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. Fuckin’ 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 fucking ache in my chest flares. “As attractive as that offer is, I’ll pass.” 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 asshole. The way he embarrassed 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 fuck . . .?”
I prop a hand on my cocked hip. “I did like that, Lane. Thank you.”
Rex shrugs and sits back down. “Serves you right, asshole.”
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 relationship. 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 assignment to find Lana’s killer and put him through the kind of hell 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 flashing 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.
Fuck!
“Trix, come here.” Angel’s eyes