Rock Chick Revolution

Chapter Eleven Come to Jesus

I slid up, then down, slowly filling myself with Ren.

Ren’s hands moving over the fabric of my new peach silk and cream lace nightie, his head back, his eyes moving over my face, my arms around his shoulders, the fingers of one hand in his hair, he murmured, “Faster, Ally.”

Riding him with him sitting up and close, number one of my five most favorite positions to do the nasty with Ren, I gave him what he wanted.

One of his hands slid down to cup my ass, the other one slid around my ribs to cup my breast over the silk and lace.

This was incentive to move even faster, so I did. I liked it a whole lot, my happy place clenched around Ren and my head fell back.

Both Ren’s hands gave me a squeeze. “Unh-unh, give me that,” he ordered, his voice rough.

I knew what he wanted.

He liked to watch.

I tipped my head forward, tried to focus and caught his even white teeth sinking into his full lower lip.

He liked what he saw.

I did too.

Okay, so I also liked to watch.

So much, I whimpered and moved faster. Ren wrapped his arm around my hips. It tightened and he started lifting me and slamming me down on his cock, even faster and way harder. He did this while the thumb of his other hand dragged across soft silk and hard nipple.

Nice.

At that, I moaned and my head fell further forward so my forehead was resting on his, my eyes looking into his heated ones, shivers sliding over the tops of my thighs.

Using my momentum and his strength, Ren pulled me up and drove me down even faster and way, way harder.

Seriously nice.

“Ren,” I breathed.

“Fuck yeah, baby.”

Oh God, it was coming.

“Ren!” I gasped and it hit me.

Powerful.

Mind-boggling.

Soul-enriching.

Amazing.

I tried to grind down, but Ren was stronger and kept yanking me up and pounding me down as his hand drove into my hair and held my head to his so he could watch it sear through me.

And it did. My mouth open and a whisper away from his, my eyes open and locked to his, my breath caught and stayed that way as I clamped my man tight with everything I had.

A minute later, it was Ren who ground me down. His hand fisted in my hair and I watched his sear through him.

Okay. Yeah. This together together thing was easy.

Sure, we’d always had this part. But something about having it and the other made it even better.

And it got better when Ren’s breathing eased and he gently pulled my head back by my hair. I felt his lips at my throat right before I felt his tongue touch there. Then I felt him guide my pendant into his mouth with his tongue and the chain tightened around my neck as he sucked it deeper.

His mouth was working my pendant, but it felt like it was working every part of me. My thighs tightened on his hips, my arms around his shoulders. In fact, everything tightened everywhere (and I mean everything) and I mentally went back on what I said the day before.

Yes, people and memories meant everything and things meant nothing.

Except that pendant.

That pendant meant the world.

He released it, kissed my chest and tipped his head back as he moved mine forward to catch my eyes.

“Want breakfast?” he asked and I grinned.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“Then kiss me and get off me, baby.”

In bed, Ren still inside me, it was these occasions and only these occasions I always did what I was told.

So I did what I was told.

But the first part of his order, I gave it my all.

I was sitting on Ren’s kitchen counter, Ren leaning against the one kitty corner to me.

I’d swallowed the last ketchup covered tater tot and put my plate in the sink. I was sipping at my coffee when Ren pushed away from his place, dumped his plate in the sink and moved in front of me.

He took my cup from my hand and set it aside. Hands at my knees, he spread them. He moved in and wrapped one arm around my waist, curving his fingers under me to cup one hand to my ass, and hauled me a couple inches forward on the counter so my happy place slammed into his happy place and stayed nestled there perfectly.

He’d never done that before. Breakfast time was when I reestablished the boundaries I blew apart when we fucked each other’s brains out and Ren had always given that to me. He didn’t hide that he found it amusing. But he still gave it to me.

This was tons better.

I curled my arms around him.

Totally better.

“You work tonight?” he asked.

I nodded. I’d called off the night Faye had her thing so I could take care of Faye’s thing. Last night was my night off. Tonight, alas, I was back at it.

“Date night, your next night off,” Ren declared.

Oh yeah.

I nodded. I also smiled. I did it small on the outside, huge on the inside.

“Tonight, you wanna eat before you go or when you get home?” he asked.

God, God, my man was sweet.

“Before,” I answered.

“Lasagna or chicken parmesan?”

Seriously? He had to ask?

I mean, his lasagna was the bomb, but he made his chicken parmesan from scratch and the first time I had it—and every time since—I’d had a culinary orgasm emanating from my mouth. And this orgasm was loud. Ren couldn’t have missed it. He didn’t miss anything.

“What do you think?” I asked back.

“Chicken,” he muttered, his lips quirking. They stopped quirking, he held my eyes and his voice was gentle and sweet when he queried, “She call?”

I pressed my lips together. Then I shook my head.

I’d checked my phone and Indy hadn’t called during our mind-blowing, soul-enriching, together together sex-a-thon last night.

This worried me.

So I did something about it while Ren was downstairs making breakfast and I was upstairs freaking that my best friend was mad at me.

“I called her,” I shared. “Left a message for her to meet me this morning and chat.”

“Right, honey,” he replied. He gave me a squeeze and dipped in for a brush on the lips before he went on, “Don’t worry about it. She’ll hear you out. It’s sweet you care, but she does too, so you two will get past it.” I got another brush of the lips before he muttered, “Now, I gotta get to work.”

He moved to let me go, but I tightened my thighs on his hips and my arms around him and regained his focus.

“We got busy last night and conversation was limited,” I noted. “I didn’t get the chance to ask you about your conversation with Lee.”

“Rather have more time than we got right now to explain that to you,” he said, and I didn’t get a good feeling about that.

“Zano—” I started, but stopped when one of his hands came up and curled around my neck.

“You’re lettin’ me in and you already know you’re in, Ally. But I’ll let you in more when I have time to explain. But just to say now, Lee and I are cool, or as cool as we can be. However, he was not a big fan of you heading off to the mountains and gettin’ involved in that shit, and he was even less of a fan of your apartment exploding. You know what kind of man he is. You know how he feels about you. And if you don’t know, you can guess he wants the kind of man he is, which includes the ways he looks after his woman, for you. This means he feels all that shit is my responsibility. So we had words.”

This was understandable. Lee was wrong about it being Ren’s responsibility, but I knew my brothers, both of them, so regardless, Ren was right in what he said. So it was understandable.

Ren went on, “And there’s shit going down at work between Vito, Dom and me. Lee’s in the know about it, and since he was pissed about other shit, he took that opportunity to get in my face about that. That’s done between your brother and me too.”

This was not understandable, seeing as I had no idea what he was talking about.

Therefore I asked, “What?”

“That’s the part I need time to explain,” Ren replied. “And I don’t have that time now, but I’ll explain it, honey. It’s not bad. But it is somethin’ you gotta know.”

Oh shit.

I was not good at waiting for information. Especially if it was juicy. Especially if it had something to do with someone I cared about. And this sounded juicy and it definitely had something to do with someone I cared about.

“Uh… Zano,” I started. “Something to know about me—”

I stopped speaking because he smiled and that took all my attention.

Then he pulled me deep into his body and dipped his face close to mine.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he noted, still smiling.

“Cats have nine lives,” I replied and his smile instantly died.

“How many of those you gone through?”

Uh-oh.

We were hitting a conversational danger zone. This was because, counting nearly being blown up the day before, I suspected I was close to the end of my quota. I also suspected Ren knew that and didn’t like it all that much.

In an effort to prevent this talk from becoming a Talk, I stated, “I’ll wait until we have time for you to explain.”

“Good choice,” he returned.

“Now kiss me and go to work so I can go meet Indy,” I ordered and got the smile back.

Then I got his mouth back, another squeeze and a sweet, soft, “Later, baby,” before he let me go.

I watched him walk away.

And when he disappeared, I gave myself a moment to kick my own ass (mentally) for not initiating this together togetherness ages ago.

Then I got over it because it happened, I fucked up, it was over and there was nothing I could do about it. Except live in the now and make that now the best it could be, for me and for Ren.

I jumped off the counter, did the breakfast dishes and headed out to make amends with my friend.

Hopefully.

I was sitting outside a Starbuck’s in Cherry Creek North.

In other words, I was taking my life in my hands.

No joke.

This was not because there might be snipers (don’t think I’m kidding—I was a Rock Chick; anything goes when you’re a Rock Chick, the scarier, the more possible).

This was because, if Tex knew I was at a Starbuck’s, he’d lose his mind.

Tex felt, and shared this philosophy liberally, that the coffee counter at Fortnum’s was like your momma’s dining room table at Thanksgiving. That was to say, on Thanksgiving, your ass was at that table. You didn’t tell your mother you were going to a Chinese restaurant with your friends or suggest you have Thanksgiving catered at your house or explain you were taking that longed for, once in a lifetime vacation to a five star resort in Antigua.

You sat your ass at your momma’s table.

And you got your coffee from Tex. Even if you had to go out of your way, you went to Fortnum’s and Tex handed you your cup.

No excuses were accepted.

If you didn’t do this, things could get ugly.

So although I had a lot on my mind, I was also scanning the area just in case Tex’s radar pinged and sent him on a mission to ream my ass, throw away my latte and drag me to Fortnum’s to make me a coffee.

I knew this sounded weird. It was also true.

But outside of being unfaithful to Tex’s coffees and the possible consequences of that, what was on my mind wasn’t that I’d been waiting over an hour for Indy to show. It also wasn’t that none of the Hot Bunch were taking my calls so I could ask what was happening with Rosie. It further wasn’t the fact that this informational lockout pissed me off, considering I might not be a member of their team, but it was my apartment that had blown sky high because Rosie dropped my name, so I had the right to know.

What was on my mind was that my boss had called and told me not to go into work that night.

This was because I was fired.

He was nice about it, and truth be told, I was expecting it. He’d put up with me a lot longer than I would have put up with me, that was certain.

Suffice it to say, I wasn’t a stellar employee. Shit went down with the Rock Chicks, not to mention my cases, and there were only so many times you could call in when your friends had been kidnapped or you’d been in a high speed chase and totaled your car or you needed to stake out a cheating husband.

That shit no longer flew, even if my friend was buried alive and I was a key player in her rescue and the next day my apartment had exploded. Drinks needed to be served. I got that. And it had to be said, these excuses, although honest, were frequent. So I also got that would be a little alarming for any employer.

So now I had a lot to do, including serious shopping, which would have been made easier by the gift cards at my pad that were probably melted. My insurance would undoubtedly not cover everything, and my income had been significantly reduced. Fortnum’s sold a shitload of coffee and the tip jar was never light. Then again, the tips at Brother’s were a whole lot better, so that was going to be a hit.

I also had a decision to make because I’d known for some time a career as a bartender/barista was not for me.

Now I had an excuse to make things official.

But, although licensing was voluntary for investigators in Colorado, to be taken seriously and charge that way, I needed a license. And this might be a problem. I no doubt had the hours of investigation logged to get it. I just did not have those hours in any official capacity. Lee, Hank, Eddie or my dad would have to vouch for me, and the prospect of that happening was not rosy.

I also now had a boyfriend, and always had a family who would not take kindly to this career shift. And by “not take kindly” I meant their reactions would be volatile.

But it was what I wanted to do, and not on a whim. I’d been doing it for a long time, and loving it, and now I had the opportunity and the time to go for it.

I just had to manage the reactions of those around me.

On that thought, I activated my phone, checked the time then scanned the area.

Still no Indy.

Fuck.

It wasn’t like we didn’t disagree or even fight.

But this kind of silent anger was not her thing and it unnerved me.

I was about to hit buttons to call her again when my phone rang with the display saying, “Zano Calling.”

I took the call and put my phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hey, baby. She show?”

My insides warmed. He was checking in because he was concerned for me.

Totally sweet.

“Not yet,” I replied.

“She will.”

Totally supportive, which was also sweet.

On this thought, I saw her blue Beetle drive by, Indy’s redhead at the wheel.

I let out a breath and said, “She just drove by.”

“Good,” he murmured.

“It’ll take half an hour for her to find a parking spot, which is plenty of time for me to get her a coffee,” I told him as I left my table and headed inside. “So I’m on that.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Ally.”

Jeez. This together together shit with Ren was so easy.

And awesome.

“Thanks, babe,” I whispered.

“See you tonight.”

“Later, Zano.”

“Later, honey.”

We disconnected, and by the time I came out with the coffees and resumed my seat, Indy had found a parking spot and was walking up to my table.

She made it to me and stopped.

I looked up at her through my kickass, gold-framed, orange-lensed Ray Bans that had been payment on a “job” and also had luckily been in my purse when my belongings exploded. She looked down at me through her righteous, huge, black-framed, black-lensed Hollywood Starlet shades.

I opened my mouth to speak but she got there before me.

“Tex knows we’re here, he’s gonna go ballistic.”

This was a promising opening.

“This is clandestine because we need privacy, and that’s because I need to know I’m cool with you before I take on the Rock Chicks,” I explained.

She said nothing and didn’t move.

This was not promising.

I slid her cup toward her. “I bought you a skinny vanilla latte.”

Her shades dipped to the cup then came back to me. Other than that, she said nothing and didn’t move.

This was definitely not promising. India Nightingale was Queen Coffee. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her turn down a cup. Definitely not a vanilla latte. In fact, during road trips, I made sure we had a bottle of tequila for when we reached our destination. Indy made sure we had travel mugs filled with java.

I closed my eyes.

Then I opened them and stated, “That night Ren fought with Luke, in an effort to calm him down, I suggested we go for drinks. He took me up on that offer. We went to Brother’s but when we got there, it wasn’t about Ren and Luke and Ava. It was about Ren and me. And it was good. So good, he took me to his house. That was better. Way better. Out of our stratosphere better.”

Indy remained silent, another bad sign. She got me. I was talking about sex. And the Rock Chicks existed on a conversational diet heavy on sex talk, Hot Bunch bitching and skincare tips.

Time to pull out the big guns.

“I fell in love with him, chickie,” I whispered and watched her lips part.

There it was, thank God. I was getting in there.

So I kept at it.

“In one night, I fell in love.”

She bit her lip.

Yes. Getting in there.

“I woke up in his arms in his bed and I was happy. Totally happy, babe. So happy I was lying there smiling. And he curled me closer, shoved his face in my hair and said Ava’s name.”

That did it.

Her body jolted before she yanked out a chair, sat her ass in it and leaned toward me, exclaiming on a horrified hiss, “Oh my God! Seriously?”

I nodded. “Seriously.”

“Holy crap,” she breathed.

“It killed,” I admitted.

“It would,” she agreed.

“Ren was asleep when he did it,” I explained. “I snuck out. He got pissed that I did, came over that night and that didn’t go very well. I didn’t share why I left so he didn’t know until yesterday why I established stringent fuck buddy boundaries. Boundaries, I’ll add, that he didn’t really adhere to and, looking back, I didn’t either. Since he was asleep, he didn’t know he did it and was pretty upset when I threw it in his face. He explained, we worked it out. I love him, he loves me and it’s all good.”

Something moved over her face that I could read even behind her shades.

Surprise.

And warmth.

“You love him?” she asked quietly and I felt my lips tip up.

“Yeah,” I answered just as quietly.

Her head tipped to the side. “He loves you?”

I nodded and full-on smiled. “Oh yeah.”

No surprise that time. Just warmth.

“He’s good to you?”

My smile got bigger as my hand lifted to touch the pendant at my neck. “Definitely.”

Her shades dropped to my throat. Her mouth got soft but she didn’t say anything. I knew she’d like the pendant. I knew she’d know it was from Ren. And I knew she’d know, just looking at its kickassness, that it was thoughtful and generous and said it all.

She took in a breath, looked at me, and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

Right. The hard part.

“He said Ava’s name,” I told her.

“And?” she prompted when I said no more.

“And that hurt,” I answered. My voice was quiet, but there was a tremor in it that was not me.

And Indy knew me. She knew what that tremor meant. She knew exactly how much it hurt.

This was why her hand shot across the table and grabbed mine as she murmured, “Oh, Ally.”

“I didn’t want to share. I didn’t want to relive. It haunted me enough as it was. And I didn’t want Ava to get wind of it,” I told her.

“I see that, but you know I would never—”

I cut her off.

“I know. And I know it isn’t the same. You’ve been in love with him since you were five, but it still kind of is, so what would you do if Lee was holding you in his arms in bed after you had a great night, the best you ever had, and he said another woman’s name in your hair?”

Her hand gave mine a squeeze. She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. Her face, even with shades, said it all.

She let me go, grabbed her coffee, sucked some back and put it on the table, her shades again locking with mine.

She got me.

“And all the other stuff?” she asked.

This time I got her. Conversation about Ren was done. We were moving on. She wanted to know about my activities.

Another hard part.

Crap.

I leaned forward.

“I’m good at it,” I told her.

“I know you are,” she replied, and no doubt about it, hearing her say that and do it instantaneously felt great.

But I expected nothing less. That was pure Indy.

“No, Indy, I’m good at it,” I stressed. “It’s in my blood. It’s who I am. I think I needed to prove that to myself, and the other night in the mountains, I did. What happened there was extreme, and Darius, Brody and me, we kicked its ass. It was awesome. So now, I need to prove to Hank, Lee, Dad, and probably the hardest, Ren, that this is my thing. I’m good at it. And I’m going to keep doing it.” I took in a breath then made my point. “Now, do you think I’d get the chance to do that if I did my thing with the Rock Chicks tagging along?”

She saw the wisdom of this statement, and I knew it because she sat back and sucked back more coffee.

“Right. No,” I answered for her.

“I would have kept that secret, too,” she told me something I already knew.

“I dig that,” I replied. “But honestly, think about it. If I shared—you, me, our history, the way we are—can you sit there and tell me you wouldn’t have finagled a way to get involved, or at least take my back somewhere in the last two years?”

She saw the wisdom of this statement too, and I knew it when she didn’t answer.

Tacit agreement.

“Right, no,” I repeated. “And if you did, Lee would lose his mind, you’d lose your mind with Lee for losing his mind, and all that would land on me. I’d have a choice. Stop doing what I love to do, something I’m good at, something that’s in me, or be responsible for friction between two of the most important people in my life. And Indy, I’m not going to stop. So I had to manage that situation another way. And I picked secrecy.”

She nodded. She got this, too.

Thank God.

Then she asked, “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to get licensed and put out a shingle.”

Her head jerked. “Seriously?”

“Totally seriously.”

Her lips spread in a big smile. “That’s freakin’ awesome, honey.”

Again, pure Indy.

There was a reason she was my BFF, and it was not because we’d been thrown together as babies because our parents were best friends and we had no choice.

It was because she was the absolute shit. We clicked. She was not yin to my yang. She was not Laverne to my Shirley.

We were cut from the same cloth. She might be a redhead and me a brunette. She might have curves where I had angles. And she might be a tad bit less crazy than me (a tad).

But other than that, we were sisters.

To the core.

I did not share any of this deep crap with her.

I didn’t need to.

She already knew it.

Instead I guided the discussion to something (else) that was important.

That was, I warned, “No Rock Chick involvement. I don’t tell Roxie how to design websites. I don’t tell Jules how to counsel runaways. And you need to back me on that.”

She lifted a hand, palm my way.

A Rock Chick Promise.

“You got it. I’m all in on backing you on that.”

“That includes you,” I added. She dropped her hand and I knew what was coming, so I started, “Indy—”

“What if you need a decoy or something?” she asked.

Yep. I knew that was coming, and it was precisely why this conversation was two years late.

Fuck.

“If I do, that decoy won’t be you.”

Her head twitched. She was offended.

“It’s always me.”

That was true too, but now it couldn’t be.

I leaned in further in order to lay it out.

“This is the deal and you know it. My brother, your husband, runs this town. What he doesn’t run, Marcus or Vito do. And Hank and Eddie protect it. In that mix, there are allegiances and there are alliances. Some of them are unholy, but for some reason, all of them work. And if you think you don’t come with Daisy, Jet, Roxie, Jules, and I could go on, and those men won’t shut me down because you do, you’re wrong.

I put my hand flat on the table between us and kept talking.

“Honest to God, Indy, this is the first time I understand what I want to do with my life. And if I’m going to be taken seriously doing it, I have to do it. I have to be professional about it. I have to be smart about it. And I have to make my own allegiances and alliances, and the most important ones I can make are with Lee Nightingale, Marcus Sloan and Vito Zano. You get involved, Indy, any of you, I’m done. Lee will see to it, and even if he didn’t, any member of the Hot Bunch has enough cred on the streets to make that happen, and any one of them wouldn’t hesitate. I don’t want to be done, and I need to do everything I can to avoid that. Are you with me?”

“I’m with you,” she said softly.

“I need to believe in that,” I told her, then continued with the honesty. “I love you, but I can’t be making my plays in that game, focusing my attention on that and dealing with you or any of the Rock Chicks at the same time.”

Her hand came out again and curled around mine. “I’m with you. I get you. I understand. And you can believe in that,” she stated firmly.

Yeah. I could believe in that. Indy wouldn’t lie to me.

Or she would (told you we were cut from the same cloth), just not about something like this.

I drew in breath and let it out, saying, “Thank you.”

She grinned and replied, “Our next come to Jesus, should there be one, which I hope there isn’t, but if there is and you feel the need to court the wrath of Tex, let’s do it at Paris on the Platte so I can get a Café Fantasia and make it worth it.”

Shit. I should have thought of that. Paris had the second best coffees in Denver.

I grinned back. “Agreed.”

Her hand tightened on mine. “Love you, honey.”

Again with the breath, this one going in deep and coming out deeper. “Right back at cha, sister.”

She let me go, let the tough part go, and I knew this because she again sat back and she changed the subject.

“So. Ren Zano. He’s hot. You’re hot. You look great together. And bonus, he doesn’t seem to mind you throwing a punch at him at a wedding, which is good news for you.”

I laughed because this was true.

She continued after I stopped laughing and she did it smiling, “So you love him. He loves you. Are there Catholic classes in your future?”

My brows drew together. I wasn’t following.

“What?”

“They’re Italian. They’re Catholic. You’re not. You’re Presbyterian, and the last time you were in a church, the reverend had to stop services to shout at you to turn your headphones off because AC/DC’s ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ was screwing up his message.”

This was true.

And I’d learned from this to sit in the back.

“In other words, I’m not sure you’re going to convince them your gig is more important than theirs. What does Ren say about that?” she asked.

I didn’t know what Ren said about that. Ren and I had been too busy breaking a commandment to discuss religion.

Or pretty much anything.

“We haven’t gotten that far,” I answered, and I saw her brows draw together over her shades.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “So what about the families? How are you going to handle that?”

At least I had that sorted.

“They’re just going to have to deal,” I announced, and Indy stared at me.

Then she repeated, but in a question, “They’re just going to have to deal?”

“Yep,” I replied nonchalantly.

“Ally, honey, you have met your father, haven’t you?” she asked.

I waved my hand between us. “Indy, it’ll be cool.”

She ignored me.

“And Hank.”

“Hank wants me happy,” I reminded her.

“He does. With a cop, a firefighter or marine.”

This was true, too.

“Well, he isn’t getting any of those,” I pointed out.

“So what you’re saying is, you’re telling them you’re getting in the family business at the same time hooking your star to a man who’s already in the family business, but his family business is family business, and you think it’ll all be cool?”

“Not immediately,” I conceded. “Eventually.”

“I’m thinking you might need to add nuances to your plan,” she suggested.

“And I’m thinking I’m me. They all know me and have my whole life. They know I do what I want and find a way to get what I want. I want Ren. They love me, they’ll deal. They give me shit, I’ll deal… for a while. It continues, they make a choice. But I’ve already made mine.”

“Lee was broody last night, and in his many levels of broody, it was beyond the my-sister’s-apartment-exploded broody, which is at the top of the scale. I think you get that’s a little scary,” she shared, and she would know his many levels of broody. She’d lived through them all, repeatedly.

But I understood what she was saying.

Ren and I had made it official. This meant it wasn’t a fling those around us could pretend wasn’t happening and wait for it to be over.

It meant it was something they had to deal with.

I was a little sister to two alpha male brothers. Me finding a man was going to be something they would not dig dealing with normally.

Ren being a Zano didn’t make matters better.

“Not to be a bitch or anything, but that’s not my problem. It’s Lee’s,” I replied.

“It’s his and what’s his is mine,” she returned.

I was hitting another conversational danger zone. I could feel it.

So I moved to avoid it.

“Indy, babe, I told Ren I was worried that you were mad at me. He called me just before you showed to check in. He was concerned about me and didn’t hesitate showing it. That’s sweet. That’s also Ren. He does that kind of thing all the time, even when I considered us fuck buddies. I’ll admit he and I have things to discuss. I’ve been closed down for a year so we haven’t done much of that. We’ll also do it. And with the families, I get this road is going to be rocky. What I’m saying is, when they see the way he is with me,” I leaned in, “I promise you, they’ll deal.” I leaned back and finished, “It’d help if you had my back on that, too.”

“Last time I saw you with Ren, you aimed a punch at him,” she reminded me.

Shit.

“So,” she went on, “I think I need to delay my answer to that until I see him with you.”

I could give her that.

Totally.

“Deal,” I agreed.

She shook her head but muttered, “Deal.”

I sucked back some coffee and asked, “How much shit am I facing with the Rock Chicks?”

“They’ve had a whole night to rip it to shreds so they’ve mostly burned it out. They’ll get over it,” she answered. “Tex is beside himself, though. He’s going stir crazy without anything exploding or anyone getting kidnapped. He likes to be a sidekick and he’s got grenades and tear gas that are going unused. He doesn’t need to use them, but he prefers living a life where that might be a possibility.”

She was not wrong.

She kept going.

“Duke’s being quiet so, heads up on that. I think he’s hurt. And Smithie’s pissed because he knows no way he’s ever gonna get you to dance for him if you’ve hooked up with a Zano. And you were his last hope.”

There was no way Smithie was ever going to get me to dance for him anyway, even though he asked—frequently—so that last was a relief.

I summed up. “So, not bad. Except Duke.”

“You need to find your time to connect with him,” she advised.

I could do that. Duke had been so much of a fixture in my life, I didn’t remember a time when he wasn’t in it. He also cared about me a lot, showed it, and I returned the favor (in my way).

I nodded then declared, “Brother’s also let me go so we gotta get to Fortnum’s. The tip jar just became my livelihood.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You were fired?”

“How I lasted this long was a miracle.”

She didn’t agree verbally, but her smile did it for her.

Then it faded and she asked, “You gonna be okay?”

“Right now, all my belongings would fit in a carryall and I’d have room to spare. Still, I’ve got everything a girl needs. So yeah, I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, you will,” she said softly.

She was one of the reasons I’d be okay, so she should know.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t need to hit Fortnum’s, but before, we gotta dash through the mall. I have two changes of clothes. I need to stock up and then we gotta bounce.”

She nodded again as she rose, taking her coffee. I went up with her, doing the same. We left our cars where they were and moved down the sidewalk heading out of Cherry Creek North toward the mall.

“You know, it would go a long way to smoothing things over with those three if you sent Roxie, Tod and Stevie to the mall to deal with your wardrobe emergency,” Indy noted.

I stopped dead on the sidewalk and turned to her.

She was so right. And I was a Rock Chick, which meant I was a shopper. But I had shit to deal with, and as much as it killed, the time suckage of buying new jeans and tees was suckage I didn’t need.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered, grinning. “Maybe because you were worried about me, your apartment exploded and you got fired.”

I grinned back. “Oh yeah. That took some headspace.”

“I see that,” she replied as we made to turn back.

But as we did, my eyes caught on something through a shop window and I again stopped dead.

Then I stared.

Then I whispered, “Holy shit.”

“What?” Indy asked.

“Holy shit,” I repeated, not answering, still staring, and also not believing my eyes.

“What?” Indy also repeated, but I knew she saw it when she whispered, “Holy crap.” And a nanosecond later she shouted, “Holy crap!”

In unison, we ran to the door of the store and then we ran through the store to the display.

And without a window separating us making the sun play games with our eyesight, there they were proving we weren’t having a mutual solar hallucination.

Stacks of them in an upright display, at the top of which was a starburst sign that announced New Series by Local Author.

And under it were dozens of hot pink books that included the Denver skyline, a film strip filled with pictures, and the white title in (what I had to admit was) a kickass font:

Rock Chick.