Текст книги "Walk Through Fire"

Автор книги: Kristen Ashley

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

But he’d already done that, in spades, and the more I took, the more I allowed him to dish out, the more I made it so I deserved it.

In other words, if only for the sake of self-preservation, if not self-respect, this had to end. I knew it even before it began. I never should have gone to look for him in the first place.

I should have let it lie.

Now it was in my power to make it be over and I was going to do that.

He was not going to get it all.

Oh no.

But I would give him enough to get him gone so I could try to find it in me to stitch up the new lacerations I’d given my own damned self and get on with my life without him in it.

“I saw you at Chipotle,” I announced.

That got me something. I watched his body visibly tighten.

“I heard you on the phone. I heard what you said.” My voice dropped. “I know you have girls.”

His stare intensified but he didn’t say a word.

I did.

“You looked...” I threw a hand his way, “good. Healthy.” I shook my head, knowing my lips were curving in a sad smile but I didn’t try to stop it. “And as ever, handsome. You were wearing your Chaos cut, so I knew you still had your brothers. I saw you, heard you, and I knew you had it all. So I knew it was time to say I was sorry. To find you and say I was sorry for ending things the way I did. I know I hurt you and I thought, you having everything you need, all you ever wanted, your brothers, a family, I should find you and give you that closure. I should give you the words I should have given you years ago and didn’t. So I went looking for you.” I drew in breath and finished, “And I found you but it didn’t go as planned.”

“You don’t know shit,” he stated the minute I quit talking.

“I—” I started, then stopped, letting out a sharp cry of surprise and jumping away from the island when he all of a sudden swung an arm out and let his coffee mug fly, the mug shattering against the cupboards across the room, the coffee spattering cabinets, countertop, and floor.

“You don’t know shit,” he snarled, and my eyes flew back to him.

“You... you...” I licked my lips nervously, taking another step back to retreat from the wrath pouring from him and pounding into me but stopping when his eyes narrowed in warning at my movements, “don’t have girls?”

“Cleo and Zadie.”

Oh God.

Cleo and Zadie.

Cute names.

Probably cute girls. I could picture them in my head, female versions of him.

Beautiful.

“Lights of my life,” he bit out.

“I... that’s good, High,” I told him quickly. “I’m happy for you.”

“Knocked up their ma. Didn’t love her,” he shared, and with each word he said, I sustained new wounds. “Fuck, didn’t even really like her at the time. But she got pregnant and didn’t wanna take care of it, so she gave me Cleo. I gave her a ring. We both didn’t want Cleo to grow up with no brothers or sisters, so we gave her Zadie. Then we gave them both a crap home with two parents that didn’t give much of a shit about each other until we decided we were doin’ more harm than good and we ended it.”

Outside of the fact that he had two daughters he loved, none of the rest of that sounded good.

I didn’t want that for him. I’d wanted so much more for him. So, so much more.

I’d walked through fire to give it to him.

And I felt a new gash opening, knowing he’d never had it.

“I’m sorry, High,” I whispered.

“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, Millie,” he clipped.

“Okay,” I said immediately.

“Lived thirteen years with that woman and our babies knowin’ each day...” He shook his head. “Fuck, each fuckin’ second what I wanted outta my life, what I wanted for my babies, what I thought I’d have with you, what I’d have to give to our kids, doin’ that with you, and knowin’ you tore that away. And you saw me and thought I wanted closure? You thought I wanted your ass back in my life so you could say you were sorry for takin’ away the only thing that gave me joy? To tell me you were fuckin’ sorry for takin’ away the only shot I had at givin’ that joy to the babies I made?” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “What the fuck’s the matter with you?”

“I told you I fucked up,” I reminded him carefully.

“Yeah,” he growled. “You fuckin’ did.”

“Now you know how,” I went on.

“Now I know how,” he ground out.

We stared at each other, me anxiously, him angrily.

When I could take no more, I assured him, “When you walk out of my house, I promise, High, swear, you’ll never see me again.”

“You lied to me,” he declared.

I shook my head in confusion. “I—”

“I got Cleo and Zadie. Where’re your kids, Millie?”

I took another step back and did it wondering how I managed it. Truthfully, his words caused so much damage it was actually a wonder I was still standing.

Breathing.

Living.

“Told me,” he continued. “We talked about it all the time, you told me you were all about family. Worked your ass off to finish school early so we could start. And I know you got no kids. So that was a lie too. Like your love. Like your commitment to us. Like everything that had shit to do with you.”

“I made a mistake back then,” I forced out, the words weak, pained.

“You sure as fuck did,” he returned, and threw out a hand. “Payin’ for it, in your perfect house with your fancy-ass pajamas and killer investment portfolio.”

Killer investment portfolio?

Shit, he’d looked into me.

“Got money, babe,” he sneered. “And you think you got it all. Worked your ass off to get it. Gave me up to get it all. That’s what you wanted, not a life with a biker who had no future. You wanted it all.”

He took a step toward me, his eyes locked to mine, and it took all I had left (which wasn’t much) not to shrink from him.

And then he kept at me, inflicting his last wound.

A mortal wound.

Slaying me.

“But I’ll tell you, bitch, what you don’t got, what you won’t ever get, what you lost when you lost me, is the most beautiful thing you can have. Your kid sayin’ your name. Every fuckin’ time Cleo or Zadie say the word ‘Daddy,’ even if they’re whinin’ or pissed about somethin’, it lights up my world. So keep warm in this fuckin’ joint.” He threw out a hand again, then used it to indicate me. “In your sexy threads. But you’ll never get warm to the bone, knowin’ you changed the world, created a miracle, bringing beauty from between your legs that’s got fuck-all to do with an orgasm.”

On that, he grabbed his cut and walked right out of my house, slamming the door behind him.

And I stood still, staring at the door, the curtain over the window still swaying with the power of his slam, eviscerated, the life force flowing out of me, streaming across my gleaming wood floors, evaporating into nothing.

It took some time, a good deal of it, before I moved. Got myself a cup of coffee. Cleaned up the mess Logan left of his. Went to my bathroom to take a shower and get ready for the day.

But I did it knowing I was back to going through the motions.

Oh, I’d pretend.

For Dot.

And Mom and Dad. Justine. Kellie. Claire.

And I’d breathe until there was no breath left.

But that was all life would be for me.

I knew it because it had happened twenty years earlier, my life leaking away as Logan walked out of it. Then I went through the motions.

Now I’d do it again. But with practice, I’d do it better so those left who cared about me didn’t worry.

That’s all I’d give.

That’s all I’d get.

Until the day I died.

And I was good with that because once I had it all with the promise of even more.

So I’d take that because I knew that was all I’d ever get.

And because I also knew I had no choice.

Elvira

“Yo.”

Elvira looked up and saw the commando standing in her office door. His name was Mo.

“Shirleen Jackson just walked in the building,” Mo told her. “Checked his schedule. Hawk’s not got her on it and anyway, he’s out. She here for you?”

Elvira wasn’t expecting her but knew Shirleen must be there for her.

“Yep,” she answered.

He jerked up his chin commando style, which meant Elvira had no idea how he didn’t dislocate something while doing it. He then prowled off into command central, Hawk’s theater-style space with workstations that were wired to take over NATO or the United Nations or Cheyenne Mountain or whatever struck his fancy to play with on any given day.

She took the time it took Shirleen to make the office to clear her desk of anything sensitive and she stood when Mo showed Shirleen to her door.

“Gotta talk,” Shirleen said as greeting.

Elvira nodded, indicated the two seats opposite her desk with a hand, and invited, “Sit your ass down.”

Shirleen sat her ass down.

Mo gave Elvira a look, then took off again and Elvira turned her eyes to her wall of windows that showed command central. It also showed none of the four boys out there manning stations were paying them any mind.

But she still knew they were paying attention.

She looked back to Shirleen, a woman she’d known a long time, a woman she’d worked jobs with, a colleague and also a friend.

“This is a surprise,” she noted.

“You’re lookin’ into Millie Cross,” Shirleen announced.

Another surprise.

Elvira said nothing.

But she’d been doing her homework and that included the enjoyable task of pumping information from her man, Malik.

Malik was a Denver cop. He’d been a cop for fifteen years, worked vice the last eight. Malik knew everything about the street.

So when Elvira and the girls instigated Operation MAC (Millicent Anna Cross), she’d gone to a source she knew would be a font of information.

This meant she knew about Logan “High” Judd and Shirleen Jackson. Primarily, she knew about their bond.

“Don’t know how that shit began,” Malik had told her after the good stuff was done, he was mellow, and they had entered the pillow talk stage that Elvira used for more than one purpose on more than one occasion.

Not that Malik minded. Her man was not stupid. He knew she always had a reason. He also knew she had a certain kind of job. So he filtered as necessary. Which was irritating as hell but it went with the territory when you had the po-po in your bed.

“Just know they’re tight,” Malik had gone on. “Word was, back when they were both dirty, if Shirleen had a mess she didn’t wanna call Darius in to handle, pile more filth on her nephew than he already had, she’d call Judd. And Judd would do cleanup. She called. He came. Not in a way she had something on him and not in a way they were partners. So I don’t get it. No one ever did. But it happened. She left the life. The Club got clean. And through all that, whatever they had did not die.”

In other words, although this was a surprise visit, Shirleen being up in High’s business, business that was getting interesting lately, was no surprise.

“We’re joinin’ forces,” Shirleen announced. “And our first move is Kellie Cliffe.”

Kellie Cliffe.

One of Millie’s two besties.

The one who was up for anything.

“Joinin’ forces with what?” Elvira asked, not playing dumb... exactly.

It was just that Tyra had put the kibosh on further maneuvers. After their last play went south, they’d decided they had to bide their time and find the right in to instigate their next one.

“On reunitin’ a love gone bad,” Shirleen replied.

“Listen, girl—” Elvira started, leaning across her desk, but she stopped talking when Shirleen’s face changed.

Elvira could read faces and Shirleen’s face stated loudly that the woman was serious and she was not about to waste any time.

“High would lose his mind, but he said I could put Brody on it, and I did. He did not say I could put Vance on it, but I did that too,” she shared. “My boys at work, look at ’em, you’d say badass motherfucker. But I know how they are. They’ll go the distance for true love, proved that again and again. Gave Vance what I knew, he ran with it. Boy has his ways and what he learned, High likes it or not on the road he’s gonna be travelin’, I know he’ll like it when he gets to his destination. If I gotta club the man and put him on the train, I’m doin’ it. And the game you and your girls are playin’ that Vance shared with me with that King’s Shelter business, I know you’re with me. So we’re joinin’ forces.”

Another non-surprise. Vance Crowe was one of Lee Nightingale’s boys. He was good at what he did, finding information and fast with little to no muss and fuss.

But also, Vance’s wife, Jules, was a social worker who worked at King’s Shelter. So he probably knew, or suspected, before Shirleen asked that Tyra, Lanie, and Elvira were up to something.

As Elvira thought this, Shirleen kept talking.

“Vance had a chat with this Kellie girl. She knows the history and it ain’t no surprise she’s all in. So she’s up next. And I got the plan.”

Elvira studied her and she did this awhile.

Then she got impatient with doing it, so she said, “Well, lay it on me. Time’s wastin’, girl.”

Shirleen smiled.

Then she talked.

Elvira listened.

Then she smiled.

After that, she grabbed her cell.

She made two calls.

When she was done, they were all agreed.

Kellie Cliffe was up next.

Millie

Twenty-two years ago...

I walked by our futon, Logan flat out on it, eyes to the TV, and I smiled down at him when those eyes came to me.

But I didn’t get by the futon on my way to the kitchen to get a drink.

I got my hand caught by my man and pulled so I landed on him.

I stretched out even as I lifted up and looked down at him.

He was feeling good, I could tell by the mellow look in his eyes. I could also tell by the sweet smell in the air.

“How you doin’, Snook’ums?” I murmured, and he grinned.

“Excellent grass,” he murmured back. “And got my girl on me. So it’s all good.” He ran his hand over my ass and tilted his head on the arm of the couch. “Though, she’s got too many clothes on.”

Stoned sex with Logan.

That meant he’d take his time. Even hours.

The best.

Or the best when I got it but it was always the best when I got it, no matter how it came.

Unfortunately, even if it was the best, we didn’t have hours.

“You do remember that Dot and my folks are coming for dinner?” I asked.

He rolled so I was pressed to the back of couch and his face was in my neck. “I didn’t forget,” he said into my skin. “Come down by then.”

“I know you will, Low,” I told him, and I did know because he was careful like that. He never disrespected my parents. It was part of what won them over. I ran my hands up the muscle of his back over his tee and continued, “But we should probably not be having sex on the couch when my parents knock on the door.”

He lifted his head out of my neck and grinned at me.

Stoned, not stoned, alert, drowsy, preoccupied, focused, I didn’t care. Whenever Logan grinned at me, I loved it.

And this was no exception.

“Babe, it’s just past two,” he informed me.

“And I’m making a roast,” I informed him.

“It take four hours to make a roast?” he asked.

“No, but when you’re in a certain mood, it takes you four hours to get me off.”

He burst out laughing, his arms convulsing around me so he was squeezing me to his body.

I watched him do it, smiling and loving that too.

While he was still chuckling, he moved in, nipping my lower lip before gliding his lips against my jaw to my ear.

“How ’bout two hours?” he asked there. “Can my girl give me two hours to have fun before she worries about her roast?”

“I suppose I can give you two hours,” I said on a sigh, faking that it was a hardship when it absolutely wasn’t.

He lifted his head again and smiled at me.

His smile faded as he moved in to brush his lips against mine.

He kept them there and held my gaze as he said, “Smokin’ again and doin’ it while I watch you blow me.”

Oh God.

Total turn-on.

I loved his cock any way I could get it.

Including that way.

My legs moved with agitation.

His eyes started smoldering. “See you like that idea.”

“Yeah, baby,” I whispered.

“On the floor between my legs or on the couch...” humor mingled with the heat in his eyes when he finished, “between my legs?”

I wasn’t feeling in a funny mood.

I was feeling in the mood to give my man a blow job while he smoked a joint.

“What do you want?” I asked.

At my question, Logan got in my mood.

I knew this when he growled, “Floor.”

“Whatever you want, Snooks,” I whispered.

I gave him those words. Logan gave me a kiss.

When he ended it, I couldn’t wait to give back and do it going down on him.

So I didn’t mess around.

I sucked while he smoked until he set the joint aside and let his head loll on the back of the couch so he could concentrate on what I was doing.

His head didn’t loll when I stopped sucking, climbed on, and started riding. His attention was all on me.

We were done in time for me to get the roast in and we had a great time with my family as we always did after they’d realized Logan was it for me and believed in it, believed in him and let him in.

Then, after we ate, played board games and they left, Logan and I had another great time.

But this time when we did, he took his four hours.

And another one besides.

Falling asleep twined up in my man, I thought it was what it always was.

The best.

And I slept sound, knowing I had the best, got it early, and also understanding to the heart of me that I would have a lifetime of it, a lifetime of Logan.

A lifetime of the best.

CHAPTER NINE

“Far Behind”

Millie

MY PHONE ON my nightstand rang. I opened my eyes, rolled, looked at the clock to see it was six after eleven, then pushed up to look at the display on my phone.

Kellie.

This happened, not frequently, but it happened.

Usually, I ignored it. She held no grudges. She knew me. She knew it was a long shot but she never gave up on wanting me to have a life.

However, I’d spent the day making sure an anniversary party would go off without a hitch (it did), so I was even less inclined than normal (when I was never inclined) to pick up and do the Kellie thing.

But I was also committed to living my lie for the ones I loved.

Logan had walked out two days earlier and he had not come back.

For my part, since then, I had not faltered in continuing the charade.

Tomorrow night, Dot, Alan, and the kids were coming over for beef Stroganoff.

Further, Justine and Veronica were looking for a babysitter so we could plan a night where we could all put on our LBDs, go out, and drink cocktails. Claire was all in for that one, and without a kid or a steady who was truly a steady, she was ready when we were set to roll.

In other words, full steam ahead on the charade.

Now it was time to prove to Kellie I’d turned a new leaf and intended to go back to living my life.

So I snatched up the phone, took the call, and put it to my ear.

“ ’Lo, babe,” I greeted, still shaking away sleep.

“She answers!” Kellie hooted in a shriek in my ear, so I had to pull the phone away an inch. “Right on!” she kept shrieking.

I put my phone back to my ear and said, “Love you, you know it, but don’t love you phoning me and shouting in my ear in the middle of the night.”

“Three o’clock in the morning is the middle of the night, Mill. Eleven o’clock is not,” she informed me.

“Whatever,” I muttered. “Why are you calling?”

“ ’Cause there is this kickass band you have to see playing right now at The Roll. They just finished their first set, bitch, and they brought down the house. Get your ass outta bed and get it over here, pronto, or I’m never speakin’ to you again in my life.”

The last twelve, thirteen years, I’d quit answering Kellie’s late-night calls.

The years between being with Logan and not answering her calls, I did take her calls but would then engage in a long conversation about how I needed sleep, how I had work the next day, how I was no longer into live music or doing shots or whatever, this taking time and getting frustrating (hence my quitting answering).

But undoubtedly she’d spoken to Dot and/or Justine, so she’d know about LBDs and beef Stroganoff. She’d hear about Downton Abbey or come over and see my candles lit and me using my wineglasses.

So in order to prove to her I was living my life at the same time hiding that I was dead inside, I replied, “I’ll be there in an hour.”

Silence that wasn’t silence, exactly, since I heard the crowd in the background as well as the music they were playing between the live sets.

Then I heard, “Say again?”

I threw back the covers and reached for my light. “Give me an hour and I’ll see you there.”

I had to take the phone away from my ear again when she screeched, “Right on!”

That made me grin and grinning made me realize I was doing the right thing because no matter how I felt down deep, I was giving the people I loved what they needed.

I should have done it a long time ago.

It was too late for that now but better late than never.

And anyway, I did like live music and it had been ages since I’d seen a band play.

Not to mention, my little black dress was killer. So I was also going to be sure to find some time to go out with Justine and Veronica. They needed excuses to pretty up and remember why they fell in love in the first place, that being they were both hot, funny, got a kick out of each other, and post-baby that Justine carried, they were still way into each other.

Last, I had decided I was totally getting cats. I had it all, lost it all, and knew I’d never get it back. But lonely was lonely and lonely sucked, so I was going to cut the lonely with kitties.

I pushed up from bed and headed to the bathroom, ordering, “Now, hang up so I can slap some makeup on and head out.”

“You got it, bitch. Get that ass in gear. See you soon! Yee ha!” Kellie cried before I heard her disconnect.

I got my ass in gear and started going through the motions.

When I got a look at myself in the bathroom mirror, I saw that I’d not been in bed long enough for my hair to go wonky, so that was good. Therefore, I slapped on a fair amount of makeup because good rock ’n’ roll demanded sacrifice and it had been a while but I knew the depletion of your makeup collection was an acceptable offering.

I no longer had rock ’n’ roll clothes but I did my best, throwing on a pair of faded jeans, high-heeled booties, a thick belt, and a thin mulberry sweater that looked torn up and misshapen but it did this with intent, clinging in the right places, flowing and keeping you guessing in better places.

I wrapped a narrow rock ’n’ roll (ish) scarf around my neck and stuck long, silver hoops in my ears, piling on the rings and jingling bracelets before shoving lip gloss and wallet into an envelope clutch, grabbing my suede jacket, and heading out.

I hit The Roll, a place that was half bar, half club and had live music on the weekends and some weeknights (this being the club part) but mostly it was a watering hole that I’d heard was a hip place (via Kellie). Therefore, I knew where it was, but it had started up after Logan and I were over, so I’d never been there.

And I hit it not liking what I saw, considering the parking lot was jammed and there was a line out the door.

I parked on the street two blocks away, got out, and started toward the bar even knowing this effort to convince Kellie I was moving out of years of grieving a life gone bad was going to fail. I’d have to pick another night to do that because no way was I standing out in the cold in a line by myself for God knew how long in order to have a few drinks and listen to music.

And as I walked toward the bar, I had my phone to my ear to tell Kellie precisely that.

This decision took a hit when she answered and I heard the unmistakable truth that the band was back onstage and they were rocking it even through a cell phone.

“Yo!” she shouted.

“Babe, there’s a line,” I told her. “It’s cold and the line’s long. I probably wouldn’t get in until the final set and no way I’m standing outside for hours for that.”

“Leave it to me. Just go to the door,” she replied on another shout.

“Kellie—” I started, but I was talking to dead air. She was gone. “Fuck,” I hissed, deciding the next time she called that I’d prove my new leaf by ignoring the call, phoning her the next day, and having her over for Stroganoff or some other brilliant meal I taught myself how to make.

I then hoofed it to the door, knowing no way with this crowd they were going to let in a forty-one-year-old woman who might have good hair, a great suede jacket, and fabulous high-heeled booties because she was still forty-one and no one in line looked over twenty-three.

However, when I got to the door, the bouncer gave me a top to toe, grinned, and then turned to look behind him when he heard shouted, “She’s with me!”

Kellie was head and shoulders out the door. The bouncer nodded to her, turned to me, lifted a hand, and did a “get your ass in there” gesture to which someone at the head of the line groused, “Seriously, dude? Been standing out here an hour. What the fuck?”

I ignored the discontent coming from the line, muttered, “Thanks,” to the bouncer as I moved swiftly past him, got a, “No problem, sweetheart,” which was nice but probably had more to do with Kellie being a regular than me having good hair (or a great jacket). But I still turned my head and gave him a smile.

He gave me a wink.

He couldn’t be more than thirty-two, so that felt nice.

I let it feel nice, then let it go and moved to Kellie.

“This’ll be so worth it,” she declared before I could even say hello, her words strangely heavy with meaning.

She reached out a hand and nabbed mine as she spoke.

Before I could reply or figure out the weight of her words, she tugged me inside, the door closing the cold behind us, leaving us in the warm that wasn’t just the inside of a building but the inside of a bar heaving with people.

And this was when I realized my mistake.

I’d gone cold turkey on life when I’d ended things with Logan, so I hadn’t been to a place like this since then, except my brief visit to Scruff’s a few weeks earlier.

That didn’t count.

This was it.

This was where it was at.

This was one of a bevy of things back in the day that filled me up and kept life beautiful.

The sights. The lights. The people. The sounds. The vibe.

Electric.

Alive.

Not me.

So, so not me.

Not anymore.

I was there, feeling it, immune to it and missing it all at the same time, the last like an ache because when I’d had it, I’d had it with Logan.

Yes.

Big mistake.

Huge.

I had to get out of here.

I couldn’t go.

Dragging me with her, Kellie wended her way expertly through the crowd to a table back in the jumble around a stage where music was blasting.

Good music.

The band was excellent.

I didn’t look at the band. I concentrated on getting where Kellie was guiding me without slamming into someone in a chair or a waitress negotiating tables and bodies.

Kellie got us to her table, which was populated by two men and another woman, none of whom I knew, all of whom looked to us as we got there.

“These are my best friends for the night since they let me sit at their table,” she shouted, Kellie being one who could make friends anywhere (and did) and thus could go out without a girl posse (and did). She threw her arm out their way. “Jeff, Mark, and Helen.”

“Hey,” I yelled.

“Yo,” Jeff or Mark yelled back.

Mark or Jeff threw up his chin.

Helen smiled, gave a slight wave, then looked back at the stage.

Kellie tugged my hand again until I was sitting in one of the two vacant chairs.

She sat in the other one and expertly snagged a passing waitress.

“Twelve shots of tequila!” she shouted at her, and I felt my eyes get big. “Two for all, and four for my girl here so she can catch up!”

Four shots?

“Gotcha,” the waitress yelled back, and took off before I could stop her.

I leaned into Kellie.

“Babe, I’m driving!” I shouted.

“You’re also gonna be here awhile and my new buds got popcorn to soak up the booze!” she shouted back, tipping her head to the table.

I looked to the wax-paper-lined red basket on the table that had, on a quick count, seven popped pieces of corn and a plethora of unexploded kernels left in it. Then I looked back to Kellie, who was now eyes to the stage.

“Babe!” I yelled. She kept staring at the stage, bobbing her head and not turning to me, so I yelled again, “Kellie!”

She leaned back my way, attention never leaving the band, and yelled back, “They so need a dance floor here. This band makes you wanna move.”

She was not wrong. They were currently kicking the Black Crowes’ “Hard to Handle” and doing it so brilliantly, if Chris Robinson was standing at the bar, he’d be smiling.

My eyes started to move to the stage but stopped when someone slammed into my chair and my entire body jerked as my chair moved three inches toward Kellie’s.

“Whoa!” a man shouted, and I looked up at him. “Sorry!”

I smiled. “That’s okay!”

He grinned back and moved on.

I again was about to look at the stage when I heard, “Rumor was true! They get their old front man back whenever they come to Denver. And fuck if he doesn’t rock!”

This was shouted by Helen and I looked to her just as the band ended the song and she jumped up, as did everyone else at our table, at other tables, all the people obscuring my view of the stage, and the crowd roared its approval.

I started clapping and kept smiling because this wasn’t so bad. I’d do a shot, maybe two, order a Coke and listen to good music, sitting with my girl and her new friends. I’d be tired tomorrow but it wouldn’t kill me, Kellie would be happy and that was all that mattered.

Slower notes to a song I recognized started. The folks around drifted their asses back to their chairs and a familiar voice sounded over the microphone.

“This song is dedicated to a bitch named Millie.”

My eyes shot to a stage I now could see and my heart shriveled to dust when I saw Hopper Kincaid, back in the day a new Chaos brother, and by his words undoubtedly still a Chaos brother, standing front and center. His flame-tattooed arms were moving on the guitar he held. His eyes filled with hate were aimed at me.

“Not good to see you again,” he growled directly to me, the dust of my heart floating away on his words, Then he played a few more notes and launched in to the lyrics of Candlebox’s “Far Behind.”

I heard Kellie’s totally pissed off, “What the fuck?” but I couldn’t tear my eyes from Hop lacerating the bloody pulp of my soul with every word of a sad, angry song.

It was a fantastic song but I’d never really listened to the lyrics.