Fighting: Fighting for Forever Part 10

"Brick, cut the c.r.a.p." I don't have the patience for this tonight. Usually I'd flirt, and get off on making the man eat out of my hand, but now I just want to hurry this night along and get home.

What if Mason shows up?

No, I refuse to think about that guy any more than I have, which is a lot. And if I count one very hot and steamy dream, it's a ton. d.a.m.n, is it warm in here? I use the cards to fan myself just as Brick crosses his arms over his chest.

"Sure, you girls can go on back, but what're you going to do for me?" His eyebrows jump, and I swear if I didn't think I'd break my hand I'd punch him square in the gut.

"Brick! They're good." Gia comes up beside me and pulls me in for a quick hug, an empty c.o.c.ktail tray in her hand. She shoves the huge bouncer in the shoulder. "You can let them back. And stop s.e.xually hara.s.sing my customers."

I laugh at the expression of the big man as he pouts and steps aside to let us through.

We wave a thank you to Gia and move down the long corridor, the sound of our heels clicking echoes off the black concrete walls. We've been back here so many times we'd be able to find the room in the dark, and have, several times. I pinch closed my eyes at the shame that washes over me an instant before I shove it away, refusing to examine it.

Without knocking, we push open the door and step inside the backstage room. The band is there, surprisingly without a single woman.

"Thank f.u.c.k some chicks showed up." Talon groans and points at us with one of his sticks. "I swear your woman is out there chasing off all the groupies." He's looking at Rex.

Rex gives us a quick nod and a lip-ringed smile. "Fine by me."

Lane's face twists in offense. "Real nice, dude. f.u.c.kin' sausage party in this place."

"Aww, poor Lane has to actually work to get laid now," Angel says sarcastically with a pouty lip.

"As long as you're here, baby"-Talon leans back in his seat, a beer bottle hooked by his fingers, legs open, and visually molesting me-"come sit on my lap."

That f.u.c.king ache in my chest flares. "As attractive as that offer is, I'll pa.s.s." I hold up a short stack of cards. "We just came to drop these off. Hand them out to whoever or don't. No biggie."

Heat hits my back, and two big hands come around my middle. "Come on, Trix." Lane, that a.s.shole. The way he embarra.s.sed me the other day in front of Mason, I could've killed him. "You used to be fun."

"And you used to be charming." I try to pull away, but his grip only gets tighter. "Let me go, Lane."

"Lane." Rex glares at his guitar player. "You heard her, man."

"She likes it." His hand slides up to cup my breast. "She just won't admit it."

Rex stands, and I slam my elbow into Lane's gut.

He releases me to double over, and his arms wrap around his belly. "What . . . the f.u.c.k . . .?"

I prop a hand on my c.o.c.ked hip. "I did like that, Lane. Thank you."

Rex shrugs and sits back down. "Serves you right, a.s.shole."

I lift an eyebrow at Talon, daring him to say something, but he remains silent, his face scrunched up in sympathy pain.

I swipe my hands together. "My work here is done."

Lane stumbles over to the couch and drops down next to Rex, who shoves him so hard he tumbles to the floor. "Touch her again; you deal with me."

Angel giggles and follows me out of the room and back into the bar. I'd don't blame the boys for being confused. Up until now, we've had a take-what-you-want-when-you-want-it kind of relations.h.i.+p. I've used them just as many times as they've used me. Funny thing is now I don't want to. Maybe it's me giving up on my purpose, gearing up to move on with my life, knowing that I'll never get to settle the score. The thought is as depressing as it is terrifying. All I've ever known is revenge. What will I do next?

I'm losing touch with my job, my self-appointed a.s.signment to find Lana's killer and put him through the kind of h.e.l.l he subjected her to. I can't help but wonder if this sudden ache in my chest is my heart giving up, throwing in the towel and leaving me with nothing to do but live.

We navigate our way through the crowd and to the bar, ordering drinks while we wait for Ataxia to play its second set. After a few sips and a couple dodges of drunken men and their grabby hands, Angel leans in to whisper.

"Seems like there're more people now. Let's circulate, try to hand the rest of these out. That way we can take off as soon as the show ends."

I nod and hold up the few cards I still have. The sooner we can get out of here, the better. My feet ache and long for a soak in a warm bath. "Sounds good."

We patrol the room, avoiding those we've already spoken to and chat with some new faces. A table clears and a couple sits to take their place. Might be tourists, but they do love to hit Vegas strip clubs while in the City of Sin, soaking up the full experience.

I motion for Angel to follow me over, but as I get closer, my footsteps slow then freeze and I'm stuck. My stomach lurches into my throat.

Mason.

He's with a girl. Not just any girl, a really, really pretty girl. They're sitting across from one another but leaning over the small table toward each other. She's talking animatedly about something that he seems to like a lot because he's flas.h.i.+ng a smile and laughing harder than I've ever seen him.

I prepare to turn, to run and hide, but Angel doesn't notice my semi-freak out and bellies up to their table. Mason's eyes fix on her, registers who she is, and then he immediately swings his gaze to me.

f.u.c.k!

"Trix, come here." Angel's eyes are as big as bottle bottoms as she implores me to get my s.h.i.+t together and play it cool.

We have rules about c.r.a.p like this: running into customers outside of the club when they're with their significant other. The rule is we act like they're total strangers.

I take a deep breath, throw on a mask of indifference, and advance toward them. Mason's eyes eat me up from hair to heels until I squeeze in between his date and Angel to ensure there's a buffer between us.

Sell the club and walk away. Simple.

"Hey, guys. Hope we're not barging in on you." My scowl is tight and aimed at Mason, whose baby blues are wide. "My name is Trix and this is Angel. We're here pa.s.sing out VIP cards to our club, Zeus's Playground." I chuck a card at Mason that hits him in the chest and falls to his lap. His date takes Angel's proffered card and studies it. "Have you ever heard of it?" My question is directed to the cheating b.a.s.t.a.r.d to my left. He answers my question with a drop of his brows, and his full lips pull into a tight line.

"Oh, yeah!" His date holds up the card. "I've heard a lot about this place. You girls dance there?" G.o.d, why does she not only have to be pretty but also nice?

"We do." Angel b.u.t.ts in and pushes out her double-Ds. "You guys should come by sometime; we do private dances for couples all the time."

"Whoa . . . really?" The girl's eyes dance with excitement and dart to Mason.

He stares at his beer, his eyebrows pinched, and his jaw hard. The image of them together, on a small couch in a private room at Zeus's flashes through my head: a dancer straddling their laps, running her body along theirs as they suck on each other's lips.

A low growl gargles in my chest. "What's wrong, big guy? You don't like strippers?" The word tastes sour on my tongue.

His glare slides up to mine, and as fierce as it seems, I don't back down from it. "Trix . . ." My name is said on an angry rumble that I feel deep in my belly.

I prop an elbow on the table and lean toward him. "Are we offending you? Breaking up your date?"

"Cut it out." His jaw is clenched, teeth bared.

"Cut what out? I'm just here doing my job. What exactly are you doing?"

The beautiful blonde holds up her hand and looks curiously between us. "Wait, am I missing something?"

I turn my head toward her and the anger dissolves. She's really pretty and clean looking. Not fake in any way. Natural light hair that probably doesn't reek of hair bleach, highlights from the sun rather than streaks of candy-color, little makeup rather than the fake eyelashes and lip-plumping gloss slathered all over my face. She's perfect for him. Better for him than me.

Disappointment crushes my lungs. "No, you're not missing anything." I push back from the table. "Sorry to bother you."

I turn on my heel and head toward the door, needing to get the h.e.l.l out of there with or without Angel. I hear Mason call my name from behind me, but embarra.s.sment pushes me forward. I'm weaving in and out of cl.u.s.ters of bar patrons until I finally exit into the warm desert air.

"Holy s.h.i.+t!" Angel is right behind me. "What was that?"

"Nothing, it was . . ." G.o.d, I'm such an idiot. "I'm done for the night."

She nods, a small smile on her face. "Yeah, I gathered that." Her eyes narrow. "Oh my G.o.d . . . you like Mason."

The door swings open so hard it hits the brick wall behind it, and Mason comes barreling out. His eyes. .h.i.t me, and I curse my d.a.m.n shoes because if I run in them he'll surely catch up to me.

"Trix . . ." There's softness in his voice, a pleading that reeks of guilt. He eyes Angel. "Hey, could you give us a second?"

Her gaze slides to mine, one eyebrow lifted. "I'll be in the car."

"I'll take her home," Mason says.

"You will not!" I jut out my chin. "Who will you take home first, huh? Me or your date? Oh . . . let me guess. You'll take her home first so you can f.u.c.k me after, right?"

His expression darkens. "Stop it."

"'Cause good girls like that don't put out like we do."

"Hey!" Angel stomps a foot. "I don't-"

"Right?" I ignore Angel's offense. "You wine and dine the lady and end it with a good night kiss before you f.u.c.k the easy girl to get off!"

His hands shoot out and grip my shoulders, pulling me to his chest so quickly a whoosh of air rushes from my lungs.

I squirm to get out of his hold. "Let me go."

He presses his lips to my neck, his nose just under my ear, breathing me in. "f.u.c.k . . . stop. Why are you doing this?"

"What?" Why? Um, besides walking in on the guy I kissed and let feel me up on a date with another woman? G.o.d, I'm such a hypocrite. I have no right to feel as possessive as I do, and yet . . .

"You misunderstood what you saw in there." His big hands slide around my back and down to link just above my a.s.s.

My traitorous body curls deep into his chest. "Mason, you're on a date. The only misunderstanding was me thinking . . . thinking . . ." That we were more. How could I be so stupid?

He pulls back, and the anger I saw in his face is replaced with a tenderness that I feel in my chest. "Thinking what?"

I shake my head. "Nothing."

At the sound of a throat clearing, my gaze darts to Angel, her expression soft. "I think you're in good hands." A tiny smile tugs at her lips. "I'm gonna head back inside."

My cheeks heat and I nod. "Okay."

"Thanks, Angel. We'll be there in a sec." She heads back into the club, and Mason forks his fingers into my hair to cup my jaw, locking me in a determined blue stare. "She doesn't need to worry. You'll always be safe with me."

I believe Mason would protect me from harm, but he has no idea how vulnerable he's made my heart. "Am I?" I choke out the words, shocked at how seeing him with another woman has reduced me to this kind of violent jealousy.

His grip is firm, unrelenting. "I care about you, Trix. I care about you enough to want to strangle every man who's had the pleasure of touching you, to follow you home like a d.a.m.n stalker, to walk away from you when all I want to do is strip you down and bury myself inside you. I care about you enough to ask you out on a real date and to chase after you when you run away." He shrugs. "I care about you enough to forgive you for breaking my phone."

My lips twitch, and I hope he sees it as a grin I'm fighting and not the torrential downpour of tears his words have evoked.

His hands cup my face. "Let me explain. Then you can decide if my offense is worth walking away from me for. Deal?"

I nod into his big palms, and my heart flutters as a soft smile tilts his lips. "Deal."

"Okay." He takes my hand. "Come on."

Ten.

Mason Holy s.h.i.+t! That was close. For a second there, while she tossed out insults like arrows, I thought I'd lost her. I thought she'd never calm down enough to let me explain.

The c.r.a.p she says about herself makes me sick to my stomach. That a woman this beautiful could have such little respect for her body is astounding. I take her belittling herself as a personal insult. I almost grin at the challenge she's set before me, to prove to her that she's so much more than the "easy stripper." Her body and the honor of pleasuring it should be a prize to be won, not a tool to be pa.s.sed around as she claimed the other night. My compet.i.tive nature digs in, h.e.l.l bent on proving her wrong.

I take purposeful steps back to my table, making sure to stay at her side rather than drag her behind me.

As we get closer, she stops. "Oh . . ."

Ta-da! Now she understands.

I encourage her to walk with me with a gentle tug on her arm and tuck her to my side as we step up to the table.

"You're back." Eve's smiling between Trix and me, her hand interweaved with Cameron's.

"We are." I squeeze the tense girl at my side. "I'd like you guys to meet Trix. Trix, this is Cameron Kyle, my boss, and Eve, his girlfriend."

I can almost feel the heat of her blush against my skin as she burrows deeper into me. "Hi, nice to meet you guys."

Cameron's glare moves between us, and his jaw gets soft. "You too."

"Girl, I hate to be annoying, but seriously where did you get those shoes? They're hot!" Eve hops off her stool and studies Trix's shoes. "Cameron, do you see these things?"

Cam grins, and Trix pulls away from me enough so that she can lift her foot up for Eve to study it. They go back and forth, some s.h.i.+t about websites and mall stores that I mostly ignore. When I turn away from the convo, I find my boss staring at me.

"What?"