Rock Chick 04 Renegade

Rock Chick Renegade

Kristen Ashley

Published by Kristen Ashley

Copyright 2011 Kristen Ashley

Discover other titles by Kristen Ashley:

Rock Chick Series:

Rock Chick

Rock Chick Rescue

Rock Chick Redemption

The ‘Burg Series:

For You

At Peace

www.kristenashley.net

Kindle Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

* * * * *

This book is dedicated to the memory of Rebecca Ann Mahan-Womack

or Auntie Bec

her birthstone was amethyst

and to Wil iam Womack

his birthstone is emerald

**

and lastly to Cedric, the inspiration for Boo and the best cat ever

* * * * *

Wel , I guessed eventual y it would come to this. It wasn’t like I wasn’t expecting it. I knew when I started this crusade that something like this could happen, probably would happen, and here I was, in a dead end al ey, facing down Vance Crowe.

Shit, Lee Nightingale’s tracker.

Of al the fucking bad luck.

Rumor on the street, Crowe was third in command at Nightingale Investigations, after Lee and Lee’s right hand man, Luke Stark.

This was saying a lot, considering al the men employed by Nightingale Investigations were the crème de la crème of private investigations, security, surveil ance, bond skip tracing with a smal dose of head-cracking thrown in for shits and giggles. In fact, Nightingale, Stark and Crowe had a guns-drawn, facedown with some low-life drug dealer at a society party just a month ago. Crowe had blown off the guy’s hand.

Rumor had a lot of things about Vance Crowe, in fact, I knew two women who’d had a couple of things from Crowe, by their reports, very good things, though he didn’t stick around to give them more than a couple very good things, much to their dismay.

“Put your gun down,” Crowe said to me.

“Back off,” I returned, keeping my gun aimed at him.

I wasn’t going to shoot him, of course. I was anti-violence that was one of the reasons why I was in this mess in the first place.

He kept walking toward me, unarmed and apparently unafraid.

I took aim at his Harley. It would kil me to harm the Harley but I’d do it.

“Shoot my bike, there’l be consequences,” Crowe warned in a voice that said he meant it.

Fuck.

I aimed at him again.

“Back off,” I repeated as he kept advancing.

“You’re Law,” he told me.

Damn, he knew who I was.

“Stop moving,” I said, ignoring what he said.

He got about a foot away from the barrel of my gun, which was pointed at his chest, and he stopped.

“I work for Lee Nightingale.”

“I know who you work for and I know who you are,” I said to him.

Then I stared at him.

Damn, but he was good-looking. Native American coloring, straight, black hair pul ed into a ponytail at the back of his neck. He was about three inches tal er than me, fantastic body, dark brown eyes, thick lashes, unbelievable bone structure, high cheekbones, square jaw. It should be a crime to be that hot.

“Put the gun down, Law,” he said, using my street name.

My street name was kind of a joke; the kids gave it to me. My real name was Juliet Lawler. Most everyone cal ed me Jules but the kids cal ed me Law because, at the Shelter, what I said was “law”. It had taken on a life of its own these past four months and now I wished they’d never given it to me.

“Step back, Crowe. I’l just get in the car and go. I have no argument with you.”

And I didn’t. I had a lot of arguments with a lot of people but not with anyone at Nightingale Investigations. From what I heard (which was a lot), they weren’t exactly lily white but any fool would be crazy to go head-to-head with a Nightingale Man. I was a fool but I was pretty sure I wasn’t crazy.

“I’l say it one more time,” Crowe informed me quietly.

“Put the gun down.”

“Step back,” I returned.

He moved faster than I’d seen anyone move and, before I knew it, I no longer had the gun.

Not only that, he had my arm twisted behind my back and he had slammed my front up against his hard body.

I struggled.

This was not a good choice. I’d had a free hand and some of my pride left. In seconds, he shoved my gun in the back waistband of his jeans, had my other arm twisted behind me and he moved me, shuffling me back until I hit the side of my car. Then he pressed into me ful body.

I tilted my head back and shouted in his face, “Let go and step away!”

“Two cops were standing in Fortnum’s when you had your showdown with Cordova. They saw the whole thing.

You got a permit for that gun?” he asked.

“Yes.” This was true. Zip got it for me. Zip was a benefactor. Zip supported my crusade. Zip taught me how to shoot and Zip was a good shot, therefore, so was I.

Though, it was a little worrying that two cops saw me face down Sal Cordova. However, I didn’t figure Sal was going to run to the police and tel on me, considering he was a criminal and a total jackass to boot.

“I’m takin’ you into the offices. We’re gonna have a talk,” Vance said to me.

Oh crap.

I didn’t know what he thought we had to talk about but I was having no part of it. Lee Nightingale’s brother and father were cops and so was his best friend. No way was I going to any offices with Crowe.

I kept staring him straight in the eye. It was kind of hard, since he was so hot, I was beginning to feel weird about it, especial y with him pressed up against me. I kept at it al the same.

“I haven’t done anything to you. Just let me be on my way,” I said.

He got closer. If you’d asked me the second before if he could, I would have said no. But his face came within an inch of mine and his body pressed deeper into me.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playin’, Law. Vigilante justice,” he told me.

I knew that, though I didn’t say.

When I didn’t speak, he went on. “You’ve got the attention of Darius and Marcus. This is not a good thing. Do you know what I’m sayin’ to you?”

I felt a little thril go through me and not the kind that was going through me with just his body pressed against mine.

Darius Tucker and Marcus Sloan were the two biggest crime heads in Denver, Colorado. I was happy they knew who I was. I didn’t figure they were scared, but I intended them to be.

Wel , maybe, one day.

Crowe must have seen something on my face because his eyes flashed.

“I should take you to the offices, lock you in the safe room and keep you there until you’ve had some goddamned sense talked into you.”

He said “should”. This I decided to treat as a good thing.

I didn’t know what the safe room was but I didn’t want any part of that either.

I kept staring at him and kept my mouth shut thinking maybe he’d let me go.

He stared right back.

We were both silent, staring, his body pressed against mine.

I kept my chin up and hoped I kept my face blank.

“Jesus, you think you’re fuckin’ Catwoman,” he muttered.

“I do not. Catwoman wore a leotard and stupid ears and fake claws. That’s just sil y.”

I had no idea why I shared my views on Catwoman. I should have kept my mouth shut.

I thought this primarily because what I said made Crowe’s face change. He wasn’t looking at me like he was the pissed off, badass boy trying to warn off the helpless, hapless female who dared enter his turf. He was looking at me in an entirely different way. A way that made me even
more
aware of his body pressed against mine.

“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” he asked and even his voice had changed. It was deep and masculine but now it was also smooth, sliding across my skin like silk.

I decided it was best to go silent again.

He tried a different question.

“Why was Cordova chasing you?”

I kept my silence.

Then something else about him changed. It changed the way he looked, it even changed the atmosphere.

I’d been staring at him to keep a brave face and tough out a difficult situation. With the change, I was staring at him because I had to. It was like I was drawn to him. My body softened, even my arms, which he stil held behind me and had been rigid with tension, relaxed.

“I could make you talk,” he threatened, his voice low, quiet and I knew, in that instant, he could.

“Let me go,” I whispered beginning to lose my fight.

This was a first. If Nick knew, he would freak out. He told me I’d been a live-wire since he met me at age six, always beating up kids on the playground who bul ied other kids, sometimes losing, sometimes winning; always phoning and writing senators or congressmen and tel ing them what I thought and how they should vote; always having some cause that I’d fight with a passion that was nearly an obsession.

Crowe kept staring me in the eyes which kept me stuck to him by some magnetic, macho man forcefield.

“You need to stop what you’re doin’ or you’re gonna get hurt,” Crowe told me, his voice stil silky low.

“I can’t,” I admitted, don’t ask me why but I had to say it.

“Then somebody has to stop you.”

Somewhere along the line, he’d let go of my hands and instead he was holding me. Actual y
holding
me, his arms around me, mine lose at my sides.

It took a lot but I shook off whatever was keeping me entranced, I lifted my hands and pressed against his chest, hard.

He didn’t budge.

Fuck.

“Let me go!” I shouted.

His arms tightened with a jerk and my hands slid up his chest to rest on his shoulders. I immediately began pushing. This didn’t work but it sent a message so I kept doing it.

“I’l let you go and I’l talk to Hank and Eddie. But I hear you’re on the street, I’l find you and shut you down.” He could find me, I knew it. He found people for a living and, if word could be believed, he was real y good at it.

I knew who Hank and Eddie were too. Both good cops, Hank Nightingale and Eddie Chavez, Lee Nightingale’s brother and best friend. I was guessing this meant Crowe would get me off the hook for shooting out Cordova’s tires in broad daylight in the middle of Broadway, one of the busiest streets in Denver. It had been showy and stupid and I knew better. Zip would be disappointed. Nick would be furious.

What I didn’t know was how Crowe would shut me down.

“Al right, Crowe. Let me go, I’l stop,” I lied.

At my words, he grinned.

I stared (again).

He had the most arrogant, shit-eating grin I’d ever seen in my twenty-six (nearly twenty-seven) years of life.

My bel y fluttered.

A bel y flutter? What was
that
al about?

“What?” I snapped and ignored my bel y.

“You’re lyin’.”

“I am not lying,” I lied again.

He shook his head.

Then, to my surprise, he let me go and stepped back.

I stood there, feeling weirdly bereft.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

I waited then waited more.

“Wel , finish it,” I demanded when he didn’t say anything.

“I get the feelin’ I’l see you again,” he told me.