Out of the Ashes (Sons of Templar MC #3)(70)

Before I got the chance, his eyes moved. They settled on Killian and Lexie. I didn’t think it was possible for his gaze to turn more murderous, but it did. I was surprised Killian didn’t scamper away or beg for mercy once he met it. But the kid stood his ground. I had to admire him for that. Zane stormed his way over there. He hadn’t been around the past two weeks, so he obviously wasn’t privy to the serious relationship that had developed in that time. Which was probably a good thing, considering what he was doing in his blissful ignorance.

Zane barked something at Killian and he reluctantly let Lexie go and stormed into the house, pushing past Zane.

Lexie looked after him with a faraway look in her eye. Her gaze settled on Zane and she beamed, running over to him. To mine and everyone else’s at the table’s utter surprise, she put her arms around him. He seemed to jolt slightly before engulfing her in his giant arms and kissing her head lightly. He pulled back once he had decided he’d shown enough affection without damaging his badass card. His face softened as she chattered away, smiling the entire time.

More than a few men in the crowd were watching in open amazement at his soft face and clipped answers to Lexie’s chattering.

“Is that Bull actually having a conversation?” Amy asked in disbelief.

“And he might actually look like he has the possibility of a smile brewing,” added Rosie, equally gobsmacked.

“And he let Lexie actually touch him in public,” Gwen added with a sad smile. She looked to me. “You’ve fixed him,” she declared weirdly. Her voice held a sad note to him.

“Fixed him?” I repeated in confusion, really needing to get behind the glint in all the women’s eyes. The glint that was connected to the demons in Zane’s. That, I guessed, was the reason Zane was trying so hard to keep his distance.

The ringing of my phone interrupted the conversation, much to my chagrin.

“Sorry, ladies, I’ve got to get this,” I said apologetically. I did, considering I was on call at the hotel and I was sure something would go wrong right when I needed to be exactly where I was.

I put the phone to my ear, wandering away from the music and chattering.

“Hello, Mia Spencer speaking,” I answered the unknown caller professionally, happy it wasn’t the hotel. Maybe it was the president this time.

“Mia Spencer?” a formal sounding voice asked.

“This is she,” I replied, something settling in my stomach.

“Ms. Spencer, this is Officer Santos of the Washington, DC PD,” he said.

My heart turned to lead and I had trouble swallowing. I knew. Something bad had happened. Police officers didn’t just call for a chat. I tasted bile. What if he had found us? And this cop was on his payroll? I struggled to contain my fear. I looked at the back of my daughter’s head. I’d die before letting him find her.

“What can I do for you, officer?” I asked, trying to sound strong.

My eyes met Zane’s, and his didn’t hold anger. They were latched onto me with something akin to concern. He watched my every move.

“Ms. Spencer, I’m sorry to have to tell you this over the phone, but Mr. and Mrs. Thorndon had you down as their next of kin,” he said softly.

I jerked, not expecting this to be the topic of the conversation. I felt the world tilt and I struggled to stay upright. “Are they,” I choked. “Are they okay?” I asked, more liked pleaded him to tell me.

There was a pause. A small one. But one that made my heart break in two.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Spencer, they were murdered last night. We found them this morning.” His voice held sorrow but a distance, like a man who had done this a hundred times before.

My head pounded and I failed to let his words sink in. “No, you have it wrong. I just spoke to them yesterday, it’s not them,” I protested desperately. I started pacing. It couldn’t be them. It had to be a mistake. They were the only family I had. The only family Lexie and I had.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Spencer.” The voice held finality.

It hit me then; it sank in. They were gone. Murdered. My legs gave out from under me at that point and I collapsed into a chair that was perfectly placed. Otherwise I would have fallen to the ground. The cop may have been still talking. I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t hear anything apart from the beating in my chest. The ripping, the soul-wrenching pain. My breath came in pants.

My phone was ripped from my ear and Zane crouched in front of me. His huge form took up all of my vision. I focused on it. On his vest. On his strong arms, his tattoos, the thick cords of muscle in his neck. The day’s worth of stubble on his jaw hiding his goatee slightly. Then I met his eyes, which were locked on me as he barked into the phone. I didn’t move my gaze from them. They were my anchor, stopping me from toppling over the abyss.

“Who the f*ck is this?” he demanded, half shouted.

There was a silence and Zane listened, his body taut.

“Murdered,” I whispered, my voice broken, tortured. I was saying it to myself, tasting the foulness of the word on my tongue when I verbalized it.

Zane flinched when I spoke.

Murdered. How could the two most caring people I know be murdered?

My phone wasn’t in Zane’s hand anymore and his large hands spanned my neck, gripping it softly.

“Mia,” he began in a voice so tender I had to stare a moment to make sure it was him that actually spoke. It was. The rough, sometimes downright scary dude was speaking to me in a gentle, soft and comforting tone. His eyes were the same.