“I was drunk one night and going on about what a useless piece of shit I was, how I hadn’t saved Mica from my brother in the first place. Hadn’t saved her at all. She was still in college, doing well, and I was just a prospect in the club. But, I kept watch on her, wanted to make damn sure Ray never got another sniff of her.” He ran a hand up Brenda’s back, palming the back of her head and tipping it against his shoulder, liking the feel of her pressed against him.
“So I’m drunk and fucked-up in the head, raving mad at myself. Mason listened to it for about a minute, then laughed at me. Stood there, arms folded across his chest and roared with laughter. Told me I had everything wrong. He said, ‘You’re a good man under it all, Reuben. Can’t fake the kind of man you are, which is honorable and loyal to a fucking fault.’
“He told me if it looked like a duck and quacked like a duck, chances were it was a fucking duck. Next day when I finally rolled my hungover ass out of bed, there was a name patch sewn to my vest.” He reached down and touched it with one finger, reverently tracing the letters making up his name.
“So now, every time someone calls me ‘Duck,’ I remember his words. Every single time I see this patch on my vest, I remember his faith in me, remember he saw something I couldn’t even see. Duck is a good man, a good brother to my club, a good friend. I work every day to be what he named me.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “Told me later I should be glad the patch guy got it wrong. He wanted one saying ‘Fuck a Duck’ which would have been funny for about a week.” Brenda laughed, the softness of her voice rolling across his skin like satin and he shivered before moving back into the hard topics at hand. “Ray, however...fuck, Ray never stopped to look at what he had become. He was so caught up in being that monster. He reveled in shaping himself into those frightening shadows on the wall that gave people the chills. Fucked-up in the head. You know what he did to the gal at the feed store, right? Lisa?” It was her turn to shiver, and he drew her closer, bending to place a kiss on the top of her head as she nodded.
“Wasn’t the last time he pulled that kind of shit. He raped Mica’s little sister”—at his raw words she gasped, but he pushed through—“left her with a baby too, but hers stuck because he wasn’t there to beat it from her body. Fucking killed me seeing her every day. Marking when she started to show, watching her grow. Witness what he had done, knowing she had to live with it every time she looked down at her belly. Knowing her child was the product of a violation, an act so heinous it should be answered by a bullet to the head. No excuses, no appeals.” She started to pull back, and he hushed her, holding her still. “Let me get this out, Bee. We can have the give and take in a bit, but let me get this out there, so you know what’s what.”
When she relaxed into him, he tipped his chin, kissing the top of her head again. “Molls—Molly, Mica’s sister—loves her boy.” He laughed softly. “Loves him beyond distraction. That child will never doubt her love. Guarantee it. I’d been watching out for her, keeping my distance, not wishing to be another reminder of what she had suffered at Ray’s hands. Didn’t want to be the thing scraping the scab off at every turn, hoped to give her time to heal, as much as a woman can after something like that.” He sighed, his breath coming in broken bursts.
”Molly cornered me one day and lit into me like nobody’s business. Told me if I wanted to punish myself for what wasn’t my fault then I needed to get out of her sight because seeing me flogging myself was killing her more than anything else ever could. Told me she hated the man who did it to her, but from the first moment she felt the baby move inside her, she had loved it so much. Felt such love and gratitude.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Fucking gratitude she had this blessing in her life.”
Brenda started to speak, but he talked over her, needing to get it out. Get it all out. “I was there the night Tomas was born, one of the first people to hold his wet and slippery body, him squallin’ like a pissed off cat. Seeing that miracle happen healed something in me. Love her little boy, love him so much.” Duck's throat tightened, locking closed for a moment, so that he had to clear it before continuing. “She looked up at me standing there, my arms wrapped around this little bundle. Beautiful baby boy. She stared at me holding her son and she had love and joy in her face. Joy, Brenda. Fucking torture, but such an honor to see, to be there as a witness. Asked me if she could lean on me. Told me it was my responsibility to teach Tomas good things, right things. I look at it as a privilege, because she trusts me. Totally trusts me.
“Lisa,” he drew a shuddering breath, “she lives with what happened to her every single fucking day without any joy to draw off that agony. Nothing to drain away the damage done to her, only the pain remains, festering deep inside in a place hard to reach. You should have seen how she looked at me, Bee. Ripped my heart out when Mr. Transom told me what happened. I had no idea. Not a clue what she went through with Ray. Of course I didn’t, because I wasn’t here to stop it. I was in Chicago trying to protect someone who had a hundred other men who would lay down their lives for her, and Lisa…Lisa didn’t have anyone.”
“Stop it,” Brenda snapped, pushing back and out of his hold as she interrupted him. “Will you just stop it?” He saw the tear tracks running down her cheeks, lips parted as she panted for breath. “You didn’t do that to Lisa. You didn’t do anything wrong, honey.”
Lifting a hand, she roughly raked her hair back from her face. “God, you piss me off so bad sometimes.” Shifting to the seat, she rose on her knees, leaning over him, getting in his space to make her point. One hand on the wheel and the other on his shoulder, she shook him, fingers winding tight in the collar of his shirt. “You are the man your friend Mason knows, the one he called honorable. All you’ve ever done is try and make up for the harm your family caused. One of my favorite memories of you was the night you came and worked my uncle’s horse. That first time you came, because your dad had been drunk and you were just trying to make things right.
She shook her head. “I got to know your dad, and I knew Ray. I saw them for what they were, baby. Pathetic men who were afraid of giving up any control. Afraid giving up control would expose their weaknesses, show up their shortcomings.” Leaning forward, she placed one hand on his chest. “You are not them. Not what they were, baby. Not, never could be. It’s not in your DNA. You are what your friend said. A good man. And I love you.”
She leaned in and kissed him, hard and demanding, teasing with the edges of her teeth, nipping and sucking on his bottom lip until he pushed her back flat on the seat. He stretched her legs out straight and then covered her, holding her in place with his hips and hands, taking control of the kiss in the same moment. Deep and hot, he stroked in between her lips with his tongue, tangling with her as he fucked her mouth. He traced the inside of her mouth, taking everything he craved and she met him movement for movement, giving him back everything he desired…everything she needed.
“Wait, God, wait,” he muttered, breaking away and pressing his forehead against hers, the tips of their noses brushing together. “I got more to tell you, Bee. I can’t…not until you know. You have to know before you take a single fucking step down this road.”
“Then, tell me.” Her voice was hoarse with need and her hips shifted restlessly underneath him. He moved, pushing his hard cock against her mound, drawing a high keen from her. “Duck,” she said and he lunged forward, taking her mouth again roughly, passion inflamed beyond reason at his real name rolling from her lips. Long minutes later he slowed the kiss, realizing she had wrapped her legs around his waist and was pushing back against him as he stroked his cock against her, the rough fabric of their jeans scratching and scrubbing with the friction created, giving a tease of relief with each groaning thrust.
“Fuck,” he whispered into her mouth. “You make me reckless, Bee. I love you, but I need to do right.” Every muscle tensed tight, he panted, trying to bring himself under control because the urge to strip and sink deep inside her was so st
rong he could nearly feel her skin, slippery with sweat as she moved with him. “Right by you. Fuck.” When he felt he could move without risk of coming, he sat up and pulled her with him, wrapping her in his arms again. “Next time we go horizontal, I won’t be responsible for what happens, Bee.”
She laughed rich and low, teasing as she snuggled closer. “Can’t wait, baby,” she told him softly, “just give me time to get my diaphragm in.”
“Don’t care to wait on that, darlin’,” he returned, still on a whisper, “so don’t be surprised if I won’t.”
Rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, she didn’t respond and he knew she was waiting.
After a moment he said, “Right, then. Let’s get the rest of this done and out of the way. No more secrets.” He was surprised when she stiffened in his arms and tried to separate herself from him, pushing at his chest, head turned away. “What?” Stunned at her reaction, he tightened his arms. “What’s wrong, Bee?”
“You tell your story.” He heard her swallow and frowned, wondering what had her so frightened. “And, I’ll tell mine.” For some reason, the picture of her family on the office wall flashed through his head. The one of her, Tommy, and Eli. Taking a deep, sighing breath, he pushed it aside and nodded.
“Ray’s dead.” Stated baldly, he waited for a reaction which didn’t come. One beat, two…then, “Okay. Not a surprise?”
“No. I’ve had a feeling for a long time,” she said softly.
“I didn’t do it, but I would not have tried to stop it even if I’d been right there. Even if I’d been standing beside him.” He sighed. “I’m pretty sure he killed Daddy and his own wife. So much damage in his wake. Afterwards, when I went to pick up his rig in Houston, I found a folder of shit in his living quarters. Pictures of women…girls, with tears and fear and snot on their faces…sometimes worse. Bloody pain as souvenirs.
“He had a whole list of the best ways to dispose of a body. Everything I read that day validated his death a hundred times over. Did you know if you bury a person feet first, vertical, and then bury a dead animal on top of them, it is highly unlikely they will ever be found? Even if a cadaver dog alerts at the spot, once they find the animal, the cops will think it’s a false positive and move on. Burying them in a small square, upright like that, it also means satellites don’t see the obvious outline of a gravesite. Dismembering, putting bodies in septic systems, ocean disposal methods. He had it all in a fucking file. Organized and tidy, like it was something he referred to often. It was a sick fucking read.
“He had fucking pictures and lists, and some of the tools I found in his stash were on those lists, Bee. I expect if I tracked his circuit route and tried to match it with missing persons, I’d find a pattern that would make me sick. Bastard needed to die, and I should have seen it sooner.
“But, what’s done is past and he’s gone now. Can’t hurt anyone, and the only legacy he left is not his. Tomas belongs to Molly and no one else, and you can be damn sure she isn’t gonna let who his sperm donor was influence his life. That boy is safe from my blood. Thank God.”
He shuddered. “Sick fucker. I asked for proof of his death, just to know I didn’t have to worry or watch anymore. Seeing the picture sealed it for me. The nightmare was over. No more monsters. I’m it, and I’m not the man my father was. Not the man my brother was. There will be no more Nelms men fucking over anyone and everyone who had the misfortune to catch their attention.” Trailing off into silence, he sat for a minute, and then repeated, “No more monsters.”
His arms loosened and she made a noise, shoving her face into his chest. “Bee?” She shook her head. When she hiccupped, he realized she had begun crying so he pulled her close again. “Oh, baby, it’s okay. I’m not sad.”
“Not true. It’s not true,” she said with a sob. “I’m…I wish…I should have come right to you when I found out. I’m so sorry.” Her body trembled; she was shaking, quivering like a rabbit caught in a trap. Fear pulsed out from her as she pulled away.
Cupping her face in his hands, he swept the tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, wishing for more light because the weak moonlight hid so much of the expression on her face. Was it fear? It looked like fear. Felt like fear, her trembling in his hands. Fear for me, or of me, he wondered.
Then she spoke and the words dropped everything out of focus for a moment. Gentle and strident all at once, a cacophony. It was as if the world rocked on its axis. Once again he would have sworn he felt the earth move underneath the truck, altering in a way it would never go back to what it was before. “Tommy wasn’t Eli’s dad.”
That damn picture flashed through his head again and he saw the general likeness of the boy’s face, but the discrepancies were there in so many other ways. I know. I think I know. The memory of seeing Eli for the first time, brief moments of confusion and wonder, swallowed whole by painfully dashed hopes he hadn’t even known lived inside him.
Now, sitting beside her, he knew what her next words were going to be. He knew. God, he knew and waited impatiently to hear her say them. The anticipation drew his arms snug around her, pulling her against him, making her safe, giving her space to find her courage. One single word, one syllable fluttering around his brain, the beat of belief coming stronger as hope grew. Mine. Mine. MINE. Determined, he held on like she was the last person in the world. His last hope at happiness. At life. He pulled her tighter, waiting…wanting, his suddenly airless chest burning as he filled with joy.
“You are.”
Confirmation. Knowledge he and Brenda had a connection so much deeper than he ever dreamed. Validation of the rightness he held in his arms.
“Mine?” He drew a shaking breath, terrified he’d imagined hearing the word he wanted to be truth spoken aloud. Tell me again, please. “He’s mine?” The question ricocheted around the truck’s cab, a dream come true. His stomach lurched, settling slowly back into place. Real, this is real. Mine. “God. Oh, thank God. Thank God he’s mine. Oh, Bee. Thank you.” She flinched at his first words but then relaxed as he continued to murmur, lips pressed against the side of her head. “Mine, both of you. Mine.”
***
Hours later, her churning brain keeping her from rest, Brenda lay next to a sleeping Duck in her bed. Her eyes closed as she slowly stroked her fingertips up and down his arm. Unbelievable, she thought. How could he not be angry? If the tables were turned, she knew she would be furious at the wasted time, lost opportunities and memories. I would feel betrayed, blindsided knowing I’d been in town for weeks and still didn’t know.
He was only looking forward, not back, and this was an unexpected gift. To have the chance to build from here with him and Eli, to make them a family—it was so much more than anything she ever dreamed about, beyond everything she could have expected. Not that he didn’t have questions, but she did her best to answer everything openly and honestly, putting the puzzle together for him, so he saw what she did at the time.
Now she had to find a way to tell Elias the man he believed his father wasn’t. Gently let him know that he bore no ties to the man he’d had to mourn even before they’d buried him. No connection other than the love they shared.
She shifted in bed, exhausted but unable to sleep. Moving again, she felt the difference in his body when he woke. It wasn’t because he stirred or made a noise, he just became more…there. Every muscle primed for movement. “Bee?” Soft voice so low the question was barely audible, his breath ruffled the hair on the side of her head. “Can’t sleep, love?”
“No, my brain won’t be quiet. Sorry I woke you.” She rolled onto her stomach, away from him and he startled a laugh out of her when he rolled with her, half on her back and half on the mattress, his weight holding her in place.
“Brenda.” His voice was rough and intense when he spoke her name. Needy. Firm against her skin, his touch skimmed up the outside of her thigh to her hip where he paused, gripping her tightly as he pushed his already hardened cock against her ass. With a ga
sp, she rocked back against him, drawing a groan from his mouth. “Does it feel like I’m sorry, Bee?”
He had made slow love to her when they'd arrived home, covering every inch of her skin with kisses and soft strokes of his hands. Telling her so much with his touch, the care he took showing how precious she was to him.
Now, the energy in the room was different from before, charged somehow and she tensed in response. “Asked a question, Bee,” he said, voice low and sounding filled with gravel. His hand slid up to cup her breast, finger and thumb meeting in a tight pinch at her nipple, the bright pain sending an electric shock to her core.
“Does it feel like I’m sorry?” He surged against her again, heat from his erection blazing against her bare skin. He had fallen asleep before getting dressed, and with him holding her tightly, she hadn’t tried to get out of bed to pull on her nightgown, so he was pressed all along her back and side, skin to skin. Hot, sensual. Naked.
“No, not sorry.” Already keyed up, she got the words out between pants, hardly believing how ragged her breathing was in moments. The promise of passion was thick in the air and she wanted…something. “Not sorry.”
Slipping his thigh between her legs, he pushed up on one forearm, holding his torso off her. Then he thrust again, his cock sliding up and between the globes of her ass as he groaned. Shoving a hand underneath her, he covered her core with his palm and she moved her legs wider apart, opening to him, knowing what he would find.
Sliding a finger to either side of her clit, he stroked her pussy gently and then moved his hand down, fingers slipping inside. “Oh, Bee. My Bee’s wet for me.” Teeth nipping her shoulder, his laugh was rich and knowing. “Your pussy’s soaked, baby.” Swirling his fingers in the evidence of her arousal, he spread it over her clit, roughly rubbing side-to-side and she pressed her hips down, pushing hard against his hand, seeking more friction.
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