"Already on it," he cut me off, flashing me a smile with his phone at his ear. "Hey Gen, it's Lucas." With a reassuring nod to me, he wandered away to talk to my lawyer about getting those papers filed to ban Chase, or Wenton, from all our venues. Despite how strained our relationship had been since I shot Cass in cold blood, Lucas was quietly stepping up and showing me every damn day that he was more than just a pretty face.
Zed disappeared to do what I’d asked, and Rodney refilled my drink before heading over to the backstage door. For a couple of minutes, I was relatively alone. Lucas was taking care of legal with Gen, Zed was sorting out the security teams, and Rodney was reassuring the dancers that my murderous ex would not be returning. Not that the girls knew he was really Chase Lockhart, but he oozed creepy. I didn't blame them for being anxious.
I slid my butt onto a barstool and took another huge mouthful of whiskey. It wasn't even close to what I really wanted, though. No amount of liquor was going to erase my sins.
"All sorted," Lucas said, sliding onto the stool beside me and grabbing one of the glasses. "Gen asked if you wanted to file a proper restraining order against him, but I figured that would be counterintuitive to what you're planning." He raised one brow at me in question, and guilt burned through me.
"I don't know what I'm planning," I admitted in a quiet voice. "But thank you."
Zed returned, his jaw tight with anger.
"Done," he announced. "Shall we go?"
I nodded, then downed his glass of whiskey, seeing as he was driving, before sliding off my stool. "Let's go."
The three of us strode back out of the club, and I wrinkled my nose when I saw it had started raining—almost like the weather could sense my crappy mood and wanted to set the scene.
"Motherfucker," Zed snarled, ignoring the pouring rain as he strode over to his Audi. All the way along the side, from headlamp to taillight, someone had keyed his paint. "What the fuck? Is he twelve? Who keys someone's car?"
Lucas grimaced. "I'm starting to get the idea that nothing is beneath Chase when it comes to getting under your skin."
I sighed and slicked a hand over my rain-wet hair as I climbed into the passenger seat. "I have a feeling you're right. Chase isn't going to make this quick or easy, but I think that can work in our favor."
"Care to share your ideas?" Zed demanded, slamming his own door shut and stabbing at the ignition button.
His attitude, while understandable, was pissing me right the fuck off. So I just glared back at him. "Not right now, no."
Lucas let out a small groan from the backseat. "Come on guys, give it a break. All this bickering is giving me a hell of a headache."
Zed shot Lucas a scowl over his shoulder but said nothing more as he drove us out of the Club 22 parking lot. I knew full well that wasn't the end of it from him, though. We hadn't had a proper discussion in almost a week. There had been some bitter, hurtful words exchanged that night as I frantically tried to save Cass from the gunshot wounds I'd inflicted, but that was it. Now it was all just bitter swipes at each other.
Lucas, despite his age, was handling it all a hell of a lot better than either Zed or me. While I admired that about him, I was also envious. I'd somehow totally lost my cold-hearted, level-headed nature in the past few months. Loving these men was making me soft. Weak. I hated it.
I also didn't think I could live without it. If I didn't fix things with Zed and Lucas soon, I was likely to lose them. Fuck. I needed to sort my shit out.
"Are you okay, Hayden?" Lucas asked after several minutes of silence in the car. I'd been staring out the window, looking out at the rain and dwelling over Chase's weird visit to Club 22, but his question dragged my attention back to him. It was a loaded question and not one I could even remotely start to unpack.
Was I okay? After having just attended Cass's funeral, then been paid a visit from my dead ex-fiancé who was determined to break me in every possible way? No. Not even close to okay.