So I pressed even closer so I could lift my lips to his ear.

“That night, it wasn’t Dobie Gray,” I whispered. “It was this song. It was Ella Mae singing this to me when I thought you weren’t all I knew you to be, which is all the words to this song. Twenty-nine years, I held out for this. Then, half an hour later, you proved every one of these words true and every moment since then, you kept doing it. I’ll take you thinking I’m your angel but you need to know you’re my hero. Twenty-nine, honey, I held out for this. Twenty-nine years, I held out for you.”

His face, already in my neck, burrowed deeper. His arms, already holding me tight, pulled me closer.

He said nothing.

But as he swayed me to Ella Mae, I sang with her in his ear.

And that moment in that bar in Chace’s arms with me whispering his song into his ear telling him all he was and all he was to me, no matter the beauty that lay before us, no matter the beauty we created, I knew there would never be a moment more beautiful than that for me.

At the end of the song, Chace sealed that beauty by sliding his lips to mine then sliding his tongue into my mouth, sweet, gentle, soft, giving, letting me give.

Everything that was him.

Everything that was me.

Chapter Twenty-One

Holding out for a Hero

There was movement at the other end of the bar and Chace watched a brunette leave the back hall and enter the common area from where the bathrooms were.

Faye had disappeared back there fifteen minutes ago and it was time to go home. It was time to go to bed. It was time to make love to his woman for the first time while she was wearing his ring on her finger.

Fifteen minutes was a long time for her to be gone. He was impatient. He wanted her alone. He wanted to keep dancing with her. He intended to dance with her until dawn but in a different way.

But the bar was packed which meant there could be a line at the women’s restroom.

He grabbed his beer, lifted it up, took a drag and on the way down his eyes caught on Tate.

Tate was just down the bar leaning two forearms into it, one hand curled around a bottle of beer. Laurie was at his side but she had an arm around his gut and her torso was draped over his back, leaning into Wendy who she was talking to and Chace couldn’t see Lauren but Wendy was laughing.

Tate’s woman might be draped over his back but his eyes were on Chace.

When he caught Chace’s he lifted his beer and he tipped it out as his lips twitched.

Chace knew what that salute meant.

Tate knew what Chace was feeling. Not finding the right woman but finding the only one, the perfect one, the one that was meant for you. Then putting your ring on her finger, claiming her and knowing she was yours, no one else would ever have her, your bed would never be cold, you’d always have someone at your side or taking your back.

Tate Jackson knew how good that felt. He knew what it meant. He knew how important it was. He knew there was nothing better in the world.

Chace lifted his chin to him then watched as Lauren shifted to say something in his ear. Tate’s eyes unfocused as he listened, his face got soft, his lips curved up then he turned his neck and Chace lost sight of him as he took his woman’s mouth.

Yeah. Tate Jackson knew how good it felt.

At that moment, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

He pulled it out, not surprised it was vibrating even though it was late. Word was traveling fast. Well wishes were coming thick. Chace reckoned that day was significant for the town of Carnal. Ty Walker had moved onto the next step of good coming out of a life f**ked by the men who’d f**ked over the town. On the same day, Chace had too.

Chace looked down at his phone to see it was a text. He moved his thumb over the buttons to pull it up and when he saw it, his body went still.

We have Faye. As of now, she has four hours of air. You have that time to find and return the articles needed. If you don’t, we won’t tell you where to dig her out and she’ll run out of breath.

After reading it, his lungs burning, Chace moved swiftly from his position at the bar and shoved through the crowd toward the back hall. When he made it to the mouth, regardless of the heaving bar, he saw it was empty.

He moved down it to the women’s restroom.

He opened the door, a blonde at the sink turned and narrowed her eyes at him but he ignored her and called sharply, “Faye!”

“You cool, dude?” she asked.

He was absolutely not.

“Faye!” he clipped.

Nothing.

His eyes went to the blonde. “You seen a redhead in here?”

She looked at him and bent slightly to aim her eyes under the stalls, calling, “Any of you redheads?”

“Nope.”

“Not me.”

“He cute?”

None of them Faye.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Before she could answer, he swung out and moved quickly down the hall to the back and the emergency exit. He pushed the door open and heard no alarm. Outside in the alley there was no car, there was no one. There was nothing.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He moved up the hall, stopping at the mouth and tipping his head down to the phone.

Fifteen minutes, if they incapacitated her, had a car, they could be long gone.

He stared at his phone.

Four hours of air.

Chace kept staring at his phone.

Dig her out.

Chace continued to stare at his phone.

She’ll run out of breath.

Memories collided in his brain.

Faye staring at him the first time she did it with that wonder in her eyes, on the sidewalk outside La-La Land when he apologized for being a dick. He didn’t know it then but she did it because she had a crush on him and he was, also for the first time, close.

It affected her so much, just him being close, she stopped breathing.

So he’d whispered, Breathe, Faye.

And right before he wrapped her hand around his c**k the first time they’d made love, she’d been holding her breath.

So he’d murmured, Breathe, baby.

And that very night when he’d put his ring on her finger.

Baby, he’d whispered, Breathe.

She’ll run out of breath.

Breathe.

“Chace?” Tate’s voice came at him from close, his head jerked up and when Tate saw him, his face went from questioning to alert. “Christ, man, what’s goin’ on?”

“They’ve got Faye,” he growled.

“Who?” Tate asked.

“The Elite,” Chace answered tersely, those two words raw and he didn’t see Tate’s chin jerk back. He was moving toward the door, pushing through the crowd, vaguely hearing Tate shout men’s names but his mind was scrambling.