Page 214 of Fury

“I say, you fucking do what you want, but give it your best. Whatever you do, don’t hold back. Lay it out there. All of it.”

“That works for me. That I like.”

Slade pulled up in Tania’s car, a prospect behind him on a bike.

“You good to drive?” I asked.

“I’m fine. Butler’s only a couple streets over.” Tania leaned a hand on my shoulder and lifted up on her toes and kissed my cheek. “You take care of yourself.”

“Yeah.” I got on my bike. “Fuck you.”

She let out a dry laugh that I drowned out with the roar of my throttle.

Slade and his prospect headed back to Dead Ringer’s. I got the hell out of Meager and focused on the road home to Nebraska.

My body conformed to the vibrations and movements of my bike over the smooth highway. The familiar road signs with their arrows, route numbers, exit numbers shone starkly in the bright white lamps.

Numbers.

The numbers over Lenore’s body flashed before my eyes. A series of numbers was inked under each compass.

“Nebraska...the good life”said the sign whipping past me as I crossed the border.

Seventeen minutes later, I passed the signpost for Elk with its small population tallied at the bottom.

My back stiffened, my heels pressed down.

Those weren’t any random numbers on her body. They were the coordinates for my clubhouse here in Nebraska.

Why would Lenore have my club, my home base tattooed on her body all these years?

Her rough voice from earlier answered me,“Trail of blood.”

60

Ididn’t want to wake up,but I did.

I didn’t want to remember the feel of Finger’s warm hands rubbing fragrant oils into my naked body under that harsh, possessive gaze of his that was like taking bullets to the chest, but I did.

I didn’t want to feel fiercely aroused by that erotic memory, but I did.

I didn’t want to use my vibrator pretending it was him pulsing inside me, but I did.

I didn’t want to cry after coming, but I did.

I stayed in bed the whole day, and into the night.

The next morning I woke up at four thirty.

Time to deal.

I’ve always dealt, why should this be any different?

But it was different. The prospect of me and Finger together again loomed over me like the shadow of a two hundred story skyscraper. Stunning, breathtaking.

Ominous.

And he’d been right. I did like telling the men in my bed what to do. That had become my thing, my necessary thing after I’d left Finger and Chicago behind me. I liked the control. It was stabilizing, exciting. I kept my head above water that way. I’d never felt that need with Finger. With him sex had always been a kind of wild freedom, a raw intimacy, an intense passion. Giving in to him just that little bit the other night, submitting to his fiery attention, his extraordinary care was—

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