Page 80 of Lawless in Leather

“He’s a great batter,” Maggie said. “His swing is a thing of beauty. All three of them were good. Lucas was a pitcher and Alex was the catcher. All of them wanted to play in the major leagues.”

“But there was a bomb? What happened?”

“One of the white-supremacist, anti-government-type groups thought it would make a point to bomb a college baseball game,” Maggie said, with a grimace. “God knows what that point was supposed to be. The three of them were on the field and they went back into the stand that got hit worst by the bomb—which was on fire by the way—and dragged a bunch of people free. Lucas’s shoulder got screwed up and he decided to become a doctor. Alex decided he wanted to be able to make a difference in the world and switched to business and building his empire and Mal…”

“Mal joined the army,” Raina said. “He really is trying to save the world.”

“Well, he was,” Maggie said. “He’s mellowed a bit now, from what Alex tells me. But stuff like this, people he cares about in danger, people messing with his team, well, that’s got to?—”

“Push some buttons,” Raina broke in. “Yes. I’ve figured that part out. The part I’m still trying to work out is how to switch them back off before he drives himself—and me—crazy.”

“Just be there for him,” Sara said. “I’m not saying agree to everything he wants. Guys like the terrible trio, they’re way too used to getting their own way and you have to stand up for yourself or they’ll roll right over you. But they’re still human. They need things. And it looks like Mal’s decided one of those things is you. So, as the future wife of one of his best friends, I’m in favor of you working things out.”

“Me too,” Maggie added. “Well, just because I think Mal’s a great guy and Alex is happy when the other two are happy, so win–win. Not the wife part. There will be no more wife talk.”

“Agreed,” Raina said. “So let’s finish the pizza and talk about something else. Mal is my problem right now.” She smiled, thinking about the little ways that Mal had been making her stay here fun. Sending her random gifts when he was out of town. Stealing moments so they could just hang out and watch old movies. Arranging for the Taj Mahal of cat towers to be delivered and installed in the main room for Wash to entertain himself. And then there was all the sex. Which kept getting better and better. She was worried she might actually spontaneously combust from sheer lust one day if it kept getting better. “As problems go, it’s a nice one to have.”

“They seem to be enjoying themselves,” Brady said as he helped Raina zip up her sparkly silver dress backstage.

“Are you kidding? This party kills.” She grinned at him over her shoulder. “We rock.”

“Yes, we do. But we already knew that. So now that you’ve got all our new baseball friends liquored up and fed, are you ready to put on a show?”

“When am I not ready?” Raina said. Nerves twisted in her stomach despite her bravado. This felt like a big deal. This was Mal and Alex and Lucas and Maggie and the Angels and everyone else who’d been so good to her since she’d taken on this crazy project. Not strangers. Friends. Some of whom were about to see a side of her they didn’t know about. Mal and Maggie and Sara had seen the show before, and the shortened version she and Brady had put together erred on the side of less confronting and less skin … but it was still sexy and a little out there. She took a breath. Fuck it. This was who she was. This was what made her heart pound and her blood sing, just like baseball did for all of them. Maybe some of them wouldn’t like it, but it wouldn’t be the first time that had happened.

You can’t please everyone. That was another of her gran’s lessons. One that was her mantra these days. Other people’s hang-ups and fears were their problems.

“Not my circus, not my monkeys,” she muttered under her breath and straightened her shoulders. Brady handed her the microphone—covered in silver crystals to match her dress—and then the band kicked in, and she stepped through the curtain to put on a hell of a show.

It all went smoothly for the first hour. The Saints people whooped and hollered and clapped in the right places. And went silent in that good way during some of the acts. The way that meant they were enthralled and thinking. Just what she wanted. And now they had two numbers left. The finale with everyone but before that, just her. And her black-and-pink wings. A far more wicked version of the white Angels.

Brady had paired the wings with a corset made of black leather that curved around her body like a second skin. It went with very short shorts made of the same leather. A collar of black crystals circled her throat, and matching bands wrapped her wrists. Fishnets and thigh-high black leather boots finished the look off.

She looked like the kind of angel who made the others fall. Very, very hot. But somehow not slutty. She was never sure how Brady managed to pull that off in his costumes. He pushed things right up to the line but never pushed them over.

And she had to admit she was looking forward to finding out whether everyone else appreciated his talents.

Brady hooked a wireless headset mike over her ear. She couldn’t hold a mike and work the wings easily.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded. “Time to show them how it’s done in our world.”

He kissed her cheek and left the stage.

Breathe, she thought, and then the music started and the curtain whizzed away, leaving her standing in the spotlight, arms raised, wings spread.

She heard the audience gasp and smiled. “Who wants to get bad with me?” she purred into the mike and then started to dance.

The bank of lights above her came on, shedding enough light to let her see into the crowd. She spotted Mal at one of the front tables. He looked … arrested. She sent him a smile meant just for him before she spun around to start the next series of moves as the music slowed.

As she came full circle, there a shockingly loud pop above her and a shower of sparks as one of the lights exploded. Instinctively she ducked, throwing an arm up to protect her face from hot glass, waiting for Brady to hit the switch to kill the row of lights before any others could flare and overload as well. But before he could, Mal was on stage with her. On stage and sweeping her off her feet, cradling her too him, though how he managed that with the wings, she couldn’t quite understand. He had her off the stage almost before the rest of the lights went down.

“Mal,” she hissed as they got backstage. “Put me down.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. Just kept heading in a direction she knew led to one of the exits. “Mal!” she yelled a little louder. “Mal, it was just a light going. It happens. Put me down.”

He didn’t stop. She hauled a hand back and socked his arm as they reached the exit. “PUT. ME. DOWN,” she repeated as he reached for the door. She stretched out her leg and planted her boot against the door, bracing so he couldn’t open it.

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