“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 the server had retreated behind the counter, Bane turned to Myrt. She was staring at Heame. “Might as well get it over with, Thomas.”
Heame had just shoved a bite of pie into his mouth, and he held up a finger as he nodded. “Mmhmm.” Picking up his glass, he took a series of swallows of the tea, ending with a soft “Ahhh.” Fork resting on the pie plate, he looked from Bane to Myrt and back again. “No way to do this easy, and for that I’m sorry. Your father is dead.” Bane noted the man didn’t say was killed and didn’t mention murder. He held still, waiting. Heame didn’t disappoint, kicking the proverbial “other shoe” off the field entirely. “Looks like he had a heart attack drinking coffee on his front porch. No more than a couple of days ago.” Myrt’s breathing sped up, rasping in and out of her nose, her hold on Bane’s hand rigid. “Hate to say this, but varmints got to him. It’s not pretty. I talked to old man Knowles over at the funeral home and he recommends no open anything. Be easier all around to simply cremate him.” He shook his head. “I know it’s a lot to dump on you at once—”
“Cremate him. Tell Mr. Knowles to do with the ashes whatever is normal when the family doesn’t want them.” Her chin was wobbling, but she got the words out without faltering. “He’s been dead to us for a long time, Thomas, and I know you know it. It’s a blessing, really. Frees Marian up to live her own life.”
“Where is Marian?” Heame flicked a glance at Bane, then settled his gaze back on Myrt. “She wasn’t around when we did a wellness check. Looks like some of her stuff is missing.”
“She’s in Florida with friends.” Bane leaned closer to Myrt and curled his arm around the back of her chair. “Been there for a few days.” He shrugged. “Longer than Threadgill’s been dead.”
“Oh, I wasn’t implying anything, truly.” Heame shook his head. “We—I wanted to make sure she’s being taken care of. Her life’s been sheltered in a lot of ways, while less so in others. Would hate for someone to take advantage of her.”
“My sister is being looked after, as are my brothers.” Myrt stood, shoving back her chair. “I need a minute. I’ll be right outside.” She put her hand on Bane’s shoulder when he would have risen to stand with her. “I’m good, baby.” Her hesitation was almost nonexistent this time, and Bane loved seeing that swell of confidence show up again. “I just want a minute, okay?”
Hand cradling the back of her head, he brought her down to touch their lips together in a brief caress. “Okay. I’m here, baby. You need me, I’m right here. No matter what.” Watching her walk away, he didn’t turn back to Heame until she’d quietly closed the door behind her and gone to the curb near the bike, taking a seat. “You did that pretty well.”
“Well, when Davis Mason asks for something and it’s within our power, we’ll do our best to make it happen.” Heame’s fork scraped across the empty plate, chasing the last smears of filling. “Good men do bad things with the best of intentions sometimes. Don’t mean it’s not the right thing, because in both of these cases those sumbitches needed to die.” He shrugged, then picked up his glass and drained it. “Thanks for the pie, Mr. Crow. I appreciate your hospitality.” He stuck out his hand as he stood. “I’ll wait by the door. Give Myrt her couple of moments before I need to say my goodbyes. My dispatcher has all the papers she needs to sign, but Myrt don’t need me around for that.” He gripped tightly, and Bane stood, leaning across the little table as he bore down harder, feeling tendons pop under his fingers. “She needs you though, plain to see. Be good to her, Crow.”
“Oh, I will be. She’s my queen.” His forearm bulged as he found another ounce or two of pressure in his grip.
Heame grimaced, his fingers flying free in surrender, and Bane let him go. He brought out his wallet and pulled two bills from the folds. Holding them between his fingers, he caught the attention of the waitress and dropped them to the table with a nod. She smiled and grabbed a tray, headed their direction.
“Thanks much, ma’am.” Following Heame to the door, he waved off her question about change. “All yours, Deloris.” Outside, Myrt turned to look at them, her expression melancholy. “We’ve got paperwork to tend to, honey.” Nodding, she stood and brushed off her ass, turning to face Heame. He didn’t say anything, simply opened his arms, and she stepped near for a brief, impersonal embrace. “Thomas has somewhere else to be. You ready to ride, baby?”
“Yeah.” She turned and flowed to him, her arms wrapping around him in a way they hadn’t Heame, her body melding to his in a way he couldn’t mistake. This was her making a statement to him, and probably to Heame. “Sooner we finish up, the sooner we can be back at the hotel.” Her chin lifted and she smiled through a fake pout, something he found immediately irresistible, dropping his mouth to cover hers. “Mmmm.”
The barely there hum had him ready to pounce, but they were once again in public, where the kind of activities he wanted to conduct were entirely frowned on. “Helmet.” Hands on her upper arms, he set her back from him, putting needed distance between their bodies. “Or your good friend is going to have to arrest me for indecent exposure.” He booped the end of her nose, glad when she smiled at the silly moment. “Paperwork, then it’s you and me and a hotel bed, baby. Rest of the day.”
“Y’all be safe.” Bane glanced up to see Heame had turned away, walking towards his cruiser. “See you around, Myrtle.”
Myrt called out a “See ya” while keeping her eyes fixed on Bane’s.
“Okay, cop shop and then back to the bike dealership, see if they scrounged up the things we need.” He fingered her braid as she adjusted the chinstrap on her helmet. “When we’re out on the highway, the wind’ll snarl all this beauty. Can’t have you fighting that at the end of the day.
” Slinging a leg over the bike, he heeled the kickstand up and balanced the machine between his thighs. “Climb on, baby.”
“What do I have to sign at the sheriff’s office?” Hands on his shoulders, she stepped on the foot pegs and settled onto the seat behind him. “Just about my dad, right?”
“I suspect. But we’ll know for sure when we get there.” He started the bike, grinning when her fingers clamped down on his shoulders in surprise. “Ready?” Looking back, he saw and felt her let go for an instant to give him a thumbs-up before her hand returned to its position. “Here we go.”
Heame hadn’t lied about making things easy on Myrt. Someone somewhere had found or forged a back-dated and registered document giving her authority to make decisions about Threadgill’s remains. Two signatures later, the sympathetic dispatcher was faxing the information to the funeral home.
They’d been nearly ready to leave when Bane received a text asking him to wait.
A few minutes later, a man had walked in, introduced himself as Myrt’s lawyer, provided by Mason Corp., a business Bane hadn’t known existed. After leading them into a private meeting room off the bullpen, he’d gone over the financial status of her father’s estate, given some recommendations about escrow, and then had her sign a document giving him authority to deal with the estate disposal. The money would be split evenly between Threadgill’s children from all of his wives. Then the lawyer produced an approved guardianship filing, making Myrt responsible for both Luke and Thad, so they wouldn’t have to deal with the state. The dispatcher was even a notary public, and as easy as that, everything was legal, filed, documented, and final. The lawyer left without a long goodbye, reminding Myrt to let him know of any changes in the boys’ status.
An hour later, Bane was following her up the stairs at the hotel, watching her hips sway underneath the waistband of the leather jacket he’d bought her. The bike shop had turned over stones to provide everything he’d been looking for. First had been a long braid-keeper to ensure her hair wouldn’t become unmanageable. If she wanted to cut it, that would be her decision, but he didn’t want it to be in response to something he’d initiated. Next had been a pair of boots for her, followed by the jacket. Then he’d caught Myrt fingering the fabric of a couple of soft shirts, so they’d gone into the sack, too.
Now they were here.
They were here and Bane was inordinately nervous. It was as if all the denial and interruptions were culminating in something he’d built up so much in his head that he was afraid it would be nothing at all like he hoped.
He crowded close behind her as she swiped the keycard, unlocking the door. Her half-shy smile over her shoulder at him helped dispel the unfounded fears, and then they were inside and the door closed behind them.
Bane took her hand and led her to the bed, seating himself as she moved to stand between his knees.
He cradled her hand in both of his, exploring the lines and angles of her fingers and knuckles, lifting it to his mouth as he lavished attention on each digit. Without looking up, he wanted to make sure he had her attention. “Baby?”
“Yeah, Bane?” Breathy and airy, her response exposed her arousal from something as simple as this.
“How you doin’? Was a busy day, yeah?” Her fingers trembled in his hands.
“It was a day, for sure. I’m okay, though. Better now.”
“I wanna make love to you.” He drew her thumb into his mouth and sucked hard, rolling his tongue around the tip. Pulling off with a pop, he told her, “Wanna kiss you all over, take my time, crawl between your legs and use all my tricks to make you feel good in all the ways I know how.” Pressing his lips to her palm, he drew her hand across his face, then looked up. “If you aren’t down for that, tell me now, baby.”
“I’m down.” She edged closer, her knees between his thighs. “Please, Bane.”
“Okay, then.” He rubbed his cheek against her belly, kissing and mouthing through her shirt. “Lose the jacket and boots. You do your part and I’ll do the rest.” She stepped back as he levered off the bed, looming over her before he swooped in for a hard, fast kiss. “Hurry, baby.”
By the time she had struggled off both boots and hung up the jacket, Bane was nude and reclining on the bed. He didn’t want anything coming between them if he could help it. She turned and froze, staring at his half-hard dick, her perfect mouth opening and closing.
“Come on over here, Myrt. I don’t bite.” When her gaze landed on his face, he winked at her. “Hard, at least.” She approached the bed, and he held out a hand, beckoning her on. “That’s it.” Her lips stretched in a strained smile and he jackknifed, bending to meet her halfway. Hooking his hands under her arms, he pulled her onto the bed as he fell backwards, dragging her on top of him. The pressure against his dick was exquisite, verging on painful but lost in the perfection of knowing she was with him in this thing between them.
Fingers to the hem of her shirt, he lifted and she moved her arms, arching her body until he could remove it. Her bra was next, a deft flick of his fingers defeating the clasp, and he dragged the straps down each arm, flinging it to the side as he had her shirt.
He pulled in a steadying breath as he stared at her. Hooking his hands under her arms again, he dragged her higher until he could worship her breasts. Mouth and fingers, tongue and teeth, he teased and sucked until she called his name on a hoarse shout. She’d propped herself up with a hand on either side of his head, and he watched her arms shake with the effort to stay still. His hands roamed at will, skating along her sides before curling around her back to draw his nails gently along her backbone, tips of his fingers rising and falling with each vertebra. She dropped her head forwards, heavy braid falling over one shoulder, and he couldn’t wait. Needed to see her with her hair down, spread out beneath him, naked and wanting.
Bane flipped them, and her cry of surprise made him bury his chuckle between her breasts. Her palms measured the width of his shoulders, curling down and around his biceps, then back up. When he nuzzled a nipple again, her fingers tangled in his hair, gripping and holding him in place, proof and testimony to how much she was liking everything he’d done so far. Oh yeah. He pushed up to his knees, straddling one of her legs as he worked the clasp of her belt and thumbed the buttons on her jeans. He was trying to remember why he’d found them sexy only hours ago. Hip-hugging and form-fitting looked great but were hell to remove. Bane retreated off the bed, waistband of her jeans in his hands, turning them inside out as he dragged them down her legs. Myrt was laughing, covering her face with both hands. That sound stopped when he dipped his thumbs into her panties, taking them on the same path as the jeans, but slower, teasing her with tender touches along the way.
When he spread out over her again, she was as naked as him, eyes shining as she looked up at him. Discovery and pleasure will always go hand in hand with our love, he vowed right then. If I can make her laugh in bed, I’ll count myself a lucky man. She spread her legs and he notched himself between, shivering as the rightness flooded through him. Forearms against the mattress beside her head, he fumbled with the ties on the leather harness keeping her hair tamed. Her fingers joined his, and he looked down at her chest, watching how her breasts lifted and shifted with each movement. “God, baby. The things you do to me.”
“Yeah?” Eyes closed, she lifted her chin, and he obliged her silent request, dropping his mouth to hers in a fierce, hot, wet, and long kiss. When he pulled back, she started working on the hair tie by feel, having stilled under his caresses. “I could do more, if you tell me what you want.”
“I just want you.” Bane dipped his head to lick a stripe up her neck, making his way to her earlobe. Sucking it into his mouth, he nibbled gently. “Want you every way I can have you.”
“Finally.” The triumph in her voice had him laughing again, and he separated from her in time to see the leather tie go flying, much as he’d done with her clothing earlier. “I want you, too.” She arched her back, breasts pressing and rubb
ing, nipples dragging through the hair spanning his chest. Myrt put a hand on his sternum, fingers spread. “Want all of you.”
He reached under the pillow, retrieving a condom stashed there earlier. Pushing back up, he knelt between her legs, staring down. Trailing a hand down her belly, he framed the curls there, then dipped his thumb lower, finding her clit and pressing gently.
Her breathy oh was enough to prompt his next moves, wanting to draw more surprised tones from her. It was the work of moments to roll the rubber on; then he settled on his belly. Dragging the tip of his tongue through her folds, he breathed deep, loving the scent of her. Then he went to work, determined to make this the best encounter in her life. Even knowing he didn’t have much in the way of competition, Bane wanted to raise the bar so high she’d never look at anyone else but him. “Mine,” he muttered, then sucked hard on her clit, tip of one finger circling her entrance. “Only mine.”
He thrust inside slowly, finding her soaked and slippery. Drawing out just as deliberately, he paired his ring and middle fingers and drove them deep, fucking her with intent as he made love to her with his mouth. Lapping up her soaking sweetness, he carried some to her clit, spreading it liberally before he set to work and cleaned it all off, sucking the last bit of taste away. Bane repeated this again and again, humping the bed as the sounds she made drove him mad. Between gasps and tiny cries, her soft moans of his name, and calling on God, Myrt had the perfect reactions to everything.
When she stiffened, holding her breath, he stuffed a third finger in alongside the others, fucking her hard as she clenched down on him, her body trying to hold on to everything he had inside her. Get yours, baby. Take what you need. When her muscles finally relaxed, melting back into the mattress, and she took in a giant breath that broke in three places, he gently withdrew, dipping his neck deep so he could lap at the slick liquid spilling over. Hand on his dick, he wiped his fingers along his shaft, then moved over her. “Need you, baby.” Poised at her entrance, he propped himself up on a hand and grabbed a corner of the sheet, wiping his mouth and beard. Then, hand to the base of his cock, he pushed inside her for the first time.
In Search of Solace (Rebel Wayfarers MC) Page 19
