Pure Iron

by Bargo, Holly

  “Because it’s my debt, my responsibility.”

  “Babe, we’re married. What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours, remember?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “No buts. Consider the debt gone. What other objections do you have?”

  “I don’t have a passport.”

  “We’ll get you one. The U.S. tour lasts four months; that ought to be sufficient to obtain a passport for you. Jay can help with that and with getting any visas, too.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  “Well, babe, you can cook for us.”

  “But you’ll be staying in hotels, won’t you?”

  “The U.S. portion of the tour is by bus. It’s equipped with a small kitchen, like one of the ultra-fancy RVs. Gets about the same horrible mileage, too. Anyway, the bus comes stocked and we’ll make grocery runs along the way.”

  “And the overseas portion?”

  “Then you’ll enjoy being exposed to cuisine you’ve never had in places you’ve never visited. Consider it a semester of independent study to expand your palate and culinary repertoire.”

  “And then?”

  “When we get back, you’ll be bursting with ideas for your own restaurant.”

  “Restaurant! I can’t afford—”

  He cut her off. “The guys and I already discussed this. We’ll all chip in to fund a restaurant for you. You’ll do all the hiring, determine the menu, and stuff. And you can do the all the cooking, too, if you want. We know it’s your dream to have your own restaurant and we’ll be glad to make it possible.”

  She smiled and shook her head with disbelief. “You guys are too good to me.”

  “Are you kidding? We’ll be your most faithful customers. Food like yours should be shared.” He grinned at her and added, “Besides, Davis threatened to kidnap you and pack you in his luggage if you didn’t come with us. He really likes your cooking.”

  “Okay,” she relented as excitement began to bubble.

  Mick smiled, happy to see the sparkle return to her eyes. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and said, “Fix me lunch, woman. I’ve got calls to make.”

  Sonia kissed him back, full on the mouth with tongue. With a playful growl, he rolled her over, anchoring her body beneath his.

  “You know where that will get you,” he warned, lips curved in a carnal smile.

  “Oh, yeah, I know,” she replied and rolled her hips into his.

  Lunch was delayed.

  Jay sighed and adopted a martyred expression when Mick finally spoke with him. “Mick, I’m not your realtor.”

  “I don’t care. Sell the damn condo, put our furniture and shit in storage, and find us a quiet place on the beach.”

  “Does it have to be in California?”

  “No, anywhere on the West Coast is good.”

  “West Coast?”

  “Fewer hurricanes,” Mick replied laconically.

  “Uh huh.” Jay sighed again.

  “Jay, you’ve got six months to figure this out. We’re going on tour, remember. And Sonia’s coming with us.”

  “Wait a minute. You said she was staying in Vegas.”

  “Things change, Jay. Sonia’s coming with us. The guys are okay with this.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes. And we’ll keep those concert dates we wanted to cancel.”

  “Give and take, huh?”

  “It’s called negotiation. You’ll have to help with getting Sonia a passport and travel visas, too.”

  “You’re not driving much of bargain.”

  “No, but it’s fair enough. You get what you want and I get what I want.”

  “All right, Mick. You might want to warn her about the fuckfest that goes on in that tour bus.”

  “I’ll get the guys to be discreet.”

  “Discreet. Yeah.” Jay snorted with disbelief.

  Mick shrugged, although his agent couldn’t see the gesture over the phone.

  “All right, Mick. I’ll put my assistant to work finding you a new home and selling the condo. Leave everything to me.”

  “I always do, Jay. You’re the best.”

  “Damn straight I am.”

  With another call, he gave Davis the update.

  “Oh, man, the U.S. portion of this tour will be great if she’s going to cook for us,” he enthused. “You sure she doesn’t have a sister?”

  “She has a sister, but I don’t know if she likes to cook.”

  “Tell whoever that is to stay away from Jordan,” Sonia called from the doorway where she stood, overhearing Mick’s end of the conversation. “Jordan’s only seventeen years old and far too young for him.”

  Mick chuckled and said, “Sonia says her little sister is still jail bait.”

  Davis groaned and retorted, “If she cooks like her sister, I’ll wait.”

  Mick opened his mouth to reply, but Sonia said, “Come and eat. Lunch is ready.”

  “Oooh, I get to eat lunch and cum?” He crowed innuendo in a squeaky falsetto.”

  Sonia shook her head and chuckled at his silliness, which somehow lightened her heart and made the day seem brighter. He bade good-bye and hung up. As they ate, she asked him if he’d made all the arrangement necessary to add her to the tour.

  “Jay knows. Davis knows and he’ll spread the word to the others.”

  “Will you have a regular opening band on the tour?”

  “Not this time. We like to showcase local talent, give them an opportunity to strut their stuff. After all, it was a big name group that gave us that opportunity, so we pay it forward.” He chewed, swallowed, and said, “I think Yellow Ice has a chance to make it big, but they’ll have to change their name.”

  She chuckled and said, “Yeah, I know. I keep thinking of the old joke about teaching kids not to eat the yellow ice.”

  “Come to the show tonight,” he urged.

  She hesitated, then nodded. After all, it wasn’t like she had a job to go back to in the morning. Her smile faded. Mick reached across the table and tilted her chin up with his finger.

  “Hey, no grumpiness at the table.”

  She gave him a small smile.

  “Sonia, we’ll be hitting Ohio on our tour. Would you like to send some backstage passes to your family so you can see them while we’re there?”

  Her eyes widened and her smile grew. “That’s a fabulous idea, Mick. Thank you. Yes, I’d love to have a chance to visit with them. Do you know which city?”

  “It’s either Columbus or Cincinnati,” he replied. “I can’t quite remember which.”

  “Well, North Hampton’s a good hour or more away from both cities, but I think they’ll be able to make it, especially if the concert’s on a Friday or Saturday night.”

  “I don’t remember the exact date,” he admitted with a shrug, privately thinking that if the Houlihans didn’t care enough to see Sonia when they could, then she was well rid of them. “I’ll call Jay and have him send the tickets. They’ll need four, right? One each for your mom, dad, brother, and sister?”

  “Can you make it five so Gavin’s fiancée can go, too?”

  “Your brother’s engaged?”

  “Yeah, Cecily’s his college sweetheart. It’s really pretty sweet how they’ve stuck together all these years.”

  “So your brother is older and your sister is younger.”

  She nodded. “Gavin is two years older than I. Jordan’s six years younger. She was a surprise, especially since Mom was thirty-eight when she had me.”

  He filed away the information that Sonia’s parents were older. His mother had barely turned eighteen when she became pregnant with him.

  “We’ll be hitting Richmond, Virginia, too, with a couple of days to relax. My mom will definitely be there. I want you to meet her and I’m sure she’ll love you.”

  Sonia nodded again, not speaking because her mouth was full.

  Lunch ended. They cleaned the kitchen and then retreated to the living room to
cuddle on the sofa. Mick found a movie they could agree upon. Relaxing against him, Sonia drifted off into sleep. About an hour before they needed to leave, he work her up. She rubbed her eyes and shuffled into the bedroom to wash her face, apply cosmetics, fix her hair, and change into something less comfortable. Mick cast a critical eye over her, noting that she did not wear the short party dress glittering with sequins, but her pink sundress. He admitted to himself that, although she looked goddamned hot in the party dress, the pink sundress suited her far better.

  And he found himself in the odd dichotomy of wanting to hide her from other males while at the same time wanting to show her off: Look, she’s beautiful and she’s mine and you can’t have her. He chided himself for his foolishness.

  Mick donned his leather vest and iron falcon pendant. He threaded a studded black belt through the belt loops on his low riding jeans and made sure his boots laces were firmly knotted.

  “God, you look sweet,” he complimented her when she finally presented herself as ready to venture out in public.

  “And you look … dangerous,” she said, finally finding the right word.

  “Never to you, babe. Never to you.” He picked up his instruments and they piled into the truck. Cameras flashed as Mick backed the vehicle out.

  “Ignore them,” he urged as the truck rolled into the street.

  “I’m trying,” she replied through clenched jaws.

  He shifted gears and sped forward, the paparazzi in hot pursuit. But they knew where the singer and his wife were headed, so they did not pursue too closely. Mick parked the truck and grabbed his instruments. Together, he and Sonia raced for the back entrance where a security guard obligingly let them pass without stopping to check identification.

  “Thanks, man,” Mick called back just before the door slammed behind them.

  The guard nodded and murmured, “You’re welcome,” as he contentedly ignored the press’ demands to open the door. There was a certain satisfaction in thwarting those leeches.

  Mick and Sonia stumbled to a halt in front of the green room door. Mick knocked twice, then opened it. His eyes widened, then narrowed, and he stepped backward quickly, shutting the door before Sonia could get an eyeful.

  “You don’t want to go in there,” he said.

  She raised her eyebrows in silent inquiry.

  “Jack’s … er … entertaining.”

  “Ah,” she said, understanding immediately. “You know, the idea of touching any flat surface in there gives me the willies.”

  “The willies?”

  “Yes. Who knows what loathsome substances and germs coat those surfaces?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it quite that way.”

  She raised an eyebrow, but only said, “So, so we cool our heels out here?”

  “Cool our heels? What does that mean?”

  She sighed. “It’s old slang. Never mind. Do we just wait until Jack’s finished with whomever he’s doing in there?”

  “Hey, Mick, Sonia. What’s going on?” Angelo called out as he approached.

  “Hello, Angelo,” Sonia greeted him with a smile of genuine welcome.

  “Hey,” Mick returned. “We’re waiting for Jack.”

  “What? You can’t go in there until Jack arrives?”

  “No, it’s more like we can’t go in there until Jack cums and puts his clothes back on.”

  “Ah.”

  Mick leaned closer to his old friend and whispered, “There are some things Sonia doesn’t need to see.”

  Angelo nodded, understanding Mick’s protective instincts. For him, women came in two categories. The first category was comprised of innocents and respectable females who were to be protected, cared for. The second category was populated by those women who eagerly made themselves available for exploitation—who was he to deny them their self-destruction? Perhaps it was simplistic, but he found that his two category classification system seldom steered him wrong.

  Sonia he put quite firmly in the protected class, along with his mother and sisters.

  “You look awfully pretty tonight,” he complimented her.

  “Thanks, Angelo,” she replied with real pleasure at the compliment.

  “Will Mick be calling you onstage?”

  “I hope not,” she said.

  Mick glanced at her with surprise. “You never said you didn’t want to be here.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to be here,” she explained carefully. “I just don’t like being on the stage in front of the crowds. I feel … exposed. Vulnerable.”

  He chewed on that for a moment. He liked calling her out to join him, to proclaim to the masses that she belonged to him. He hadn’t really considered how she might view the public proclamations of ownership, because that’s what they were, he realized.

  “Why do you do it?” he asked quietly. Angelo slid away to give them some privacy for the uncomfortable conversation.

  “I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your fans,” Sonia replied. “I mean, it’s nice that you want to announce you’re married and off limits to the hordes of women out there, but—” she shrugged uneasily and failed to find the right words to express her feelings “—I don’t know. I don’t like the attention.”

  Mick took her hand and raised her knuckles to his lips. He kissed them and said, “I’m proud of you and want the world to know.”

  “I don’t know what I’ve done to make you proud of me,” she demurred. “But the fact that you want everyone to know you love me really makes me happy. It’s just that I don’t like going onstage to be displayed like a—a—prize or something.”

  “What would you like me to do?”

  Sonia winced at his cool tone. She set a hand on his arm in a conciliatory gesture. The muscle was rock hard beneath her fingers. She tried to ameliorate his hurt. “I like it when you tell people that you’re married, that you love me. There’s nothing better. It’s just I’d prefer not to be displayed. I’m more comfortable standing in the wings where I’m yours and I don’t belong to the audience, too.”

  Angelo couldn’t stand listening in any longer and interjected, “She’s a private person, Mick. Not like those of us who thrive on public attention.” He directed a perceptive glance at her and added, “Getting on that stage makes you feel like you lose a piece of your soul, doesn’t it?”

  She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. Angelo turned to his old friend and said, “Keep her whole, man. You say she’s your muse, but you’re crumbling her into pieces.”

  “I never meant to hurt you,” Mick murmured hoarsely around the lump in his throat.

  “I know,” she said as tears trickled down her cheeks. “And that’s why I said nothing. I love you, Mick, and I don’t want to hurt you either.”

  “What the hell’s going on here?” Kris demanded as he and Davis approached. He glared at Mick, “Damn it, man, did you make her cry?”

  Mick seemed to grow larger as he bristled with affront. He warned, “Back off, Kris.”

  The Viking stereotype took another step forward, jutting his chin, and said, “Or what? You’ll make me cry, too?”

  Sonia inserted herself between them, setting one hand on Mick’s chest and another on Kris’. “Stop it, both of you,” she ordered. “Mick and I were just talking.”

  Kris raised his hand to wipe away the wetness from her cheek. “Talking doesn’t usually involve crying, babe. Tell me what he said and I’ll make him pay for it.”

  “We were just hashing out a misunderstanding,” she said as Mick reached around to grasp Kris’ wrist and push his hand away from her. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her against him.

  “Don’t touch her,” he growled.

  Kris’ nostrils flared and he taunted, “Maybe she likes it.”

  Losing all patience, Sonia kicked Kris in the shin.

  “Hey!”

  “Quit it. Now.” She looked up at Mick, scowling at the underside of his chin. “Both of you. I am not some bone
you two dogs can fight over.”

  “They’re both idiots,” Davis’ deep baritone flowed over them. “Come away with me and I’ll build you the best kitchen ever.”

  Sonia turned her head to look at him, jaw dropped. But his eyes twinkled with humor and he laughed.

  “Oh, if you could see your expression now,” he chortled.

  Mick took a step backward, drawing Sonia along with him.

  “What the hell?” Kris demanded, glowering now at Davis. Davis just shook his head and said, “Man, get your own woman. This one’s taken and there is no chance whatsoever that Mick will give her up.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Angelo whispered loudly and waggled his eyebrows. “When those three have finished killing each other, we’ll run away together and live in gustatory bliss. Do you think you could learn to make gnocchi like my mom?”

  Mick, Kris, and Davis all stared at him. As one, they recognized the absurdity of their posturing and broke out in laughter. Sonia’s shoulders relaxed in relief. Angelo, bless him, had managed to deflect a fight again.

  “For you, Angelo, I will learn to make gnocchi,” Sonia promised.

  Good humor restored, a feminine cry filtered through the door.

  “Well, that’s one,” Kris murmured. A moment later, the lower sounds of satisfied grunting could be heard in the attentive quiet. “And there’s the other,” Mick added.

  “Shall we give them a few minutes?” Angelo asked.

  “May as well,” Davis answered. “I’ve no particular desire to see Jack’s dick.”

  “But you might want to see the girl,” Kris teased.

  “Nah. If Jack’s doing her, then she’s likely not my type.”

  “Skinny?”

  “Breakable.” Davis grinned. “I’m a big man. I need to know that the woman under me won’t snap in half like a twig.”

  “TMI,” Sonia blurted loudly and covered her ears with her palms.

  “He’s got a point,” Angelo agreed with a nonchalant shrug. “You always see Davis with one of the bigger girls.”

  “Voluptuous, not big,” Davis corrected him.

  “Curvy,” Kris added with his own lecherous grin. “I do like curves on a woman.”

  “Women shouldn’t shaped like twelve year old boys,” Mick agreed, sliding one hand down her arm to rest on the flare of Sonia’s hip.