slowed and eased, he didn’t relight the flame, finishing with a series of tiny, sweet, smacking touches that escaped the frame of her mouth, dropping on her cheeks and chin, the tip of her nose, and on each eyelid. “I’m with you, too, Myrt. Body and soul.” He brushed their lips together, gliding side to side. “You got me.”
She blinked against the light as he moved away a fraction of an inch, as desperate to see him as she was to stay in the cocooning darkness behind her lids. He was safety. A feeling of strength and confidence suffused her whenever he was around. In the dark he changed, turning into the flame of her arousal, something so recently discovered that she resented the need to dampen it back to a flickering shadow of what had been roaring between them.
Myrt dropped her head to his shoulder, nuzzling close to his neck to get a good scent of him. She drew in a lungful of that courage, and another, then sighed. “If Sallabrook’s there, I’ll get the boys and get in the van. I’ll do what you tell me to. I trust you, Bane. Trust you to keep us safe.” She pressed his hand against her belly, listening to the catch in his breathing as he understood her meaning. “Keep all of us safe.”
“If he’s not there, we won’t dally.” Myrt startled at the stranger’s voice and pressed closer, having forgotten about Gunny in the next room. “We’ll get in, do what’s needed, and get out. We can always come back and take care of unfinished business, brother.”
“Right.” Bane leaned his head against hers and took in a long breath. “Come on, Myrt.” The quiet murmur had his lips touching the skin behind her ear, and she shivered. “Time to get gone, darlin’.”
On the drive up the mountain, sunshine speared through the trees, creating pockets of brilliance along the road. Myrt sat in back, leaving the men to ride up front. She listened to their conversation at first, Bane’s growing comfort with Gunny loosening her muscles. She watched out the window as the turns in the road came closer together, the lanes narrowing, any attempt at a shoulder falling away. Gazing out across the crowns of thousands of trees blanketing the sides of the mountain, she remembered for a moment the rhythm and joy of the holler.
Through a bre
ak in the trees, she saw the faraway roof of the church in town, tiny from this distance, diminished in importance the way she’d hoped she would be by leaving Sallabrook as she had. Then he’d come all the way to Florida to find her.
“Hateful, spiteful man.” Her whisper stuck in her throat, closed around the words until she thought she might choke. The closer they got, the harder she found it to breathe. Myrt leaned forwards between the two seats and pointed, fighting through the information Bane needed. “Next right is the road to the farm. It’s narrow and easy to miss.”
“Next right, got it.” Bane allowed gravity to bleed off the tiny bit of speed he’d gained on the last straightaway. “You doin’ okay, darlin’?”
“I’m scared.” She hadn’t meant the words to be so loud, but there they were, hanging in the air as both men remained silent for a beat, their nonreaction screaming with surprise. “Not of you, of course. But of what we might find.”
“If he touched them—” Bane reminded her of his vow, and she nodded.
“I know.” She pointed again. “There, see the tree with the broken branch? The turn’s there.”
“Hell,” Gunny muttered, his fingers wrapped tightly around the handle above his door. “I hate cages.”
“Same, brother.” Bane spun the wheel, making the sharp turn to the rutted road. “Same. These roads weren’t made for this century.” The muscles in his forearms tensed and bulged, fingers wringing the wheel for a moment. “How far is it, Myrt?”
“Not far. ’Bout a mile or so.” She shrugged, staring out the front windshield. “Give or take.” Sweat trickled down her spine and dampened underneath her arms. She wiped her palms on the legs of her jeans and strained forwards a little more. “Just a couple of turns and we’ll be on the barn and sheds. Do you see any recent tire tracks? Does it look like he’s gonna be here?”
Gunny twisted around in the seat and gazed at her. “Myrtle.” His voice was low, gravelly like Bane’s could get when he was trying to be serious. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“You don’t know him.” She cut her eyes towards him, seeing his full focus was her. “And, all respect—you don’t know me, sir.”
“True.” Gunny glanced at Bane, then turned to face her more fully. “I can say nothing is going to happen to you and mean it, but because you don’t know me, you don’t know I can back up those words.” He lifted his chin pridefully, lips pressed into a tight slash across his face. “Between me…well, and me, I’ve got you covered.”
The van skittered sideways as they rumbled across a series of washboard ruts and Bane swore so colorfully it made her want to smile. “We’re nearly there. The rough spot was the dry creek.”
“I see the barn.” Bane’s words had Gunny turning away, but not before he gave her a dignified nod. “I’m driving right up to the house. Myrt, you stay in the van until we know if Sallabrook’s here or not.”
“I remember, Bane.” Her voice was steadier than her nerves, and she wiped her palms across her jeans again. “Doors will be locked and I’m not to touch them until you give me the go-ahead.”
The van seemed to gain momentum over those last hundred yards, barreling into the empty yard. The wheels locked with a jerk, and they slid past the space where Sallabrook always parked his truck, coming to a stop only feet away from the wooden steps leading to the porch. Bane and Gunny were out of the van in an instant, Myrt scarcely getting her hands up in time to catch the keys tossed to her. She pressed the button Bane had coached her on, hearing the solid thump of the locks clicking into place. Bane’s hand went to the middle of his back as he walked away from the van, rotating in a slow circle to take in the whole of the farm as the gun came free of the holster. She glanced at Gunny to see he also had a weapon in hand, his gaze fixed outwards, towards the driveway and trees, up the mountain to where nothing lived.
The engine of the van ticked softly, hot metal cooling now there wasn’t any fire to drive it forwards, and she imagined it could have been Sallabrook somehow, sputtering out without her here to brutalize. In a different life.
That changed the moment she saw her brother’s head peek over the windowsill, looking out of the house and towards where she sat in the now-still vehicle.
“Thad,” she breathed, the word hardly stirring the air. A bone-deep tremble set up in her body, starting from the soles of her feet and moving in a rapid wave up her spine. It came out her mouth with a yell, voice unrecognizable, screaming for Bane. He pounded on the glass next to her, and Myrt whirled to face him, pointing to the house with one shaking finger. “Thad.” That time she had some oomph behind her brother’s name, casting it so loud it echoed back onto her from the inside surfaces of the van.
“Unlock it.” Bane gestured to her with a “come along” motion, his hand making quick circles through the air. “Let’s get him. Sallabrook ain’t here.”
She fumbled with the key fob, unlocking and relocking the vehicle a couple of times before she got things under control. Bane was there, hand out, and she laid the keys in his palm. He grunted and shoved them into his pocket, then held his hand out again, waiting until she got the hint and slipped her hand against his, palm to palm. His fingers curled around her hand and gave her a squeeze. Then he pulled her from the van and up the stairs.
It was chilling to see everything so much the same. The muck boots hung on their nails beside the outside door, high enough dogs and varmints couldn’t reach to scavenge the leather, but outside so the stink of the pig pen never entered the house. The sturdy four-legged chair waited near the door, close enough to the porch railing Sallabrook could spit into the dirt with ease. I’ve been gone weeks. I’d expect more of a difference. Maybe she’d misunderstood his visit to Vanna’s, because if he were doing well without her here, why would he go so far to try and drag her back?
Bane lifted his fist to pound against the door, but Myrt ducked under his arm, turned the knob, and walked straight in.
“My lands.” She stopped inside the door, trying to catalog the wreckage. Pictures with the covering glass broken hung askew from their nails, as if a mighty wind had tried to sweep them away. Dirty plates and cups were on every flat surface, some with food or drink still inside. The floor held varying levels of dirt and trash, with clothing scattered here or there. “Oh my lands.”
“Not much of a clean freak when he’s the one doin’ the cleanin’, huh?” Bane moved closer to her, his hand resting protectively against the middle of her back. “Where’s Thad? You saw him, right?”
Myrt jarred herself loose from the hypnotizing filth and disarray, then took in a deep breath and immediately regretted it, the stench as bad as the mess. “Thad, where are you?”
“Myrtie?” She spun towards the kitchen in time to see Luke crawl out from underneath the table.
“Myrtle?” Thad rounded the corner near the stove, eyes round in his head.
Luke was unsteady when he climbed to his feet, but Thad was right there to put his shoulder under his brother’s hand, ensuring they both remained upright.
“Oh, boys.” She took no more than a step towards them before they were on her, arms around her waist and neck, pulling her into a three-way hug that seemed to go on and on. Luke was crying, and she leaned her head against his, ignoring how dirty both boys were. “Hush now, everything’s gonna be all right now. We’ve got you. Gonna get you out of here, once and for all. Put this behind us. Gonna be okay. We’re all gonna be okay.”
Their words ran together, a phrase from one, a sentence from the other, and she slowly built a picture of their time on Sallabrook’s farm. Their daddy had done as she’d feared, giving Luke up to take her place. Thad had proven stronger than anyone could have expected an eleven-year-old to be, refusing to allow his brother to go alone. Sallabrook had gone into a rage the instant they walked through the door, raving about Myrt doing him wrong by leaving. It was hard to hear the man’s words through her brothers, to see the hatred he’d held in his heart towards her all these years.
Sallabrook had tried to take Luke on, but Thad hadn’t allowed the abuse, had kept watch through the nights when the man was home, blocking the door of the stall so he couldn’t get in to where Luke slept.
She’d known Sallabrook could be vicious; his sessions with her had always been sex with a leavening of lust intended to make him feel human in his own eyes. Malleable human clay left to the mercies of the Maker. In his eyes, it was simply his nature, not his fault. She’d heard him ranting about it often enough. Never his fault. It was the weakness of the human form. His animal nature. She didn’t ask anything, not yet, letting Luke and Thad warble their way through the worst of the story. Sallabrook had finally given up on Luke, taking Thad to the house instead. Myrt’s arms tightened around her brothers as Luke took over the tale, leaving Thad to hide his face against her side. According to Luke, Sallabrook had picked Thad twice, the most recent only last night. Luke’s story involved his expectations of what Sallabrook and Thad had done in the cabin while he was left in the barn—movies and ice cream topped the list.
Lord God, I know better.
It seemed forever but could only have been a handful of minutes before Bane returned to the cabin, and she felt his hand come to rest on her back. A signal, quiet and gentle, considerately not interrupting the boys—who hadn’t yet acknowledged the two men with Myrt. Still, it served as a reminder that they had a plan, and a timeline, and things to do. She let Luke talk himself out, voice trailing off when he neared the end, his breaths coming slower and quieter as he calmed. “Boys, is there anything you brought with you to pack up?” She knew from experience there wouldn’t have been much carried from the homeplace to here. She’d come with the clothes on her back, but the melted soldier meant their father had allowed the boys something, at least.
In Search of Solace (Rebel Wayfarers MC) Page 12
