Rock Chick Reckoning

by Kristen Ashley

  On that, pinch-faced lady took off.

  “Nightingale –” George started.

  “We got pictures, George,” Lee cut him off then continued speaking. “And that’s scratching the surface. It took me half an hour to find that on you. You want more, you keep this shit up.”

  George’s mouth got tight. Then he looked to his shoes and he left too.

  Preston Mason’s cool eyes swung through the room. Everyone stared back. Shirleen even did it while filing her nails.

  “Pleasure,” Preston murmured and he, too, left.

  The minute the door closed, Lee’s eyes went immediately to Shirleen.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Will be, once Georgie Porgie gets his ass back to his office and calls the dogs off Jules, Roam and Sniff,” she answered.

  Clearly, that was good enough for Lee and his eyes cut to Mace. “You?”

  “Yeah,” Mace replied.

  Lee’s eyes moved to me. “Stella?”

  “You guys know a lot of dicks,” I told him.

  Lee’s eyes crinkled in a smile that didn’t quite make it to his mouth and he said softly. “That’s the sorry truth.”

  “Am I done here?” Smithie asked impatiently.

  Lee clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks Smithie.”

  Smithie threw up one hand and then he was gone.

  Shirleen hit a button on the phone and we heard the speaker click on and the phone ringing.

  “Yeah?” Jack’s voice could be heard throughout the room.

  “You get Stella on tape doin’ her ‘You won’t have to wait for Lee to wipe the floor with you, I’ll do it’ speech?” Shirleen asked Jack.

  My body went solid.

  “Got it,” Jack replied then you could hear him chuckle.

  “Get me a copy, I wanna transcribe that fucker,” Shirleen demanded. “Luke, Eddie and Hank’ve gotta hear this shit. Hell, I might get Tom or Malcolm to send out a network-wide email to all the po-lice. Give the boys in blue a good old fuckin’ giggle.”

  I turned and looked up at Mace.

  Apparently, he was none the worse for wear after our episode in Lee’s office and the showdown with his Dad. I knew this because when he looked down at me his gaze was warm and he was grinning. He took one arm away, pointed to the corner of the room and my eyes went in the direction he was indicating.

  Then his arms went back around me, he leaned down and said one, scary word softly in my ear.

  “Cameras.”

  I stared at the camera.

  Effing hell.

  I looked back to Mace.

  “Is she serious?”

  His grin broadened to a smile. “Probably.”

  “Shit,” I whispered.

  His arms got tight. “You okay?”

  “Your Dad is the Supreme Asshole of All Time.”

  His smile died and his arms went from around me to my biceps. He fingers curled around, his thumbs stroking the inside skin softly.

  “I hurt you?” he asked in a soft voice.

  “I’ll live,” I replied in a softer one.

  His eyes flashed but he let it go.

  “Vance’ll take you home. We’ll talk more later.”

  I nodded.

  From across the room, Shirleen entered our conversation, “Can I just ask what in the fuck is goin’ on with you two?”

  Mace and I twisted to face Shirleen.

  “It’s a long story,” I explained.

  “Well, get your ass over here and start tellin’ it,” Shirleen shot back.

  I looked back at Mace. He smiled, bent low and kissed my forehead.

  “Got things to do. You got a grocery list?”

  I pulled the grocery list out of my back pocket and handed it to him.

  Then I stared at the piece of paper in his hand, wondering if it was the grocery list or the flight numbers. I snatched it back and whipped around, flipping it open.

  It was the grocery list.

  I let out a big sigh, turned back and handed it to Mace again.

  His eyes were narrowed. “What the fuck?”

  “Nothin’, just, erm…” My mind raced for some reason to explain why I was such an idiot, then I came up with something. “Thought that was the set list for tomorrow. You know I’m weird about those.” I wasn’t, that was a total lie which had to be why his narrowed eyes got narrower. “Anyway, it’s not the set list. It’s the grocery list.” I leaned up and brushed his mouth with mine and said, “Now, go forth and conquer bad guys, starting with your Dad.”

  He stared at me a beat, decided to let it go then lifted a hand to my neck and gave me a squeeze.

  Then he was gone.

  For your information, it wasn’t lost on me that he didn’t say a word about the fact that I told him I loved him.

  * * * * *

  “It’s covered,” Ally said in my ear. “Indy’s Dad, Tom, is picking up Mace’s Mom and Chloe. They arrive an hour apart. You’ll need to call Lana and tell her to tell Chloe Tom’ll meet her at the fountains and keep her company while they wait for Lana.”

  “Okay, I’ll call Lana,” I told Ally.

  Ally went on, “They’re gonna stay with Daisy ‘cause they’ll probably want to be together and she’s got plenty of room. Marcus’s boys can’t do it; Tom says he’ll take them to your gig tomorrow night. Then you can do your thing.”

  “That sounds good,” I replied. “Can you tell Tom that Chloe looks like Caitlin, except older?”

  “Sure,” Ally hesitated a beat and then said, “It doesn’t sound like you think this sounds good.”

  “No, it’s all good. It’s just…” I stopped then asked. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

  “Shit yeah,” Ally answered. “If family’s good, family’s everything. Mace can’t move on unless he sorts this shit out. You’re definitely doing the right thing.”

  I looked down at one of my arms. On the inside, four small, shadowy, brown bruises had formed, three fingers and a thumb.

  I sucked in a breath and shared, “Mace and I had an episode today.”

  “What kind of episode?”

  “I called my Mom. Mace heard her being mean to me. He freaked out, went ballistic, threw Lee’s phone against the wall. It exploded into, like, a million pieces.”

  “Holy shit,” Ally breathed.

  “After that, I told him I loved him.”

  “Holy shit!” Ally shouted. “That is so cool!”

  “He didn’t say it back, he just stared at me.”

  Silence.

  I pressed on. “Then, I said I thought he was probably a good brother and he lost it again. He grabbed onto my arms and hurt me.”

  “Stella –”

  “I don’t care about that,” I cut in quickly. “I get it, all this stuff coming up for him again. It can’t be good to see it in the papers. Move around Denver knowing people know. Having pictures of Caitlin in his face.”

  “No, it can’t be good,” Ally agreed.

  “He’s gonna react. I’ve gotta be able to take it.”

  “Yeah. Though, chickie, he should be able to control it without hurting you.”

  “He watched his sister’s head explode,” I reminded her.

  Silence then she repeated, “Yeah.”

  “I’m not sure I’m getting anywhere with him,” I confided.

  “Girl, three days ago you were pushing him away. You got to give it time.”

  She was right, so it was my turn to say, “Yeah.”

  “You gonna be okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “You call if you’re not. We’ll talk,” she told me. “I’m here, I hope you know that.”

  That was her way and, since I knew her, always had been. Ally was tough on the outside but sweet deep down and you couldn’t ask for a better friend.

  “Thanks, Ally.”

  “Later,” she said.

  “Later.”

  We disconnected and I called Lana immediately. She wasn’
t home so I left a message about Tom and Chloe and warned her that, if she called, I might not be able to talk if Mace came home.

  Then I flipped the phone shut and stared at Juno. I was sitting in my armchair; she was laying on my feet snoozing.

  It was late. Mace had come home earlier to drop off the groceries but he couldn’t stay and I didn’t know when he’d get back. I’d made myself dinner for one, homemade chicken and rice pilaf and the round of calls to the Rock Chicks to get them up-to-date and make sure they were keeping their mouths shut. Then I made the round of calls to my band, including Floyd and Buzz who were driving home from Oklahoma. I gave them the head’s up and put them under threat of death if they didn’t keep their mouths shut too.

  But now I was sitting there, going over my strategy in my head and I was worried.

  Even though both Hector and Ally said I was doing the right thing, I was thinking maybe I was going too fast. Maybe I should wait until all the other stuff was finished. Maybe I should wait until Mace was used to us being back together, until I’d been able to work on him a bit longer. Maybe Mace didn’t need to deal with his Mom and Stepmom when bullets were flying and his Dad was being an asshole.

  I heard the key in the door and Juno jolted up.

  The door opened, the alarm started beeping and Mace walked in, his eyes coming directly to me.

  “Hey, babe,” he said.

  My heart did that settling thing again and I replied, “Hey.”

  He turned to the alarm, deactivated it, reactivated it then relocked the door as I walked across the room to him. Juno had already made it and he bent low to give her a rubdown while I stopped a few steps away and looked at him.

  He looked good, faded jeans, black belt, black boots. Today’s short-sleeved Henley was dark gray, the sleeves again tight around his biceps but with the way he was bent and rubbing Juno, the material had also stretched against his back, defining his lats. He was in a partial squat, the jeans too had stretched tight against the muscles of his knee and thigh. His dark hair needed a trim, so much so, it had started to have a bit of curl on the ends. But I could still see some skin at the back of his neck, the skin was tan, the shoulders under the tee were broad.

  Standing there, petting my dog, he was, put simply, beautiful.

  I thought for a minute that he had to know it, how beautiful he was but it didn’t matter to him, not even a little bit.

  For the first time in my life I found myself wondering how I got so lucky.

  He kept bent low, his long fingers sifting through Juno’s fur as she wagged her tail and panted but his head tilted up to me when he said, “You’re up late.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “You hungry?”

  “No, boys had a meet at Lincoln’s. Ate there.”

  “They pick up Sid?” I asked.

  He straightened and shook his head. “Gone to ground. Eddie and Hank had a meet with Turner. They’ve made a deal with the Feds, workin’ together now. They’re bringing in Sid’s soldiers. The ones they got shit on, they’re lockin’ up. The rest of ‘em, they’re shakin’ down.”

  “Progress then.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about George?”

  “George has backed down. Lee sent him the photos Smithie got hold of. He does like his women chesty and I won’t explain how I know that.” I grimaced and Mace kept talking. “George is no longer a problem.”

  I nodded and we stopped talking and stood there, about three feet apart. Juno had sat down between us and was looking from one to the other, still panting.

  Finally, Mace spoke. “You okay?”

  I blinked. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

  “‘Cause your body’s wound up tight.”

  “No it isn’t,” I lied.

  “Babe, it is.”

  “I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “You been playin’?” he meant guitar.

  I shook my head.

  “You should play,” he told me.

  “I know,” I replied.

  We stopped talking and started staring at each other again.

  Why was this weird?

  But it was weird, way weird, scary weird.

  I worried that it was because I told him I loved him and he didn’t know what to do with that.

  Things had always been intense between us, when we were together before and then getting back to it. He’d told me we were moving in together, really moving in together even though we were somewhat moved in together now.

  With all he was doing, I knew he had to care about me, a lot.

  I didn’t know if he loved me but I didn’t think he’d think it was a bad thing that I loved him.

  So, why was he so far away? Why didn’t he approach? Why was he staring at me with his face blank like that? Why didn’t he even come fully into the house?

  “Are you okay?” I asked him.

  “Fuck no,” he answered immediately.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He took a step forward, just one, but reached out the rest of the way. He grabbed a wrist and gently twisted my arm. You could see the bruises, they weren’t angry but they were there.

  “Fucking hell,” he muttered, eyes locked on my arm. His other hand came out and grabbed my other wrist, twisted it and his eyes moved to stare at the identical bruising there.

  “Mace –”

  His gaze came to mine and it wasn’t blank anymore. It was tortured but they were new demons now.

  Beautiful.

  Just what I needed, new demons.

  “Never touched a woman like that,” he told me.

  “Things are intense for you right about now,” I said, giving him what I thought was a logical explanation.

  “Don’t make excuses for me, Kitten.”

  “I shouldn’t have said what I said about Caitlin. I didn’t know what I was talking about.”

  “You were tryin’ to be nice.”

  “Yeah, but I went about it the wrong way.”

  “Stella –” he started but I pulled my wrists from his fingers and stepped the last two feet so I was close. Juno backed off and trotted to the couch.

  I wrapped my arms around his waist and tilted my head back to look at him. “You said you needed to learn to handle me with care. Well, I need to learn the same thing. You’re a pretty intense guy, Kai Mason.”

  He dipped his head so his forehead was against mine. “I’ll never hurt you again, Kitten,” he promised, his voice soft, gentle, beautiful.

  “I believe you.” And I did.

  His arms came around me. “We should talk about some of the other shit you said today.”

  Oh hell.

  “Like what?” I asked, as if I didn’t know.

  “Like what you said to my father.”

  “Erm –”

  “And you tellin’ me you loved me.”

  Oh effing bloody hell.

  “Erm, no. Let’s just forget about that,” I suggested.

  His arms went tight. “No fuckin’ way.”

  “It was the heat of the moment,” I explained.

  His face got soft, his voice went low and it was, as ever, a killer one-two combination. “Best time to say it.”

  “Mace –” I started but he was walking me backwards and his head moved, his mouth going to my neck.

  His lips against my skin, he kept walking me back while saying, “Let’s see if we can create more heat, that way, maybe you’ll say it again.”

  My stomach melted.

  Oh dear.

  I was both glad he wanted me to say it again and scared totally shitless.

  “I need my guitar.” I tried to delay.

  He stopped walking, his mouth slid to mine and he muttered, “Later,” right before he kissed me.

  My arms went around his neck and I kissed him back.

  Okay, so maybe I wasn’t pushing too hard, too fast. Maybe I hadn’t jumped the gun. Maybe I’d done the right thing.

  His mouth moved from mine and he bent low, picked m
e up in his arms and carried me to the bed.

  Once there, he took his time with me, building it so the fire burned deep and he created another heated moment.

  He was on top, deep inside me, my legs were wrapped around his hips, my hands sliding up and down his back and our mouths were touching when his hands came to either side of my face and he demanded, “Say it again.”

  My eyes focused on his and I whispered, “Please, Mace, harder.”

  He grinned and touched his lips to mine then said, “Not that, babe.”

  Oh.

  Hell.

  All right. Whatever.

  Both my hands slid into his hair to cup his head before I breathed, “I love you.”

  I watched as his eyes closed, like they were moving in slow motion then he shoved his face in my neck and started moving again.

  This time harder.

  * * * * *

  After, I left Mace facedown in bed, eyes shut but I knew he wasn’t asleep. I got up, pulled on my underwear, cutoffs and a tank and went to my guitar.

  I sat in the armchair, rested the guitar on my knee and started to play.

  Then I started to sing to Mace and what I sang to Mace was another song that said it all between us, a kickass power ballad, Journey’s “Open Arms”.

  After the first verse, I lifted my head and saw Mace was up, still mostly on his belly but now twisted slightly and up on an elbow.

  His eyes were on me.

  I kept on singing and this time, I sang the chorus directly to him.

  Then with effort, I tore my eyes from him, looked back down at my guitar and kept singing.

  My head lifted again when the song became about the lover coming back, I caught Mace’s eyes and I sang that part and the chorus to him as his eyes stayed locked with mine.

  I finished singing, dipped my face down to stare at my hands again and mindlessly kept strumming some of the chords to the song.

  Mace kept watching me, I knew it, I felt it and I had to admit I loved it.

  “What kind of music did Caitlin like?” I asked softly, still watching my hands moving.

  “Tchaikovsky,” Mace answered immediately.

  I lifted my head and smiled at him.

  “I don’t know any Tchaikovsky,” I told him.

  He shook his head, his lips turned up in a small grin and I watched him, opening all my sensors to see where his head was at and sensing he was okay (and hoping I was right).