Out of the Ashes (23 page)

“Jesus, that kid can fuckin’ sing,” Brock remarked after Lexie had belted out “Alive” by Pearl Jam.

Cade nodded in agreement. “Never heard a teenager with that much talent. They’re going places.”

Bull gritted his teeth. Fucker was right. Lexie was beyond good. She worked the stage like a natural. Like she’d been on a thousand times. Like the guitar was an extension of her hand. Like she wasn’t only sixteen years old. That band was going places. But Lexie was sixteen; she didn’t need to be going any fucking where for two years.

“What I would do to that tight little body.” Bull’s entire form stiffened at the slurred words muttered from beside him.

“Yeah, baby! Work it!” the voice yelled as Lexie started her second song. The sounds of his leers were drowned out by the crowd and the band. But Bull could fuckin’ hear him. As could Cade and Brock, who were glaring at the drunken fucker leering at Lexie.

Bull saw red. He fingered the gun inside his cut, wanting to shoot the fucker’s dick off for the way his way looking at a sixteen-year-old girl. Mia’s girl.

“Gunshots might ruin the band’s sound,” Brock remarked blandly from beside him.

Bull nodded stiffly. As much as he would love to make him bleed, shooting the bastard would only ruin Lexie’s night. He took a deep breath and moved his hand from his piece. Instead, he moved closer to the man and his equally inebriated friends, moving slightly in front of them. He lifted his arm and jabbed his elbow back so it collided with his nose. Bull was satisfied with the loud crack that followed and the groan of pain as the bastard fell to the floor.

“Hey!” one of his friends started to protest.

Bull narrowed his eyes at him, communicating in one look that he would repay the favor if they tried to defend their fuckwit of a friend. He felt his brothers at his back.

“We would kindly suggest you escort your perverted friend to the nearest exit before we chop his balls off,” Brock said cheerfully.

The men blanched. Even through the alcohol haze, they could see that they weren’t joking. They half dragged their bleeding friend to the door, looking back anxiously.

“Pussies,” Brock muttered before turning back to the stage and sipping his beer.

Bull struggled to contain his anger as he did the same. It helped that five minutes later Lexie’s eyes met his as she belted out her next song, and she grinned from ear to ear. The warmth that spread through him at such a simple smile worried him. The kid acted like he was someone worth smiling at, worth talking to. He wasn’t. He killed people. People that deserved it, definitely. But people who didn’t. Innocents. Wasn’t it his actions that killed the most innocent being to walk this earth? The most beautiful soul. The only thing she did was love him. And he repaid her by getting her killed and defiled in the worst way possible. Bile rose up in his throat at the images that rushed in with those thoughts. Images that hadn’t assaulted him in a while. Images that he thought he was fighting back. Images that almost made him eat his gun two years ago. Now, with the prospect of not one, but two people he cared about getting damaged because of him, he couldn’t take it. Thing was, he couldn’t leave either. He clenched his fists.

With all the poison swirling through his body he hadn’t realized that the band had finished.

“You think we’re going to be able to get them out of here without a fight?” Brock asked Cade casually.

Cade’s face darkened. “Gwen is leaving. Whether she likes it or not. Shouldn’t have even let them come. Shit’s uncertain at the moment. She wants to go and watch a fuckin’ band.” He shook his head tightly, eyes on his pregnant wife who grinned at him and waved.

Brock slapped him on the shoulder before sipping his beer. “Do you
let
Gwen do anything? Bitch does what she wants and you ain’t got no say. I speak from experience.” He grinned at Amy who blew him a kiss.

Bull was focused on Mia, who paled slightly when meeting his gaze. Good. She should be fuckin’ scared. He was going to tan her ass tonight. Bringing Lexie to a club. Making him fuckin’ care so much. His frown deepened as she hugged the women and pushed her way through the crowd in the opposite direction she should have gone. The women started toward them and Bull struggled not to follow Mia.

“Hey sweetie,” Amy said as she strutted up to Brock with a grin. He tagged her waist as soon as she was in grabbing distance.

“Jesus, Sparky,” he muttered against her mouth.

She leaned back. “What?” she asked innocently.

Cade had Gwen in a similar clutch, his hand on her belly. Though his gaze wasn’t as teasing. Fucker got high-strung with Gwen pregnant.

Rosie and Lucy joined the party, their faces flushed with an obvious glow from booze.

“How good was Lexie’s band?” Rosie half shouted. No one answered so she poked Bull in the ribs. “Come on, even big macho silent types like yourself have to admit the kid has pipes,” she joked lightheartedly, smiling at him.

He failed to smile back; though she was used to it, Rosie’s smile dimmed slightly at the no doubt furious expression he was wearing. He couldn’t help it. He was pissed as fuck at Mia, at himself, at the fuckin’ world.

Understanding washed over her face. “Mia went backstage to get the kids and take them home,” she said. She pretended to address the whole group but gave him a sideways glance. “Just in case anyone wanted to know where she is,” she added with a mischievous grin in his direction.

With that declaration, Gwen gave him a small smile, ignoring Cade’s glare. He felt uncomfortable with the attention on him so he gave a chin lift to his brothers and headed to find his woman.

Before I could find a way to extract myself from the situation, Zane yanked me to his side, his arm sliding around my neck. I was too surprised even to resist.

Clay’s eyes flared, but otherwise he showed no emotion at Zane’s appearance and the gesture. The gesture that communicated possession.

“Bull,” he nodded.

Zane didn’t say anything; he only glared at Clay, who didn’t seem too worried. Before Zane could commence disemboweling him as his look suggested, a teenage voice broke through.

“Zane!” Lexie exclaimed, a grin on her face as she rushed over to us with her guitar. Her face didn’t even falter when she saw Zane and I in a decidedly intimate position.

“I’m so glad you came! This gig freaking ruled!” she said with a smile.

Zane looked at her a moment, then released me, taking the guitar off Lexie with one hand. His other yanked one of her curls lightly. “You were great, Lex. Got a lot of talent, girl,” he murmured quietly.

Lexie’s entire face lit up at this and she blushed slightly.

“Dude, you’re in the Sons of Templar? That’s like...freakin’ sick.” Sam interrupted the tender moment with teenage boy amazement, staring at Zane.

Zane glanced over at him with a hard glare, much like the one directed at Clay. I decided to interrupt this exchange, as I didn’t want him sabotaging Lexie’s future by murdering her bandmate.

“Okay, let’s get out of here, guys. You’ve all got parents to get home to, who I’m sure will think I’ve taken you to a rave if I don’t get you back soon,” I declared, clapping my hands together.

Clay opened the door that led to the parking lot where my car was. This was so they didn’t have to walk in and out of the bar. The boys hustled out first.

Clay gave me a look. “Offer’s still good, babe—call me if you change your mind. Regardless—” his eyes moved to Lexie, “I got her covered.”

The air turned electric with those words, and Zane’s entire frame turned to granite. Clay didn’t even blink. Brave guy. Zane’s gaze flicked to me.

“Take Lexie to the car,” he half barked.

“Zane,” I started to protest.

“To the fuckin’ car, babe,” he gritted out.

I sighed, clutching Lexie’s hand. She had been watching the exchange with wide eyes. “Let’s go to the car, baby girl. Let the men have their...conversation,” I said. I pushed Lexie out first, reaching up to Zane’s ear as I walked past. “And I mean
conversation
. Not brawl,” I ordered firmly. Zane’s eyes flickered slightly but otherwise he gave me no inkling that he knew I had spoken.

“See you, Clay, thanks again,” I told him nervously, hoping he would still have working fingers to dial and speak to his record exec friend.

He grinned. “Later.”

Crazy bastard.

We finally pulled up to our place after dropping very excited teenage boys off at their respective homes. I was surprised Betty could fit three growing boys who were all legs and muscle into her interior, but she managed. I also had to reassure one set of parents that the whole event was kosher. The other two didn’t seem bothered their sons were at a bar nearing midnight. This worried me slightly.

“Thanks, Mom,” Lexie said quietly as I turned off the car.

“For what, doll?” I asked, turning in my seat.

She met my eyes. “For letting me do that. I think about ninety-nine percent of good moms wouldn’t let their kid do something like that. Which is what you are, by the way—the best mom. Means a lot that you did. This is all I ever want to do,” she told me quietly.

I stroked her face. “Know that kid. Which is why I let you do it. Wouldn’t be much of a mom if I didn’t let you follow your dreams. Plus, I trust you. I’ve raised an awesome kid, if I do say so myself,” I joked. “Now let’s get you to bed, superstar. With your career ahead of you, you need to grab as many z’s as you can. Rock stars don’t get famous without getting eight hours every night.”

She smiled at me and got out of the car. I followed her lead. My eyes rested on the bike that was parked in the driveway across from us. The bike that had followed us to every house on the way home. And the bike that had a figure leaning against it. Lexie followed my eyes.

“Night, Zane!” she yelled across the street.

There was no answer but a hand lifted up, visible in the dim street lights.

“You go on in, honey, I’ve just got to have a word with Zane,” I told her.

She gave me a knowing look that she was too young to give and nodded. “Okay. Night, Mom, I’m going to crash,” she declared pointedly and kissed my cheek.

I watched her go into the house before crossing the street.

Zane hadn’t moved from his perch on the bike.

As I had almost made it to him, his voice cut through the darkness.

“No closer, babe,” he bit out.

I stopped, on instinct more than anything. Then I furrowed my brows. “Um, why the heck not? I’m about to give you a piece of my mind for that little performance and I would rather not wake up the neighbors by yelling. So, in order to give you a piece of my mind, I need to be in closer proximity than this,” I snapped, stepping forward.

“You come closer, I’m going to claim you mouth. Ain’t gonna be gentle and it ain’t gonna be fuckin’ G rated. Which is a problem, considering your girl is looking at us through your window,” he told me roughly.

I froze. My head turned a smidgen to see a small figure dart out of the window. Shit.

“Have you got Batman eyes or something?” I asked seriously.

Zane didn’t answer, and my mind flickered back to the time he had been in this very spot and Lexie and I had both been spying on him.

“Okay fine, I’ll say what I have to say from here.” I crossed my arms.

“You won’t say a fuckin’ word, babe. You’ll turn that sweet ass around, go into your house and come back over here in an hour,” he ordered gruffly.

I opened my mouth to protest, but for once Zane hadn’t finished talking.

“You’ll come over wearing your sweet little nightie, and my shirt. There’s gonna be words, Wildcat, fucking trust me. But those words will come after I fucked you, after I’ve tanned your ass, and after you’re filled with me,” he growled.

Whatever I had been going to say silenced on my tongue and my stomach dipped at his words.

“One hour, Wildcat,” he repeated, stubbing out his smoke and pushing off his bike.

I blinked as he stood feet from me, realizing he wasn’t going to go inside until I had made it safely across the street to my own house. As I woodenly turned around and made my way back, my eyes caught a shadow in our window skittering off in the direction of her room.

I didn’t do it. Go over to his house. It took every inch of willpower I had, which was not much considering I routinely tried to cut back on my coffee consumption and it only lasted about an hour into the first morning. But thanks to some superhuman effort, I did it. I thought about all the times Zane and I had come together. Despite it being amazing, mind blowing even, it was always on his terms. At his command. I had been desperate for him, crazy for him, so I went for it. Some part of me knew I was too broken to have a real relationship, but another part of me told me I needed to set an example for my daughter, not let a man dictate the terms of...whatever Zane and I had. I had to ovary up. So, I tossed and turned all night and told myself I was going to be the one in control for a change.

I finally nodded off in the early hours of the morning to be awoken by a loud thumping what felt like five minutes later. One that shook the house slightly. Worried, and rather zombielike, I half stumbled down the stairs. The thumping got louder as I reached the living room, as did the sounds of horrible music. I turned to see Lexie had pushed all the furniture to the side and was doing some ridiculous kickboxing move while the woman on the screen told her she was doing great. I groaned. My daughter.

“How are you related to me?” I moaned. She had been rockin’ out on stage last night. She should be acting like a proper teenager and rock and roll prodigy and sleeping till at least noon.

She turned her head, her pretty face was red and hair stuck to her forehead. She grinned. “Morning, Mom,” she puffed before turning her attention back to the TV.

I scowled at her back and stumbled into the kitchen, needing caffeine in my life more than oxygen at that moment. I surely wasn’t going to get any sleep with Bigfoot practicing kung fu in my living room.

I gaped in horror at the empty space where the coffee had been. I was sure it had been there. Right there. I must have been staring for a while, because a red-faced Lexie bounced into the room, sucking from a water bottle.

“Looking for coffee?” she chirped. Yes,
chirped
.

“Are Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell not the single most important couple in Hollywood, if not the world?” I shot back at her.

She moved to boil the jug. “I threw it out. Decided we drank way too much and thought we could try green tea instead. It’s got natural caffeine in it.”

I turned to face her slowly. “What?” I said quietly with a hint of menace.

“I said--“

I held up my hand to silence her. “I knew what you said. I just thought you were playing some kind of cruel trick,” I said. “Now I see you have just decided to kill your mother,” I finished.

She opened her mouth.

“Uh uh,” I interrupted. “You do not speak to me after what you have just done,” I declared icily. “I am going to get Shelly coffee, and the changeling that has replaced my daughter better be gone when I get back, or I will be forced to perform an exorcism,” I shot, moving out of the room.