Page 38 of Bent, Not Broken

What was going on here?

“Uh… okay, so that’s fine. I can just tell you what I found.” I turned toward him, and he pushed me in the direction of the steps. I stumbled down them and almost fell on my ass but caught myself at the last second.

“What? You thought you’d come riding in here and”—he shook his head—“fix this problem for me, and I’d be in your debt? Maybe the next time I had a Harlot in the clink I’d just call you up and let her go?” He jammed a finger toward me that landed uncomfortably close to my nose. I crossed my eyes trying to look at it. He growled and dropped his hand.

“No. This isn’t about anything except that you were so upset with me this morning. Can’t you believe that I would help you simply to help?” My chest crumpled like a tin can and hurt sliced at me. I had trouble keeping my voice even and calm. He was obviously already pissed off enough for both of us. I fought to leave my hands at my sides and not huddle or do something else that would show my nerves.

“My… that man,” Slater began, his voice a raw scrape of sound in the darkness. “He’s a fucking monster, a no-good murderer. He killed my mother. He is exactly where he belongs, and if you get him out of jail—anyone who would seriously consider helping that psycho is just as bad as he is.”

My stomach tightened into a thousand tiny knots. “I’m sorry. I just assumed the family, you and your aunt, thought he was innocent because there was that small campaign—”

“She thinks he is, but I found my mother. I know better.”

My heart nearly stopped and then took off at double time.

Slater stood there fuming, shoulders rising and falling too fast with his erratic breath. I didn’t know what to do. I shuffled a step closer. He turned to pin me in place with a murderous stare—shit, he looks a lot like his dad did in those courtroom drawings—but his crappy look wasn’t the same as what I normally got when I irritated him. He was actually angry, and that quivered alive a survival instinct in me that had my legs tensing. I fought to breathe out and ignore my animal brain.

“You really did all that—” He pointed vaguely in the direction of the papers ruffling in a light breeze across the grass. “—because you wanted to help me?”

“You were so unhappy this morning. I hated that. I thought I could... fix it.”

He ducked his head, and some other emotion flitted across his face, something softer. Relief hammered into me so nice that I almost fell over when my muscles unclenched. His face crumpled for a couple of seconds, and then he was back to the stoic mask I was used to seeing. Every instinct in me that had demanded I flee vanished, and I rushed forward, the imaginary chains his true fury had formed around me snapping. I flung my arms around his middle. Slater let out an “oomph” and stood there, statue-still.

“What is this?” he asked quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“How awful that must have been for you. I read all the articles for the trial today. You must not have been very old.”

“No one’s ever said that.” He stiffened and then leaned some of his weight against me. “Said how bad it was for me. I get people who tell me they’re sorry, like he died, but it’s not the same. Aunt Nora just talks about the travesty of my father being locked up.” Slater trembled under my cheek, and I held on tighter. Slowly his arms came up around me, and then we were hugging. His arms weren’t angled right, maybe he didn’t get hugged much. Nuzzling my face against his chest, I huddled there against his front. My stomach chose that second to rumble and squeal and gurgle, and he laughed.

“You hiding a monster in there? Hell, that was loud.”

“Worked through food times.” I shrugged but smiled where my face was pressed against his chest. He almost sounded friendly.

“Now what?” he asked, voice not traveling past our little huddle. He rested his chin on the top of my head.

“I think you invite me to stay the night,” I whispered back.

He nodded and shifted us toward the front door, and then he led me inside with an arm draped around my shoulders, almost as if he couldn’t stand to let me go.

Chapter 11

Evan

I steered him straight to the kitchen and pushed him into one of the chairs at the table. He watched me, and I felt the stare right down to my bones. Pain twanged in my gut. I’d been a complete asshole to him, and he still went out of his way to do research about my father. While I probably should have still been mad that he dug deeper even when I told him to leave it, I couldn’t bring myself to be anything but grateful, and a little fucking honored that he cared that much—which was weird. I’d had a lot of people come in and out of my life, but no one like him. Madden Polunin was one of a kind, and that irked me because he was only supposed to be a hole, something hot on my dick.

I opened the fridge, took out two Blue Moons and set them on the counter. Next I pulled out the leftover Indian food I’d ordered earlier tonight and dumped it on a plate. I didn’t have to look at him to know his gaze hadn’t left my back as I worked around the kitchen in silence. Once the food was in the microwave, I leaned my ass on the kitchen counter and clamped a hand on the back of my neck. I sighed.

“Aunt Nora is Dad’s sister. She never wanted to believe he could do what he did.” My voice sounded weird and I cleared my throat. “But I kind of always knew. He was angry all the time, but it wasn’t obvious. It was like….” I didn’t know how to explain it. Thinking back on the days of living with my parents made my stomach lurch and a lump form in my throat. “A quiet fury bubbled away in him until he snapped. At first, he never took it out on us. He’d yell some, but he always left the house. He’d come back happy, not like the man who’d left. A few days later a woman would turn up dead around our area. I was a kid, I didn’t understand. Mom had suspicions, I think, but she was afraid of him and what he’d do to us.”

Polunin’s gaze never left my face, and he leaned forward, listening intently. I couldn’t remember anyone ever paying this much attention to me when I spoke, not like they cared, anyway. The microwave beeped and I opened the door, taking out the warm plate and setting it on the table in front of him. Once I had cutlery for him, I grabbed the beers from the counter before sitting in the seat beside him.

“Thank you.” He picked up his fork and dug into the rogan josh immediately, shoving the lamb into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten for days.

I flinched but nodded anyway. “You’re welcome.”