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  “I get that. I get why. I get you got guilt. I get you got feelings for him. I also don’t give a fuck about him. You’re my woman out to dinner with me and he stands there in front of me and calls you his wife? No fuckin’ way. No one stakes their claim to what’s mine, not behind my back, not across a room, and especially not to my face without a conversation.”

  That was when I knew I was right about Ham.

  When it was no promises, no expectations, he was fair enough to give the same in return.

  When there were, what was his was his and he marked his territory.

  I was also right about something else.

  Possessiveness was hot.

  “Go easy,” I said quietly, giving in.

  “We’ll start with that and see how it goes,” he replied.

  I decided to leave it at that and settle in.

  We were silent for a long while but I couldn’t fall asleep and I knew Ham couldn’t either, so I laid something else on my mind on him.

  “I’m worried about my aunt comin’ to the table and what Dad might have to say.”

  I was worried even though I suspected I knew.

  I’d been waiting. Waiting for years.

  That didn’t mean I wanted to know and wasn’t worried about finding out.

  “Put it out of your head,” Ham ordered.

  He, I knew, suspected, too.

  “I’m not sure I can do that,” I admitted.

  He moved his hand to my face, fingers gliding along my cheek, through my hair, and he finished by wrapping his arm around me so I was snug in both.

  “You made the decision to turn your back on that, cookie. We talked it out then and I still think you did the right thing. It was either they succeeded in destroyin’ your sister or they got a shot at bringing the both of you down. They destroyed your sister. Even if it’s not done, it’s still done. We got you to the place of understandin’ that. Don’t give her the chance to drag you back in.”

  He was right. He was right back then when he guided me to that decision and he was right now.

  I sighed.

  Ham’s arms gave me a squeeze.

  “We need to finish our chat,” I told him.

  “We will, baby,” he told me. “Though, not much left to say.”

  At least that was good.

  I pressed even closer and whispered, “I’m sorry those women treated you that way.”

  “Me too,” he agreed.

  “Just sayin’, serious, no joke, we have what we have now or even what we had before, if we made a baby and I was carrying it inside me, no way I’d ever let it go.”

  I just got out the O sound in “go” when his arms got so tight, I was forced to slide up his chest and my lungs constricted, seeing as he was squeezing the breath out of me.

  Therefore, I wheezed, “Ham.”

  He pulled me up his chest, his arms relaxed, and he slid one hand into my hair, bringing my mouth down to touch it to his.

  When he let me lift away, he whispered, his voice jagged, “Thank you, Zara.”

  That meant a lot to him and it meaning a lot meant a lot to me, seeing as I clearly said the right thing and that was what I hoped I’d do.

  “You’re welcome, darlin’,” I whispered back.

  He shifted me back down his chest, his hand at my head settling my cheek back to his shoulder and ordering, “Go to sleep, baby.”

  “Okay. ’Night, Ham.”

  “’Night, cookie.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to find sleep. After a while, I needed to move so I rolled, Ham rolled with me, bringing up his knees and mine and holding me close around my belly so we were spooning.

  I felt his face in my hair and heard his voice murmur, “Softest hair I ever felt.”

  I felt my lips curl up, I snuggled my ass in his groin, and then I fell asleep.

  Chapter Ten

  Written in Blood

  Reece

  Reece did not fall asleep when Zara did.

  He didn’t fall asleep at all.

  And when his alarm clock showed seven thirty, he carefully slid away from her and moved out of bed.

  Silently, he got dressed. Moving slowly so he wouldn’t wake her, he grabbed his boots and went to put them on in the living room.

  His girl slept deep and they’d gone to bed late, but he didn’t take any chances with her getting up, finding him not there and wondering where he was. He left her a note in the kitchen saying he was getting something from town. He then went to her purse, found her cell, found her ex’s number, and programmed it into his phone.

  Then he went to his truck.

  He drove into town and parked outside the police station. Slamming his door, he walked up the steps to the wooden boardwalk that served as a sidewalk along both sides the length of the main street of Gnaw Bone, making it look Wild West, which, in its day, it was.

  He walked into the station seeing a woman at the desk, and standing at her side, a tall, fit man who nevertheless had a slight paunch over the big belt buckle he was wearing. If memory served, and for Reece it usually did, the man’s name was Shaughnessy and he was a cop. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, and it was likely he hadn’t yet gotten around that morning to putting his badge on his belt.

  Reece walked up to the front desk and the lady asked, “Can I help you?”

  Before Reece could answer, Shaughnessy butted in. “Reece, right? New top dog at The Dog.”

  Reece looked to him to see the man’s eyes sharp on Reece but there was a small smile on his face that was genuine.

  “Yep,” Reece replied. Shaughnessy leaned in with a hand raised and Reece took it. “Shaughnessy, right?” Reece asked to confirm.

  “Mick,” the man said after giving Reece’s hand a deliberate, manly squeeze. Not too firm to make it a contest, nowhere near weak either, and Reece returned the gesture. “I got a title, which means I’m top dog around here, but no one uses it. Everyone just calls me Mick. You’re welcome to do the same.”

  Friendly, approachable, the title didn’t matter. The job did.

  It was then Reece remembered he liked this guy.

  “All right, Mick,” Reece agreed.

  To Reece’s surprise, Mick invited, “’Spect, this early, you could use some coffee. Why don’t you come around?”

  He hadn’t expected this to be that easy.

  Then again, he’d chosen Gnaw Bone because people were that easy, his woman being one of them.

  But even if Gnaw Bone wasn’t so friendly, he still would have come for Zara.

  He followed Mick to a coffeepot in a common area. Mick poured and slid the sugar Reece’s way. Reece took care of his mug, Mick took care of his, and then Mick looked to him.

  “Why don’t we have a sit down in my office?” Mick asked.

  Reece lifted his chin and followed Mick into an office that looked like the man who used it had not only been there a while, but also, he was busy.

  “Jane, our girl up front, wants to tidy up. I just don’t let her. If she did, I wouldn’t know where anything was,” Mick explained the mess as he rounded his desk and sat down, flicking his hand at the three chairs across from it. “Take a load off, son.”

  Reece did, took a sip of coffee, and trained his eyes on the cop.

  Before he could say a word, Mick smiled and stated, “Glad you came down. Best we get things ironed out between us before we gotta iron them out during a situation. Been meanin’ to come speak with you, things got in the way. Glad you reached out and beat me to it.”

  Reece felt his brows draw together as he replied, “Not followin’.”

  “The Dog,” Mick returned. “Been around years, Reece, as you probably know from the last time you were in Gnaw Bone. Know things can get rowdy there. Know past management of The Dog preferred to deal with things on their own. It’s good you know now that I don’t turn the other cheek, son, not ever. But if the parties involved are good with walkin’ away without callin’ a cruiser, I’m good with that,
long’s there’s no coercion for them to come to that decision, no weapons involved, and no lengthy hospital stays. You with me on this?”

  He was talking about fights at The Dog and how he wanted them handled.

  Reece had been handling bar fights for twenty-two years. He usually handled them by stopping them before they started. If that didn’t work, he’d do it Shaughnessy’s way.

  So Reece told him, “I can agree on that. But that’s not why I’m here.”

  It was then Mick’s brows drew together. He took a sip of coffee as he cleared his features.

  Then he asked, “So, son, why’re you here?”

  “Zara Cinders is livin’ with me,” Reece said as answer and Mick nodded but it wasn’t lost on Reece that Mick’s eyes grew even sharper.

  Zara was liked. This was not a surprise. She was extremely likeable and she’d been around Gnaw Bone since birth so most everyone knew just how much there was to like.

  Zara was also protected and this was also not a surprise. Kids who came from families like hers, if the town gave a shit, tended to be that way, too.

  “Yeah. Hear you gave her a job, got her out of those apartments,” Mick said. “Good owners. Just lazy. Keep tellin’ ’em they should do somethin’ about their locks and peepholes before somethin’ not good happens and they keep tellin’ me they’ll get around to it. Zara, she’s a good gal. Well-liked. Glad you got her out of there and in a job where she can back get on her feet.”

  “You don’t understand me,” Reece said. “She’s livin’ with me, as in she’s mine.”

  Mick had no response but Reece again saw the man’s already acute attention that he hid behind his good-ol’-boy ways get even more acute.

  Reece didn’t need a response.

  He kept talking.

  “Came in ’cause we were at The Rooster last night and Dahlia Cinders dropped by our table. She told Zara she had to speak to her father. This conversation did not go well, no information was shared, and it was, thankfully, brief. Zara’s worried, though. ’Spect, you know what went down, you know why she is. I’m wonderin’ if there’s somethin’ I need to know. That way I can cushion the blow when it’s time that she does know. And I figure, the person who knows the most around this town is you.”

  There was a hint of surprise in his eyes when Mick asked, “Her father hasn’t called her?”

  “They don’t speak,” Reece explained.

  “Yes, I know, but…” Mick trailed off, looked to his desk, took a sip of coffee, then looked back at Reece. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, son, and I’m sorry that you’re the one’s gonna have to tell Zara. But, two days ago, Xenia passed away.”

  Just as he thought.

  Reece’s eyes slid to look out the window as his lips muttered, “Shit, fuck.”

  Nearly nine years ago, Xenia Cinders got high at the same time she got drunk. For reasons known only to her, and locked away now for near on a decade, she left her house, wandered into the street, and was hit by a car.

  The car wasn’t going that fast. Her body took some damage but not much. But luck that didn’t shine often on the Cinders girls didn’t shine on Xenia that night. The hit she took meant she landed with all her weight and a goodly amount of momentum on her head. The head trauma was extreme and irreparable.

  She was brain dead.

  Unfortunately, her body didn’t know that.

  Also, unfortunately, for a reason in the beginning but after that reason was no longer a reason it ended up being just plain stubborn cruelty, even though Zara had begged her parents to turn off the machines and let her go, they’d refused.

  So now Xenia had lived an extra nine years without lifting a finger, blinking an eye, eating a bite of food, enjoying a drink, or actually living at all.

  “You know anything about it, you know it’s a blessing,” Mick said quietly and Reece looked back at him.

  “Not sure Zara’s gonna look at it like that.”

  “I can see that.” His eyes grew sharp again. “You care about her though, son, enough to make her yours, you’ll guide her to that.”

  This, they didn’t need. Reece had just got her back. They had shit to talk about, shit to do, and he wanted his girl to have it easy for a while. It’d been bad for her for too long. He’d guided her out. She was in a good place, close to happy.

  They didn’t need this, but more, Zara didn’t.

  Reece clenched his teeth, felt a muscle move in his cheek, and released his jaw to say, “Least they got that boy in a good home.”

  “Sorry, son?” Mick asked.

  Reece locked eyes with the man. “”Spect you know, maybe you don’t, but Xavier Cinders had no problem takin’ his hand to his wife or his girls. Didn’t do it often, used words most the time to make them feel shit, but he did it. Xenia got the worst of it but that didn’t mean he didn’t call Zara down to watch when her sister caught it. So it’s good that when they finally got that baby out of Xenia, Cinders put him up for adoption.”

  Shaughnessy looked confused. “Zander Cinders is in a private school not too far from here, Reece. Xavier didn’t put that child up for adoption. His sister, Wilona, just in the next county, has raised him since birth.”

  What the fuck?

  “Are you fuckin’ shittin’ me?” Reece growled and he heard his voice. He suspected he knew what his face looked like and he suspected both were why Mick Shaughnessy straightened to alert in his chair.

  “Son—”

  “That motherfucker promised Zara he would put Xenia’s boy up for adoption, make sure he got a good home.”

  “Reece—”

  “I stood there when they came to the only agreement they came to durin’ that mess. When he flat refused to let Zara raise him, he promised he wouldn’t raise the boy. He promised he’d put that boy in a good home.”

  “It would appear he didn’t lie, since he didn’t raise him, but he did lie since he took custody of the child and placed him with his sister,” Mick replied carefully.

  “So you’re tellin’ me Zara’s nephew has been growin’ up in the next goddamned county for the last nine fuckin’ years without him knowin’ his aunt exists and without her knowin’ her sister’s boy is that close?” Reece ground out.

  “I’m afraid that’s what I’m tellin’ you,” Mick answered.

  “All right, so now you wanna tell me why Zara doesn’t know this?” Reece asked.

  “I thought she did.”

  “Well, she doesn’t,” Reece pointed out the obvious. “This town is small and the people close. How does she not know this?”

  “The Cinders aren’t exactly social,” Mick stated the God’s honest truth. “The town rallied around Zara when all that happened, Reece. Not sure I know of anyone who gave their condolences to her folks, not that they wouldn’t want to, just that they knew it wouldn’t be welcomed so they didn’t bother. What I’m sayin’ is, not sure anyone knows where Zander is.”

  “Can I ask why you didn’t tell her?” Reece pushed.

  Emotion flashed in Mick’s eyes before he answered, “Like I said, I thought she knew. Didn’t bring it up because she essentially lost her sister and her parents through that and that’s not somethin’ you wanna bring up as a reminder for a sweet girl who kept her chin up and kept on keepin’ on.”

  Fucking shit. That made sense.

  “Shit, fuck,” Reece clipped.

  “Think you need to take a calming breath, son,” Mick advised and Reece did exactly that before he looked out the window again.

  However, the calming breath didn’t work.

  Therefore, he bit off, “I do not believe this shit.”

  Mick made no reply and the room lapsed into an uneasy silence before Mick broke it.

  “Xavier took his hands to those girls?”

  Reece sliced his eyes to the cop. “Repeatedly.”

  Mick closed his eyes, whispering, “Dear Lord.”

  “No marks, he wasn’t stupid. But that didn’t mean they di
dn’t get their asses kicked,” Reece shared and Mick opened his eyes. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that,” he finished.

  “Didn’t ’spect Xavier was a warm and loving father, way those girls cleared out when they hit majority and just knowin’ the man, but didn’t suspect that.”

  “Well, you were right. He was neither warm nor loving and he took that to extremes,” Reece confirmed.

  “Sins of the fathers,” he muttered.

  “Explain that,” Reece demanded.

  “Went to school with Xavier Cinders and his sisters, Dahlia and Wilona. Can’t tell you how many times I saw one, the other, or all ’a them come to school with black eyes, fat lips, arms in slings. Back then, before school officials would report that to authorities and CPS would get called in, there was no help for them. Val Cinders was a hard man and the whole town knew it, just no one had the power to do anything about it. Reckon he taught his son to be just as hard. Sometimes the cycle breaks. Sometimes it doesn’t.”

  “With Xavier, it didn’t,” Reece told him.

  “I see that,” Mick replied.

  “And now that boy’s livin’ in that.”

  “We don’t know that,” Mick said quickly. “Maybe, by givin’ him to Wilona, he was breakin’ the cycle.”

  Reece felt his eyes narrow. “He lied to his daughter while his other daughter was near on nine months pregnant, brain dead, hooked up to machines, and lyin’ in a hospital bed. He wasn’t breaking any cycle.”

  “I remember that situation, Reece,” Mick said quietly and Reece knew he did. By the look on his face, he knew he remembered it like it was yesterday.

  Then again, fucked-up shit like that wasn’t easy to forget.

  “This can’t stand,” Reece declared.

  “Son,” Mick started. “As Xenia’s parents with no other legal arrangements in place, custody fell to them. I knew there was no love lost between Zara and her family and since not a lot of folks around here like anyone who lives in that den of vipers and give them a wide berth, I just suspected that he was an ass to her like he is to everyone. It’s sorry news he took his hand to his girls and you gotta know I don’t like hearin’ it. But, I’ll remind you, it’s beyond the pale where Xenia took that. She got high and drunk when she was nearly full-term pregnant.”