Shane (Mallick Brothers 1)

They turned back to us, Shane giving me a look that I swear managed to say: don’t be a pain in the ass about this and just go with the flow for once in your life.

“Go with Ryan, okay?” he asked, moving to touch me, then seeing the blood on his hand and arm, and dropping it. “As soon as this is handled, I’ll come find you.

Knowing I really had very little choice, I nodded.

“Yo, you two,” Shep called, meaning my father and brother. “Your asses get to carry the body for us. Go get a tarp.”

He gave me a small smile as Ryan took my elbow and started to lead me away.

“What?” I asked when Ryan stopped behind a dumpster and raised a brow at me.

“Give me the gun,” he said in a bored-sounding tone.

“What? No. It’s mine.”

“Where did you get it?” he asked, eyes knowing.

I huffed, rolling my eyes, and handing it over. He took out the clip, holding it by a freaking handkerchief he had in his pocket, and rubbing it clean, tossing it into the dumpster. He walked another couple feet to the other dumpster, wiped the outside of the gun off, and tossed that too.

“Alright, let’s go back to the hotel,” he said, leading me over to the SUV as Hunter, Mark, and Eli walked up as well.

So then we went back to the hotel.

And waited.

And waited.

And freaking waited.NINETEENLeaThe door didn’t open until well after one in the morning, making Ryan shoot up in the chair where he had been sitting and me sit up against the headboard where I had been staring at the TV screen, not really seeing anything, lost in my own thoughts.

Like what it meant for me that I was free.

I honestly think I forgot what the meaning of that word was. While I had gotten away from Ross and gotten a small amount of freedom in not being raped and yelled at, demeaned, and made to do things, I still hadn’t been free. I had been living in fear and had the weight of my past as an ever-present anchor.

Every decision I made, I made with the knowledge that Ross was still around and could find me at any time.

I had moved where he wouldn’t look for me.

I had kept my head down and not made connections.

I had done what I needed to do to get away.

But I had never been free.

But that night changed everything. Shane had changed everything. While the idea of him having to kill someone when he had gone his whole life and career managing not to do so didn’t sit well with me, made me feel guilty, made me worry about how he would mentally handle it, it put a stamp of finality on the whole situation. I would never have to look over my shoulder again. The sound of bikes wouldn’t make me sick. I could put down roots. I could put my name on documents without worrying about the trail that left. I could make friends.

I could love Shane.

Love.

Almost everything in me rebelled against that word, wanted to fight it, wanted me to accept that it was too soon for that, that it was stupid and illogical.

But there was no denying that was what was happening.

Maybe I wasn’t the type to fall into love. Maybe my past made me too hesitant for that, too careful. But it seemed like I had dipped my toe, tested the waters, and was slowly but surely stepping in.

That, in and of itself, was a scary concept.

But, at the same time, not.

I didn’t know how to feel about that, about the swirling feeling in my belly mixed with the swelling sensation in my chest. Because I knew it was right. I knew that, after all my bad decisions, all my stupid choices with men, I had finally made the right one. Albeit quite begrudgingly and almost against my will, but I had made the choice to let Shane in.

And the rest, well, it all just seemed to fall into place.

Maybe Fee was right about women like us. Maybe we did rebel so hard against the idea of love and relationships that we found ourselves in the middle before we realized we had even begun.

And Shane, well, for the first time maybe in my life, I had no doubts about his feelings toward me. Like he said, he wasn’t romantic. But he showed me in his own way how much he cared.

And that, that brutal kind of honesty, that was better than a million bouquets of flowers or good morning texts.

“Is that a shirt for that bar we parked in?” Ryan asked, his angle allowing him to see Shane before I did.

And, sure enough, when he moved into the room and closed the door, he had on an Inky’s shirt and a pair of pants that were slightly too big for him, hanging down low on his waist. He looked mostly clean, only a streak of red here or there if you looked really hard.