When he spoke, he did it softly. “Lotta wounds don’t heal, Jet. Seein’ your sister’s head get blown off, I suspect, is one of ‘em. Havin’ a Dad, and not havin’ one, I’m thinkin’ you understand, is another. You got a good woman in your life, even though the wounds stay open, you move on, live life. The pain doesn’t go away but life has a different focus. A better one.”
He was right. I had a Dad but didn’t have one most of my life. That wound had never healed. My Dad was an inveterate gambler. He was around a lot more now, getting his life sorted but he could fall off the wagon at any time. My sister and I lived with that knowledge and the fear that went with it and it was no fun.
Finding Eddie and believing in us had given my life a different focus.
A better one.
However, with the recent, newly acquired knowledge that my fiancé, Detective Eddie Badass Chavez, snowboarded and his innate understanding of Mace’s wounds, worried me.
My hands slid up the sleek, muscled skin of his back, one stopping at his shoulder blade, the other one sliding up his neck, my fingers sifting into his hair.
“Do you have a wound that won’t heal?” I asked quietly and braced myself for his answer.
He lifted his forehead from mine and his eyes dropped to my mouth.
“Lived a lucky life, mi pequeña,” he muttered, his eyes coming back to mine and they were again liquid but this time also filled with tenderness and affection and I felt my heart skip a beat. “And, alabado sea Dios, it keeps gettin’ luckier.”
Then he was done talking and he kissed me, deep and wet and I was done talking too.
His mouth slid down my neck to my chest where he murmured, “You’re about to get lucky too.”
Then his mouth slid down further then further then he spread my legs and his mouth was right there and, he was very right, I got lucky too.
After Eddie made me lucky with his talented mouth, he came up over me, slid inside me, pounded deep and he got even luckier (and so did I).
When we were done, he turned out the light, rolled me so my back was to his front and he wrapped both arms around me. One went tight around my midriff; the other one went low, to cup me between my legs.
This was a new thing of Eddie’s; holding me this way after we’d made love. It started a few weeks ago after I agreed to marry him. It was intimate, possessive and somehow claiming even though I was already his.
I had to admit, I liked it.
“Chiquita?” Eddie called when I was just about ready to fall asleep.
“Hmm?”
“It’s likely Stella doesn’t know any of this shit.”
My eyes opened.
Eddie went on, his voice holding a gentle warning, “It’s Mace’s to tell her.”
I didn’t say anything.
Eddie kept going. “You women talk. I’m askin’ you not to talk about this.”
“She should know,” I replied.
“She should but when he’s ready to tell her.”
“Eddie –”
He interrupted me, his voice firm, his arm and hand both tensed and I sucked in breath. “No, Jet.”
I bit my lip.
Then I nodded.
I wouldn’t tell Stella.
Unless I had to.
Chapter Ten
Demons
Stella
“Fuck,” Mace swore under his breath as we drove down the graveled drive next to Swen and Ulrika’s mansion.
I knew why he was cursing. It was four o’clock in the morning and I’d been shot at (again!). Mace had just spent the last hours of his life being held back from murdering the guy who shot at me (this made him unhappy, me relieved) and talking to police. Now, upon arrival home, we both could see Eric standing, his arms crossed on his chest and his feet planted wide, illuminated in the outside light that hung over the side door to the house.
I sighed.
Loudly.
Eric watched our approach and I saw that his hair was even messier than normal, probably from running his fingers through it. Even though the light wasn’t great, you could still tell he was pissed.
I figured he knew what went down that night.
Effing hell.
This was not a good situation. I knew Mace was not in a chipper mood. He was wired and he was angry and Mace’s brand of angry was pretty effing scary.
I didn’t have the energy to deal with Mace’s scary brand of anger or Eric’s for that matter. I had a lot going on in my head. I hadn’t had a chance to process what happened onstage considering the fact someone nearly shot me (again!). I also hadn’t had the chance to avoid Mace in order to get my head together because I was too busy making calls to check on the band who, by the way, were all freaked way the hell out but they were breathing which in my crazy-ass life at the moment I took as a boon.
Further, when Mace came to The Castle, I took one look at him and I knew it would be beyond stupid to pour oil on that fire. So when he ordered me (without a greeting, just walked into Daisy’s big room and said it, straight out) to get to the car, instead of mouthing off (which I really wanted to do), I went to the car.
Now this.
Just in case you forgot, I’ll remind you, my luck sucked.
Eric was approaching my side of the Explorer before Mace came to a full stop. Once the car halted, he yanked my door open, reached in, released my belt and pulled me out of the cab.
And now this!
As my boots hit the gravel, I started to say something. What, I did not know but I didn’t get the chance to get anything out.
“Hands off,” Mace growled, rounding the hood of the SUV.
“Fuck you,” Eric replied, clearly and insanely not reading Mace’s scary-unhappy body language.
Lordy be.
“Eric,” I said softly, trying to pull my arm free (and failing) and thinking I should defuse the already heated situation.
Again, I didn’t get the chance. Mace spoke before I could.
“I’ll say it one more time, Turner. Hands off.”
“And I’ll say it one more time, Mason. Fuck you,” Eric returned, yanking me toward his metallic-granite-colored Chevy Trailblazer.
Shitsofuckit!
Before I knew what was happening or I could utter a word, both men moved.
Fast.
I was thrown free of Eric. There was a scuffle and Mace and Eric ended the scuffle face-to-face, fingers curled into each other’s tees.
“Stop it!” I shouted, rushing forward and shoving between their bodies to separate them (this failed too, for your information). Still, my intervention kind of worked. They both pushed off with their hands, each taking a step back but they continued the stare down.
Effing men.
I opened my mouth to speak but, to my increasing frustration, Eric got there before me.
“I’m taking her into protective custody,” he announced.
Oh dear.
“The hell you are,” Mace shot back.
“You aren’t keepin’ her safe,” Eric returned.
“Yeah, and it’s safe standin’ out here fuckin’ dealin’ with you,” Mace snapped, throwing his arm out to the night to make his point.
Eric switched subjects. “She got shot at.”
“I know that,” Mace retorted.
“Again,” Eric pushed.
“I know that,” Mace repeated, visibly losing what was left of his patience.
“Pong nearly got his head blown off.” Eric kept at it and I wondered how he knew that but didn’t have a chance to process that either because Mace lost his patience.
Leaning toward Eric, he roared, “I fucking know that!”
“I can keep her safe!” Eric shouted back.
“Yeah, like you kept Skinny Blackburn safe?” Mace returned, his tone shifting smoothly to quiet and dripping with sarcasm.
I blinked in confusion.
Skinny Blackburn? Who the ef was Skinny Blackburn?
I watched Eric wince and knew Mace score
d a point.
Before I could butt in, Eric recovered and informed Mace, “I’ll see to Stella personally.”
Uh-oh. I was thinking that wasn’t the right thing to say.
Mace, already tense, went solid, and his voice was now dangerous when he said softly, “I bet you will.”
“Stop thinkin’ with your dick, Mason, and be fuckin’ smart,” Eric warned.
That, I suspected, wasn’t the right thing to say either.
“You got a minute to get the fuck out of here before I rip your goddamned head off,” Mace snarled.
Yep, I was right. Not the right thing to say.
Eric ignored Mace, turned to me and ordered, “Get in the Blazer, Stella.”
Oh shit.
I didn’t have a chance to speak or move before Mace, not taking his eyes off Eric, said to me, “Stella, don’t go near that fuckin’ Blazer.”
“For fuck’s sake, get in the goddamned Blazer!” Eric yelled, also now talking to me while glaring at Mace and also losing patience.
Hmm.
Conundrum.
See, Eric was a Fed and I figured the federal government had the resources to make it unlikely that I would be riddled with bullets. And this was something which was looking uncomfortably more and more like it might happen in my near future.
But Eric also had a thing for me that I didn’t have the emotional capacity to explore at the present moment, considering my life was in danger, not to mention a complete mess. One thing I knew, I didn’t need to owe him.
Unh-unh.
No way.
On the other hand, Mace was a badass, hot guy. He and the Nightingale Team knew what they were doing. What happened tonight wasn’t his fault, it was Monk’s and it was mine. First, the boys wanted to give in and I didn’t let them with what I now considered my immensely idiotic “I want a vote” speech. Second, we played the gig knowing the danger and the security challenge it represented. I knew Mace felt it was his fault which I found upsetting. I didn’t want to find it upsetting but I couldn’t help myself. I was over Mace (kind of, or at least I was still going with that thought) but I wasn’t that over Mace.
However, I was trying to steer clear of Mace and Eric was giving me a golden opportunity.
Shit.
What to do?
When I hesitated, Mace, his eyes still locked on Eric, spoke low. “Stella.”
“My luck sucks,” I declared because I hadn’t made a decision and I was stalling for time, and, of course, it was the truth.
“Stella, sweetheart, get in the Blazer,” Eric coaxed, eyes still on Mace.
“You call her ‘sweetheart’ one more fuckin’ time, I’ll shove your teeth down your throat,” Mace growled.
Oh no. It appeared the impossible was happening and things were degenerating.
Eric grinned a humorless grin and jerked his chin at Mace.
“Let’s go,” he invited.
Yikes!
Mace took a step forward. Eric stood his ground but brought up his fists.
“Oh for goodness sake, stop it!” I shouted, getting between them again and putting a palm on each of their chests. I made a split-second, scary-as-shit decision and turned to Eric. “What happened tonight wasn’t his fault, Eric. They had tons of men there. Monk’s an asshole, you know that. He was worried about the money. He didn’t do thorough searches so he could get people in the door.”
Eric looked down at me. “You shouldn’t have been up there in the first fuckin’ place.”
He had a point.
“No, maybe not,” I allowed. “But we don’t play, Buzz and Leo don’t eat. We had no choice.”
“You’re dead, so are The Gypsies, then they really don’t eat,” Eric returned.
Another excellent point.
I pressed on, “Eric, I have people who count on me. The band… my dog.” I petered out because that was kind of it and it sounded lame. Still, I kept going. “I have responsibilities. I can’t disappear. The other Rock Chicks are on the line and I’m the one who put them there.”
Eric took a step back. I felt a moment of relief that he was backing down and I dropped my hands. Mace took a step forward so we were close. Eric’s eyes narrowed on us and my relief was swept away but, unusually luckily, Eric let it pass.
“How in the fuck did you put them there?” Eric asked me.
“Don’t answer that, Stella,” Mace broke into our conversation and Eric’s brows snapped together in annoyance but before he could say anything, Mace continued. “You need to get inside.”
Mace was right. I’d been shot at twice in less than a week and hit once. It was a graze but still. I felt exposed and I didn’t like it.
I moved away from Mace and got in Eric’s space, attempting some form of damage control.
“Thank you for coming tonight and wanting to help but I’ll be okay,” I told him quietly.
He looked down at me and his face went soft, his eyes went warm and I realized, unfortunately belatedly in our relationship, that he wasn’t just good-looking, he was really good-looking.
And maybe he was a nice guy.
Sheesh.
My fucking luck.
“Yeah, you will because I’ll be keepin’ an eye on you,” Eric replied, his voice as soft and warm as his eyes. Then he leaned toward me and went on, “You need anything, Stella, you know how to get me. Anytime, you call.”
“Thank you for that too,” I whispered.
“We’re done,” Mace announced on a growl and my mini-moment with Eric ended when Eric’s eyes sliced angrily toward Mace. “Inside,” Mace continued.
“I’ll be keepin’ an eye on you too,” Eric warned Mace, all softness and warmth out of his voice.
Mace put his hand in the small of my back and pushed me toward the door.
What he didn’t do was respond.
* * * * *
I woke up to Mace’s mouth at my neck, his hand trailing whisper-soft along my belly.
Against my sleepy volition, my body shivered.
Effing hell.
“Mace,” I breathed, my voice throatier than normal with sleep and other things besides.
He didn’t respond. Instead, his other hand slid under my body, going up to cup my breast, the trailing fingers of his hand at my belly starting to move downward.
Both felt nice.
Really nice.
Shitsofuckit!
Last night, after the Eric Fiasco, Mace had taken Juno out for a bathroom break while I got ready for bed. When he returned, he got on the phone and Juno and I hit the hay. To my surprise, even after all the drama, I crashed almost immediately, falling asleep listening to what I suspected was Mace debriefing with who I assumed was Lee.
Now, I was laying partially on my belly, partially on my side, my leg crooked deep, Mace’s body pressed tight to me, his leg crooked into mine.
“Mace,” I repeated, my sleepy-weak resistance already flagging.
We needed to talk about a lot of things and I needed not to have sex with him again. I was beginning to think I was giving him the wrong impression.
Hell, who was I kidding? How could he not have the wrong impression?
“Quiet, Kitten, I wanna listen to you come,” Mace murmured into my neck as his hand pushed into my panties.
His words made my body shiver again.
“We need to talk,” I told him, holding onto my failing resistance but his finger honed in on the target and pressed deep.
Oh lordy be.
My hips jerked and involuntarily, I started purring. I couldn’t help myself, it felt nice.
What was the matter with me?
Did I have no willpower?
“We’ll talk later,” Mace declared, his deep voice smooth as velvet.
“We need to talk now,” my mouth protested even as my hips pressed into his hand.
“Later,” Mace returned and I wanted to say something, honest I did but there was some lovely circling at the target then his hand moved lower and his fin
ger slid slowly, deliciously inside.
“Oh my,” I whispered, my eyes closing and my head tilting back until it hit his shoulder.
All of a sudden, I didn’t care what impression I was giving, I just wanted his finger never to stop what it was doing.
I turned to face him and he didn’t hesitate. His mouth was on mine and he was kissing me, hard and deep as his finger moved slowly in and out and my hips moved with it.
It felt effing great.
“Sweet, wet, silk,” Mace whispered against my mouth, his words trembled through me and I purred against his lips.
It was then the sound of a buzzer I never heard tore through the room.
Erm, what was that?
Mace’s finger stopped, my eyes opened slowly and he muttered, “Fuck.”
“What’s that?” I asked just as the buzzer went again, this time for longer.
“Fuck,” Mace repeated, his finger sliding gently out of me. I felt his heat leave me as his body moved away.
“Sorry, babe, door,” he said as explanation, kissed my shoulder, threw the covers back and knifed out of bed.
Juno, who was standing by the door staring up at the alarm panel, woofed in doggie confusion. She’d never heard the buzzer either.
I watched Mace stalk naked to the door and tried to get my body back under my control.
This was difficult, mostly because I was seriously turned on but also watching Mace’s naked body doing anything only managed to make me more turned on.
Okay, this was ridiculous. Somehow, I was going to have to get control of my Inner Mace Slut.
Mace hit a button and bit out, “What?”
I saw Hector’s face fill the video screen. “We got a problem.”
My body went tense as I watched Mace’s do the same.
“Everybody okay?” Mace asked.
“Yeah, this is a different problem,” Hector answered.
Beautiful.
Just what we needed.
A different problem.
“Shit,” Mace cursed, obviously agreeing with me. “Come up.” Then he hit a button and turned to me. I watched, my breath catching as his hard face grew soft and his voice dipped low. “Kitten, you need to get dressed.”
The soft face/sweet low voice thing was another one of those seven hundred twenty-five thousand things I missed about him most of all.
Rock Chick Reckoning Page 17
