Chapter Twenty

Hale

 

The dogs hurry to greet me when I open the door. Their tails wag as if it’s been days, not hours, since they last saw me. I pop the bag of barbecue on the counter and rub their fur.

“What’s wrong? Thought I wasn’t coming back? Thought I was leaving y’all?”

I almost laugh. How did I go from big boss with a bite back to a country boy with two furballs with no bite at all? But the laugh that stirs from greeting these pups and from finding a sense of peace with my family doesn’t quite come. Becca’s not answering my texts or calls.

“Our puppies,” as we’ve grown to call them, prance beside me as I open the back door to let them out. I check my phone again. There’s a text from Trin telling me Becca isn’t answering her, either. It does nothing to ease my worry. If she was called back to Charlotte, she would have sent a quick text.

I start to pocket my phone when it buzzes. My brief relief from thinking it’s finally Becca is quickly squashed.

It’s a text from Mason, urging me to call him right away.

I let the dogs in and call Mason. He picks up just as I spot the note Becca left on the counter.

“Hey,” Mason says. “I have incredible news for you.”

I barely hear his voice as my eyes focus on the note.

Momma called. Daddy is close to death. I have to go.

“Hale?” Mason says. “Are you there?”

“I can’t talk right now,” I say. I snag my keys and take off in a sprint toward the mud room, the dogs trailing me like they know something is wrong.

“Hale, it’s important.”

“Becca’s daddy’s dying. She’s with him now.”

There’s an abrupt silence and I almost think he disconnected. “Don’t go there, Hale. A fight is the last thing you need right now.”

I stop in the middle of setting the alarm. “Mason, remember what they did to her last time? What they put her through? Her father broke her nose and left her almost unconscious. Then he and her pussy cousins left her fucking bleeding on the sand. You think that brutality’s going to end just because he’s dying? With all her cousins there to do his fucking bidding?”

Mason hisses out a curse. “Take Callahan with you. Landon, too. Don’t be showing up there by yourself, Hale. There’s no telling what those fools will do when they see you.”

I disconnect and give up on the alarm, slamming my hand against the garage door opener. I don’t care what happens to me. All I care about is Becca and what they might do. Her cousins, I don’t think they would physically touch her. But they don’t have to throw hands to harm her. Her momma will be no help. And her daddy . . . just because he’s dying doesn’t mean he isn’t that same mean son of a bitch.

I reach for my driver’s side door when Becca’s Mercedes pulls up to the front of the house. My heart just about tanks into my stomach. I jog toward her, what little relief her sudden presence offers shooting out of my lungs in a pained exhale when I see her.

Her face is beet red and swollen. I can’t tell if she’s bruised or if her skin tone is due to how hard she’s crying. I’ve never her seen her like this. Those motherfuckers hurt her badly. I’m ready to rage, to find them.

I throw the door open the remainder of the way when she tries to step out and haul her to me. “What happened?” I ask.

She buries her face against my chest, gripping me as if I’m the only thing keeping her upright. I don’t know compassion. Not now. All I know is the need to avenge her.

I’m so terrified of what they did to her, the tenderness I demonstrate stuns me. I stroke away her tears and sweat-drenched hair. “Did they hurt you, baby?” I ask. “Did they touch you?”

I don’t ask if her father’s dead. These aren’t tears of pain that accompany grief. This is the agony of a battered spirit, something she didn’t deserve.

She tries to speak, but all that comes out are jumbled sounds and syllables that make no sense. I kiss her face and tuck her against me. Then, with as much care as I can, I reach for her keys and purse and lock her car.

I should take her in through the front. There’s more space there. But I go through the garage and close it, setting the alarm as fast as I can.

The need to secure her inside, to make sure she’s safe from any possible harm, overwhelms me. Becca’s hurt, broken. I’ll be damned if I let anything else happen to her.

The dogs whine, circling us as I lead her inside and up to our bedroom. They’re frightened by what they sense in Becca. I am, too. It’s all I can do not to pay those people she calls her family a visit.

I sit her on the bed, kissing her head and wiping all the tears that fall. It takes her a long while to calm, long enough for the setting sun to crawl across the room and leave us with only a trickle of light.

Sam rests at my feet, quietly whining. Rosie alternates from hopping on the bed to jumping on the floor, until finally settling in front of Becca. It’s a bad sign that Becca has barely acknowledged her sweet pups. It’s also a bad sign that she can’t seem to let me go.

“I saw my father,” Becca finally says. “It was awful.”

I knew anything involving her family would be. But in my wildest dreams, I never would have guessed how bad, until she tells me.

Every word is like a physical blow. Every detail of the event is like something from the worst of dreams. What Becca describes isn’t an angry man. It’s a twisted man. A man so hateful and full of spite, he had to cast the last insult.

Wilton Shields couldn’t bring himself to leave this world peacefully with a kind thought or a chance at forgiveness. No, he used the moment to hurt his daughter and to make sure she’ll never forget it.

Damn him. Leaving Becca with this last memory of him was her daddy’s final ‘fuck you.’

In a way, he’s lucky he’s dying. If he wasn’t, I might kill him myself.

Mason had warned me not to go by myself. He wasn’t really afraid of what they would do. He was afraid of what I would do in response. Like me, Mason knew Becca’s daddy was incapable of gentleness, of thoughts meant to be kind, or a final act of forgiveness.

I don’t realize how tight I’m clutching Becca until I ease my hold. She doesn’t complain or struggle. She simply allows me to hold her in the way we both need.

“Did anyone help you?” I manage. “Anyone at all try to offer you comfort?”

Becca pushes her hair behind her shoulder. It’s the first time since she arrived that she’s let me go. “Matthew followed me out to my car. His wife, Lynda, too. They seemed sad.” She sniffs. “Horrified, even. But they didn’t say anything.”

I shake my head. Becca could have been a stranger on the street. But if I’d seen what happened, I would have done or said something. Here, her own kin can’t offer her so much as a sympathetic embrace.

“I-I told them that I wouldn’t be at the funeral. That I was done.” She reaches for a tissue and dabs her eyes. “They nodded, like they understood, even though they didn’t make a sound.”

“You should have called me.” I lift her hands and kiss them. “You should have let me know. I would have gone with you. You didn’t have to be alone.”

Gratitude spreads across her pretty face upon hearing my words. Becca was alone. She recognizes I understand that’s how she felt.

“You were a lamb,” I tell her. “Walking into an arena filled with lions who cared more about pleasing their king than you.”

“A lamb,” she says, closing her eyes briefly. “Here I always thought I was the black sheep.”

She’s trying to lighten the mood and make us feel better. I do, in a way, but not because of what she says, but because of how she handled everything flung her way.

“The black sheep, the odd balls, the fuckups, they don’t go out and accomplish everything you did. They don’t stand up to the lions and win. They cower and willingly obey to save themselves. Your family are those lions, Becks. They wanted and expected to you to fail without your daddy’s money and influence. Instead, you prospered and surpassed them all, proving you never needed them.”

She smiles softly as another tear leaks down her face.

“You’re a lamb, because of the gentleness you demonstrate to those blessed enough to call you a friend. That soft side you show to those who’ve captured your heart reflect in your beauty. You showed your family you’re not afraid, Becca. No matter how bad they treated you or how hard things were, you didn’t fear them. Never once did you crawl back, begging for help.”

“No, I didn’t,” she agrees, that sense of pride I know so well rebuilding.

“What happened today was total shit,” I say. “There’s no shame in what you did or in the tears that fell in their presence. But there is shame in everything that man said to you and they know it.”

“I don’t think my momma would agree,” she says. Anger and disappointment barely glaze her comment, but I still sense it.

“Your momma needs to believe what she believes to justify her life and why she stayed with a man who was not only brutal to her, but to her only child.”

Becca watches me, listening closely. “From the start, your momma wanted what her friends had. What her momma had. The grand estate, the pretty clothes, and the handsome husband with money, so all she had to do is play the part of a traditional southern lady. An elegant woman, who belongs to all the right clubs and who is seen in the proper circles. The difference is the man she chose wasn’t a real gentleman, not like your granddaddy was. He was one of the richest, best looking men in his day, but he was also a monster, Becca.” I kiss her lips. “A monster my lamb defeated when she showed her teeth.”

“Thank you,” she whimpers.

Her head falls against my shoulder, right where it belongs. My knuckles glide against her arm, trying to soothe the pain that remains. But that pain should never have come.

“You should have told me, baby,” I say. “We would have faced those fucking lions together.”

“I didn’t feel right pulling you away from your brothers,” she says. “I know what it must have taken for you to see them. I couldn’t rob you of that moment.”

She looks at me, her expression carrying everything she experienced today, except all that hate doesn’t stand a chance against the strength that remains. “I also couldn’t risk anything happening to you.”

“I could have handled it. I would’ve taken it all if it meant sparing you. I love you, Becca.”

“I love you, too, Hale.”

Slowly, her hands unravel from my waist and she rises. “Will you do something for me?”

I’m already on my feet, my heart thudding madly as I look at the woman I want to marry and grow old and weary with. “I would do anything for you.”

She backs away, pressing her palm against my chest to keep me in place when I follow.

Becca leads the dogs out of the bedroom and shuts the door. With an exhausted sigh, her gaze melds with mine. “I don’t want to think about all the bad things I lived through today. I only want to know you and how good I feel when I’m with you. Will you make love to me, Hale? Will you make me forget everything except for you?”

I tug off my shirt and let it fall on the floor. The rest of my clothes follow. Her large breasts lift and lower as her breathing increases. The lingering sadness shadowing her irises dissipated, replaced by wanton desire and the sex she begs me to give her.

She wants to forget what happened today.

And I know exactly how to distract her.

I surge forward, spreading my arms wide and pinning her to the door. The tip of my tongue glides between her lips until she opens wide, permitting me to kiss her deeply. She sways her hips as I rock back and forth, her hands clamping my ass, enjoying the feel of my body against hers.

My lips ghost over her throat, passing lazy kisses across her jaw. I nibble on her ear, her chin, and down her neck, as my hands slip behind her back to unzip her dress and pull it down until it pools at her feet.

I leave her shoes on and her lacey white thong in place. The bra I unsnap with two fingers, allowing her breasts to spill over my chest. I should be used to their weight and feel by now, but like the rest of Becca, I can’t get enough of them. I knead her breasts and suck on the tips until most of the large pink areolas disappear into my mouth.

My tongue and teeth tease and stimulate. Becca shivers, her soft moans increasing as she clutches me tighter. “More,” she pleads.

It’s her favorite thing to ask when we make love and my favorite thing to give her.

I pull her off the door when she tries to kneel and take me in. “Not yet,” I tell her, leading her toward the French doors that lead to the second-floor terrace. “Soon. For now, I want to play.”

I lower her into the wide cushioned chair placed near the doors and just in front of our bed. She smiles impishly. “What are you up to?” she asks.

My grin and tone sizzles with lust. I spread my arms, giving her a very nice view of my naked form. “I’m already up and ready to go, darlin’. I’m just waiting on you to get going.”

I sit at the edge of our bed, watching her, taking in every sweep and curve of her light golden skin. My eyelids grow heavy as I grip my erection, relishing the delighted surprise in Becca’s features as I stroke.

My body shudders, inciting the raw hunger flashing in Becca’s gaze. One leg lifts, the heel of her shoe digging into the push white fabric. The other leg follows, her attention never leaving mine as she parts her legs wide. I try to concentrate on keeping my strokes smooth and even. Becca tugs the crotch of her panties aside and exposes her supple pink flesh, interrupting my focus and making me harder.

“Damn,” I rasp.

She passes her hand leisurely. “What’s wrong?” she purrs. “I thought you wanted me to get ready for you?”

“I’m not complaining,” I say, my voice hitching as we increase our speed. “Just looking forward to how hard we’re going to go at it.”

Becca’s eyes roll and her lashes flutter. “Hale . . .” she whimpers.

From one breath to the next, I’m lifting her hips and lowering them down to my face. The back of my head rests on the cushy seat and I keep her close against me. Becca uses the rear of the chair to keep her balance as she pitches back and forth, struggling to keep her thong from getting in the way.

I end up tearing the thing off, not wanting anything to keep me from devouring her. She can’t take all the sucks and swirls. She comes undone, falling forward. I hang on to her, circling her waist and continuing my eager taste.

My deep moans vibrate against her skin, making her gasp and whimper and beg for more. Her hair fans across my lap, tickling my legs. I almost laugh. But when she adjusts her position and sucks me deep, I’m no longer laughing, I’m two pulls shy of roaring her name.

Both of us lose our damn selves in what we’re doing, each of us fighting to outdo and out-lust the other. This is a new position for us. But it won’t be the last time we use it. I flip her up and over, bending her forward and taking her from behind.

Becca grips the arm rests, my thrusts so delicious, wicked, and forceful, her hair bounces in tangled waves. Becca swears, over and over, the dirty and sexy talk spewing from her lush mouth exciting me and encouraging me to pound faster.

Her orgasms peak and crash, one after the other. But I’m nowhere near done. I turn her around, falling into the seat and planting my feet on the floor. I position her so her soles rest on my knees. Becca bounces and turns her hips as I thrust, each slide in and out accelerating our frantic efforts.

I expect to last longer. But between this position, her cries of pleasure, and the way the sounds of our lovemaking echo in the expanse of the large suite, I don’t. Not this time.

Becca wanted to forget about this day. I wanted her to only know the good we have and passion we’re just barely touching upon.

I spend the night showing her that I only want her to know love and kindness, now, and forever.