Punishing Me (Shaft on Tour #6)

by Cat Mason

  Ireland comes strolling out of the house, her black and red sundress swishing around her knees. The top is black, almost corset looking, with embroidered blood red skulls and roses, making her look like an erotic Little Red Riding Hood. Her eyes meet mine, the blue rolling almost like storm clouds.

  What I wouldn’t give for her to talk to me. Scream at me. Fucking knee me in the balls. Even though it would hurt like a bitch, it can’t be worse than this.

  Her eyes aren’t the same when she looks at me now. Ireland doesn’t look at me like I have the possibility to make everything better by smiling at her. She doesn’t even look at me with that electrifying hatred that makes my heart beat out of my chest. The look in the blue eyes that I can’t close my eyes without seeing lately, are now full of disappointment.

  There’s also something else. Something beyond the sadness, that I can’t quite put my finger on.

  Jazzie runs up and throws her arms around Ireland, breaking the first real connection I have had with her in days. “Bye, best friend.”

  Dropping her bag, Ireland wraps her in a hug. “See you soon, Munchkin.”

  Releasing the kid, she scoops up her things and says goodbye to the others before disappearing onto the bus without so much as a glance in my direction. “Mack!” Jazz screams, running my way, carrying a purple gift bag with bright blue tissue paper sticking up through the top. This is the first time she and I will be separated since she came to live here. Though she isn’t my child, there is a part of me that is sad to leave her behind. I can’t imagine how Hunter, Chase, and Grayson must feel being that they do this all the time.

  “What’s in the bag?” I ask, lifting her into my arms. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she giggles before planting big, loud, kisses on each of my cheeks. “A present.”

  “Really?” I ask, chuckling. “For me?”

  “And Ireland,” she corrects me. Cupping my face with both hands, she stares at me, her brows knitting together. “This will make everything better.”

  “Don’t let Big Man sing my solos, ya feel me?” Kissing her forehead, I place her back on her feet and take the bag from her outstretched fingers.

  Giving me a wink and a thumbs up, she turns and runs toward Hunter and Chase who are arguing beside the steps of the bus. I can’t hear what is being said between the two, but the minute Jasmine gets close, they both stop talking immediately.

  Making my way over, I catch up to Henry. “Remember,” he starts, “follow the timeline. Aiden will lose his shit if it’s off. Camaron and he are good about keeping it on point. Driver’s name is Aaron. I already met him. Hell of a guy; little pretty if you ask me, so you better watch him with Ireland. She has a tendency to pick off the road crew members when she gets bored.”

  Over my dead fucking body.

  “I got this, Big Man,” I assure him. “I’ve seen you in action enough to know how it works. Your girls need you focused here.” Looking at Jazz, I smile. “Watch my girl through, would ya?” I ask, clapping him on the back. “Someone’s gotta make sure she doesn’t paint the dog and cover Brannon in sharpie tattoos during naptime.”

  “You know,” he says, rubbing a bare spot on his bicep, “I was tellin’ Rae this mornin’ I needed some work done,” he chuckles. “Go on. She will be fine. Check in when you stop for the night.”

  “You got it, Boss.”

  We pile onto the bus. It’s like a cruise ship leaving port. Everyone is waving and blowing kisses. It’s probably a bit dramatic and over the top, but it’s just how it is around here. Nothing we do is normal, or calm for that matter.

  I look around, silently taking a head count of everyone on board. Hunter has already taken command of his ugly ass recliner and the remote control. Aiden and Grayson are setting up the Scrabble board at the table with Mike and Jared arguing over what crazy shit the losers should have to do. Chase and Ireland are sitting side by side on the couch, talking in hushed voices.

  Maneuvering over Hunter’s outstretched legs, I sit on the open cushion beside Chase. “Where’s Cam?” I ask, looking around for her, but see her nowhere.

  “Said she was feeling a little dizzy and sick to her stomach,” Chase says on an exhale. “Went to lie down in back to see if it passes.”

  “Girls,” Grayson says, angling his body in the booth seat of the table to look our way. “Please don’t tell me Aiden and I have to play alone. Keep it interesting, will ya?”

  Ireland immediately pushes to her feet, “I’m in.” Grabbing Chase’s arm, she yanks her up. “Let’s see if we can show these boys the definition of X-rated.”

  “Oh!” Chase squeals, sliding into the seat. “Chicks versus dicks. Pass the tiles and place your bets. This shit is about to get real.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Baconfest Incident Report

  Ireland

  The last two days have been a shit fest. I have done everything in my power to avoid Dominick, but it’s not easy. He is always around.

  Now, we’re back on the bus and he is my designated security detail.

  After crying every tear I had in me, and then some, I woke up the next morning with clarity. After everything he has put me through, for all the pain of eight years’ worth of heartbreak, it’s his turn to pay.

  Drawing my tiles, I bite my top lip as I arrange them on my little wooden rack. I never thought in a million years I would actually enjoy playing some stupid board game like Scrabble, but Shaft does it up right. The dirtier the word, the better, and the wagers are always legendary.

  “L-I-C-K,” I say, naming each letter as I place it on the board. “Lick,” I purr, feeling Dominick’s eyes on me.

  “Good for eight,” Jared says while Mike writes the score on the little dry erase board on the fridge below ‘Chicks’.

  “You’re up, Dicks,” Mike laughs, leaning against the counter.

  “Hey,” Hunter calls out, still flipping through the channels on the flat screen mounted to the wall. “What’s the wager?”

  “If we win,” I say, grinning big. “Every single one of you guys have to dress up like Disney princesses and sing karaoke with Jasmine when we get home.” Leaning on my elbows, I smile wider. “Make-up and all. On video.”

  “And if we win,” Gray challenges, scrubbing his chin.

  “None of you ladies can take the afternoon off for ‘retail therapy’,” Aiden interrupts him, grinning smugly. “The rest of the tour.”

  “Hey,” Chase says, shocked. “No, fuckin’ way.”

  “Hell yeah,” Gray agrees. “This could be my saving grace from a jealous shopping trip deprived wife.”

  “Done,” I say, waving her off. Looking at her, I wink. “This is in the bag, girl. Just like your next pair of designer heels will be.”

  ***

  By the time it is dark outside and the last of the tiles have been drawn it is neck and neck. Hunter has left the sanctity of his recliner to cram his ass into the tiny kitchenette space to watch the last round play out.

  “Time to wrap it up,” Aiden says, cracking his knuckles. “Eleven minutes and I’ll be sitting in a booth shovelin’ down boneless wings by the handful.”

  Grabbing four of my tiles, I arrange them in order with the tiles I’m borrowing from words already down. All eyes go to the board before everyone laughs. “Flaccid?” Hunter asks, gripping onto the counter and bending at the waist as he roars with laughter. “The only female on this bus who Dominick ever laid a finger on and she throws down the word flaccid!” He falls to his knees, clinging to Mike’s pants leg before grabbing onto the table and meeting my eyes. Tears stream down his face, as he attempts to catch his breath. “I love you, seriously. The love,” he says, his chest heaving, raising his hand as far up above his head as he can. “So much. I just. It’s great.” Falling to his ass, he leans back against the counter and flicks his wrist. “Okay, boys, lay it down hard.”

  Aiden grabs his tiles, arranging them around before leaning back satisfied with himself. “That blank tile is anoth
er ‘M’,’ he says, smiling.

  “R-I-M-M-I-N-G,” Mike says, then looks again to make sure he read that right. “Rimming? Really?”

  “Mhm,” he replies, crossing his arms behind his head.

  “It’s actually a very intimate, very erotic act,” Cam says from behind us, making us jump. She yawns. “Sorry for disappearing guys, I felt horrible.”

  “Feel better, Baby?” Aiden asks, his eyes going straight to her and filling with concern. “Can’t have you coming down with something.”

  “I’m fine now, actually,” she says, stepping over and sitting on the edge of the couch. “Hungry.”

  “Okay,” Mike says, tossing down the marker. “Dicks, you have fought hard, so hard,” he chuckles, shaking his head at his own damn joke. As usual, Mike is the funniest man in the room. To himself. “Chicks, as the fairer sex tends to do, you have brought us all to our knees with your dirty minds and fantastic banter. Final score is: 143 Dicks. 146 Chicks.”

  “Goddamn it,” Aiden growls, slamming his fist down on the table. “Give me that fuckin’ board and marker. You’ve added this shit wrong or somethin’.”

  “Oh, Aiden,” Cam giggles. “Always such a sore—”

  “Sore is a term you’ll be very familiar with, my love, if you finish that sentence,” he fires back with a wink and an evil smirk.

  Cam shivers, her face reddens in a blush. The heat and tension filling the room all around us. My eyes meet Dominick’s, watching me. I expect him to look away, but he doesn’t. His eyes rake over me as the bus stops and I push to my feet.

  I haven’t said five words to him since the other day. The silence between us drives me crazy, but what is there to say?

  As usual, the moment the bus comes to a stop, everyone is ready to bail out the door like evacuating a burning building. Shoving in front of me, Hunter shouts something about taking the bacon hostage. His shoulder slams into me, sending me off balance and headed face first for the pavement.

  “Shit!”

  Everything spins in slow motion as I prepare to make an imprint on the parking lot of some truck stop in Kentucky. Just as I contemplate the gallons of concealer it will take to hide the tragedy that will be my face, two thick arms grab me around the middle, pulling me forward into a hard gray and red flannel covered chest. Shifting the hair from my face, I stare up at my savior from a busted up face. Blinking rapidly, I stare up into deep green eyes and a smile all wrapped up with a dark brown beard to match.

  “Um thanks,” I say, steadying myself by grabbing his forearms. “Uh…”

  “Anytime, Darlin’,” he replies with a sexy southern drawl. “My name’s Aaron.”

  Shit. That’s right. He’s the new bus driver…

  “Are you okay?” Dominick asks, rushing up to us and grabbing me. Spinning me in his arms, he looks me up and down. “Hunter, you fuckin’ moron. There’s no fire.”

  “I’m fine, Mack,” I say, shaking free of his hold.

  Dominick’s eyes harden. Turning his attention to Aaron, he pulls me into his side. “Thanks, man. I’ll take it from here.”

  What the fuck is this? If he whips out his cock and pees on me to mark his territory, I’m going to douse it in gasoline and have myself a wienie roast right here in the parking lot.

  If he is mad, jealous, or just plain having his time of the month and needs to be a bitch, I am really not certain. But, I kind of like it. After years of him not giving one shit about what he put me through and, suddenly, I have his undivided attention and it feels pretty damn good. Though, who knows what is going on in his head. For all I know he could just be pissy he wasn’t there to catch me himself and be the hero. If that’s the case then, whatever. The shoe is on the other foot for once and I really love the fit.

  “You know what?” I say, shoving him away again. “I’m good; I’ll take it from here.” Walking over to Aaron, I smile at him. “Aaron, I’m Ireland. How about I buy you dinner. It’s not every day a man steps in and stops me from being hurt,” I say, glancing at Dominick to make sure the dig hit where it was supposed to.

  Aaron smiles, holding out his arm for me to wrap my around. “Why thank you, Darlin’,” he says, “I’d love the conversation. Sure got lonely up there, listenin’ to y’all have so much fun in back.”

  Catching Dominick’s face as he holds the door open for us, the scowl he is wearing is just enough proof to have me smiling from ear to ear as Aaron and I walk into the diner and grab seats beside Cam and Aiden.

  “Sorry I tried to kill you, Ireland,” Hunter says, apologetically sitting at the next table over from us. “There’s a billboard out there that says Baconfest. I got a little excited.”

  “No harm,” I wave him off. “No foul. I’m sure it’s not the first incident report at Baconfest.”

  “Touche,” he agrees, nodding his head.

  Dominick takes a seat beside Hunter, while a brunette with ‘Asli’ written on her name tag takes our drink orders. His eyes are fixed on me. I can feel the heat of his stare burning into my skin, but I don’t dare look over his way. Instead, I focus my attention on Aaron while he tells me all about growing up on a ranch in Texas.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Frontman Advisory Panel

  Mack

  Drinking my soda, I stare down the bearded knight in flannel as he openly flirts with Ireland. His country accent and sweet, southern demeanor has her hanging onto every word he says, as if he’s a shiny new toy.

  This isn’t going to work for me.

  “Down boy,” Hunter says, elbowing me. “We didn’t pack your muzzle.”

  “Every time he touches her, or she laughs at one of his stupid jokes, I want to punch him in the throat.”

  “Yeah,” he laughs, “I been there. Want my advice?” he asks, leaning back in his chair.

  “I’m not holding groupie auditions to fuck her out of my system,” I say, honestly, rolling my eyes.

  “Nah.” Hunter shakes his head, studying Ireland as she sits at the next table. “It’s gone way beyond that now. Not even a buffet of anal lovin’ fuck sluts can help you now that she’s gotten in here,” he says, slapping my chest.

  “Okay, mister know-it-all,” I say, glaring at him. “What would you do if you were me?”

  “Well, let’s see,” he says, sizing me up. “First, I’d be sure to burn that stupid fucking shirt.”

  “Never mind,” I say, fixing my eyes on her again. “Forget I asked you shit. I forgot you can’t be serious.”

  “Sorry, okay? Sometimes, I just can’t help myself,” he says, reaching over and pinching my cheek. “You make it so damn easy to get you all fired up.” Looking over at Chase across the table, he smiles. “You know, man, sometimes, you gotta truly fuck it all up before you realize what you’d be givin’ up.” Reaching over, he covers her hand with his and squeezes. Chase’s eyes soften as she returns his smile. “She sees somethin’ when she looks at me that I’ll never be,” he says, as a tear rolls down her cheek. “But, I’ll give all I have, until I take my last breath, hoping that I can be even a fraction of what she deserves. My advice is swallow your pride and fight for your girl.”

  “Oh, honey,” Chase sniffles with a laugh. “You really should write a book.”

  “Chase!” Cam shouts as she and Ireland stand to their feet. “We’re going to the ladies.”

  “Why is it that when one woman has to pee, they all have to?” Hunter asks Chase when she stands and grabs her bag without hesitation.

  “Because,” she says, bending down and kissing his cheek. “That’s where we practice kissing and have pillow fights in our underwear.”

  “Your cruelty hurts.” Hunter clutches his chest. “You can’t toy with a man about shit like that, Tiger Lily. It sets expectations that can never be met with anything other than sad, bitter, disappointment when he sneaks a glimpse inside as a woman comes or goes and sees no girl on girl action.”

  “Pervert,” she sighs, slapping his arm as she passes.

  “
Well, no matter what changes,” he smirks, slapping her ass playfully. “That’ll stay the same.”

  My eyes stay on the girls until they disappear behind the ladies’ room door. “So, Aaron,” Hunter shouts, interrupting the conversation Aiden and he are having about a new zombie movie. “You really grew up on a farm and shit?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure did,” Aaron answers, turning to glance over our way. “Pop is the third generation to run the Cheyenne Prairie Ranch. It’s more than a farm, though,” he corrects him. “It’s a legacy. Seventy thousand acres of history passed down through the hands of my mother’s side of the family. Over half of what we do is self-sustaining and goes right back into the local community. Mama bakes and has a little shop on the edge of the property; my sister makes the best preserves in three counties. Best eatin’ you’ll ever do. That’s actually how she met Pop. He stopped in, bought a slice of her caramel apple pie, thirty-eight years ago, and never left. Grandad put him to work and the rest is a love story that I’ll tell my kids one day.”

  “Oh, he’s good,” Hunter mutters, lifting his lemonade to his lips. Downing half the glass, he shakes his head. “Next piece of advice from the Frontman Advisory Panel,” he says, arching a brow at me. “Speed up your game plan. He keeps talkin’ and Ireland will be blowin’ him under the table before the waitress brings the check.”

  Two waitresses head our way carrying trays weighted down with plates of food. My eyes go to the still closed bathroom door. Plates are handed out, arranged around the tables, while drinks are refilled. The guys dig in, obviously used to the women disappearing to the bathroom for this long. However, I’m not. I don’t fucking like it at all. I don’t like her being out of my sight. Pushing to my feet, I nod at Jared and Mike before heading across the diner to see what is keeping the girls.

  Listening outside the door, I can hear muffled female chatter, but nothing I can make out. Call me nosy, but every man really does want to know what women do in there for so long.