Chapter 21 #2
“Mr. Wizard wouldn’t give me Move On’s name, but the guy who gave me an in with the Knights thinks his name is Leslie Thomas. The tattoos fit.”
Logan gets busy with his phone and I’m pretty sure he’s texting Max.
The scary, bald sergeant at arms, Cinder, says, “What’s important is that there won’t be any retaliation by the Knights against Brenna. You’re in the clear, honey.”
“Thank you,” I say, digging deep among the pieces of my heart to sound appropriately grateful. Going by the look Emily throws me from across the table, I don’t succeed. “Do you think I can open the shop again?”
Mac and Logan shake their heads in unison.
It’s kind of eerie watching them do shit like that.
They’re so in tune. I know straight guys don’t say “I love you” to each other, unless they’re very drunk, but I wonder if Mac’s ever told Logan he loves him.
I bet he has. They’re closer than brothers in some ways.
The thought settles like a weight in my chest and squashes the remnants of my heart flat.
“Give it another day, Bren,” Mac says. “Let us track down Move On as well. Once we’ve got all three of these dickheads muzzled, we’ll take out the camera and you’ll be good to reopen.”
Do I argue with him? It’s still my business, not his.
I should be making the decisions. But he and Logan are so security-conscious, and I wouldn’t ever do anything to put Nicky or Jules or my clients in danger.
I’m not going to ignore good advice just because he’s hurt me this morning.
I sigh and take out my phone to text Nicky and Jules. “Okay, Sir.”
His warm hand lands on my bare thigh and rubs lightly. That’s the first time he’s touched me since he came out of the bathroom. It comforts me a little; it also makes the gouging sensation in my chest sharper. Why do I keep throwing my damn heart at guys who don’t love me back?
Logan’s phone pings and he nods as he reads the message. “Max got a possible address for Thomas. It’s within the service area of that IP address that kept hitting your Google page, Bren. Good match.”
“Lo, can you tear yourself away from the CCTV footage for an hour or two to knock on Move On’s door while I head to the hospital?” Mac asks.
A slightly charged look passes between them. Logan’s eyes fall first. “I’ll take Manny to make an impression.”
He starts tapping his phone again.
Mac nods grimly. “I think we’ve got ourselves a plan.”
The men all nod and I feel excluded from something that I should be a central part of.
But something in me—not located in my chest—understands.
These guys are all alpha males. They look civilized on the outside.
They work within society’s constraints, more or less.
But you don’t have to scratch very far beneath the surface to find their inner cavemen, and when one of their women is threatened, the caveman roars out of his cave, beating his chest and ready to kill.
I should be grateful for that. Mac cares about me enough to protect me.
Instead, I just feel a little defeated.
Emily catches my eye again and tips her head toward the seating area and massive TV.
“Yeah, a movie sounds good,” I say.
Logan smiles at his subbie. “What’s in the cards today, baby doll?”
“A blanket fort and Brave, Daddy.”
“The movie with the red-haired girl? That’s a good one. Do you want Max and Cynnie to come over and watch with you?”
“No, Daddy. Just me and Bren today.”
Logan draws Emily to him and kisses her forehead. “Good girl. I’ll be home in time for lunch and if I’m going to be later than one, I’ll call.”
“Ta, Daddy.”
Emily waits for another forehead kiss before she’s up out of her chair and dragging me out of mine. I don’t get a forehead kiss, but, to be fair, Emily moves like a ninja sometimes and I’m dragged along behind her before Mac even has a chance to lift his hand off my leg.
She pulls me upstairs and piles pillows and blankets into my arms. I hear the guys moving around downstairs and then the front door opening and closing as they leave.
Emily swings around with an armful of pink sheets and pins me with a glare. “By the time Queen Elinor turns back from being a bear, you’re going to tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I say, setting my jaw.
“I call bull-pucky.”
“Bull-pucky? Seriously? You just heard him leave.”
“Batman Daddy can hear me swear through ten feet of concrete.” She dumps the pink sheets on the pile I’m holding, grabs some more pillows, and pushes me towards the door. “Master Mac looked like it was his testicle you crushed this morning. What the heck happened?”
That draws a faint snigger out of me. “Nothing.”
“I’m plying you with Disney until you give it up.”
She does and by the time Queen Elinor turns into a bear, I’m sniffling and curled up in the blanket fort we’ve built with Emily’s arms around me and her crazy cat plopped in front of me like a black and white bread loaf, staring at me with his one golden eye and purring like a jackhammer.
“Bren, I’m so sorry,” Emily croons as she strokes my back. “I don’t know what I would have done if Daddy hadn’t said it back. Died, I think.”
I hiccup a little, which makes the cat purr louder. “I’m such a fucking idiot. I should have waited for him to say it first and then I’d never have said it and it wouldn’t fucking matter.”
“Bren.” She rubs harder. “It would still matter. You deserve to be with someone who loves you back.”
I know I do. But after Edz and Ten and Rob and now Mac, it’s beginning to smack of impossibility.
“Is there something wrong with me?” I ask brokenly.
“No. Absolutely not.” She’s rubbing so hard my scars are beginning to ache.
“And Master Mac knew going in that you needed something real. I told him up front you wanted to be loved. It’s not fair of him to say he could give you more and then hold those words back.
The words are important. It’s not fair.”
“Hon, leave me a little skin back there.”
“Oh, sorry.” The rubbing slows before she debrides my freaking ribs. “I don’t think you should stay with him, Bren. Not if he can’t say he loves you.”
My breath hitches and tears leak because somewhere down in my cloven heart, the same thought’s been percolating.
“We’re still new,” I say, articulating the excuses my head’s been throwing at my heart. “I’m probably the one jumping the gun telling him I love him after knowing him for a couple of weeks.”
“I’d known Daddy for less time and he said it back. Mac’s saying he’ll never be able to say he loves you. You deserve more than that.”
“I know.” I wipe my eyes, but it doesn’t help with how blurry the movie’s become. It’s all that wild, red hair whipping around the screen. Stupid plasma TV.
“Don’t do what you did with Master Ten.”
“No.” I take a deep breath and feel my resolve harden. “I’m not doing that to myself again. If Mac can’t love me, he can’t love me. Better to know now.”
“And you’ll break it off with him?”
I reach back and grab one of her hands before she gives me a friction burn.
“Em, I know you’re trying to be there for me, but don’t push me right now, okay?
I’m feeling really—” Idiotic. Fragile. Ever since I met Ruby, I’ve always wanted to be just like her, the strong one.
No man’s ever broken her, and no man ever will.
I won’t let a man break me. Not even my Sir.
“I’ll figure it out. Just give me a little space, okay? ”
She stops rubbing, thank the Benevolence, and wraps her arms around me. “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. I just hate that Master Mac’s turned out to be no better than Master Ten. I thought he was the one for you.”
I pat her hand. “I’m not sure there is a person for everyone, hon.”
“There is, Bren,” she whispers. “I promise.”
But I’m not so sure, and by the way the movie ends, Disney isn’t, either. It’s kind of awesome that Merida doesn’t need a love interest, but it kind of stings, too. If Disney can’t give their warrior-princess a happy ending, what chance do I have?
“How about Hunger Games?” I suggest as the movie ends. “I’m in the mood for a little Katniss Everdeen.”
“You got it.” Emily picks up her phone and fiddles around with it until the movie changes over.
I must fall asleep sometime during the third Quarter Quell because when a rustling wakes me, the cat’s gone, Emily’s gone, and the TV screen’s dark. I rub my gritty eyes and try to focus on what’s woken me.
It’s a bouquet of beautiful, blue roses, wrapped in crinkling tissue paper, held in a strong, masculine hand, that’s poking through the front of the blanket fort.
“Hell.” I hear Mac curse softly. “I’m not going to be able to get in there without bringing the whole thing down on my head.”
I reach up and flip one of the blankets back. “I’ll come out, Sir.”
“You stay right where you are, girl.” He hands me the bouquet and I bury my face in the blooms, letting the silky petals tickle my cheeks and chin. I’m not crying. There’s no point in crying over flowers. They’re a nice gesture, but they don’t change anything.
Mac figures out how to climb into the blanket fort without destroying it and I slide back into the space Emily was lying in as he stretches out against my front. He pulls my left hand away from the bouquet and slides something cold onto my middle finger.
I hold my hand up to see what it is. A plain, slightly battered silver band with a flat top. There’s a worn insignia stamped into the flat part: a shield and a Latin motto I can’t read. It’s way too big for my finger and looks like a man’s ring.
“What is this, Sir?”
Mac winds his arm around my waist and pulls me tightly against him. “It’s a promise ring.”
“A what?”
“A promise ring. Sorry ‘bout the size. It’s all I had, and I didn’t think this could wait while I went and bought a ring.
This is the best I could come up with, girl.
I love you, Brenna. I do. You’re my reason to get up in the morning and what gets me through the day and the goddess I want to worship every night.
But those words are for my wife. So, if you need me to say them, and God knows I want to, I need to know that one day, you’ll wear my ring and be my wife. ”
My heart fucking stops.
“Bren, damn it, say something.”
I stare at him in shock.
“Sweetheart, you’re killing me. Please say something.”
“You want to marry me?” I croak.
He smiles slowly, that wicked, warm grin of his. “Told you I’d still want to fuck that ass when I’m a hundred. You bet I’m going to wife it. No way I’m not locking down my daily anal.”
“Are you talking about anal sex while you’re proposing to me?”
Mac begins kissing me, laughing while he does, in that way that he does, which breaks my heart open again, although this time it feels like he’s knitting it back together with each kiss. “That’s what I got, bold girl. Are you gonna give me an answer before I die here?”
“How imminent is that, Sir?”
“Pretty fucking imminent. Will you marry me, Bren? Real talk. You’re starting to scare me.”
“Doms know no fear,” I say with a smile that he kisses off my face.
“This Dom is feeling a little fear—”
I put my finger over his lips. “I did not expect you to ask me to marry you, Sir. Not in a million years. And I don’t know if our ideas of marriage are even in the same galaxy—”
“We’ll work that out,” he says against my finger.
“Yes, we will.” If he loves me, and can say it, then we can work anything out. “And, yes, Master Mac, my Sir, I will marry you.”
“Thank fuck for that,” he mutters against my finger before he pushes it aside with his chin to drown me in kisses again.
He takes me right there in the blanket fort to seal the deal, and, yes, he gets his daily anal.