Rock Chick Renegade

  Fuck.

  After finding something Luke’s search intensified. In the end he found two more hidden vials of coke both nearly empty and another kit with mirror, blade and bill. He also found so many pill bottles hidden just about everywhere that it wasn’t funny. Finally he found an envelope taped to the back of the dining room hutch, in it a stack of receipts from pawn shops. Pill-Poppin’ Mama Cokehead was pawning jewelry, silver, Waterford crystal and a goodly number of other household items to finance her habit.

  Luke yanked off his gloves and I knew we were done. We left how we came in, got in the car and Luke called it in. I sat there not knowing what to feel.

  Those two boys had a cheating father who wanted to screw over his wife and a drug addict mother who, from the looks of it, was either high as a kite or significantly sedated on a regular basis.

  After Luke was done describing where the bulk of the evidence could be found, he said, “Out,” then he started the Explorer and pulled away from the curb.

  “This feels shit,” I told him, staring angrily out the window.

  Luke didn’t respond.

  “People suck,” I went on.

  Luke stayed silent.

  I crossed my arms on my chest. “We gonna go somewhere and crack some heads now?” I asked.

  Luke chuckled. “You’re gettin’ it,” he said.

  Whatever.

  * * * * *

  We didn’t crack heads. Or I should say, I didn’t crack heads.

  We did something else that rocked my world. It wasn’t worse than being left with musings of the terrible life ahead for two little boys I didn’t know and would never meet but it was something that shook my world and what I thought was my place in it.

  We went to a bar off Evans, a dive I’d never been to and likely would never see again.

  In the parking lot Luke turned to me. “The guy we’re gonna meet isn’t gonna be happy to see me.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “He’ll be expecting Bobby or Matt. At most, Ike.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That means he thinks he’s flyin’ under radar and we aren’t takin’ him seriously. I walk in there, he’s gonna know we’re serious. You got your gun?”

  I’d put it under my seat. I bent to retrieve it but he stopped me with a hand on my arm.

  “You don’t go in there carryin’. With this you’re not the one posin’ the threat, I am.”

  This all seemed quite complicated. I wanted to ask questions but instead I nodded.

  Luke entered the bar in his usual manner, body language communicating confidently that he knew who he was, he knew what he was doing and he knew where he was going. I followed, probably not looking as cool and confident as Luke because I didn’t know any of those things.

  Still, people turned to look when we walked in and when they saw us, their looks became stares.

  Luke walked to a booth, a man was sitting in it and he reminded me of Sal Cordova. Ladies man or at least he thought he was. Caucasian, dirty-blond hair, dressed to the nines.

  His face showed surprise and perhaps a hint of fear when his eyes hit Luke then he covered it. His gaze hit on me and he too stared but again only for a moment then his eyes went back to Luke.

  “Stark,” he said when Luke arrived at the table, “didn’t expect you to be running errands for Marcus. What? You get demoted?”

  My body went rock solid and I looked at Luke. Then I realized what I was giving away and I forced myself to relax.

  Running an errand for Marcus?

  Marcus Sloan?

  Gun runner with drug dealer and pimp on the side?

  Luke looked at me and I felt he was telling me something. It took a few beats for me to cotton on and I slid in the booth opposite Ladies Man and Luke slid in beside me.

  “Who’s this? The Law?” Ladies Man was joking.

  “Yeah,” Luke answered.

  Ladies Man’s eyes cut to me and the forced joviality faded from his face. I could tell he didn’t know what to make of me.

  I kept quiet.

  “She on the payroll now or what? I heard she took down Warren last night,” Ladies Man asked.

  “We’re not here to talk about Law,” Luke said.

  Ladies Man’s attention returned to Luke. “Hey man, I don’t know what this is all about. When I got the message, I was fuckin’ stunned. Seems a lot of trouble over nothin’.”

  For some reason Luke said, “Stop,” and I didn’t think he was telling him to stop talking.

  Ladies Man kept on smiling his good ole boy smile. “What?”

  “Stop,” Luke repeated.

  “I know you’re a man of few words but what? Is this the message? Give me a clue.” He turned to me. “Law? Do you know? How many syllables? Sounds like?”

  Over the past few days Luke and I had shared a lot or at least I guessed in the World of Luke it was a lot. So I felt pretty safe in thinking that Luke would not take to this guy being a smartass very well.

  I wasn’t wrong.

  Luke lifted up in a squat, leaned across the table and, I kid you not, grabbed on to Ladies Man’s collar and pulled him clean out of his seat. He put his other hand on him then twisted.

  I reared back and just barely was missed when Ladies Man’s body went flying by me and into the booth behind us.

  Oh… my… God.

  I got the keen sensation that Luke had been holding back in our training sessions.

  Like.

  A lot.

  Luke slid out of our booth and stalked to the other one.

  I followed.

  By the time I made it to him Luke had Ladies Man by the collar. He’d pulled him out of that thankfully empty booth and whirled, slamming him against a wall.

  There was music playing in the bar but the hum of conversation died as everyone watched Luke.

  Luke yanked Ladies Man forward and then slammed him against the wall again. I could hear the crack of Ladies Man’s skull against the wall.

  Yikes.

  Luke held him pressed there, his legs dangling beneath him a foot off the floor, his hands wrapped around Luke’s wrist and forearm. Just like in the movies, Luke held him aloft one-handed. I didn’t even know people could do that in real life.

  It was a sight to see. It gave me a belly flutter and a heart flutter and I was jealous as all hell.

  Luke wasn’t just kickass. He was kickass.

  “Stop,” Luke repeated the same word.

  Ladies Man wasn’t feeling like being a smartass anymore. He looked scared shitless.

  “Got me?” Luke asked.

  “Yeah, yeah. Got you. Tell Marcus, nothin’ to worry about. I’m out,” Ladies Man rasped because Luke’s hand was wrapped around his throat.

  Luke dropped him.

  Ladies Man’s legs buckled a bit when he landed but he pulled himself together and his hands went to his neck.

  Luke turned his head to me. I got the message loud and clear and we both walked out.

  We were buckled in and on and the road before I found my voice. “That wasn’t fair. You hogged all the head crackin’.”

  Luke was silent but I could tell he was amused.

  “Next time I get to throw the guy across the booth,” I announced.

  “Not tonight. We’re done.”

  “Done?”

  “Done.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yep.”

  “But we’ve only been out…” I looked at the dashboard clock, “an hour and a half.”

  “Nothin’ more on tonight’s agenda, babe.”

  Well, that was disappointing.

  “You should come on a ride-along on one of my nights out. It lasts longer and is a lot more fun.” I told him.

  “I’ll take you up on that.”

  Whoops.

  I’d said it to be snotty. I didn’t expect he’d agree. This meant another conversation with Vance.

  Shit.

  Luke again walked me to my door, t
ook my keys, pushed in ahead of me and turned off my alarm. This time he didn’t head to the kitchen. I thought it best not to offer him a beer.

  Then I asked what had been praying on my mind for the last twenty minutes. “Do you guys work for Marcus Sloan?”

  “We’re on retainer,” Luke answered.

  I closed my eyes. This was not good.

  “Babe.”

  I opened my eyes again. “He’s a drug dealer. He runs guns. He sells flesh,” I whispered.

  “He’s also Daisy’s husband,” Luke responded.

  I felt like he’d punched me in the gut.

  Daisy’s husband? Daisy was married to a drug dealer? A flesh peddler? A gun runner?

  “What?” My voice was so low even I wondered if I’d made any noise.

  Super Dude Luke’s superpowers included super-hearing. “He isn’t a good guy but he’s a good ally.”

  I didn’t speak, couldn’t speak. I was trying to process. I was also trying to breathe. Both I was finding difficult.

  “Daisy’s clean,” Luke told me.

  “Does she know what he does?”

  “I’m guessin’, yeah.”

  “Then she can’t be clean.”

  “She’s clean.”

  “I think you and I may have different definitions of the word ‘clean’.”

  All of a sudden he advanced. Even knowing I was a head crackin’ mamma jamma I retreated. I was vulnerable. I liked Daisy. I liked her a lot. I wanted to be her friend but more, I wanted her to be mine. I’d suffered a blow from which I didn’t know if I could recover.

  Somehow Luke got me up against a wall and he came in close. This wasn’t predatory-I’m-going-to-kiss-you close, this was pay-attention-to-me close.

  “People do what people do to get by or get ahead or leave shit lives behind. But there are lots of things that define them. How they act, the way they treat people they care about. Daisy lives well off dirty money. The minute she entered Indy’s life Lee investigated her and she’s had more bumps than most, enough for her to deserve to live well. She’s a good person and she isn’t involved in Marcus’s business. He’s got legitimate shit running alongside his other concerns. Both sides are lucrative. He used to work for whatever he got out of it. Now he works for her. There’s beauty in that and it isn’t for you to judge.”

  “But –”

  “Jules, it isn’t for you to judge.”

  “I disagree.”

  “You pull out of that gang you strike a blow to a good woman who’s taken to carin’ about you because you think you’re too good for her. What does that say about you?”

  What he said gave me pause. Pizza, football and facials gave me pause. Daisy taking Clarice shopping and hanging out with her at King’s gave me pause.

  “Shit,” I whispered and my eyes slid to the side, away from Luke.

  His hand came to my neck, thumb at my jaw and my eyes slid back.

  He wasn’t looking at me like he was swinging toward disappointed. Now his eyes were warm with approval and something else.

  “Now that you worked that out, somethin’ else you should know,” he said.

  Uh-oh.

  “Luke –”

  “Vance is a friend, has been for awhile. I like him. I respect him. He’s good at what he does and I know he has my back. He knows I have his.”

  This, I thought, was good.

  “I get the barest, fuckin’ inkling he’s fuckin’ you around, I’m there.”

  This, I thought, was not good.

  “I’m in love with him,” I blurted.

  Now why did I say that? I hadn’t even told Vance that. I wasn’t even going to tell Vance that. Not until he told me. I wasn’t going to be out on the limb like Jet was with Eddie for months or for forever, worried about painting bathrooms purple or… whatever.

  No way.

  “I know you are,” Luke said.

  My eyes nearly bugged out of my head.

  What?

  Oh my God.

  “How do you know?” I whispered.

  “A woman like you, a woman who looks like you, doesn’t save herself for twenty-six fuckin’ years then gives it to a guy she’s known a couple of days because she feels in the mood for an adventure.”

  This was true.

  Shit.

  This meant Duke was right. Men did know a lot more about the way a woman’s mind works than we wanted them to know.

  I decided this was not a good thing especially if Vance had figured out the same thing.

  I was fucked.

  I decided not to think about it at all, ever or at least not until tomorrow.

  “Nearly twenty-seven,” I said in an attempt to be amusing and steer us away from a tense subject.

  One side of his mouth went up in a grin. I thought that I’d succeeded. I was wrong.

  “With Vance or without, you always got me.”

  I felt that weight hit my chest, tears heavy there and I sucked in breath to control them.

  “Thank you,” I whispered because I didn’t know what else to say, “you too. You, um, always got me too.”

  He shook his head, touched his finger to my nose then he was gone.

  I stared at the door that he’d closed behind him.

  Wow.

  * * * * *

  Hazel, Boo and I went right to Vance’s cabin without one glance at Vance’s directions.

  Boo was not used to car rides and told me he didn’t like them overly much. Indeed, he described his displeasure at length. Then he asked if this was an unheard of nocturnal visit to his most hated person in the world, the vet. When I assured him we were going to see Vance, not the vet, he sat on my thigh and dug his claws into my flesh to hold on and started purring.

  Crazy fucking cat.

  We parked close to the cabin door next to Vance’s Harley. With my bag and purse over my shoulder, Boo’s litter box in my hand and Boo tucked under my other arm, we made our awkward way to the cabin. The curtains were open, the windows were lit and the light coming into the surrounding darkness seemed warm and welcoming.

  I opened the door and dropped Boo who immediately began to explore. I put his litter box in the corner.

  Vance wasn’t in the room but the buffalo-shaded floor lamp was lit and the cabin was warm, far warmer than the last time I was there.

  It was nearly midnight and I figured Vance was asleep. I was wrong.

  He walked down the hall, feet bare, still wearing his clothes. He stopped at the entry into the living room and leaned a shoulder against it. His hair was not pulled back. He looked relaxed, at ease, at home and hot.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Meow,” Boo said.

  “I brought Boo,” I explained unnecessarily. “I hope that’s all right. He doesn’t like the way Nick serves his breakfast.”

  Vance grinned but didn’t say anything. I decided to take this as an all clear for the uninvited feline houseguest.

  “Learn anything?” Vance asked.

  “I learned that Luke hogs all the action,” I replied.

  Vance’s grin turned to a smile.

  I was standing by the dining room table and it seemed that Vance was far away.

  I felt weird. I’d never had a sleepover at my boyfriend’s (or whatever) house. I mean, I did have a sleepover but that was a break-up/make-up session that included a rousing fight, unbelievable sex and a heartbreaking misunderstanding. I hoped this wasn’t going to be the same (though the unbelievable sex wouldn’t be unwelcome).

  I needed him to make a move but he seemed happy where he was.

  Hmm.

  “I’m going to take a bubble bath,” I announced.

  The vibe changed, his tractor beam flipped on and I felt my body lean towards him.

  Finally he walked toward me, grabbed my bag off my shoulder and then walked away. I followed him to the bedroom. He dumped my bag on the bed and then he lay down, picked up his book and started reading.

&nb
sp; Okay then, tractor beam malfunction.

  I got my stuff, took a long bubble bath, lotioned up with cucumber melon and put on my new nightie, soft, pale lemon silk with an edge of peach lace that hit the tops of my thighs. I yanked on my new lacy, white hipsters. I’d bundled my hair in a lose knot with a ponytail holder at the top of my head. I left my bathroom stuff where it was, gathered up my clothes and went to the bedroom.

  The house was dark but the light was on in the bedroom. My bag was now on the floor, Vance was under the covers, Boo lying on his stomach, making himself at home. Vance’s chest was bare and he was up on pillows, reading, his fingers rubbing Boo’s neck.

  When I entered Vance’s eyes cut to me. I rushed to my side of the bed trying not to look like I was rushing. I dumped my clothes, climbed in and confiscated Boo for a cuddle. Boo had been comfy and protested.

  “Hush, Boo. Mommy wants a cuddle,” I told him.

  “Meow.”

  “Hush.”

  I felt like an idiot talking to my cat, taking a bubble bath, having a boyfriend.

  I was kind of flipping out.

  This was normal stuff that normal girls do.

  I’d never been normal. I’d always been kind of a freak.

  And anyway, Vance was hot. I often forgot how hot he was, what with us arguing most of the time. He was just as beautiful lying in bed reading as he was kicking bad guy ass. Being reminded of that fact without him moving inside me or in a heated discussion with me made me feel… unsure.

  We’d not had many quiet, normal, mellow times, hardly any. I found I couldn’t handle it.

  “I can’t handle this,” I told Vance, letting Boo go. Boo hustled to the end of the bed, plopped down on his side and gave me a glare.

  “What?” Vance asked.

  “This,” I threw my arm out. Boo had given up the glare and started cleaning his face with his paw likely washing away cucumber melon lotion residue.

  “You’re gonna have to explain, Princess.”

  “I can’t explain.” And I couldn’t, at least not without sounding like a fool.

  See, I’d never thought I’d have this in my life. I always thought I’d be alone. I was happy with that. I liked being alone, as long as Nick was next door and Boo felt talkative (which was all the time).

  What if this worked for us? I got used to taking bubble baths in Vance’s cabin. Boo lying on the end of his bed like he’d lived there his whole kitty life. Vance crashing at my place and using my shower and making us dinner.