Chapter Twelve
Tank
“We’re not moving my shop inside these walls,” Abby says as I walk her to her door.
We are.
But I keep that to myself.
“I need you to stay inside until I come get you,” I tell her.
Something in my tone must shift, because her expression softens instantly.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
I don’t answer right away.
Instead, I pull her into me and hold her tight.
Fuck….She fits against me like she was built for this spot.
“There’s some club business we need to handle,” I admit quietly. “We’ve got someone coming in for a meeting. I’d rather keep your pretty face out of sight while it’s happening.”
My hand settles on her lower back.
“Can you do that for me, baby? Just stay put. So I know you’re safe and I can focus on what needs done.”
Her body melts into mine.
“Is this person dangerous?” she asks.
“Yes,” I answer honestly. “But maybe not to us. He’s Maverick’s twin.”
She pulls back slightly, brows lifting. “Maverick has a twin?”
“Apparently, it runs in that family.”
Her eyes narrow.
“I wonder if they measure the exact same like my arch-nemeses do.”
I groan. “You are not measuring Maverick and his brother’s dicks, Abigail.”
She blinks up at me innocently.
“Arch-nemeses?” I repeat, unable to stop the smirk from forming.
“Twin One and Twin Two,” she says. “I’m still not convinced they’re human.”
I huff a quiet laugh and brush a strand of hair off her face.
“Just stay inside,” I murmur. “No interrogating Italian twins. No scientific research. No starting wars.”
She smiles.
“I make no promises.”
I lean down, letting my forehead rest against hers for a second.
“You’re gonna be the death of me.”
And the terrifying part?
I wouldn’t even mind.
I turn to leave, but stop when her soft hand grips my wrist.
I look back at her and wait. She swallows hard, working through whatever storm is brewing inside her.
“I’m afraid,” she says.
That makes me turn fully toward her.
“There’s no need to be,” I answer automatically. “Maverick would never hurt you. And I’ll kill his brother if he tries.”
“It’s not that,” she whispers.
“Then what are you afraid of, Abigail?”
Her eyes lift to mine, vulnerable in a way that knocks the air from my lungs.
“You,” she says.
I go still.
“Not in that way,” she rushes to clarify. “But I’m afraid of what will happen if I give in to my heart. I’m afraid of what will happen if I let you love me back.”
Fuck, I hurt her so fucking deep.
“You don’t have to let me love you back, babygirl,” I say quietly. “I already do. I love you so damn much it scares me. Scared me enough to make excuses. To push you away. To ruin years we could have had together.”
My jaw tightens.
“That’s on me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making that up to you. It still won’t be enough…not for what you deserve…but I’ll try every damn day.”
She’s crying now. Silent tears slide down her pale cheeks.
“But words are just that,” I continue. “Words. So I won’t ask you to believe me. I’ll prove it. Every day.”
“I do love you, Tank,” she whispers, voice breaking. “I love you so much my heart locked onto yours and won’t let go, no matter how hard I try.”
Her shoulders tremble.
“But I’m broken now,” she continues. “I had something precious I was saving for you, and it was taken. Stolen in the worst way. I’m not… I’m not clean anymore. I’m not whole. Just… walk away. Go find a strong, beautiful woman who can love you the way you deserve.”
The lights flash at the gate. Our guest has arrived.
I don’t even glance at it.
There is nothing more important than this woman in front of me.
I step closer.
“Listen to me,” I say firmly. “What that man did to you does not change a single thing about who you are.”
Her eyes flicker.
“You are not dirty,” I say. “You are not broken. You are not less than.”
I lift her chin gently.
“What happened to you was violence. Not intimacy. Not love. And it sure as hell does not diminish what you mean to me.”
She shakes her head slightly, like she wants to argue, but I don’t let her.
“I know my words won’t fix this,” I admit. “I know you won’t believe me just because I say it.”
My thumb brushes beneath her eye, catching a tear.
“So I’ll show you.”
Her breath stutters.
“I will be your first,” I say quietly.
She opens her mouth.
“I was ra…”
“And you will be my last,” I finish firmly, not letting her finish that thought.
Her lips part in shock.
“What that bastard stole from you does not define your worth. It does not define your body. And it damn sure doesn’t define us.”
I rest my forehead against hers.
“When we come together,” I murmur, “it will be because you choose it. Because you want it. Because you feel safe. And when that day comes, I’ll treat you like the miracle you are.”
She’s crying harder now, but there’s something different in it.
Relief, maybe?
I lean down and kiss her like I’ve wanted to do for years.
But, it’s soft…slow.
Not so much a claiming…but a promise.
When I pull back, I press my forehead to hers again.
“I’m not walking away,” I whisper. “Not now. Not ever.”
And this time she doesn’t tell me to.
“Go on inside, baby,” I say, forcing myself to release her. “When our guest leaves, I’ll come get you.”
She gives me that soft smile that still knocks the wind out of me.
“Then we can walk the compound and decide where we’re putting your shop.”
The softness vanishes, instantly replaced by fire.
Her hands land on her hips, and she glares up at me like I’ve personally offended the fashion gods.
“Tank.”
I grin before she can finish and turn toward the gate.
“Inside, Abigail,” I call over my shoulder. “Lock the door.”
“Hold up,” Eli says, jogging toward her place. “We were all ordered to lock ourselves in, so we’re heading to Max and Lila’s, so Micah doesn’t have to be moved. You coming?”
“Yes,” she answers without hesitation. “And you can all help me figure out how to convince my brother and that walking mountain not to move my shop inside the compound.”
I huff a laugh despite myself.
“Wait,” Eli says. “That could actually be fun. We can help out a lot more.”
“But she might lose business because people are too scared to come in here despite our successful fundraiser,” Sunny adds.
The door shuts.
Their voices disappear, but Sunny’s words don’t.
She might lose business because people are too scared to come in here.
Damn it.
I drag a hand down my face and stare toward the gate just as Maverick’s twin steps out of a black SUV.
I can’t move her shop here.
Not if it cages her.
Abigail fought too damn hard for that place. Built it with nothing but raw talent and stubborn grit. I’ve watched her lose sleep over fabrics and fittings. Watched her forget to eat because she was chasing perfection.
She shines in that space.
It’s hers.
Every stitch. Every crystal. Every damn dream.
I won’t be the man who steals that from her.
But I also won’t be the man who buries her because I didn’t act.
I cross my arms and wait for Stefano to reach us, my brain already grinding through solutions.
Private security…Rotating protection so it doesn’t look like babysitting…Unmarked exterior cameras tied into our system…Buy the neighboring properties so we own the block without advertising it.
There’s always a way.
There has to be.
Because the look she gave me when I mentioned moving her shop?
Fire.
God, I love that fire.
She’s not fragile. She’s not porcelain.
She’s a storm wrapped in silk, and if I try to lock her in a tower, she’ll resent me for it. Maybe even hate me. And I wouldn’t survive that.
I stop near the gate just as Maverick reaches his brother.
The greeting is pure old-world Italian. No hesitation. No ego. They clasp forearms, lean in, kiss each other’s cheeks like they’ve done it a thousand times before, then pull into a solid embrace that looks less like ceremony and more like loyalty carved in stone.
Different suits. Same blood.
Spike steps up beside me, sliding his phone into his pocket.
“My sister just texted me in all caps,” he says dryly, “about how my VP is a jerk and suggested I fire him and replace him with her. Any clue as to why?”
A smile tugs at my mouth before I can stop it.
“Told her we were moving her shop into the compound,” I admit. “But Sunny made a valid point. She’d lose business because people are afraid of our walls.”
Spike goes still.
“You actually told her that?” he asks slowly.
“I was thinking out loud.”
“With Abigail?” he deadpans. “That’s your first mistake.”
I huff a breath.
“I’m not trying to control her. I’m trying to keep her breathing.”
“I know,” Spike says, and there’s no humor in his voice now. “But you start taking pieces of her world away, even for good reasons, and she’ll start shrinking. And you didn’t fight to get her back just to watch that happen.”
I drag a hand over my jaw.
“She almost died,” I say quietly. “More than once.”
“And she survived through all of it,” he shoots back. “Because she’s strong. Not because she was hidden.”
Behind us, Maverick and his brother approach. Stefano is every bit his brother. Sharp. Same calm predator eyes. Same effortless confidence. His suit probably costs more than my bike.
But I barely register him.
My focus is still on the house across the compound.
“She looked at me like I’d suggested burning her life down,” I mutter. “Like I didn’t trust her to handle it.”
“Do you?” Spike asks.
The question lands heavily.
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “I trust her. I just don’t trust the world.”
Spike nods once.
“Then protect the world around her,” he says. “Not her from the world.”
That hits.
Because that’s the difference.
Locking her inside these walls keeps her safe… and smaller.
Securing the street around her shop? Installing additional surveillance?
That keeps her safe without dimming her light.
“I’d have agreed, though,” he says. “Moving her shop within our walls would lessen my own anxiety about her safety. But we can’t do that to her. Instead, we’ll spare no expense to secure her shop.”