Rock Chick Renegade

  God dammit, I thought.

  “Vance –” I began.

  “Quiet, Princess,” he whispered.

  It was my turn to freeze.

  Gently his hand moved away and he jackknifed off me but once he gained his feet, he leaned over and brought me up with him.

  He kissed me swiftly then said, “Get dressed. Get your gun. After I leave, arm the doors and windows and call the control room.”

  Then he let me go, went across the room, tagged his sweater off the floor and pulled it on. I stared at him, stunned immobile as he pulled his hair back into a ponytail.

  He looked at me. “Now, Jules. Someone’s out there.”

  My body came unstuck and I dressed quickly. I had my pants on when he made a noise like a half-whistle. I looked up at him and he tossed me his phone. He had his jacket in his hand.

  “Control room,” he said low and then he pulled his gun out of his jacket, dropped the jacket on the armchair and he took off on silent feet.

  I yanked my shirt on, following him down the hall. By the time I made it to the kitchen, he was gone.

  I locked the door, armed the alarm and went to the dresser under my bed platform and got my gun. I stood in the hall and I started to scroll his phonebook but it was the first choice. I hit the green button. It barely rang.

  “Yo,” someone answered.

  “This is Jules,” I said into the phone.

  “Shit. Do you have another pick up?” It was Mace. “I thought you and Vance were out tonight.”

  “No. Listen. I’m at my house and Vance says someone’s outside. He’s gone –” I stopped talking and my body went stiff when I heard gunfire. It was close.

  Quick as I froze, I unfroze, started talking again and I bent down to pull at the buckle of the ankle strap of one of my shoes. “Gunfire, Mace, fuck.”

  “We’re on it,” Mace’s voice wasn’t teasing, it was all business.

  “Do you need my address?”

  “No. Stay inside, stay safe –”

  I heard more gunfire as I kicked off a shoe.

  I interrupted him. “More gunfire.”

  “Stay inside. Keep your house armed.”

  “I’m going out there.”

  “Stay inside, Law,” Mace ordered. “We’ll be there in five.”

  I kicked off the other shoe. “We don’t have five,” I snapped, flipped the phone shut and threw it on the bed.

  I ran to the closet, pulled out my Pumas, yanked them on and tied them as quickly as I could. Then with my gun I ran through the house, unarmed the alarm and went out.

  I barely cleared the backdoor when Sal Cordova careened into me, I went backward and his arm went around me.

  “Fuck, he shot me,” Sal groaned, looking up at me and leaning deep into me. I took on most of his weight and staggered with it. “Your fuckin’ partner shot me in the ass.”

  With the arm not locked around me, Sal was holding onto his backside.

  “Jules. God dammit,” Vance was standing a few feet away. I spared him a glance; he had his gun trained on Cordova.

  I bent at the knees, taking Sal down with me and planting his ass on the ground. He gave out a howl and rolled to the side. I shrugged off his arm, bent down to yank his gun out of his hand and took a step away.

  “You shot me. You shot me in my goddamned ass,” Sal whined to Vance and any worry I had for him was lost. His voice was strong, strong enough to whine. I figured he’d be okay. “You didn’t have to shoot me,” Sal went on.

  Vance grabbed me around the waist and pulled me back so I was behind him.

  “You shot first,” Vance returned sharply. “What the fuck were you thinkin’?”

  Um… Vance sounded pissed right the hell off. Then again, he’d been working at getting in my panties for a few days now. He was probably not pleased that five minutes after achieving his aim he’d been interrupted by having to shoot someone.

  “You’re movin’ in on my action,” Sal explained.

  It was my turn to be not pleased.

  I turned to Sal. “Oh for God’s sake. Seriously, Sal?” I asked, not believing my ears.

  “You got the hots for me, I know it. Sat right across from me –” Sal started.

  “I sat across from you and threatened you,” I told him.

  “Playin’ hard to get. You women always play hard to get,” Sal replied.

  “Maybe it isn’t because we’re playing hard to get. Maybe it’s because we don’t want to get got in the first place,” I explained.

  “Naw. It’s not that.”

  Yes, Sal was that stupid.

  “Do we need to call an ambulance?” This came from somewhere to Vance and my left then Luke materialized and came to stand by Vance. He looked down on Sal.

  “Yeah,” Vance responded, “although I’d rather let him bleed to death.”

  “Shit,” Sal moaned.

  Luke pulled out his phone. I listened to Luke calling the control room and asking for the ambulance and the police. While I did this I thought about the current situation.

  The good news was, Vance hadn’t figured out I was a virgin.

  The bad news was, Vance had been stopped at a really good part.

  I turned to Vance. “How long is this gonna take?” I asked impatiently.

  I felt his eyes on me in the dark. Then I saw the flash of white as he smiled. Then his arm came around me and he pulled me to him. I could focus on him better at closer range and caught his arrogant grin close up.

  “Probably awhile, Princess. Longer ‘cause I’ll have to get stitches.”

  My breath fled my body.

  When I sucked in air, I asked, “Why?”

  “He tagged me. Thigh, just skimmed. I’ll need to have it looked at.”

  “You’re hit?” Luke said from beside us.

  “It’s nothing,” Vance said and I saw Luke nod, apparently that was good enough for him.

  “Crowe,” I said, weird feelings going through me, feelings I never felt before and feelings I didn’t like.

  “It’s nothing,” Vance repeated.

  “Crowe! It is not nothing! You’ve been shot!”

  “I’ve been shot before, Jules, trust me, this is nothing.”

  This time instead of my breath fleeing, I sucked in air on a gasp.

  “You’ve been shot before?” I asked on the exhale.

  “Yeah, last time wasn’t pretty,” Luke volunteered.

  “Luke’s had worse,” Vance informed me, “gut wound.”

  “Survived,” Luke said casually, “you got it in the lung.”

  Oh my God.

  “Stop talking,” I snapped, cutting into their gruesome, macho trip down memory lane.

  I heard Luke chuckle.

  “Stop chuckling,” I clipped.

  He didn’t stop chuckling but luckily the sirens heading our way drowned him out.

  Then the outside light came on, the backdoor opened and Nick stood there. He took us all in wearing a real life rendition of his Morgue Face.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “God dammit,” I muttered under my breath.

  * * * * *

  I was in my bathroom washing my face.

  Vance was somewhere in my duplex doing whatever he did before going to bed.

  I didn’t know how I got talked into letting him spend the night with me, though I had to admit, it didn’t take much. I figured it was partially payback for the favor to be nice to Roam, partially the fact that I felt responsible for him getting shot.

  Earlier, outside, before the ambulance came, I’d explained things to Nick and his mouth got tight. He looked like he was ready to tie me up in an attic room and leave me there until I died so I wouldn’t get anyone else shot in one of my fool crusades (luckily, we didn’t have an attic room).

  The ambulance came and carted off the moaning, whining Sal. The police came at the same time and talked to everyone, including me.

  I finally got a chance to see (though not me
et) Hank Nightingale and Eddie Chavez.

  Hank looked like a Nightingale, tall and dark, except he was the handsome All-American boy stayed good. Chavez was just as freakishly good-looking as the rest of The Boys.

  They did flybys, likely hearing that Vance got shot and coming to check he was okay. When they came Vance was sitting on my back stoop; a paramedic had cut away the thigh of his jeans and was checking his wound. I was standing several feet away with Nick. Both Hank and Eddie glanced in my direction and they didn’t look like they were card carrying members of Indy and the girls’ Welcome Wagon.

  Lee swung by too, another flyby to check on Vance. He didn’t stay long then he was gone.

  I talked with a police detective named Jimmy Marker. I gave him a slightly tweaked version of the Sal Cordova story making Sal sound like a garden-variety stalker (which, in a way, he was).

  When I was done talking, Detective Marker looked at me and asked, “You Law?”

  I kept my eyes on him, my face blank and my mouth shut.

  “Know you’re workin’ with Heavy,” Marker said.

  I was surprised but kept silent.

  “Heavy’s a good man,” Marker went on.

  I nodded once, not sure where this conversation was going.

  “What you’re doin’ is stupid and unsafe,” he continued.

  Now I knew where this conversation was going and I kept quiet.

  “You should stop or you’ll get yourself killed,” he advised and his voice was both sharp and concerned. I figured they taught this in cop school.

  I didn’t reply.

  “Or you’ll get someone else killed,” he finished.

  It took a great deal of effort but I stayed silent and didn’t bite my lip like I wanted to.

  He watched me, shook his head and then muttered, strangely, under his breath, “These boys need to get their heads examined.”

  Then he walked away.

  I drove Vance to the hospital in my Camaro.

  He was right, it wasn’t that bad. He got cleaned up, stitched up, came out of the treatment room with his jeans on, the thigh cut away and I could see a white bandage there.

  We went back to Hazel.

  “Where do you live?” I asked when we were standing by Hazel.

  Before I knew what he was about, he took the keys from my hand.

  “Spendin’ the night with you,” he replied.

  “What are you doing? Give me my keys,” I made a grab for them but he yanked them out of reach.

  “Get in the car,” he ordered.

  “No one drives Hazel but me,” I told him.

  “Hazel?” he asked.

  “My Camaro,” I replied.

  He stared at me for a beat then grinned and shook his head as if I was downright adorable. This caused me to feel that sweet warmth again but I shook it off and focused on our current verbal tussle.

  “Crowe,” I said warningly.

  The grin faded. “Please don’t argue, Jules. Just get in the car.” This he said in a weary voice.

  I sucked in my lips, his weary voice getting to me. I walked to the passenger side and Vance took me home.

  Upon entry he locked the door behind us and turned to arm my alarm and I went directly to my dressers, rooting through them to find my least sexy night apparel (I had none). I settled on a baby blue silk nightgown that looked like an old fashioned slip. It was tight against the midriff, had an a-lined skirt that skimmed my knees and a thick rim of ecru lace along the top and bottom edges. I stalked to the bathroom, leaving Vance to do whatever he wanted to do (which was what he’d do anyway).

  Now, I didn’t know what to do. The heat of the moment was over and my emotional Rottweiler had woken up and was on the alert.

  I put my hair in a sloppy bun at the back of my head with a ponytail holder, stared at my face in the mirror, took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and left the bathroom.

  Better to get it over with, whatever “it” might be.

  The house was dark when I got out of the bathroom except a dim light came from the bed platform. I went to the steps, climbed up one and saw Vance under the covers, comforter up to his waist, a bunch of my pillows behind his back so he was sitting up.

  His chest was bare. Boo was lying smack in the middle of it, his tail sweeping in a wide arc along Vance’s abs and waist. Vance was stroking him and I could hear Boo purring from where I was standing.

  Clearly Boo didn’t object to a new presence in the house.

  Vance’s eyes moved to me and I climbed into bed as gracefully as I could (which I feared wasn’t graceful at all). Then I crawled to the opposite side, as far away from Vance as I could get, and got under the covers.

  I laid back, stared at the ceiling and wondered what Vance had on under the covers, if he had anything on at all.

  At the final thought, my breath went funny.

  “Jules.”

  “What?” I said to the ceiling.

  “Come here.”

  I thought about fighting it and decided against it. Don’t ask me why but it had been a weird day, in fact, it had been a weird four months. With my work, my training and my nightly patrol and now my head-to-head battle with Vance, I was tired and I simply didn’t have it in me.

  I scooted closer. Vance’s arm came around my back, curled me into his side and I had no choice but to rest my head against his shoulder. I laid there, body tense. I didn’t know what to do with my hands so I tucked one arm underneath me and stroked Boo’s side with the other.

  “How’s your leg?” I asked.

  “I’ll live,” he answered.

  “I’m sorry. It’s my fault you got shot.”

  “It isn’t your fault Sal Cordova is a moron.”

  This was true. I went silent.

  Vance reached up and turned out the light. In the darkness I felt his heat seeping into me and my body began to relax.

  I laid there for awhile and listened to Boo purring. I stopped stroking him and rested my hand on Vance a few inches below my face. I was getting the impression that nothing was going to happen at this juncture to continue the night’s sexual activities. Vance was action man, if he meant to make a move he would have done so by now.

  I took a deep breath and let it out and my body relaxed more.

  “I ruined our second date,” I whispered.

  He didn’t say anything.

  I went silent again.

  Then for some bizarre reason, I started talking.

  “I told you I went there for my sixteenth birthday. Nick took me.”

  He still didn’t say anything.

  I kept talking. “It was five and a half months after Auntie Reba died. We had been…” I hesitated, “it wasn’t good. She died sudden, unexpected. It seemed the clouds over our lives would never clear.”

  Vance still stayed silent.

  I went on. “Nick wanted to make the day special. The sixteenth birthday, for a girl, is important. He bought me a dozen pink roses, because they’re my favorites, and gave them to me in the car. Made me take them with me to the restaurant so people would know it was my day. He had them bring me a cake with sparklers on it.”

  Somewhere along the line, while I was talking, Vance started stroking my back.

  I relaxed deeper into him. “We had fun. It was the first time since Auntie Reba died that we forgot the hole she left for a couple of hours and enjoyed ourselves. We even laughed.”

  Boo got tired of being petted, walked across my waist and settled in a kitty curl at the base of my spine.

  “As a present, he gave me a diamond necklace made from Auntie Reba’s engagement ring.”

  Vance stopped stroking my back, his arm went tight around me and he rolled to face me. This trapped my hand between us and his other hand went to rest on my hip.

  There was a small window at the head of the bed and I could just barely make out the planes and angles of his face in the moonlight.

  He still didn’t say anything but I could see he was looking
at me.

  “I’m sorry about the tequila,” I whispered, changing to a different subject.

  Finally he spoke but quietly. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You licked my lip,” I reminded him.

  “You tasted of cherries,” he told me.

  Oh right, Jet’s lip balm.

  “I forgot.”

  “Drinking is my problem, I won’t make it yours,” he told me, his deep voice was relaxed, even sleepy, but there was still that fierce undercurrent that he used when he was talking to Roam.

  I didn’t say anything.

  I waited, a few minutes passed and then I went on. “I can’t believe you shot Sal Cordova in the ass.” I couldn’t help myself, I thought it was funny even though I knew I shouldn’t.

  I smiled at him in the moonlight.

  “Seemed a good place to aim,” he told me and I felt my body go slightly stiff.

  “You meant to shoot him in the ass?” I asked.

  “He is an ass,” was Vance’s reply.

  “That’s true,” I told him and then relaxed again.

  I sighed and was silent for a few beats.

  Then I said, “What did you mean when you told me you never expected to get the chance at something so sweet?” I whispered in a voice so low I thought maybe he wouldn’t hear it.

  His hands slid along the silk of my nightgown, down over my bottom then I felt the fingers of one hand curl into the material. He pulled it up and then one of his arms went tight at my waist, the other hand skimmed over my bottom and pulled me deeper into him.

  What he didn’t do was answer.

  Or, maybe, that was his answer.

  I held my breath through his movements, my belly fluttering but then his hand and arm went still.

  “Vance? Did you hear me?” I said a little louder.

  “I heard you.” That’s all he said.

  “Um,” I started, knowing it was likely rude but finding courage in the dark and saying it all the same, “from what I hear, you’ve had a lot of sweet things.”

  “No. I’ve had a lot of easy things.”

  “I know a couple of girls you’ve –”

  “None of them smelled of melons, tasted of cherries or ended up worth the effort,” he said bluntly.

  I blinked at him in the dark. “Are you saying I’ll be worth the effort?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he responded immediately.