Page 48 of Fighting Salvation

Bás turned in his parents’ bedroom to see Valentina holding up a pillow. Walking toward her, he took the pillow knowing exactly what he’d find. Tiny needlepoint stitches weaved a pattern of his mother’s family crest into the middle. It was sewn for his parents for their wedding day and his father had a matching one.

This one though was covered in old, dried blood that hadn’t been there before and his gut turned to ice as his mind tried to make sense of a memory that slithered just out of reach.

“This is the pillow my grandmother on my mother’s side gave to my ma on her wedding day. My father had one his mother had made. My grandmothers were friends and I remember they’d sit and sew for hours on the doorstep in our village while they gossiped and plotted.”

Memories flooded his brain now of the love his family had for one another. The pillow felt soft and full of stories as he brought it closer to his chest. “My parents’ marriage was arranged by them the minute they were born and my dad would always say he never stood a chance against them. But the truth was he and my mother were disgustingly happy and in love.”

“That’s such a lovely story.” Val pointed to the blood but also the way the stitches were damaged on the wording. “Was it always damaged like that?”

Bás shook his head. “No, maybe it’s from animals or something.”

Val shrugged. “Perhaps we should get all this stuff shipped home so we can preserve it.”

“Most of the things I wanted are already in storage back home.”

“You didn’t want the pillows?”

Bás looked at them again and frowned. “I forgot about them to be honest, and I wasn’t sure where they were. I haven’t seen them for years.”

Val wrinkled her nose. “Is it possible this blood is Hansen’s?”

Suddenly her words seem to trigger a memory and he turned the cushion so that the emblem was upside down. He looked up at Val as if she might have half a clue what the hell he was talking about. “Oh my God, that’s it.”

“What is?”

“A piece of the puzzle.” He angled the stitching toward the light, turning it so she could see it clearly. “This is the exact same tattoo Hansen has on his calf. I never thought about it before because I haven’t seen it in years, but he has my mother’s family coat of arms on his calf.”

She looked even more confused and he sensed it too. “But why?”

He shook his head, his shoulders lifting and then falling. “I don’t know but I think there might be a connection. Especially when you consider how my mother’s face was scratched out of all the images he put up.”

“So you think this has something to do with your mother?”

It gutted him to think there might be any kind of mystery around his mother. For the life of him, he couldn’t think what it might have been, but it was difficult to ignore the obvious. “I think so, yes.”

“You said she didn’t like Hansen much when you brought him home. Do you know why?”

Bás sighed, tilting his head in thought. “No, she never said much but she would leave the room or go out when he was around. She said he was a bad influence but nothing more, and honestly, he was no more of a bad influence than anyone else. If anything, he calmed me. He wasn’t always the person he is now.”

Her hand rubbed over his back as she leaned her head against him, offering support in the best way she could. “It must have been hard losing your friend and your family.”

Bás had never given much thought to the loss of his friend. The instant he’d figured out Hansen had killed his family, his only focus had been revenge. Which had left no time for wallowing but looking back, it was a loss to him.

“I didn’t think about it at the time. To be honest, my head was so mixed up, all I could feel was this thirst to make him pay.”

Valentina wrapped her arms around him. He let the cushion fall from his hands to the bed as he held her, soaking in her strength and love, resting his chin on her head. They stood for a few minutes in silence. He needed this, her touch was something he’d craved since the second they first shook hands. Now he’d finally allowed himself to feel it, he couldn’t walk away. Not now, not ever.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Niall.”

He pressed his lips to her hair and breathed her in, letting her familiar sweet scent soothe his soul. “Me too, mo chroí.”

Her head lifted and her gaze met his. “What does that mean?”

He rubbed the back of his head, suddenly feeling exposed but not wanting to crawl back into his empty life. “It means my heart.”

“Niall.” A blush stole over her cheeks, a soft look moving through her eyes.

He cupped her cheek and she nuzzled into it, as his thumb rubbed over her lips. “It’s true. I never put much stock into love at first sight or crap like that, but when I met you it was as if my soul recognised yours. I’ve never felt anything like it before and it scared the hell out of me. It still does but I’m done fighting. You make me better, and I’m going to prove I’m worth the faith you put in me day after day.”