Page 166 of Fury

“Grace told me you’re getting a divorce.”

“Almost there,” she said.

“I got myself one of those a while back, and I survived just fine.”

Tania’s lips twitched into a smirk and something inside me lightened. I’d missed that smirk. I’d missed her.

We fell into easy conversation, and Tania leaned in to me. “Have you seen...?” she asked in a whisper.

Finger.

“No.” My voice came out more clipped than I would have liked.

“Oh, I have.” Tania’s face reddened, like she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

My pulse skipped a beat. Grace had told me about their having gone to his clubhouse in Nebraska, about seeing him when Jill and Catch’s daughter has been kidnapped by a biker from another club. I really didn’t want to hear any more about it. Shit never changed. Ever. When you thought things were good, rolling, comfortable, Brutal Reality cut in for his turn with you around the dance floor.

Another validation for all I had done. Even now.

I glanced over at Jill. The girl seemed fine, but that shit changes you—your child at the mercy of a psycho, at the mercy of crazed men’s twisted egos and dirty ambitions. She was lucky.

“You two getting to know each other?” Grace asked, an arm around Tania’s waist.

I gulped down my cold beer, relishing its icy wash down my hot throat.

Tania’s electric gaze met mine. “Lenore was just telling me about her divorce.”

“I was.” I shot her a grin and her eyebrows lifted, accepting my return volley. “Stay away from musicians, Tania, whatever you do. Fuck them, but don’t marry them. Ever.” I raised my drink at her.

Letting out a laugh, Tania clinked my glass with hers. “Ah, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “So, what kind of musician was your ex-husband?”

“He was the lead guitarist for this band called Cruel Fate.”

“No way! They were huge for a while there. Aren’t they from our parts?”

“They are. In fact, Grace here played a role in their success,” I replied.

“Not really.” Grace waved a hand. She explained to Tania how she’d helped the band in their early days by booking them at Pete’s when she used to manage it almost twenty years ago. Tania had missed out.

Tania raised her glass at me again and smiled. A warm, honest smile, and I returned the gesture. It was good to be with her again, to talk, to laugh, to feel that special vibe we once shared. Very good. We were all home, either reinventing the home of our past like Grace and Tania or, like me and Jill, creating a new one.

We settled in our seats, Tania next to me.

“Sort of nuts we haven’t met up sooner, considering,” I said. “I’ve been out of town, but you avoid club events from what Grace has told me.”

Tania raised an eyebrow. “So do you, from what Grace has told me.”

“Too many memories of club parties, most of them not very good,” I said. “Let’s hear your excuse.”

“Ah, it’s nothing. No big deal.”

“Tania, come on.”

She licked her lips, and I followed her gaze across the room to the side of the stage where Cassandra stood with Butler, the blond Jacks manager of the Tingle. This man had amazing pale-blue eyes, and when he aimed his rakish grins your way, you felt them jag inside you.

Tania took in a sharp breath. “Let’s just say, I have a history with a club member, and I made a wrong assumption about him recently, and feel embarrassed and awkward. And stupid.”

“Butler?”

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