Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
The silence in the room was deafening as I paused to get my shit together. I heard a sniff, and when I looked down, Sia was crying, gripping my arm like a vise. “Turn over,” she requested, her voice cracking.
I knew why. And as much as I didn’t want her to look, I did want her to understand . . .
I stared out of the window as Sia lifted up my shirt. Her fingers moved to my skin, and I knew when she had found the scar I would never remove, under the disguise of my Hangmen patch. She traced the perfectly placed “N” on my back. There was no need to explain what it stood for. She would know. And I wouldn’t fucking give it power by saying that shit out loud.
I was just about to roll over when I felt Sia’s mouth pressing kisses on the ruined skin, up and down, following the shape of the capital letter. When she stopped, I turned to lie again on my back. Hooking my hand around her head, I brought her in for a kiss. Her lips tasted of salt from her tears.
“It’s okay, älskling,” I whispered against her lips, then pressed kiss after kiss along her face.
“No, it fucking isn’t.”
I had to smile. Even torn apart by hearing the shit I went through, she was still as feisty as ever.
“But it’s done.”
Her big blue eyes stared up at me. “What does that word mean? That you called me?”
My fucking chest pulled. “It’s a Swedish term of endearment. What someone says to someone they care for.” I gave a small smile. “My mamma always said it to my papa.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Then it fits.”
Cowboy sat on the end of the bed, back straight, head in his hands. He was turned away from us. “Aub,” I called. His back stiffened.
He didn’t say anything in response. Sia turned and laid her hand on his back. His muscles shifted. “You helped him, didn’t you?” she asked.
I waited for my best friend to speak. When he didn’t, didn’t even turn around, I said, “I came around in his truck.” I stared at Cowboy’s back. “I was lying on my front. I had no idea where I was at first. I was in a truck, traveling somewhere. I couldn’t place names or faces, because of the seizure. But I saw a guy in a Stetson driving. Little by little my memories came back . . ..”
My muscles tensed as I remembered Jase . . . remembered the brand. I moaned as the burn on my back slammed into me with so much pain I couldn’t see straight.
“Shit,” the guy said, then turned his face. Panic mixed with fury traveled through me. Aubin Breaux was driving me somewhere. I racked my brain trying to remember if he’d been there. I saw every one of those assholes’ faces . . . but his was missing.
I tried to move. What were they going to do to me now?
“Valan,” he said, whipping his head briefly in my direction as he tried to keep his eyes on the road. “I’m taking you home. I ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m taking you home.” I knew my eyes were wide as he looked down at me. “I swear.” He swallowed. “I didn’t know he was gonna do that shit, okay? I got held up at the ranch, didn’t get Jase’s message to meet them until later. I . . .” I looked out of the window as we turned left. The rocking of the truck on an uneven path saw me white-knuckling the seat just to make it fucking through this ride. “I didn’t know they had this planned. Didn’t believe they’d go this far.” Aubin stopped the truck and narrowed his eyes. “This your house?” I couldn’t see. His face reddened; I could see it in the truck’s light. “Small wooden house. Next to the marshes?” Fucker was embarrassed by describing my house.
Before I could even answer, I heard the slam of a door and feet running across the dirt. “Val?” I closed my eyes, hearing my mamma’s voice.
Aubin got out of the truck. “Ma’am, there’s been an incident. He’s hurt.”
“What?” she said, her voice shrill. The truck’s door flew open behind me, but I closed my eyes. “Valan . . .” My mamma trailed off, throat cutting off her words. “My God! What have they done?”
Arms gently lifted me. I screamed out in pain as I felt my papa take hold of me. “It’s okay, son.” He pulled me to his chest. I was sweating, my body limp and exhausted.
I caught Aubin Breaux’s eyes as I passed him. His hat was in his hand, and his fingers were raking through his hair. My mamma ran to me and kissed my head. Tears streamed down her face. Her hand was over her mouth. “They had him tied to a tree,” Aubin explained. My mamma looked back at him as my papa carried me toward the house. “When I got there . . . after . . . when I found him.” Aubin stopped speaking. He met my eyes as my papa carried me up the steps. “Something was wrong with him. He fainted, and his body started jerking funny.”