Bane

by Brenda Jackson

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it.”

  “The Outlaws will be arriving about noon along with Bailey and Walker and some of the Atlanta Westmorelands.”

  She had gotten the chance to meet Charm Outlaw before she and Bane had left Alaska. Charm and her father had been returning from their business trip. The woman was as beautiful as she was nice. However, Crystal thought the father of the Outlaws had been reserved, as if he’d rather them not be there. Bane had explained that the old man was having a hard time accepting the fact that his father had been adopted.

  “You know the drill,” Dillon said, grinning when they reached the door of the cabin.

  “Yes, I know it.” Because she was living in a secluded area, the men in the family refused to let her drive home alone. They either drove her back home or followed behind her in their car to make sure she got there safely. And then before they would leave, she’d have to give a signal that everything was okay by flashing the window blinds.

  “Good night, Dillon.”

  “Good night. Do you need a ride to my place in the morning?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll drive.”

  She opened the door to go inside the house and was glad she’d left the fireplace burning. The cabin felt warm and cozy. She was about to turn and head for the window to flash the blinds when she saw a movement out the corner of her eye. She jerked around.

  “Bane!”

  She raced across the room and was gobbled up in big, strong arms and kissed by firm and demanding lips. It seemed as though the kiss lasted forever as their tongues tangled and mingled, and they devoured each other’s mouths. Finally, he broke off the kiss. “I missed you, baby.”

  “And I missed you,” she said, running her arms all over him to make sure he was all in one piece. His skin was damp, he smelled of aftershave and he was wearing his jeans low on his hips. It was obvious he’d just gotten out of the shower.

  “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming home tonight?”

  A smile touched his lips. “I wanted to surprise you. The mission was a success, although it was damn risky at times. They were keeping Coop and two other American prisoners secluded up in the mountains. Getting up there was one thing and getting them out alive was another. It wasn’t easy but we did it, and all returned home safely. No injuries or casualties.”

  He paused a moment and said, “Coop was glad to see us and they didn’t break his spirit, although they tried. He said what kept him going was believing that one day we would come rescue him. And we did. He and the others were taken to Bethesda Hospital in Maryland to get checked out.”

  Crystal was about to open her mouth to say something when there was a loud pounding at the front door. “Oops. That’s Dillon. He brought me home and I forgot to flash the blinds to let him know I was okay,” she said, racing across the room to open the door.

  “Crystal, are you okay? When you didn’t flash the blinds I—” Dillon stopped talking when he glanced over her shoulder and saw his brother. “Bane!”

  The two men exchanged bear hugs. “Glad to see you back in one piece,” Dillon said, grinning as he looked his baby brother up and down.

  Bane pulled Crystal to his side and planted a kiss on her forehead. “And I’m glad to be back, too.”

  “I’ll let the family know you’re home. And I guess we won’t be seeing you bright and early tomorrow morning for breakfast as planned, Crystal,” Dillon said, his grin getting wider.

  “No, you won’t,” Bane answered for her. “My wife and I are sleeping in late. We will try to make it for dinner, however.”

  Dillon chuckled. “Okay.” He then looked at his watch. “It just turned midnight on the East Coast. Merry Christmas, you two.”

  “And Merry Christmas to you, Dillon,” Crystal said, cuddling closer in her husband’s strong arms. And in that moment she knew that for her this would be the merriest because she had her Bane. It would be their first Christmas spent together as man and wife.

  As soon as the door closed behind Dillon, Bane tightened his embrace and looked down at her. “I like the tree and all the decorations.”

  She glanced over at the Christmas tree she’d put up a couple of weeks ago. What was special about it was that it had come right off Bane’s Ponderosa. Riley had chopped it down for her. She’d had fun decorating the tree and had even trailed Christmas lights and ornaments along the fireplace mantel. “Thanks.”

  And then Bane pulled her even closer into his arms. “I’ve already placed your gift under the tree, baby.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and saw the huge red box with a silver bow. She looked back at him, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. “Thanks. What’s in it?”

  He chuckled. “You get to open it in the morning.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

  She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “And merry Christmas to you, Bane.”

  And then their mouths connected, and she knew this was still just the beginning. They had the rest of their lives.

  Epilogue

  Valentine’s Day

  “I would like to propose a toast to the newlyweds,” Ramsey Westmoreland said, getting everyone’s attention and holding up his champagne glass. “First of all, we didn’t ever think you would leave us, Bay, but we know you’ll be in good hands living in Alaska with Walker. We’re still going to miss you showing up unannounced, letting yourself into our homes and eating our food.”

  “And getting all into our business,” Derringer hollered out.

  Ramsey chuckled. “Yes, she did have a knack for getting all in our business. But I think we can safely say we wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I know Mom and Dad are smiling down on us today, happy for their baby girl.”

  He paused as if to compose himself before he continued, “And, Walker, she’s yours now and I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Callum when he married Gemma, and Rico when he married Megan. You can’t give her back. You asked for her, flaws and all, so deal with it.”

  Everyone laughed at that. Ramsey then raised his champagne glass higher. “To Walker and Bailey. May you have a long and wonderful marriage, and watch out for the bears.” The attendees laughed again as they clicked their glasses before drinking their champagne.

  Dillon then stepped up to stand beside Ramsey. The wedding had been held inside the beautiful garden club in downtown Denver. Riley’s wife, Alpha, who was an event planner, had done her magic. The wedding theme had been From This Day Forward, and since it was Valentine’s Day the colors had been red and white.

  “No, I’m not giving Walker and Bailey another toast,” Dillon said, grinning. “With so many members of the family gathered here together, I want to take this time to welcome our cousins, the Outlaws of Alaska. Your last names might be Outlaw but you proved just how much Westmoreland blood ran through your veins when you gave Bane and Crystal your protection when they needed it the most. And all of us thank you for it. Our great-grandfather Raphel would be proud. And that deserves another toast.”

  Crystal felt Bane’s arms tighten around her waist. What Dillon had said was true. The Outlaws had come through for them during a very critical time. Their last names might be Outlaw, but they looked and carried themselves just like Westmorelands.

  Later, she saw Dillon and Ramsey talking to Garth and Sloan and couldn’t help but notice how the single women at the wedding were checking them out. With all the Denver Westmoreland males marked off the bachelor list, it seemed that the single ladies were considering the Outlaws as hopefuls. Evidently the thought of moving to Alaska didn’t dissuade them one bit.

  “What’s this I hear about the two of you moving to Washington?” Senator Reggie Westmoreland approached to ask. He had his beautiful wife, Olivia, by his side.

  Bane smiled. “It will be
just for a little while, after Crystal graduates in May with her PhD. She will be working at that lab in DC for six months and I was offered a position teaching SEAL recruits how to master a firearm.”

  “That’s great! Libby and I will have to invite the two of you over once you get settled.”

  Jess Outlaw walked up to join them. Because he had been out on the campaign trail when they were in Alaska, the first time Bane and Crystal had met him had been when the Outlaws had joined the Westmorelands for Christmas.

  “And I hope to see you soon in Washington, as well,” Reggie said to Jess.

  Jess smiled. “I hope so. The race is close and has begun getting ugly.”

  “Been there before,” Reggie said. “Hang in there and stick to your principles.”

  Jess nodded. “Thanks for your advice, and thanks so much for your endorsement.”

  A smile spread across Reggie’s lips. “No thanks needed. We are family. Besides, I reviewed your platform, and it’s a good one that could benefit the people of your state. I think in the end they will see that.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Jess said.

  A few moments later Crystal found herself alone with Bane. Coop was doing fine and had visited them in Westmoreland Country a few times. So had Nick, Flipper and Viper. Flipper had personally delivered to her the items that he and his brother had removed from her house before the fire.

  She had gotten to know all of Bane’s team members and thought they were swell guys. And she had met their wives, as well. But Flipper, Viper and Coop were single and swearing to stay that way. Since the three were extremely handsome men, she couldn’t wait to see just for how long.

  “Did I tell you today how much I love you?” Bane leaned down to ask her, whispering close to her ear.

  “Yes,” she said, smiling up at him. “But you can tell me again.”

  “Gladly. Crystal Gayle Westmoreland, I love you very much. With all my heart.”

  She reached up and caressed his cheek as she thought about all they’d endured over the years. A lot had changed, but the one thing that had remained constant had been their love. “And I love you, too, Bane. With all my heart.”

  And then they kissed, sealing their words and their love. Forever.

  * * * * *

  Read on for an extract from TRIPLETS UNDER THE TREE by Kat Cantrell.

  Prologue

  Near Punggur Besar, Batam Island, Indonesia

  Automatically, Falco swung his arm in an arc to block the punch. He hadn’t seen it coming. But a sense he couldn’t explain told him to expect his opponent’s attack.

  Counterpunch. His opponent’s head snapped backward. No mercy. Flesh smacked flesh again and again, rhythmically.

  The moves came to him fluidly, without thought. He’d been learning from Wilipo for only a few months, but Falco’s muscles already sang with expertise, adopting the techniques easily.

  His opponent, Ravi, attacked yet again. Falco ducked and spun to avoid the hit. His right leg ached with the effort, but he ignored it. It always ached where the bone had broken.

  From his spot on the sidelines of the dirt-floored ring, Wilipo grunted. The sound meant more footwork, less jabbing.

  Wilipo spoke no English and Falco had learned but a handful of words in Bahasa since becoming a student of the sole martial arts master in southern Batam Island. Their communication during training sessions consisted of nods and gestures. A blessing, considering Falco had little to say.

  The stench of old fish rent the air, more pungent today with the heat. Gazes locked, Falco and Ravi circled each other. The younger man from a neighboring village had become Falco’s sparring partner a week ago after he’d run out of opponents in his own village. The locals whispered about him and he didn’t need to speak Bahasa to understand they feared him.

  He wanted to tell them not to be afraid. But he knew he was more than a strange Westerner in an Asian village full of simple people. More than a man with dangerous fists.

  Nearly four seasons ago, a fisherman had found Falco floating in the water, unconscious, with horrific injuries. At least that was what he’d pieced together from the doctor’s halting, limited English.

  He should have died before he’d washed ashore in Indonesia and he certainly should have died at some point during the six-month coma his body had required to heal.

  But he’d lived.

  And when he finally awoke, it was to a nightmare of physical rehabilitation and confusion. His memories were fleeting. Insubstantial. Incomplete. He was the man with no past, no home, no idea who he was other than angry and lost.

  The only clue to his identity lay inked across his left pectoral muscle—a fierce, bold falcon tattoo with a scarlet banner clutched in his talons, emblazoned with the word Falco. That was what his saviors called him since he didn’t remember his name, though it chafed to be addressed as such.

  Why? It must be a part of his identity. But when he pushed his memory, it only resulted in his fists primed to punch something and a blinding headache. Every waking moment—and even some of those dedicated to sleep—he heard an urgent soul-deep cry to discover why he’d been snatched from the teeth of a cruel death. Surely he’d lived for a reason. Surely he’d remember something critical to set him on the path toward who he was. Every day thus far had ended in disappointment.

  Only fighting allowed him moments of peace and clarity as he disciplined his mind to focus on something other than the struggle to remember.

  Ravi and Wilipo spoke in rapid Bahasa, leaving the Westerner out of it, as always.

  Wilipo grunted again.

  That meant it was time to stop sparring. Nodding, Falco halted, breathing heavily. Ravi’s reflexes were not as instantaneous and his fist clipped Falco.

  Pain exploded in his head. “Che diavolo!”

  The curse had spit from his mouth the moment Ravi struck, though Falco had no conscious knowledge of Italian. Or how he knew it was Italian. The intrigue saved Ravi from being pulverized.

  Ravi bowed apologetically, dropping his hands to his sides. Rubbing his temples, Falco scowled over the late shot as a flash of memory spilled into his head.

  White stucco. Glass. A house perched on a cliff, overlooking the ocean. Malibu. A warm breeze. A woman with red hair.

  His house. He had a home, full of his things, his memories, his life.

  The address scrolled through his mind as if it had always been there, along with images of street signs and impressions of direction, and he knew he could find it.

  Home. He had to get there. Somehow.

  Copyright © 2015 by Kat Cantrell

  ISBN: 978-1-474-00367-4

  BANE

  © 2015 Brenda Jackson

  Published in Great Britain 2015

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited

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