Chapter Four

He was silent, trying not to imagine what it had been like for her to stand there, waiting for those punches. Knowing that once one man had finished, another one was waiting to step up and take his turn. Even when she’d been down on the ground and bleeding and half-conscious, they’d have carried on hurting her. He hoped that at some point, Mirrie had just passed out, and found some peace in blackness.

Even if she had, though, Mac was sure that she remembered a lot of her ordeal: he thought about the times that she’d woken up next to him, screaming and shaking. She’d never talked about it, but now he thought he knew what she’d been dreaming about.

He stepped down hard on his rage, tried to stay focused. “And they’ve left you alone since then?”

She looked away, and his stomach clenched.

“Mirrie? They’ve kept their word, right?”

She almost snorted. “They’re a criminal MC, Shane. A bunch of one-percenters. They’re not men of their word.”

“So… what? They beat the crap out of you, and almost killed you, and then they didn’t leave you alone after all?”

“They did for a while,” she said slowly. “But then they came back.”

“When?”

She hesitated. “When we got serious.”

“You mean you and me?”

“Yeah.”

“They knew about us?”

“They did. They knew… everything.”

“Why did they care?” he asked. “They’d had their pound of flesh, and then some.”

“They didn’t want me to be happy,” she said simply. “They wanted to make sure I was alone in my new life… no close relationships, no real ties to anyone. They wanted me to pay for making my choice to leave them – I was out, but I wasn’t going to be allowed to have a whole, entire life. I wasn’t free, not really.”

“Fuck.” Mac leaned back, floored by about the tenth thing to kick him in the balls that morning. “And what? They told you to stop seeing me? End things between us?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Tell me.”

“That weekend,” she said. “That weekend that we were supposed to spend up at your cabin. The one where I never showed up…”

“Yeah.” Mac stared at her. “That’s when they made their move?”

“They had you surrounded,” she told him. “They were watching you when you were alone in the cabin and waiting for me.”

Mac was horrorstruck. God, the thought that those animals had been right there outside his front door, and he’d been totally unaware of it was chilling. “And – what?”

“And they met me on the road leading up to your cabin.” Mirrie took a deep breath. “My brother explained to me that I had two choices.”

“Fuck,” Mac growled. “Not this bullshit illusion of choices again.”

“Yep. Donovan told me to turn around and drive away, and never see you again. Never contact you, beyond an uninformative e-mail breaking it off. Never tell you why. Never go near you ever again.”

“And if you didn’t do what they said?” Mac asked, already knowing the answer.

“Then I could watch as they stormed into your cabin, and killed you right in front of me.” Her breath caught as she remembered her brother’s threat, and her eyes prickled. God, she’d been so, so scared for Shane in that moment. It had been nothing short of pure, shrieking terror. “Donovan said that the pack of them would drag you outside, and he’d make sure I got a clear view of them kicking you to death.”

“So that’s why you never showed up.” Mac felt a surge of guilt and shame at the things he’d said to her the day before at the art centre. “You were keeping me alive.”

She nodded, the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I – I’m sorry I left you sitting there and wondering. I’m sorry for all of it… for everything I did and didn’t do.”

“Fuck, no.” Now he did reach for her hand, held it tight. “I’m sorry. God, the things I’ve thought about you over the years. And this whole time, you walked away to help me. To keep me safe.”

“Yes.” She wiped her eyes impatiently. “I loved you.”

“Goddammit.” He was rough and angry again, furious about all the time he’d wasted being wrong about her. “But why did you stay? In Denver?”

“I wasn’t going to,” Mirrie said. “I was planning to leave but I… I stopped by a bar first.”

Mac’s chest felt tight. “You relapsed.”

“Yes,” she said in a small voice. “It was… it was bad. It set me off drinking again.”

“What do you mean?” Mac was horrified at the implication. “You mean that it wasn’t just the one time?”

“Oh, no.” Mirrie bit her lip. “I relapsed completely.”

“Fuck.” Mac spoke softly now. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She tried to smile. “Anyway, after I drove away from you, I went on a two-day bender. I was so desperate to avoid thinking about you sitting up in that cabin, waiting for me to show. I was trying to get up the fucking guts to send you that e-mail, and then to just get the hell out of Denver.”

“You sent me that e-mail when you were plastered?”

“Yeah.” She looked down, and Mac saw shame on her beautiful face. “I don’t remember writing it, but I obviously did.”

“So what happened to change your mind about leaving?”