I put the phone to my ear, wandering away from the music and chattering.
“Hello, Mia Spencer speaking,” I answered the unknown caller professionally, happy it wasn’t the hotel. Maybe it was the president this time.
“Mia Spencer?” a formal sounding voice asked.
“This is she,” I replied, something settling in my stomach.
“Ms. Spencer, this is Officer Santos of the Washington, DC PD,” he said.
My heart turned to lead and I had trouble swallowing. I knew. Something bad had happened. Police officers didn’t just call for a chat. I tasted bile. What if he had found us? And this cop was on his payroll? I struggled to contain my fear. I looked at the back of my daughter’s head. I’d die before letting him find her.
“What can I do for you, officer?” I asked, trying to sound strong.
My eyes met Zane’s, and his didn’t hold anger. They were latched onto me with something akin to concern. He watched my every move.
“Ms. Spencer, I’m sorry to have to tell you this over the phone, but Mr. and Mrs. Thorndon had you down as their next of kin,” he said softly.
I jerked, not expecting this to be the topic of the conversation. I felt the world tilt and I struggled to stay upright. “Are they,” I choked. “Are they okay?” I asked, more liked pleaded him to tell me.
There was a pause. A small one. But one that made my heart break in two.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Spencer, they were murdered last night. We found them this morning.” His voice held sorrow but a distance, like a man who had done this a hundred times before.
My head pounded and I failed to let his words sink in. “No, you have it wrong. I just spoke to them yesterday, it’s not them,” I protested desperately. I started pacing. It couldn’t be them. It had to be a mistake. They were the only family I had. The only family Lexie and I had.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Spencer.” The voice held finality.
It hit me then; it sank in. They were gone. Murdered. My legs gave out from under me at that point and I collapsed into a chair that was perfectly placed. Otherwise I would have fallen to the ground. The cop may have been still talking. I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t hear anything apart from the beating in my chest. The ripping, the soul-wrenching pain. My breath came in pants.
My phone was ripped from my ear and Zane crouched in front of me. His huge form took up all of my vision. I focused on it. On his vest. On his strong arms, his tattoos, the thick cords of muscle in his neck. The day’s worth of stubble on his jaw hiding his goatee slightly. Then I met his eyes, which were locked on me as he barked into the phone. I didn’t move my gaze from them. They were my anchor, stopping me from toppling over the abyss.
“Who the fuck is this?” he demanded, half shouted.
There was a silence and Zane listened, his body taut.
“Murdered,” I whispered, my voice broken, tortured. I was saying it to myself, tasting the foulness of the word on my tongue when I verbalized it.
Zane flinched when I spoke.
Murdered. How could the two most caring people I know be murdered?
My phone wasn’t in Zane’s hand anymore and his large hands spanned my neck, gripping it softly.
“Mia,” he began in a voice so tender I had to stare a moment to make sure it was him that actually spoke. It was. The rough, sometimes downright scary dude was speaking to me in a gentle, soft and comforting tone. His eyes were the same.
“Who would want to kill them?” I asked him desperately. “They’ve never hurt anyone in their entire lives. They’re grandparents, nice people. Ava bakes brownies. Who would want to hurt a grandma who bakes brownies?” I choked out. Though they may not have been blood, that’s what they were. They were my parents. The only grandparents Lexie ever knew. Ever would know.
Zane’s face hardened. It looked like he was going to say something, but a small voice beat him to it.
“Mom?”
I looked past Zane to see Lexie standing slightly behind him. Killian wasn’t far away, his expression grim.
Pain sliced through me at the sight of my daughter. The one who was almost always happy. Who, despite her father and the fact she had grown up without luxury, had a good childhood. Largely thanks to two people she doted on. Two people who I would have to tell her were gone. Her carefree life would be shattered and she’d feel a pain it was impossible to protect her from, shield her from.
I stood from the chair, finding my strength in my daughter. I needed it for her. Zane stayed close beside me.
“Dollface, let’s go home,” I said quietly, failing to disguise the anguish in my voice. I didn’t want her to have to hear this here, around so many unfamiliar faces. Granted, the faces of Gwen and Amy were locked on us in worry, as were the gazes of their husbands, but this was not something Lexie needed to go through with an audience.
I tried to gently direct her to the street but she stayed still.
“No,” she said firmly, “I want to know now. Tell me what’s going on.”
Zane stepped forward, his face soft. “Lex, listen to your mom. We’ll get you home and you can talk there,” he told her quietly, his eyes searching hers.
“No,” she repeated, this time louder. Her eyes were determined.
“Freckles,” Killian tried, stepping forward to lightly grasp her elbow, a tender look on his face.
She wrenched her elbow out of his grip. “No, Kill.” Her voice broke at the end. She knew something was wrong. “Mom?” She moved her gaze to me.
I swallowed, knowing she wouldn’t move unless Zane carried her bodily. Stubbornness was a trait she inherited from me.
I moved forward to frame her face in my hands. “It’s Ava and Steve,” I said softly, willing my voice not to break.
Lexie looked at me blankly for a moment, then her faced paled. Pain sliced through her beautiful features. I flinched.
“They’re going to be okay though?” she asked, clinging to a vain hope. A last shred of sanity.
I paused, gathering myself. My head shook slowly. “No, baby,” I murmured.
She got that blank look on her face again and I gathered her in my arms, hoping I could somehow take all of the pain out of her body and take it into mine.
She stood woodenly for a moment, not moving as I clutched her to me. Then her body started to shake; the power of her sobs actually shook her entire body. I managed to swallow my own tears in order to be strong for Lexie, although the pain of loss was cutting through me like a knife through butter.
I felt Lexie’s weight hit me, as the weight of her sorrow was too strong to stand under. I struggled to hold her. I struggled to hold myself.
Her weight was suddenly gone and I stood motionless as Zane gathered my sobbing daughter in his arms. I expected her to fight him, to struggle. What I did not expect was for her to bury her face in his chest and clutch his cut like it was a life raft.
His eyes met mine. “Car, babe, now,” he instructed that soft tone I would have told you five minutes earlier was impossible for him to produce.
I nodded stiffly, a thought striking me. “My bag.” I started to turn to where I had left it on the table, dreading facing strangers and my fresh new friends under the stifling weight of grief.
“Here you go, Mia.” Gwen pushed my bag into my arms, her eyes kind.
She squeezed my arm as I took it. “We’re all here. You need anything, just call, okay?”
I put my bag over my shoulder, struggling not to flinch at the pity on her face. Pity meant it was real. Other people recognizing this meant it was actually happening.
“Okay, thanks,” I said quietly, meeting her eyes. They may have held a hint of pity but they also held understanding, empathy, a pain of her own.
She squeezed my hand. “Anything you need,” she repeated softly.
Killian stood stock still watching Lexie sob, unable to do anything about it. His face was hard and he struggled not to comfort her. I gave him a sad smile.
I turned
back to see Zane watching me, Lexie still burrowed in his arms. The pain that clouded my vision made it difficult to see how painfully beautiful it was. Together, we walked quickly back to the car, Lexie buried in Zane’s chest, his hand clutching mine tightly.
Gently, like she was made of fine china, Zane placed Lexie in the back seat of my car. I climbed in beside her, gathering her in my arms.
He stood at the door, eyes on us, eyes on me. Before I knew what was happening, he laid a soft, feather-light kiss on my head and stroked Lexie’s hair before slamming the door shut.
“You think you can walk into the house, baby doll?” I asked softly, stroking Lexie’s hair.
She lifted her head, her red-rimmed eyes gazing out into the driveway in confusion. I felt another stab to see the depth of sorrow etched on her face. She nodded quietly.
“That’s my strong girl,” I murmured, kissing her head. “We’ll get through this, Dollface, promise you,” I declared firmly.
She gave me a long look like she didn’t believe me. I cupped her face. “When your life has been full of light and happiness, the first eclipse that casts a shadow over everything seems like it’s going to last forever. But it won’t. It doesn’t. The light will come back, shine brighter than ever, and you’ll be the stronger person for it,” I promised her softly.
Her eyes cleared with my words and she nodded, burying her face in my chest once more. I held her and my eyes found Zane’s. He was staring at me with a look of unmasked wonder, as if the words I had just spoken shook him down to his core. I was unable to move as the look changed to something I could only describe as love. I squeezed my own eyes shut, unable to cope with something of that magnitude at the current moment. At the same time, that look gave me the strength I needed to overcome the dark shadow of grief that was settling over me. After a minute, I opened the door to Zane standing there, arms crossed, concern evident on his usually emotionless face. I smiled weakly at him.
“Let’s get my girls inside,” he declared firmly.
I nodded and helped him lift Lexie to take her into the house, not missing the “my girls” comment.
Once we got inside Lexie and I curled up on her bed. Now that she was in a familiar space, a safe space, her tears came rushing at a rate that shook me to my core. I stroked her head, wishing I had a magic wand, a freaking magic bean, something to make her pain vanish. Instead I settled for giving her my shoulder.
I woke with a start, my eyes blinking in the darkness, disorientated. Then, like a freight train of despair, it hit me. Why I was in Lexie’s room, my arm draped over her hip as she faced away from me. Why it felt like a knife had been plunged into my middle and lodged itself there. I couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath as I sucked air in out of agony.
I flinched when a hand cupped my jaw.
“Calm down, Wildcat, it’s only me,” a rough voice whispered.
“Zane?” I whispered back, confused. It was dark in Lexie’s room. The blinds had been shut, but enough daylight peeked through to show me the outline of a large figure bending over the bed.
His hand moved to my waist and he gently pulled me off the bed to my feet.
“Quiet, we don’t want to wake her up.” I saw the dark shape of his head move to Lexie.
My eyes moved there to make sure she was still sleeping. Satisfied, I let him lead me out the door.
We didn’t say a word as he directed me through the kitchen, his hand firmly grasping mine. We were still silent as he led me up the stairs, past the bathroom and the guest room, to the end of the hall where my bedroom was. I followed out of shock and grief more than anything else. My mind felt kind of empty.
Once we made it to my room I regained some wits and looked up at Zane.
“You stayed?” I asked dumbly.
He nodded. “Not leavin’ you, Mia,” he promised. I got the feeling he meant that permanently. I couldn’t examine that just yet.
“Where?” I asked instead.
“Armchair in Lexie’s room,” he clipped, his hands moving to my jacket.
I let him pull it off my shoulders, inhaling his scent as he moved it down my arms. I gained comfort in the smell, in the soft way his hard body brushed mine. It had been two weeks, two weeks without his touch, without hearing his hard and husky voice. I even missed the monosyllables. Now I had him back, but under the worst of circumstances.
“Why?” I whispered as the jacket fell to the ground, his body staying close to mine.
His head moved down to me, his eyes locking on mine. They were swirling with emotions I couldn’t place. Most likely because I hadn’t seen those eyes swirl with emotion, like ever. I had seen them dark with desire. Flare with hatred. Searching with a look that seared my soul. But nothing to betray emotion. Not the one he was currently betraying, anyway.
His hand moved to cup my jaw. “You know why, baby,” he said firmly. “Now sit on the bed.”
Something clicked in me. Something that shocked me out of my confusing interaction with a complicated man and the complicated feelings I had for him. Something trumped that.
“I can’t,” I said. “I’ve got to call people, pack,” I said quickly, pushing at his abs. He didn’t move. “Oh my gosh, I’ve got to plan, a...funeral.” I near choked on the last word. “Ava and Steve, don’t...didn’t have any children, any family apart from Lexie and me.” My mind didn’t let me go there, I moved to organization mode. “I’ve got to check the flights to DC.” I paused. “Maybe it would be better to drive. I’ve got to compare flying vs driving. I’ve got to pack,” I tried to move Zane again. “Yes, that’s the first thing. Pack...” My mind mentally went through my closet for a funeral outfit. I had to look my best. For Steve. For Ava.
Zane’s thumb went over my lip, silencing me. His eyes kept me in place, his hand kept my mouth from moving. “Sit. On. The. Bed,” he commanded. His tone was still tender, but it was firm.
I was about to argue but his body directed me to the edge and I had no choice but to go down. He gave me a meaningful look before bending to my shoes.
“Zane, what are you doing? Those need to stay on. I’ve got like a million things to do, things that require footwear,” I explained with a hint of hysteria. I needed to do them. Be productive. Busy. If I moved quick enough maybe I would be able to outrun the thoughts. The memories. The demons.
Zane ignored me and my shoes fell to the floor. He straightened and pulled off his motorcycle boots landing beside mine with a heavy thump. He lifted me in the air and settled himself on my bed, me half on top of him, tucked in his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” I asked, confused and more than a little peeved I couldn’t enjoy this crazy cuddle moment with a man whom I had missed like a lost limb for the past two weeks. I couldn’t let myself clutch him like I wanted to. I knew if I did I’d never let go.
“Tell me about them,” he instructed quietly.
My heart stopped. “What?”
“Tell me about them,” he repeated, voice still low.
My body locked in place. Now that Zane had me still, it all caught up to me. Threatened to destroy me with the sharp talons of grief. “I,” I choked on the first word. “I can’t, I’ve got to...”
Zane’s arms tightened around me. “Yes babe, you can. You need to tell me every happy memory you have of them, bring them up to the front of your mind so the demons can’t get in. You need to bring the light in before the darkness settles,” he told me in a resolute tone. One that seemed to speak from experience.
I paused. Zane’s strong arms tightened around me. I was safe. He had me.
I took a deep breath. “Ava used to bake all the time. She was a firm believer in using food and sugar to heal all aliments.” I paused. “I have no idea how Lexie didn’t contract diabetes from the amount of raw cookie dough she ate. Even though Ava threatened to tan her with a wooden spoon for doing it, although she never would, Lexie was the light of her life,” I smiled at the memory. “This one time...”
And
there it was. The light. It didn’t dampen the pain, didn’t come close. That knife was still digging into my ribs, making it hard to breathe. But Zane’s arms around me, the comfort of memories, that’s what kept the darkness from swallowing me up.
I awoke with a jolt. The room was pitch black and there was a warmth at my back.
“Mia?” Zane’s gravelly voice was alert and full of concern, as if he had been lying awake the entire time.
I didn’t let myself think of it. Reality. The grim and heartbreaking reality. That was all out there. In here it was only me and Zane. Two weeks I hadn’t touched him, tasted him, felt him inside me. I needed him. So that’s why I twisted around from our spooning position, pushing Zane on his back and landing on top of his body.
“Mia,” he half whispered, his voice was dark with desire. I felt him hard underneath me.
“Fuck me, Zane,” I pleaded against his mouth.
I expected him to argue, say I was too upset or some crap like that. Instead, the moment the words came out of my mouth he flipped me on my back, capturing me in an earth shattering, panty melting kiss. We were a flurry of lips and teeth, desperate to get each other’s clothes off. I’m pretty sure Zane ripped my panties off in the end. He licked, bit and tasted every part of me, as if he had been away from my body for years, not weeks.
When he finally plunged inside of me, I almost came from him just filling me, from his brutal thrust.
He hovered over me, not moving. I could feel every inch of his body tense, his mouth hovering over mine. “I’m never leavin’ you,” he promised in a low voice. “No matter what,” he added before he started to move and no more words were spoken. No more words were needed.
A loud groaning sound awoke me. I weakly unstuck my eyes and searched for the source, groggy and confused. The sound repeated and I discovered it was coming from me, or more accurately my stomach. It occurred to me I hadn’t eaten since lunch at Rosie’s, and by the look of the light peeking through the windows it was the next day. I flinched at the reason why I hadn’t eaten. Steve. Ava. Dead. Another thought assaulted my mind, one more important than my own grief, more important than the empty space in my bed that had previously been occupied by a large biker. Lexie.