Rock Chick Reckoning (Rock Chick #6)(20)

“Has been awhile,” Mace replied.

“Fuck, you’re screwed.” Vance came around the other side.

“Have been that way awhile too, around about the minute she turned her brown eyes on me,” Mace explained.

“The eyes? I thought you’d go for –” Luke came up to the men from behind.

“Luke,” Lee cut him off in a warning tone.

Luke half-grinned. “I was gonna say the voice. That sexy, throaty voice. Shit.”

“Gotta admit to likin’ the voice,” Eddie muttered in agreement.

“I f**ked it up with her,” Mace told them, indulging an extremely unusual moment of sharing.

Luke’s hand came to Mace, his fingers tightening around Mace’s neck where it met his shoulder. The two men’s eyes locked.

“You’l sort it,” Luke said.

Luke was right, he would.

* * * * *

They al drove company Explorers to The Castle, Hank and Eddie riding with Lee. The Ford Explorers in Nightingale Investigations garage were al kitted with tracking devices,

communication

equipment

and

bul etproof windows.

Lee’s overhead was a bitch.

Marcus was already there when they arrived.

Mace grabbed the workout bag he’d packed with his clothes and a bunch of shit he took from Stel a’s place when he let Vance in to start instal ing the cameras (he’d never given back her key, she’d never asked for its return) and he went straight to Stel a.

She was asleep on her side just like last night, smack in the middle of the bed, her long, dark brown hair al over the pil ows and fal ing in her face. Her head was tilted forward, her face resting on one of her hands, the other arm was thrown out in front of her, palm up.

She was out, didn’t even move when he came in. Likely she’d taken pain kil ers. She wasn’t a particularly light sleeper but when they were together she’d always woken up when he got home.

Juno rushed him when she heard him. Mace dropped the bag, sat on the side of the bed and rubbed the big dog down from ears to rump.

“Lie down,” he murmured when he was done.

Juno licked his hand and trotted back to the other side of the bed and settled with a groan.

Mace pul ed off his boots and clothes and slid in bed behind Stel a. He fitted his body to hers, wrapped his arm around her middle and pul ed her tight against him.

Then he listened to her breathe until he final y fel asleep.

* * * * *

Stella

Mace was there again when I woke up in the morning; his hard body pressed the length of my back. I was mostly on my side and bel y, my top leg cocked deep and even Mace’s leg was cocked the length of mine.

Yep, that was Mace, maximum physical contact.

Effing hel .

I didn’t move. I needed a battle plan to get out of bed that didn’t include me turning around and kneeing him in a place which would make it difficult for him to sire children. I was pissed at him but not enough to forget that the world would be a poorer place without Mini-Maces roaming it one day.

For your information, the day before had been hectic, even though we didn’t leave the house.

First, a lady named Shirleen showed up. She was black, had beautiful skin a shade darker than mocha and the wildest afro I’d ever seen. She kept shouting “oowee” and yel ing at different Rock Chicks, for some reason mad as al hel that no one had cal ed her to be a part of the action.

Then a guy named Tex arrived. He was enormous, had blond hair just turning to gray and a thick russet beard. He was louder than Shirleen and even angrier that no one cal ed when bul ets were flying. He kept booming “Jesus Jones” and, for some bizarre reason, he referred to Jet as

“Loopy Loo”.

Then Duke showed. I knew Duke; he worked for Indy at the used bookstore-slash-coffee house she owned cal ed Fortnum’s. I hadn’t been there in ages. Tex apparently worked there now too, by al accounts (and there were many of them), he was the best barista in the Rocky Mountains.

Duke was a Harley guy, long gray hair in a braid, thick gray beard, always wearing a black leather vest over a Harley shirt and a rol ed, red bandana around his forehead.

He was gruff with a velvet and stone Sam El iott voice but he was a good guy. He walked in, counted heads, muttered, “Shee-it, we’re al f**ked,” and walked out again, not to return.

Then a big black man strol ed in. He scanned the room and his eyes hit me. Then he looked at Shirleen and stated,

“You owe me fifty bucks. I told you it would be the Hawaiian.”

My eyes went to Ava.

“They had a bet to see which Hot Bunch Boy would get picked off next by a Rock Chick,” Ava explained.

A bet?

These people bet on this shit?

Effing hel .

“His name is Mace, you jackass,” Shirleen shot back.

“I try not to learn their names. If I know their names, means I know them and if I know them, I gotta go to their funerals when they get themselves blown to shit,” Smithie returned.

I stopped breathing.

“That’s Smithie,” Jet whispered to me. “He seems tough but he’s actual y a very caring person.”

Right.

“Smithie! A little sensitivity, if you don’t mind,” Roxie warned, her gaze sliding to me.