Rock Chick 06 Reckoning (32 page)

“Too late,” Mace said again.

“But it wasn’t what I remembered.” I pressed on. “He was so pissed. Dad was. He was watching some golf tournament on TV and he was pissed at me because he had to take me to the hospital instead of –” Mace interrupted me again. His body turned toward me and his voice was back to low and vibrating in that scary way. “Too fuckin’ late.”

“Don’t go,” I whispered, changing tactics, my head coming together, my thoughts, for the first time in days, final y clear and focused.

I knew what I was doing, letting him have sex with me, sleep with me, move in with me. I knew I was doing it because I wanted it, I wanted him. Actions speak louder than words but I’d so wrapped myself in that cotton wool Floyd told me about, I didn’t hear the muffled communication.

I held my breath.

Mace stared at me.

I stared back.

“Please, don’t go,” I said again.

Part of me expected him to grin in triumph, come forward, pul me in his arms and kiss me.

I decided I’d have to act pissed off for awhile and then, once I gave him a load of shit, I’d let it go.

Instead, his mouth got tight, he turned on his boot, and he muttered, “For fuck’s sake, arm the alarm.” Then he was gone.

My body was twisted in order to look over my shoulder at the closed door.

What just happened?
My shocked brain asked.

I didn’t answer.

I knew what just happened.

I slid down the cupboard, put my coffee cup beside me on the floor, closed my eyes and pressed my forehead into my knees.

I felt Juno pushing her nose into my neck, giving doggie comfort as best she could but I didn’t turn to her.

Instead, I slid straight into the place that knew me wel .

I slid directly into black.

* * * * *

The Rock Chicks were sitting at tables up front and center, al of them looking subdued and a little worried.

The Hot Bunch, Tex and Duke were al on duty, guarding the doors, the stage, wandering the crowd. I’d seen them al .

Al of them.

But Mace.

Even though the show was shit (al my fault and I knew it), the crowd was preparing for “Ghostriders”.

Instead, I pul ed my arm in a sweep in front of me, disengaging my guitar strap from my shoulders. I set my guitar in its stand and walked across the dusty, faded rugs that covered The Little Bear’s stage. I sat next to Floyd on the piano bench. He was staring at me, his eyes startled.

For the past four hours, the entire band and The Rock For the past four hours, the entire band and The Rock Chicks had al tried to get through to me. I was so deep in black; I just went through the motions like an automaton. I didn’t know what they asked, I didn’t know what they said, I didn’t even know my own replies.

I leaned into Floyd and whispered in his ear.

He put his hand over the microphone. “Stel a, girl –” I closed my eyes tight then opened them and looked into his.

“Just do it,” I begged.

He gave me a long look, nodded to the band then started playing.

The room went silent in shock.

I looked at the rafters, blindly taking in the trademark Little Bear bras nailed to them then I pul ed Floyd’s microphone my way, closed my eyes and started singing.

And what I sang was Bil y Joel’s, “And So It Goes.” And I sang it for Mace who wasn’t even there but I did it anyway because nothing said what I needed to say better than those beautiful, heartbroken lyrics.

Floyd played the final notes to the song and I kept my eyes closed, waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting and hoping.

I opened my eyes and looked at the crowd.

The minute I did, they roared with applause.

But it didn’t hit me the way it normal y did.

Because Mace wasn’t there.

He didn’t charge up to the stage, taking me in his arms and tel ing me beautiful things.

and tel ing me beautiful things.

“Stel a, girl –” Floyd whispered but that was it. I was done. I’d done it to myself this time, I had no one else to blame.

For some insane reason, I got up and ran across the smal stage, jumped down and started pushing through the crowd. I felt nothing, I knew nothing, I just knew I had to go, where, I had no idea, I just had
to go.

I could feel hands on me, tugging at me. I heard my name cal ed in familiar voices. I knew one was Hector’s, the other was Duke’s.

But I was gone. Through the crowd to the doors. I felt freedom but it was far from sweet right before I was caught, my momentum meaning I was lifted up, swung around and put down. I looked behind me and up to see I’d been caught and was now held by Bobby, one of Lee’s men.

“Shit, woman, what’re you thinkin’?” Bobby’s voice was annoyed.

I didn’t answer.

I struggled to get away, kicking and grunting and then something happened.

Bobby was no longer struggling with me. He let me go and he was struggling with someone else, a big bulky man, bigger and bulkier even than Bobby and Bobby was enormous.

Then Luke was there and he barreled into another man.

With a shoulder to the other man’s bel y, Luke lifted him clean off his feet and slammed him against the wooden railing outside The Little Bear. The man flipped, feet-overhead, over the railing, landing on his back and cracking his skul with a sickening thud against the pavement. Luke turned toward me but there were more men, one came at him then more people were there, including Hector, Lee and more suited men and al of them were engaged in hand-to-hand combat.

Before I could get my wits about me, I felt hard, firm fingers attach on my upper arm. I gave a surprised cry right before I was yanked down the wooden plank steps and before I knew what was happening, I was thrown into the backseat of a waiting, long, sleek, black limousine.

The door closed behind me and the limousine shot away.

I realized I was holding my breath and I turned to see there was someone in the backseat with me.

He was very tal , lean, wel -built, on the other side of middle-aged, black hair peppered with silver and wearing in an expensive suit, expensive cufflinks and an expensive watch.

Oh, and last but not least, he had clear, sharp, achingly familiar jade green eyes.

I stared at him with my mouth open while he spoke.

“Hel o Stel a. I’m Preston Mason, Kai’s father.” Oh dear.

Stella

“I’m supposed to be in a meeting,” I told Preston Mason because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

I had, actual y, been half-assedly planning to get out of the meeting with Dixon Jones by feigning a migraine or a heart attack or something but now I kind of wish I’d made the meeting with Jones. I figured he’d be a lot easier to deal with than a surprise kidnapping by Mace’s apparently super wealthy Dad.

“You’l need to reschedule,” he replied.

I decided to push. “It’s kind of important.” He calmly adjusted the cuff of his impeccable light blue shirt under the sleeve of his equal y impeccable dark blue suit jacket.

“I’m afraid you’l have to reschedule.”

I sat back as the limousine took a curve on the mountain road.

The Little Bear was in Evergreen, a mountain town that managed to be hip, cool, exclusive and a Harley boy hangout al at the same time it looked just a smidge shy of being the type of place where gunslingers would stil have showdowns at high noon.

I effing loved Evergreen. It was as rock ‘n’ rol as you could get (according to me).

“Erm,” I ventured careful y. “Did you just kidnap me?” His jade eyes came to me. “Yes.”

Wow.

Wel one thing was certain, even if I didn’t have the eyes as proof, Preston Mason was as straight talking arrogant as his son.

“Why?” I asked.

“We need to talk about Kai.”

“I don’t want to talk about Kai.”

And I didn’t.

Furthermore, I didn’t want to cal him “Kai”. It felt weird. I felt weird enough as it was, I didn’t want to feel weirder. If I felt any more weird, my mind might spin off into an alternate reality and live there the rest of my life, my body stil in real reality, lying in a coma, confounding doctors who would eventual y turn off life support and then where would I be?

“How wel do you know Kai?” Preston Mason took me out of my crazed thoughts and my eyes focused on him again.

“Um…” I hedged because this was a good question.

Biblical y, one could say I was a “Kai Expert”. Al other ways it was up for debate.

“I feel I should warn you, my son is not a good man.” I sat and stared at him in complete and total shock.

Then I said the hated word, “What?”

“He’s responsible for his sister’s murder, amongst other things.”

Gut kick.

So huge and savage my body jerked with it.

Mace’s sister was murdered?

Visions of Mace’s face swam in my head, the demons dancing in his eyes. Mace tel ing me he could understand what I meant about my father.

And meaning it.

Holy effing hel .

Mace’s sister was murdered.

“Mace’s sister, your daughter, was murdered?” I whispered.

He studied me and it made me uncomfortable. The eyes were familiar but they were also completely different. There was nothing behind them, no emotion, even when he was talking about his daughter’s murder.

For your information, this creeped me way the hel out.

“Don’t you read the papers?” he asked me.

“I haven’t had the chance,” I replied.

“It’s al lies,” he said.

“What’s lies?”

“Al of it.”

“What, exactly?”

He changed the subject. “I want you out of his life.” This threw me because I hadn’t come to terms with the last mental blow he’d dealt.

“Out of whose life?” I asked stupidly.

Preston Mason’s eyes narrowed. “Kai’s.”

“Why?”

“Do you know who I am?”

I shook my head but said, “You’re Mace’s father.” I watched his lip curl right before he asked, “How stupid are you?”

Now I was getting angry.

What was with this guy?

He kidnaps me and then he’s mean to me?

What was up with that?

“What’s with you?” I snapped.

“I know how stupid you are, 2.5 grade point average, you skipped just enough school so you could graduate, too much to learn anything. You didn’t go to col ege. Your father’s a welder; your mother’s been a waitress for twenty-five years. Neither of them went to col ege either.”

“So?”

“So, Kai graduated with honors from the University of Hawaii with a bachelor’s in civil engineering.” Yowza.

Civil engineering?

That sounded hard.

I shook off thoughts of Mace beavering away at his studies using a protractor (or whatever they needed for civil engineering), forged ahead and clipped, “So?”

“So, the last girl Kai got serious about was the daughter of a senator.”

Yikes.

Real y?

A senator?

I hid my surprise and repeated, “So?”

“My God,” he muttered. “You real y are stupid.” Now total y pissed off, I leaned forward and hissed,

“Stop saying that.”

“You don’t get it, Stel a. What I’m saying is that you aren’t good enough for my son.”

He was not for real!

I sat back and crossed my arms on my chest and threw one leg over the other, bouncing my brown, dusty cowboy-booted foot.

“Let me get this straight, big man. First you tel me your son is responsible for your daughter’s murder and he’s not a good man. Then you act like a poorly-written character out of a formulaic romantic comedy and tel me I’m not good enough for him. I gotta tel you, it’s not me being stupid. It’s
you
that’s not making any sense.”

“Maybe I should have had a picture book drawn up so you could fol ow along,” he returned.

“Yeah, too bad you didn’t do that so I could take it away from you and beat you with it, you crazy loon,” I snapped back, leaned forward and pounded on the smoky partition that separated us from the driver. “Take me back to the bar!” I demanded.

“Sit back, Stel a, I’m not done with you yet.” I looked over my shoulder at him. “You might not be done with me but I’m done with you.” Then I turned around, banged on the partition again and shouted, “Take me back to the bar!”

“Sit back!” Preston Mason’s voice had risen and he sounded pissed off.

I again looked over my shoulder. “Al right, Mr. Mason, I’m having a
bad
day. And I mean
bad
. You do
not
want to mess with me. Not today. Seriously.” Then I turned back around and banged on the partition and shouted, “Take me back to the goddamned bar!”

“Your father has fal en behind on his mortgage payments,” Preston Mason said and I stopped banging.

This, I knew without a doubt, was not a fortunate turn in the conversation.

Slowly, I turned around and looked at him.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I own his mortgage.”

Shitsofuckit.

“Mr. Mason, you know a lot about me so I’m guessing you know I haven’t spoken to my father in years. So I have to ask, this would mean something to me because…?” I prompted.

“Because your father has a lot of debt. Your mother’s been sick. He didn’t have insurance and she certainly didn’t. Chemotherapy costs a great deal when you’re too proud and too stupid to take Medicaid.”

Oh no.

No.

I didn’t just find out my mother had cancer and my father was too proud to help her out with government funded healthcare (which the stupid jerk would be) from Mace’s asshole father.