Page 27 of Tainted Tempos

“Sleep, beauty,” Mav says softly. “I’m right here, and you’re safe.”

“We’re together.”

“We’re together,” he confirms.

I relax as my husband holds me close and keeps me safe. He knows my darkest shame, and instead of judging me, he gives me grace.

Acceptance. Understanding. Love.

And hope.

I hope to behistreasure.

SEVEN

MAV

Mckenna’s confessionkeeps me up the rest of the night. While my beauty sleeps, her tiny body curled into mine, her eyelashes fanning over the tops of her cheeks, her lips parted sweetly, I fucking stew. My head throbs, my chest tightens, and I want to simultaneously holler and sob.

I force my body to stay loose and relaxed for Mckenna’s benefit, but inside, hot, angry blood pumps through my veins, and my mind churns from both fury and despair.

He pinned her down on a dirty floor.

He put his hand over her mouth.

He raped her.

Spit on her.

Threatened her.

Fucking hurt her.

Played his stupid little head games with her for the next two years.

And no one knew. No one fucking knew.

Well, that stops now. Because I know. And I will do everything in my power to set things right again. To help my beauty process, heal, and move on. To ruin Branson Burton’s life.

I trust you, Maverick.

Thanks for believing in me.

We’re together.

Argh! She guts me. Destroys me. Makes me whole.

I glance down at my sleeping beauty and hold her close. I stroke the silky strands of her hair away from her face and cup her cheek. Even in sleep, she turns into me. I brush my thumb along her jawline and study the shape of her lips, the line of her nose, the sweep of her eyebrows. Her even breathing, inhales and exhales, reminds me that right now, she’s safe. She’s here. She’s going to get through this and be okay.

We’regoing to get through this and be okay.

As I watch Mckenna sleep, I vow to protect her. To love her through whatever comes next.

To be a man worthy of her trust. To be her husband.

Two days later, I call Aiden and notify him to dig up every piece of dirt on Branson Burton. In fact, I make it his top priority. The information he presented me with barely scratched the surface. It was all superficial details—Bran’s birthplace, Houston, Texas; his participation in the Law Review; his fucking Little League photos. I want more than that. I want everything.

“But, Mav, we need to talk about the agreement I sent and?—”

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