Punishing Me (Shaft on Tour #6) (7 page)

God
equips men with dimples and those knock-out smiles so that our brains turn to
mush. It’s looks like those that leave us helpless. The look on his face is
anything but sweet.

It’s
filled with rage. Territorial. Dark.

And
if I didn’t hate him, I’d say it was totally hot too…

“When
it comes to Jasmine you will,” he grinds out, angrily. “As for your issues with
me, cry your river, build that bridge, and get the fuck over it already. Shit
happens. Life’s gonna stink if you drag crap around everywhere you go.”

“Are
you done?” I ask, swallowing hard. “I need to Google a hardware store. It seems
I have a bridge to build.”

His
top lip twitches, those damn dimples becoming more prominent. His face is
stern, but unreadable. My stomach begins to churn like it did yesterday when we
were this close. My heart slams against my ribcage, making me dizzy.

“Best
frannnnnnnd!” Jazzie shouts, making me jump. “You can’t leave. I gotta tell you
somethin’.”

“Almost
positive you were supposed to be bucklin’ up, Kid,” Dominick chuckles,
scrubbing a hand over his face. “Kids should come with duct tape, I tell ya.”

“If
your lippers had zippers, I could shut you up,” she fires back.

“Well,”
I giggle, wondering where she comes up with this stuff. “Guess she told you.”

“Damn
kid,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I’m wrapped around her finger, but I
really gotta watch what comes out of my mouth. She takes everything I say and
uses it against me.”

Moving
away from him, I make my way over to where Jazzie is hanging out of the sunroof,
slapping her hands down on the roof. “I gotta to tell you a seeeeeeeecret,” she
says, leaning over and grabbing my cheeks with her sticky hands.

“Oh
yeah?” I mumble through my smooshed lips. “Lay it on me, Kiddo.”

Her
brows knit together, every inch of her face, completely stone cold serious. “You
reeeeeeeally need to eat cookies,” she yells about three inches from my face.
“They do
not
taste like feet.”

 
“Now who’s the Bossasaurus?” Dominick asks from behind me.

I
can feel the heat from his body at my back. His arm comes up beside me, his
hand landing on top of Jasmine’s head. “Say goodnight, Jazz,” he says, pushing
her down into the car.

“Bye,
best frannnnnnnd!”

“Bye,
munchkin,” I reply, though she’s already disappeared from view.

When
I turn to make my way back around my car to leave, Dominick steps in front of
me, blocking my path. “Shit, sorry,” I say, shifting to the right, to get out
of his way. Clearing his throat, he steps back in my path again and holds out
his hand, expectantly. “May I help you?” I ask, wondering what in the actual
fuck he wants. “I’m all out of singles to make it rain, Magic Mack,” I laugh,
crossing my arms over my chest.

“Har,
har, aren’t you hilarious,” he deadpans. “Just give me your phone, smart ass.”

“My
phone?” I ask, taking a step back. “Why in the hell would I do something like
that?”

“Just.
Do. It,” he says, gritting his teeth. “For once, can you just do something the
first time you’re asked, instead of flappin’ that mouth?”

“Whatever.”
Taking my phone from my front pocket, I unlock the screen, and slap it down in
his palm. “There. Ya happy now?” I ask, scowling at him.

“You
have no idea,” he deadpans, his eyes locked on his fingers as they tap on the
screen. Looking up after a minute or two, he grins. Ringing from his jeans
pocket only causes the grin to turn into a full on smile. “There ya go,” he
says. Just as quickly the ringing stops and he hands me my phone back. “I
expect you to call me immediately if that spare fails on your way home.
Though,” he says, steering me toward my car again, “since Jared quit, I’d also
appreciate you letting me know you made it home safely, as well. It doesn’t sit
well with me for any one of you to be out alone.”

“Fine.”
Dominick opens my door, holding it open as I climb inside and settle myself
before starting my car.

“I’ll
be expecting that call, Ireland,” he says before letting me shut the door.

Walking
over to his car, he leans against it. Crossing his arms over his chest, he
stands there watching. Putting my car into gear, I pull out of the space and
exit the lot. I don’t know how long he stands there, but I could almost swear I
see him pass by my house right after I pull in.

Planes, Pubs, and
Pints

Mack

Looking
at my blank phone screen, I shake my head. Stubborn ass woman. I knew she
wouldn’t call once she got home. Swiping the screen, I select her name, and
type.

Are
you alive?

“Daddy!”
Jazz screams, bouncing on her heels like a rabbit on Redbull, the entire walk
from the car to the front porch. Elbowing me in the hip, she bolts through the
foyer, firmly grasping the cookie box, the second I open the front door. “Daddy,
I’m home!”

“Hey,
whoa! Freeze and hand over the box, and I won’t rip the heads off all your
dolls, kid. Those cookies are mine!” I call after her, but she’s already
barreling through the other end of the house, her screams echoing through the
entire house. My phone buzzes. Tapping the screen, I scowl at her reply.

Minimal
bleeding. That last few feet to the door were brutal
.

Is
that sarcasm?
 I fire back, smirking.

Slamming
the door, I hang my keys on the hook and pocket my cell before going in search
of Henry. I want some answers. While following Ireland, to make sure she got
home safe in that clown car of hers, her being alone kept nagging at me. Now
that I’m home, I plan to find out who dropped the ball. Watching over a member
of the band that is plastered all over the front page nearly every day is a top
priority. “Big Man!” I shout, rounding the corner, heading straight for the
dining room.

As
always, I can hear the laughter and loud voices carry down the hallway long
before I reach the doorway. We aren’t a quiet group, that’s for sure. We also
don’t apologize for the fun, non-filtered way we behave either. Take us as a
whole, or get fucked.

It’s
your loss if you can’t take us at face value.

“My
favorite letter is O,” Hunter shouts, letting me know what they’re doing before
I even see the damn Scrabble board on the table.

When
usually a stupid board game would be reserved for senior citizens, our rowdy
bunch has transformed it into a strategic game of x-rated debauchery. Gauntlets
are thrown, bets shaken on, and before you know it, Hunter is running naked
through the freshly fallen snow, screaming the lyrics to his version of ‘
The
Twelve Days of Christmas
’.

Good
Times.

“I
see how it is,” I say, rolling my eyes. “No one waits on me before picking
teams and starting the game.”

“With
you in a minute, Deuce,” Hunter says, waving me off with his middle finger. “Anyway,
O is the first letter in orgasm. It’s the vowel that holds the word cock
together, and it’s always at the end of fuck.”

“Um,
wait. No, it isn’t,” Daisy argues, rolling her eyes.

“Oh
no?” he asks, skeptically, cocking his head to the side.

“Now
you’ve done it,” Chase says, burying her face in her hands. “It’s like feeding
the bears at the zoo. Don’t.”

He
smirks, a face splitting grin spreading across his face as he leans into the
table. “Then someone obviously isn’t doing it right,” he challenges. “Allow me
to demonstrate.” Throwing his head back, he clutches the edge of the table with
both hands. “Oh! Ah! That’s it, baby. Take it all!” Hunter screams in a high
pitched, Oscar winning, porn star voice. Thrusting his hips, he slams into the
table again and again. “Oh! Oh! Oh! L, M, N, Ohhhhhhhh!” Breathing heavily, he
falls back into his chair, with a grunt. “And that, lovers, fuckers, and cock
suckers, is how it’s done.”

“There’s
no O in anal,” I say, leaning against the doorjamb. Henry sits at the head of
the table, in his usual spot. Rae sitting sideways in his lap, with her legs
dangling over the arm of the chair while his hand moves protectively over her
swollen belly while he stares off into space.

“Excuse
me?” Hunter asks, getting my attention again. His entire body stills in shock.
Looking up at me, both eyes widen and his jaw goes completely slack.
“Seriously, am I the only one with a cock that knows how to use it?”

“Alright,”
Chase says, pushing to her feet. “We gotta bring it down to a child friendly
level since Jazzie’s home. I don’t think we need her doing the alphabet song,
Cunter style, for show and tell tomorrow.” Making her way around the table, she
scans the room. “Where is she?”

“Probably
hiding under the stairwell, eating my damn cookies,” I mumble, kicking myself
for letting her get her hands on that box.

Chase’s
eyes fix on me, along with Hunter’s and Rae’s, all three sets narrowing.
“What’s the rule, Deuce?” Hunter asks, grabbing the beer bottle off the table
in front of him and tipping it to his lips.

“Yeah,
I know,” I reply, flipping him off. “If the sugar keeps ‘er up past nine for
the night, she’s all mine,” I murmur. “I’m buying that kid a giant hamster
wheel and tying a fucking box of Chips Ahoy just out of reach.”

“Hey!”
Hunter shouts, pointing his beer bottle at me. “Amazon has those, I bet.” He
grins, arching a brow. “I bet it would be cool as hell to fu—”

“Daddy!”
Jazzie shouts, barreling into the room like a runaway train. Her excited
screams, are barely muffled by the damn dog going bat shit at her feet. Bit’s
brown fur matted to his body by frosting handprints. “Mack took me to Happy Hut,”
she exclaims, leaping into his lap and wrapping her arms around him.

“Hey,”
Hunter breathes, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Have fun?”

“Duh,”
she says, fumbling around in his lap so she can face him head on. He winces,
the breath rushing out of him as he helps her get settled without crippling him
with her knees. “We saw Ireland, too. Her tire broke and now she’s my best
frannnnnnnd. We played games, and I got cotton candy, and Marina helped me
carry the tray, because Ireland says Mack spends too much time on his knees.”

Aiden
chokes, spraying a mouthful of beer across the table at the girls, who scream
and dive for napkins. “Wait, what?”

“Um,”
I stammer. I can feel my face turning red under everyone’s very amused gazes.
The entire room waiting for my explanation as to where that interesting little
comment came from. All except Aiden, who is damn close to coughing up a lung on
his boots.

“Ireland?”
Henry asks, suddenly taking an interest in the conversation. “As in our
Ireland?”

“Nope,”
I reply, shaking my head. “After I picked the kid up from school, we hopped a
plane to Dublin and hit the pubs. Had a few pints, danced a jig or two. Hell,
we auditioned for Riverdance before hopping the red-eye home.”

“Annnnd
on that note…” Wrapping his arms around Jazzie, Hunter stands to his feet. “I
think you need a bath, kid. After that, how about we get you something to eat
that isn’t ninety-percent sugar and we can see if you have any homework in your
folder?”

“Aw,
come on,” Jazz whines, pressing her face into his chest.

Hunter
looks down at the icing covered dog and laughs. “Hey, Chase?” he asks, waggling
his brows at her. “Wanna help me wash my wiener?”

“I’ll
bathe the kid,” she corrects him, taking Jazzie from his arms. “You handle your
own wiener.”

Following
her out of the room, Hunter stops beside me and pats my shoulder. “Just remember,
bro, there’s a reason I call ya Deuce, and it’s not because you’re the shit. Ya
feel me?” he asks, his lip twitching in an attempt to keep a straight face.

“Movie
night in the den!” Aiden whoops, fist pumping the air as he leaps to his feet.
“Whoever has the remote gets first pick!” The room clears faster than grocery
store shelves before a snowstorm. No one wants to participate in another of his
zombie flick nights. Poor Daisy didn’t sleep for two days after he binge
watched three seasons of
The Walking Dead
during their last break in
tour dates.

“You
wanna try that again?” Henry asks, once we are alone. “I asked you a simple
question. I expect an answer, not attitude.”

“Sure
thing,” I fire back. I can’t see beyond my anger and frustration at the
situation. “As soon as you tell me who’s bright fuckin’ idea it was to let a
band member go around unprotected? With Ireland on the front of nearly every
gossip rag hanging at the grocery store checkout, I’d think we’d be keepin’ a
tight leash on everyone this week. It’s lucky that Jazz and I were the ones
that found her down in that part of town and not a van full of press or some
crazy person.”

“Well,
Deuce,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Since I am the one in charge here,
let me bring you up to speed. Ireland caused a shit storm. Jared quit because
he was fed up with her bullshit; I have spent the better part of today on the
phone tryin’ to get someone who hasn’t already written her off as a lost
cause.” Scrubbing a hand over his face, he blows out a frustrated breath.
“Look, I’m gonna level with you. Jared is gone, Mike is down in Tuscaloosa with
his kid, and I can’t possibly be in seventeen places at once. I had all but hoped
Ireland would be comatose with tour exhaustion and at least give me a day or
two to take a breath and find someone who can handle her ass.”

“No
one will agree that she is a bigger pain in the ass than me,” I admit, taking a
chair and sitting at the table across from him. “Doesn’t change anything
though.”

“Well,”
Henry says, smiling smugly. “If you think you can handle things better than me,
have at it.”

“Wait,
what?” I ask, my heart nearly stopping dead in my chest. “You’re gonna have to
repeat that. I thought for a second that you were telling me to handle
something important. Aren’t I here as like some kind of Shaft approved court
jester? Comic relief?” I ask, knowing, more often than not, they see me as a
joke. I am the big dope, good for a laugh, but never taken seriously.

Sometimes,
it sucks being so hilarious and awesome…

Leaning
up in his chair, Henry places his arms on the table. “If that’s how I saw you,
I would never leave you in charge here while the rest of us are out on tour.
Hell, I wouldn’t even let you walk Bits and we all know I can’t stand that evil
fucker.” His face becomes serious, but his eyes soften. “I’m hard on you, but
for good reason. You may think I left you with some fool’s errand while I’m off
having a blast on tour, but that’s not it at all. I don’t trust anyone with our
family’s lives more than you, Dominick. If you don’t believe me, go ask anyone
else in the house. They’ll agree with me and say the same damn thing.”

“Okay,”
I reply, unable to hide my shock. Guilt churns in my gut. I should tell him
about Rae. This is my chance to lay it all out, but I can’t. Henry looks so
worn, so stretched thin, that I can bring myself to say the words. Instead, I
do the next best thing. Taking a breath, I look him straight in the eye. “What
do you want me to do?”

“First
things first,” he sighs, shaking his head. “We’ve gotta keep Ireland contained.
You’ve known her a long time, right? Since you were kids…” he asks, popping a
pretzel into his mouth from the bowl in the middle of the table. I nod my
reply. Henry scratches at the stubble on his face. “Why don’t you go over and
talk to her?”

“There’s
no talkin’ to that stubborn ass. She absolutely hates me,” I mutter, making him
laugh. “It’d be easier if I just clubbed her in the head caveman style.”

Henry
laughs again, but sighs quickly. “Noted,” he nods, pushing to his feet. Making
his way around the table, he stops and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Just
promise me you’ll try to save the club as a last resort, okay?”

My
phone buzzes in my pocket as Henry leaves the room. Pulling it from my pocket,
I groan at her reply.

Yep.
Sarcasm keeps me from becoming a serial killer.

“Yeah,”
I breathe, scrubbing a hand over my face. “I’m gonna need more than a club.”