Pure Iron

by Bargo, Holly

  Mick was right, she didn’t need pajamas.

  She hardly needed clothes, either, because they never left the hotel room. Although initially shy about revealing her scars and “patchwork butt” as she called the area from where doctors had taken most of her skin grafts, Mick made her feel beautiful.

  “Sonia, I don’t stay with you because I need something to stick my dick in,” he assured her. “I could find that anywhere and it would be meaningless. I stay with you because I love you. You bring me joy and peace. You inspire me.”

  He moved over her, inserting his body between her thighs.

  “And, yeah,” he added, kissing her after each word, “making love to you is—” he eased into her body and began a gentle back-and-forth glide “—abso-fucking-lutely incredible, too.”

  Thursday came all too soon. Mick and Davis drove her back to her parents’ house where she agreed to spend the next three months until the band’s tour ended. She had another surgery scheduled and would need her family’s support.

  “We had to extend the tour to make up for the canceled concert dates,” he explained on the drive.

  “Did they catch whoever hit me?”

  “Not yet. There’s not enough evidence, but we’ve got plenty of suspicion.”

  “Damn.” She paused. “I read that Jet entered rehab.”

  “I don’t think it was voluntary,” he commented.

  “Do you think your sister’s home?” Davis broke his contemplative silence.

  “She’ll be at school,” Sonia answered. “And your flight leaves before she gets home.”

  He gave her an uncertain look, so at odds with his usual serene confidence. Sonia took pity on him.

  “She likes you, Davis, but she’s just turned eighteen. She’s headed to college. She needs to grow up, but if you can wait for her, she’ll be ready for you in a few years.”

  “What does she want to do?”

  “Mechanical engineering.”

  “She must be smart.”

  “Scary smart,” Sonia agreed. “But she’s a mile-wide streak of goofiness which keeps her from being dull and boring.”

  “Why mechanical engineering?” Mick asked with honest curiosity.

  Sonia smiled with the memory of her sister’s refrain, “Because mechanical engineers build weapons and civil engineers build targets.”

  The men laughed.

  “No, really,” Sonia said as she chuckled, too. “She wants to design weapons. Last spring she submitted some design concepts for firearms to Sig Sauer and they offered her a summer internship. Unfortunately, Mom and Dad said she wasn’t old enough to live on her own and she had to turn it down.” She giggled again. “They postponed their offer. She’s headed to New Hampshire for an eight-week internship in June.”

  “Does she shoot?”

  “Yeah. Dad bought her a .308 rifle for her sixteenth birthday. She, Mark, and Gavin head to the shooting range a few times a month to waste ammo. She’s pretty darned good.”

  “Well, if your sister doesn’t make it through the engineering courses, she’s got a future as a sniper in the Army,” Mick quipped.

  “Don’t think that hasn’t occurred to her.”

  The car pulled into the drive. The three of them exited and walked into the house. Davis stepped away to give Mick and Sonia a modicum of privacy.

  They hugged as though they’d never let go.

  “God, I hate leaving you,” Mick said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

  “Just a few more months,” she whispered. Tears welled in her eyes, began to trickle down her cheeks. “Then we’ll be together again.”

  “In Monterrey. Remember the beach cottage?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s ours.”

  “Really?” she squealed excitedly. “Really? We were so happy there.”

  “And we’ll continue to be happy there,” he promised.

  “Yes, we will,” she agreed and it sounded like a vow.

  Their mouths met in a deeply passionate kiss. Only dimly did they hear a light, feminine voice say, “I thought I heard voices.”

  Mick and Sonia broke the kiss; Davis just stared.

  “What are you doing home from school?” Sonia asked.

  “It’s a teacher development day,” her sister replied, making air quotes with her fingers. “I’ve already done my homework, so the rest of my day is free.”

  “Teacher development day?”

  Sonia looked at Davis, who’d never heard of such a thing, and explained: “The school schedules some in-house training during business hours, which means that students get those days off from going to class. Today’s the winter quarter teacher development session, which makes no sense as we’ve got spring break in just four weeks.”

  Davis smiled and asked, “What are you doing for spring break?”

  The girl walked closer to him and looked up, way, way up, and grinned. “Whatcha got in mind?”

  “Want to come to Amsterdam?”

  “Oh, I’d love to!”

  “Jordan, you don’t have a passport,” Sonia reminded her.

  “I can get one.”

  “In four weeks?”

  “There’s no harm in trying.”

  “Mom and Dad can’t afford to send you to Europe for a few days’ trip.”

  “I can,” Davis said quietly. Looking at the most amazing girl he’d ever met, he asked softly and held out his hand to her. She grasped it and let him draw her close. Watching them, Sonia thought they looked like a linebacker and a ballerina.

  “Jordan,” Mick called softly.

  The girl reluctantly turned her head toward her sister’s husband.

  “If you go, you’re his. He’s playing for keeps. Do you understand what that means?”

  “Can I still go to college? Still go to Sig Sauer?” she asked, eyes bright with fiery intelligence.

  “Yes,” Davis answered. “I won’t kill your dreams.”

  The girl smiled beatifically and answered, “I accept.”

  “Jordan?” Sonia’s voice faltered as Davis gently lowered his lips to her sister’s in a barely-there kiss that belied the man’s desire and his strength. Or perhaps the iron control he displayed more clearly showed his strength.

  Their mother would have a hissy fit.

  Sonia rested her head against Mick. Mick and her. Angelo and Candace—she remembered the attraction spark between those two; something real was building there. Davis and Jordan. The band members were pairing up fast. She did not credit her own matchmaking efforts in the least, because she’d put no effort into anything of the sort. But she wondered about finding true loves for Jack and Kris.

  Mick kissed the top of her head and said with real regret, “We’ve got to go, honey.”

  “I know,” she sighed and reluctantly released him.

  “I wish you could come visit us in Amsterdam.”

  “I have surgery that week,” she reminded him.

  “I know. I’m flying back here to be with you as long as I can.”

  “You are? Really?”

  “Yes, absolutely.”

  They hugged again. The men exchanged speaking glances over the heads of their women. Davis kissed Jordan’s sunshine colored hair. They disengaged and walked out without further delay. Sonia and Jordan caught each other’s eyes and came together in a hug of shared grief and longing.

  “Did it happen so fast for you and Mick, too?” Jordan asked.

  “Yes.”

  Jordan sighed happily and leaned her head against her sister’s shoulder. “Tell me about him. What’s he really like?”

  “Davis?”

  “No, Captain Kangaroo. Of course, Davis.”

  Sonia grinned at her irrepressible sister, took a breath, and the described him in spare words: “He’s deep. Davis is loyal and caring. He’s always the calm spot, a steady rock. I’ve seldom seen him anything but gentle. He’s a genuinely nice guy. And he’s a phenomenal drummer.”

  “I feel like I’ve
been hit by the love truck.”

  “I felt like that after spending an afternoon with Mick.”

  “Mom’s gonna freak.”

  “But I think Dad will understand.”

  “Yeah,” Jordan agreed. “He says his entire family is like that: they fall in love all at once and forever.”

  “Fall down. Go boom.”

  “Yeah, like that.”

  Epilogue

  Jay deserved a raise, a humongous raise, if he did say so himself as he pulled a longneck bottle from the cooler and joined Mick, Davis, Angelo, Kris, and Jack on the back deck of the beach cottage. Sonia was putting the finishing touches on the fabulous barbeque she had prepared for all of them, testing yet another potential item for her menu.

  They had worked together, the idea for her own restaurant evolving to something more flexible: a food truck. Without any need for a permanent site, she avoided the expense of purchasing or renting a building and furnishing it. Operation of the truck launched quickly with a limited, seasonal menu and a rapidly growing customer base.

  The truck’s very mobility enabled her to shut it down and accompany Iron Falcon on tour as their personal chef.

  She’d grown accustomed to the paparazzi, who had grown rather bored with her. After all, there wasn’t much newsworthy or exciting about cooking and serving food from a truck, although the growing fame of Monterrey Salt had attracted the attention of the host of Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives. With a little help from Jay.

  “Come and get it,” Sonia announced as she carried out a tray of food that looked and smelled mouthwateringly delicious. Mick jumped up to take the heavy tray from her and set it carefully on a table. The others grabbed plates and swarmed over the food like starving lions.

  Jay glanced at Candace who patiently waited for the five ravenous men to finish filling their plates. She grinned at him and gave him a thumbs-up sign that Angelo didn’t catch as he brought over a plate heaping with food to her. He set it in her hands, kissed her, and returned to the table to fill his own plate.

  Well, well, well. Who would have thought Angelo DiMarco would wait on a woman like that?

  The band’s hulking drummer carried a plate to Sonia’s little sister, a pretty blonde girl taking a couple of weeks’ vacation before heading off to college. He hadn’t talked much with the girl, but had heard she was smart, really, really smart. Since Davis was scary-smart himself, even if he was oh-so-quiet about it, he figured that was a good match. The girl was as likeable as her sister.

  He glanced at Jack and Kris, the latter still cast the occasional yearning look at Sonia. Poor bastard. It was too bad Sonia didn’t have any more sisters.

  He looked out at the ocean waves rolling in and sighed with temporary content. Life was good at that moment. He’d locked up another very lucrative album deal and another concert tour for the band. After the tour, Jack had committed to a season on The Bachelor. Ratings would soar and the network was paying a huge commission on anticipated commercial sponsorships for the privilege of having him as their featured bachelor. Who knew? Maybe he’d find love and head down the aisle.

  Kris had plans to go off on his own after the tour. Not permanently, but he had some soul searching to do and a restlessness to settle. Strangely enough, he’d volunteered for a humanitarian trip for a few months, going out to desperately poor places to help the natives source fresh, potable water or some such thing. It was a noble thing to do, if out of character for the usually hedonistic man.

  Jay filled a plate, grabbed another bottle of beer, and returned to his seat. Mick picked up his battered, old acoustic guitar and began plucking the strings to air a new tune inspired by his wife. This one made him think of the three stages of Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven with a plaintive, acoustic first part, a harder, a grittier second part, and a hard rock third part. But this song had a fourth part that wound an intricate folk song melody around a steely core of harmony. Mick crooned the lyrics, a poetic recitation of innocence, love, challenge, and tempering.

  “What did you title this one?” he asked, thinking that the song definitely must be included on the next album.

  Mick slanted his gaze toward Sonia, then looked back at him and replied, “Pure Iron.”

  Thank you for reading PURE IRON. Please leave a review. Your feedback is valued.

  About the Author

  Holly Bargo is a pseudonym based on a horse of the same name, a black roan, temperamental appaloosa mare with a notorious dislike for the author’s husband. The horse has long since crossed the Rainbow Bridge, but the author still lives on a small hobby farm in southwest Ohio with three horses, a herd of alpacas and llamas, a clowder of cats, a house bunny, and one very big, fluffy, white dog. And let’s not forget the children: two teenage sons.

  Holly writes the types of stories she prefers to read: usually paranormal romance and contemporary romance.

  This book came about because Holly read one too many “New Adult” novels that dripped with angst and were festooned by shallow, promiscuous, emotionally stunted characters who harbored “dark secrets” and were “broken.” Bah. She figured she could write a good story in that sub-genre with main characters who were generally well-adjusted people. The rock star angle was just for fun.

  It’s hoped that you enjoyed the story of Mick and Sonia. If you wish to get in touch with Holly Bargo, send an email message to henhousepublishing@gmail.com.