Rock Chick Revolution

  “I’ll leave you to dinner,” Deck said.

  He nodded to me, gave a macho badass chin jerk to Ren then disappeared through the door.

  Ren let me go to walk to it and turn the locks.

  He claimed me again and guided us back to the table.

  Once there, after refreshing our champagne, he shared, “Jacob Decker. Qualifies for Mensa. Occupation, hazy. Reputation, not a guy you fuck with.”

  I stared at Ren. “You checked him out?”

  “I checked out everyone close to Faye Goodknight and Chace Keaton.”

  I kept staring at Ren. “When did you have a chance to do this?”

  “When I texted Dom to get his ass on it about five minutes after Keaton shook my hand and said, ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Chace Keaton,’ which was about two seconds before I laid into you.”

  I continued staring at Ren. “Okay, why’d you do this?”

  “Because you got your ass on radar for that guy and his woman, and since your ass is my ass, I protect that ass, both proactively and retrospectively. I do that by gathering any and all information on anyone who might be involved, even unintentionally, in threatening that ass.” He looked back to his plate, muttering, “Though I prefer proactively or not having to do it at all.”

  I didn’t know what to do with this. It wasn’t a surprise, really. It also wasn’t an invasion, exactly.

  Before I could make a decision about what to do with it, Ren swallowed a bite and kept talking.

  “One good thing, you with me, all that shit is over.”

  Uh-oh.

  He reached for his glass, but before he took a sip, he looked at me and stated, “And Decker’s visit means that shit’ll be shut down. His occupation may be hazy, but his reputation also says he gets a job done.” He took a sip, put his glass back and finished, “Finally something good happened today. A line drawn under that mess. And if you got any other shit goin’ on, you work with Tucker and Dunne to finish it, then you’re free to find a real job and settle in with me.”

  Oh man.

  He picked up his fork.

  “Uh… Zano,” I called.

  “Yeah, honey?” he answered his chicken.

  Shit.

  I stared at his profile, his square jaw, the line of his full lips, the spikes of his thick eyelashes. Then my eyes slid through the food, the champagne bucket, the flowers, the candles.

  I took this all in, but my head was filled with promises of three, one, two (with the possible inclusion of four) and the way it felt when he drew my pendant in his mouth that morning.

  Then I decided we’d both had enough for the day and tomorrow would be a better time to explain to Ren about the “real job” I was finding.

  So, I scooped up some peanuts and mumbled, “Nothing.”

  Crap!

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hit Play

  Darius stared at me.

  “Well?” I prompted.

  We were sitting in his truck outside Fortnum’s the morning after Chinese with Ren (and, by the way, after chocolate candles, we did four along with one, as well as three and two; it was righteous).

  I’d just told Darius my future career path.

  “You got instincts I haven’t seen except in men trained and experienced or earned on the streets,” Darius stated.

  Well that was good.

  “I still don’t like it,” he finished.

  Hmm.

  “It would mean a lot if I had your support,” I said quietly.

  He shook his head but said, “You have my support, Ally. I know you enough to know no one’s gonna be able to talk you out of it, but that isn’t it. Seen it time and again, takin’ your back, you got your shit tight. But your girls are nuts. The reason I don’t like it is because those women don’t have their shit tight.”

  “They won’t have anything to do with this,” I assured him.

  “How you gonna manage that miracle?” he asked.

  “I explained it to Indy, she gets me. They will too.”

  He shook his head again and looked forward. He also looked reflective. And lastly, he didn’t say anything.

  “Darius,” I called, and his head again turned to me.

  “You need to get licensed, and for that you need bona fide investigative hours. And the way to get them is workin’ with Lee,” he announced.

  I blinked at him, something funny, but by no means bad, moving through me.

  Before I could pinpoint what that feeling was, he kept talking.

  “And no way your brother is gonna take you under his wing. He’s been on my ass now for months to find a way to shut you down. He doesn’t give a shit you close cases, you’re trained, you shoot, you run, and you take this shit seriously. He knows the dangers and he wants you nowhere near that. Your dad and Hank agree.”

  “Maybe I can convince them,” I suggested, but when Darius’s expression turned from pensive to dubious, I tried something else. “Maybe I can work my next case with one of the Hot Bunch and whoever that is can vouch for me.”

  “You’re workin’ your cases with Brody and me and that hasn’t worked. Brody thinks you’re the shit, Ally. And he’s shared that with Lee. Repeatedly. Lee isn’t swayed.”

  Okay, as annoying as Brody could be, at Darius’s words, I remembered why I loved him.

  “Then I’ll work with another investigator,” I proposed.

  “Sylvie Bissenette,” Darius said immediately.

  I knew of Sylvie. I’d never met her, but she was a private investigator in town who had a reputation, a good one.

  And this idea was a good one, too. Badass bitches take on Denver.

  I liked it.

  “She had a partner,” Darius went on. “He re-enlisted, died overseas. That means she’s used to workin’ with somebody. But Lee also contracts with her occasionally, so she might not be big on takin’ you on if that makes things shaky with Lee.”

  God.

  Lee.

  Every time I turned around it came back to Lee standing right in my way. And he was my brother. I loved him, respected him, admired him. I needed to finesse that, not try to find my way to blow through it.

  “That said,” Darius carried on, “she’s a chick in the business and knows it isn’t easy breaking through. She might be down with workin’ with you because of that.”

  A ray of light.

  “Uh, dude,” I started, “there is another way.”

  “That would be?” he asked.

  “You’re in the biz, so you could vouch for me with the Licensing Board.”

  That expression I did not like crossed his face before he hid it and replied, “Ally, I’m not licensed, and I’m not gonna be. Workin’ with Lee, I don’t gotta be. But still, it isn’t going to happen.”

  I didn’t get this.

  Sure, he had a rap sheet, but as many times as he got arrested, nothing ever stuck. He’d never done time.

  And it wasn’t like he was the only human being who did wrong and turned his life around.

  I wasn’t certain how the Colorado Licensing Bureau felt about it, but he’d been working under Lee now for over a year. He was on the crime-free wagon and hadn’t once even teetered, much less fallen off.

  I could tell by his face that this wasn’t the time he was going to share, and I wondered if there would be a time he would do that voluntarily.

  I suspected there would not.

  So that meant it was soon going to be my time to get out the tequila and have a sit down with my brother of another color. He lived. He breathed. He worked. He even smiled and sometimes laughed.

  But something about him made me feel he was on hold. Waiting.

  For what, I didn’t know.

  But it was becoming clear it was time I did what I could so Darius Tucker would stop existing on pause and hit play.

  “I’ll talk with Sylvie,” he offered.

  “That’d be cool, Darius,” I accepted.

  Darius changed subjects.

  “No
w, you know both Hank and Lee have been in my face to keep you out of this Rosie shit, but I know if I tried, you’d lose your mind and you’d get in it. So I’m gonna keep you briefed.”

  Seriously.

  I loved Darius.

  I grinned.

  He kept talking.

  “He’s smoke. His shit was good shit and he’s still got fans here, so I’m workin’ my way through who I knew was partial to his product. The boys from New Mexico have no ties here. This is not good. No known associates, nothin’ to go on. Brody’s workin’ that book thing and he’s also workin’ hotel/motel registrations for me. I’m takin’ this on two angles, shuttin’ down Rosie and shuttin’ down the source of danger by findin’ those guys. It’s not gonna be easy so Lee has also assigned Hector to work with me.”

  I nodded.

  Darius carried on. “Because of their relationships with you, Hank and Eddie can’t work this case officially. They’ve assigned it to Jimmy Marker. Jimmy’s keepin’ them briefed, they’re briefin’ me.”

  Poor Jimmy.

  A colleague of my dad’s, I’d known Jimmy Marker since I was a little girl. And Jimmy was batting a thousand. That would mean he’d picked up every Rock Chick case, now including mine.

  “You got Santo and Lucky on your ass,” Darius continued. “You still carry, keep your stun gun and pepper spray on you. Vigilance, Ally.”

  “Always, honey.”

  This time, he nodded.

  “Shit to do,” he muttered, which meant we were done.

  “Darius?” I called, even though he was looking at me.

  “Right here, Ally.”

  “I love what I do. I’m going to love doing it for a living. But the thing I love most is that you always believed in me.”

  Darius held my eyes a beat before he looked down to the seat.

  When he lifted his eyes again, I took in a hissed breath at the unconcealed pain there.

  “And I love it that you always believed in me,” he whispered.

  Oh God.

  I leaned toward him. “Darius—”

  “Get outta my truck, Ally.”

  “Darius—”

  “Out, sweetheart.”

  It was him calling me sweetheart and doing it in a voice that was rough with emotion that made me nod and exit his vehicle immediately.

  I stood on the sidewalk and watched him drive away.

  Definitely time for tequila and a sit down between Darius and me.

  I looked across the street and gave a wave to Lucky who was standing outside a sedan and leaning into his forearms on its roof.

  He lifted a hand and gave me a salute.

  I gave him a chin lift that was probably not macho badass and walked into Fortnum’s.

  It was a hair after opening, which meant the place was packed.

  Duke was behind the book counter, and when I caught his eyes, he scowled at me, turned and disappeared into the rows of shelves behind him.

  Okay, so, tequila with Darius. And also beer with Duke.

  Tex and Jet were behind the espresso counter and I headed there, even though both of them being there left little room for me. Not because there wasn’t enough room for three people. Just that, with the addition of Jet’s seven month’s pregnant belly, it made it a tight squeeze.

  We got to work, but I knew I was operating on borrowed time caused by the coffee rush and this was confirmed when it slowed and immediately Tex turned to me.

  “Not happy,” he boomed, even though I was three feet away.

  I was not surprised by this announcement. Not because I ticked everyone off with my secrecy.

  No, because Tex was rarely happy.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “You’re hooked up with Zano.”

  Shit.

  Here we go.

  “Tex—” I started.

  “That means you got Zano Family protection. So that means no one’s gonna fuck with you. So that means you’re gonna do whatever it is you’re gonna do, but still, shit’s gonna stay boring.”

  I stared.

  Tex kept booming. “That apartment explosion was a fluke. Those New Mexicans get wind you’ve got family protection, they’re gonna back off. Then where we gonna be?”

  “Safe and happy?” Jet suggested, and Tex turned a narrowed gaze and knitted bushy brows to her.

  “What fun is that?” he asked.

  “Just pointing out,” I entered the conversation, “the other Rock Chicks had Nightingale and police protection, not to mention Sloan and Zano protection in some cases, and shit happened to them.”

  Was I assuring Tex of impending danger and mayhem?

  “You women burned your way through anyone stupid enough to spit into the eye of those tigers. There’s no one left,” Tex replied.

  “Maybe those New Mexicans won’t get wind of all that,” I proposed. “Out-of-towners with no local known associates, they may be slow to cotton on.”

  Yes, I was assuring Tex of impending danger and mayhem.

  “It’s thin,” Tex muttered. “But it’s something.”

  He turned back to the espresso machine and jerked off a portafilter with such force, the entire machine (and it was not small or light, not by a long shot) moved sideways half an inch.

  He also kept muttering.

  “And we got that book thing. Those badasses were beside themselves yesterday. Got a feeling that shit’s gonna get interesting.”

  I had a feeling he wasn’t wrong

  I looked to Jet.

  Jet rolled her eyes and shrugged.

  I got close to her and asked, “How are you feeling about the book thing?”

  Her head tipped to the side before she replied. “I can’t find it in me to get worked up about it. Sure, there’s more detail in Indy’s book, but it isn’t like it wasn’t mostly all laid out in the papers.” She righted her head and went on to inform me, “Eddie’s not pleased.”

  That wasn’t a surprise.

  “So I’m thinking I should probably devote my attention to not getting wound up about it.” Her hand went to her belly. “He’s not big on me getting worked up about stuff.”

  I knew that. If Eddie adored Jet before (and he adored her, in his macho badass way), he doted on her now. He was ecstatic (again, in his macho badass way) that she was having his baby, thus he treated her like porcelain. No Eddie Chats that pissed her off. No being bossy. It was all about soft looks and sweet touches and handling her with the utmost care.

  It was pretty righteous.

  Then again, Eddie had always been a really good guy (in his macho badass way).

  So that wasn’t a surprise, either.

  I dipped my head to her belly. “How’s preparations for the blessed event coming?” I asked, and she gave me her knockout smile.

  “The addition is done,” she told me, referring to the new kickass laundry room Eddie and Hector added on to their house so Jet didn’t have to walk down to the basement to do laundry. “The nursery is done,” she went on. “Now he’s starting on refinishing the basement so we can move number one out to a bedroom downstairs,” she patted her big belly. “And move number two into the nursery upstairs when the time comes.”

  “Forward planning,” I noted and got another big smile.

  It was safe to say Jet, as well as Eddie, were looking forward to having a big happy family.

  I pulled in a breath and got to the hard part.

  “Okay, so how are you doing with me?” I asked, and her smile changed. It didn’t fade, but it grew softer.

  “You’re Ally,” she answered.

  I was.

  “You do what you do,” she continued then her smile re-brightened. “I’m just bummed out I didn’t get the chance to tell you not to fight it.”

  “I wouldn’t have listened,” I told her.

  “They never do,” she replied, and that was so true, we both giggled.

  The bell over the door rang.

  I turned and watched Daisy charge in wearing
a skintight baby pink Juicy Couture track suit with the hoodie unzipped so far you could see the lace of the cups of her bra. This was not a fashion option she chose while she zipped up that morning. This was a necessity as the fabric didn’t stretch enough to zip over her bodacious ta-ta’s.

  “Yo,” I called my greeting seeing as her eyes were glued on me.

  She didn’t reply, and I knew I was getting it from Daisy when she kept up her charge right behind the espresso counter, grabbed my hand and dragged me out toward the bookshelves.

  Down the aisle we went and she turned right at the W-X-Y-Z section.

  She stopped us in the middle of the row, turned and tipped her head back to me.

  “I’m workin’ with you,” she announced.

  Fuck!

  “Daisy—” I began.

  She lifted a hand palm out, pearl-painted, lethally-long fingernails pointed to the ceiling, and I could see the tips were brushed with hot pink on the diagonal and every one had a little heart of rhinestones affixed to it.

  I didn’t usually allow people to shut me up, especially giving me The Hand. And Daisy was not carrying a purse and her tracksuit didn’t afford any opportunities to hide anything, but even without a stun gun handy, Daisy found ways to get her way and I wasn’t in the mood for a catfight in the W-X-Y-Z section.

  So I shut up.

  She dropped her hand.

  “After you left, Indy told us on the hush-hush you’re puttin’ out a shingle,” she declared and I took a calming breath.

  I hadn’t even told Ren. Or my family.

  But Indy had told the Rock Chicks.

  I was seeing that I needed to be far more thorough in my instructions in the future as Daisy kept talking.

  “She explained we gotta keep our traps zipped. And sugar, you know we will.”

  I knew no such thing.

  She kept going.

  “She also said we gotta keep our noses out of your business. We all agreed.”

  I wasn’t certain I believed her, especially since she just told me she was going to work with me. As for the rest of them, that remained to be seen.

  “But I’m workin’ with you,” she repeated.

  “Daisy, I can’t—”

  Her hand went back up and she immediately started talking.

  “Not with you, with you, like, in the field. I’m gonna be Shirleen to your Lee.”