Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
“Cora,” he said, just my name, but it carried weight. Like he was testing how it felt to say.
“Rancor,” I whispered back, the name strange and perfect all at once.
“Marcus,” he said softly. I pulled back slightly, confused. He growled and tightened his grip around me. “Marcus Wheeler. My name.”
I smiled up at him. “Would you prefer I call you by your first name?”
He shook his head. “Ain’t that man anymore. Just wanted you to know.” He lifted his chin to rest on top of my head. He actually trembled as he held me. I got the impression this was something important to him, but I had no idea why.
We stayed like that until reality reasserted itself in the form of distant laughter from somewhere in the compound. I reluctantly pulled back, my hands sliding down to rest against his chest. His heart beat strong and fast beneath my palm.
“I should go,” I said, though everything in me wanted to stay.
He nodded, stepping back just enough to give me space to open my car door. The loss of his warmth was immediate, the late afternoon air getting cooler as the sun set.
I slid behind the wheel, started the engine. Through the windshield, Rancor stood watching me, his expression open in a way I hadn’t seen before. A look of profound longing painted his face like a beacon. It was funny, because in the romances I enjoyed reading, the hero often wore the exact same expression. I raised my hand in a small wave, and he returned the gesture, that same slight smile touching his lips.
As I drove away from the compound, the taste of him still on my lips, a realization settled over me like a warm blanket. For the first time in years -- maybe for the first time ever -- I’d found people who made me feel something other than the need to disappear. And in Rancor, I’d found a man I desperately wanted to know better.
The thought both comforted and terrified me. I’d spent so long keeping myself safe by keeping everyone at arm’s-length so I didn’t form connections with others that could be severed easier than they could be forged. Now I was speeding away from a compound full of ex-cons with the lingering sensation of one of them on my skin, under it, seeping into places I’d closed off inside me a long fucking time ago.
And God help me, I couldn’t wait to go back.
Chapter Four
Rancor
The soil pushed between my fingers, damp and alive. Dawn painted the sky in shades of purple and orange, filtered through the camo netting that hung above the compound. Sarah’s garden had been waiting for me since before first light. The mint had grown wild again, pushing into spaces it didn’t belong. Sarah would have laughed at that. You always try to take whatever room that isn’t yours. She often told me that when she’d wake up with me wrapped around her, my face snuggled against her neck. She would have that smile that lit up everything inside me. I reached for the pruning shears, the weight familiar in my palm.
As I worked, the burn scar on my forearm caught the morning light, paler than the surrounding skin, a reminder of another life. Construction foreman. Husband. Almost a father. I’d been proud of all three. I’d helped turn the warehouses into livable spaces for all of us. I’d done my best to be a good person and the best protector to my family, but my best efforts hadn’t been enough.
Truth was, if it hadn’t been for Knuckles, I doubt I’d have survived prison. Not because someone would have killed me. I’d actually worked through a plan to kill myself. Knuckles reminded me of the club and how they needed me just as much as my wife had. They were hurting from her death, the death of their unborn niece, and their brother all at once. It wasn’t enough to pull me out of my depression, but he gave me something to work toward and the knowledge that I still had people who cared about me in the world.
“You’re growin’ too fast,” I muttered to the mint. My voice sounded strange in the quiet morning. I didn’t talk much these days, not even to plants. But Sarah had always talked to her garden. Said they grew better when you acknowledged them.
Working out here settled something restless inside me, something that had stirred yesterday when Cora’s lips met mine. Something I wasn’t ready to name. I wasn’t hung up on my dead wife, though I knew I’d always love her and she’d always be in my thoughts. Sarah wouldn’t want me to mourn her forever. Cora wasn’t something I’d been expecting, though.
Her taste lingered, even now. Vanilla and coffee and something uniquely her. The warmth of her body against mine had shocked my system like jumping into cold water after years in the desert. I’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to hold someone. To want someone. To have someone look at me with something other than fear or pity in their eyes.