“Are you sure?”

She shifted closer, her arm brushing his. “I’m sure. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“Why don’t you tell me why you like to hit men?” he countered.

She shrugged. “That’s easy. My mom pawned me off on neighbors while she went out of town chasing some stupid dream or some stupider man. One of the neighbor men, who I now know is a pervert, liked to spank me. He’d sneak around and try to catch me doing something wrong so he could drag me into his garage, pull my pants down, and spank me. I hated that bastard. One day, I got tired of taking it. I waited until he dragged me into the garage, and then I took a belt to him. I expected him to beat me for it, even thought it would be worth it, but instead he let me hit him. He cried at my feet and begged me to forgive him for all the times he’d spanked me. I’ll never forget the rush I felt when I wailed on that pervert’s ass for the first time. There were many times after that. He started buying me gifts—made it worth my while.” She laughed. “That’s when I realized how easy it is to have complete power over men. I was eleven at the time.”

Jace shook his head in disbelief. How could she be so matter-of-fact? “Fuckin’ sick bastard. Didn’t anyone try to stop him?”

“I didn’t need anyone to stop him. I stopped him.” She patted his cheek. “Trust me, it was better that way. Now you have to tell me why you think you need pain.”

He sat in silence for several minutes. If he told her, she would no longer be able to accept him. She’d be like all the others who thought he was a freak.

But she sat there in silent support, and he felt his wall of protection crumble.

“Nine years ago…” He stared at his clasped hands, his stomach roiling. He shouldn’t tell her. He closed his eyes and whispered, “I killed my father.”

Chapter 28

Aggie took a deep breath, her mind unable to comprehend what Jace had told her. He’d killed his father? As in murdered him?

The bus shuddered and sputtered as it drew to a halt. “Food!” someone yelled. A clamor of voices and footsteps moved toward the bus exit.

“Are you ready to go eat?” he said.

“I… You’re just going to leave it at that? You aren’t going to explain why or how or—”

“Aggie, I can’t change what I did. I can’t take it back. I can’t make amends. All I can do is cope—the only way I know how.”

Her heart ached for him. Whatever he’d done in his past, she didn’t care. She knew he was a good man. She took his hand and squeezed. “I want to help you. How can I help?”

His gaze drifted to the ceiling, the pain in his eyes so absolute, she felt it deep in her chest, in her throat, and behind her eyes.

“Hurt me, Aggie. Just hurt me.”

She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him, wanting to reach him, but he remained stiff in her embrace. If he would just submit to her and admit what he really needed, they could make progress, but until he opened up and accepted the love she could give him, they’d go nowhere.

She kissed his cheek and stood. “Get some clothes on. Let’s get you something to eat.”

He stared at his hands again, a muscle flexing repeatedly in his jaw as he worked at burying his pain. After a moment, he nodded, slipped into some clothes, and headed for the door.

As they walked toward the exit, Aggie took his left hand in hers and refused to let go as he tried to shake it off.

“I won’t make you hold my hand in front of the guys, but when they’re not around, you’re holding it.” She poked him in the ribs. “Got it?”

He chuckled. God, she loved it when he laughed. She wanted him to laugh hard and often. She hoped she could give him that.

“Got it.” He wrapped his left arm around her shoulders and linked the fingers of his other hand with hers inside his sling. She turned her head to grin at him, and he surprised her by kissing her.

What started as an affectionate brush of his lips soon deepened into something that made her ache. She leaned on him for support, blaming the alcohol she’d consumed earlier for the sudden weakness in her legs.

“Isn’t that the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen, Jon?” Eric said from just inside the door. He took off his motorcycle helmet and set it down on the driver’s seat. “Little man has a girlfriend.”

“If by sweetest you mean the most nauseating, then I’d have to agree,” Jon, acting as Eric’s shadow, said.

Aggie extended an arm in their direction and gave them the finger.

“Did you see that, Eric? She propositioned us,” Jon said.

“All right!” Eric clapped his hands. “You bang her. I’ll watch.”

Jace eased away, his eyes drifting open slowly. “Did you hear something, Aggie? Sounded like a couple of pussies crying for something they’ll never have.”

“Or be able to handle.” She slapped Jace’s ass hard and then squeezed until his breath caught with excitement. “There’s a paddle in the bedroom with your name on it, sugar.”

“She scares the hell out of me,” Jon whispered.

“Me too,” Eric agreed.

“What do you have to be scared of? My favorite whip was stolen, you wimps.”

Jace squeezed Aggie’s shoulder consolingly. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll get you a new one.”

Her eyes widened with eagerness. “With a thorn?”

Jace grinned. “Oh yeah. Definitely one with a thorn.”

They continued past Eric and Jon on their way out of the bus.

“And can I get a new crop? And a flail?”

“Anything you want, as long as you promise to break them all in on me.”

“Aww, can’t I hit them?” She nodded over her shoulder at Eric and Jon. “Just a little bit? I’ll clean off their blood when I’m finished. I wouldn’t want to spread their diseases.”

“I’ll think about it.” As soon as they exited the bus, Jace burst into laughter. “Did you see their faces?”

Not really. She’d been too busy looking at the smile on his.

Chapter 29

Jace’s eyes flipped open, his heart still thumping with terror. He hadn’t had that nightmare about his mother’s death in years. Now it haunted him regularly.

A hand stroked his belly in the darkness. “You okay?” Aggie murmured groggily.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been moaning in your sleep.”

“Nightmares. I probably shouldn’t eat a twelve-ounce steak right before bed.”

She cuddled closer and rested her head on his shoulder. Pain snaked through his chest as the weight of her head disturbed one of his slowly healing wounds. He kept all protest to himself. He wanted her there to remind him that he deserved it. The pain.

“Tell me about it.”

“You don’t want to hear it.”

“Was it about killing your father?”

He hesitated. He should have never told her about his father in the first place. “No, it was about my mother’s death.”

“How old were you?”

“Nine.”

“That’s the same age I was when Grams passed away. How did your mother die?”

“We were in a head-on car accident. I was in the backseat when it happened. Wasn’t injured. She lived for a day. Broken back. Multiple internal injuries. Her face was pulverized.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

Thinking about it made his stomach clench with disgust. Not with his mother. With himself. “I was afraid of her—afraid of my own mother. Just because of the way she looked. So I never said good-bye. My father never forgave me for surviving the crash.”

She took his hand and squeezed it. “That’s horrible. No wonder you have nightmares about it.”

“I haven’t for a long time though. I thought I’d finally buried it for good. It must’ve been that hospital stay that brought it all back.” Or you. He pulled his hand from hers and rolled onto his side, dislodging her from his shoulder.

She snuggled against his back, her arm stealing around his waist. “Thank you for sharing yourself with me. I know it’s hard for you.”