Rock Chick 08 Revolution (2 page)

Thus commenced the
me-getting-pissed portion of The Talk, which usually led to the me-yelling portion
of The Talk, and that moved into the Ren-yelling portion of The Talk, which
tended to culminate in the me-stomping-out-portion of our talk (or,
alternately, us having a hot, great, fast quickie,
then
I’d get dressed and stomp out).

“I saved Faye’s life last night,” I
reminded him curtly.

“You got on some serious as shit
radar last night,” he returned.

“I got them what they wanted.” I
kept sharing recent memories.

“You got on radar,” he semi-repeated.
“You do not want a single one of those men to know you exist. You
really
don’t want them to know you got
access and skills. You dabble in this shit, Ally. It isn’t your life. It’s a
pastime. You do not have a solid network. You do not have back up. You do not
have experience. So far, all you’ve got is a shitload of luck and persistence.
The first eventually is gonna run out. The second is gonna make it run out and
get you into trouble.”

I didn’t hear a lot of what he said
since I was stuck on a word he used close to the beginning.

Dabble.

“Dabble?” I whispered warningly.

I knew he caught my warning because
we’d managed, even as fuck buddies (according to me), to spend a lot of time
together the last year, so he could read me.

I also knew he caught my warning
because he threw one of his long, heavy, muscled legs over mine and he got even
closer.

“Ally—”

“
Dabble?
” My voice had risen as my eyes had narrowed.

“Do you get paid for this shit?” he
asked.

“Not in money,” I answered.

“Then it’s not a profession. It’s a
hobby. And it’s dangerous, Ally. And this is the last time I’m gonna tell you,
you gotta stop doing it.”

My eyes narrowed further. My chest
started burning and I opened my mouth to commence the yelling portion of The
Talk.

* * * * *

Rock Chick Rewind

Backing up a bit, my name is
Allyson Nightingale, but everyone calls me Ally.

And I’m a Rock Chick, in name and
deed.

That is to say, I worship at the
shrine of Rock ‘n’ Roll and I live the rock star life, doing what I want when I
want how I want. When I’m not working as a bartender or backup barista, of
course, and with a lot less money.

Me and my best friend, India “Indy”
Savage (now Nightingale since she married my brother, Lee) have a posse called
the Rock Chicks. It’s our posse mostly because we’re the band leaders, as it
were, and being rock chicks,
they’d
be Rock Chicks.

So they are.

Indy and I began the tradition. And
some of the Rock Chicks might not be as crazy as me and Indy, but they’re Rock
Chicks to the core.

Definitely.

* * * * *

The Rock Chicks do not include my
brothers (because they’re dudes, and unless the dude is gay, he can’t be a Rock
Chick), Henry “Hank” Nightingale and Liam “Lee” Nightingale. They’re both older
than me.

Hank’s a badass cop. As far as I
can tell, Lee’s just a professional badass.

My dad is also a cop. So was his
dad. Gramps died in the line of duty.

So badass and brave runs in the
family.

And as far as I’m concerned, I got
those genes.

It’s just that no one agrees with
me.

* * * * *

See, about two years ago Indy
caught a bit of trouble. She owns a used bookstore called Fortnum’s, but it
also serves coffee. In fact, if she didn’t serve coffee, she’d be screwed
because she doesn’t sell very many books.

She also landed herself a barista named
Tex (who is a bona fide nut, but a lovable one—mostly) who’s a
latte/cappuccino/espresso-making genius. He’s the Yo-Yo Ma of coffee. In fact,
Mr. Ma would put down his cello in the middle of a performance to take a sip of
Tex’s coffee, it’s that good.

Seriously.

Anyway, Rosie, the barista before
Indy recruited Tex, did something stupid. Indy got dragged in, and Indy’s been
my best friend since I could remember. Our parents were best friends. And, as I
mentioned, she’s now married to my brother. So naturally, I got dragged in
right with her.

Or, if I’m honest, I waltzed in.
Happily.

I’d never been one to shy away from
trouble. Or make my own, as the case may be.

That started a lot of stuff. As in,
a lot.
Some of it bad. Some of it
very bad.

But most of it was
awesome.

As for me, when Indy was in trouble
and I got involved, we’d been after Rosie because he’d disappeared. And when no
one could find him, I did.

That’s when I got bit by the bug.
Like my dad and brothers, I was good at this badass investigation shit.

A natural.

So I kept doing it.

* * * * *

Don’t think I’m stupid. I’m not.

Along the way, I learned a lot. At
first, I only did it for friends in a jam, snooping around, doing things such
as getting the goods on a cheating ex, shit like that.

But I always took care of the
situation.

Then my friends told their friends
and I got referrals.

Eventually, shit got serious.

But I’m a Nightingale. I don’t shy
away from serious. No freaking chance.

But Ren was wrong. I had a solid
network. I had backup.

Because I got help.

* * * * *

One of my partners is Darius
Tucker. He’s one of Lee’s best friends (and one of mine, too). He’s an awesome
guy who I love and have loved since he started hanging with Lee way back when
they were in school. He’s an awesome guy I love more now because he’s cool,
he’s kind, he takes my back and he believes in me.

He’s also an ex-drug dealer and
current private detective on staff at Lee’s agency, Nightingale Investigations.

Even though Darius got out of the
trade that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know everybody. And if he doesn’t
know them
know them, he knows
of
them.

My other partner is Brody Dunne,
another friend of mine for forever. Brody’s a boy-man (with more boy than man, even
though his age says more man than boy) who could work a computer like Yo-Yo Ma
a cello, Stephen Hawking an equation and Tex an espresso machine.

As you can see, both good partners
to have.

* * * * *

Fast forward to last night, when I
found out another friend of mine, Faye, was getting buried alive because her
boyfriend’s dad is a dick.

Don’t ask, it’s a huge-ass story.

Anyway, someone had to step in. And
since I’d been monitoring the situation for some time, I was in a place to do
that.

So I did.

And I saved her life.

* * * * *

However, it must be said that Ren
was not wrong (though I was not going to admit that to him).

The men involved, including Faye’s
boyfriend’s dad, were not good men.

Not even close.

* * * * *

Fast Forward—Hit Play

“
This is the last time you’re gonna tell me?
”
I yelled at Ren.

“Baby—”

I shoved at his shoulders and
succeeded in rocking him back enough I could roll across the bed.

This I did, snapping, “Don’t you
baby
me.”

I got a foot to the floor and
nowhere fast because Ren hooked an arm around my belly and yanked me back into
bed.

Then he covered me with his body.

This was an effective maneuver he
utilized often during Our Talks because I could possibly land a knee to the
‘nads, but I was loath to do that since I liked his ‘nads as they were in those
times we weren’t fighting.

Other than that, he was bigger,
heavier and stronger than me so I was totally screwed.

Exhibit B. Ren had no problem using
his physical advantages to give him more opportunities to be bossy and in my
face.

“Get off me,” I demanded.

“Listen to me.”

“Get
off
me,” I ordered on a buck of my hips.

When my hips settled back on the
bed, Ren was still on me.

Fuck!

Then his hands moved to frame either
side of my face. He dipped his head so he was all I could see and his voice was
a voice he’d never used. It was deep and it was sweet, but it was also weighty
and thick and it kind of freaked me out (in a maybe good way) when he said,
“Ally, baby,
listen to me.
I care
about you,
you mean something to me
,
and I don’t want to see you in a box under three feet of dirt
without
the tank of oxygen to keep you
safe until I find you. Are you understanding me?”

He cared about me.

I meant something to him.

Yeah.

Right.

I’d give it to him. That was a
maybe.

He just cared about someone else a
whole lot more.

“I’m understanding you’re a bossy,
annoying, in my face
jerk
who thinks
he can tell me what to do when he
cannot,
no matter how often I tell you it’s
my
damned life and I’ll do with it as I please,” I retorted.

Something flashed in his eyes so
fast I couldn’t catch what it was before he started, “Ally—”

“Now, get off me. I got shit to do.
I have to get home to Denver.”

His body pressed mine into the bed.
“We’re finishing this here.”

“Fine by me,” I agreed readily.
“We’re finished. Leave me alone, and we’re
all
done.” I drew out the “all” sarcastically.

His face changed to a face I’d
never seen before, either. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t impatient.

It was infuriated.

He’d been mad before, even
really
angry (see aforementioned notes
about us yelling at each other a lot).

And his anger had a physical
presence. So much so, its weight could fill a room.

But this was different.

The room didn’t feel its usual
stifling.

It felt still.

And that freaked me.

“I just told you you mean something
to me and you won’t give me ten minutes to talk this shit through?” he asked
with deceptive quiet.

“No, because the only outcome
that’s acceptable to you is unacceptable to me, so we have nothing to talk
about
.”

He shook his head, still looking
very,
very
angry.

“Unh-unh. You rewound too far. You
just ended things with me like it’s all the same to you.”

“Well it is,” I clipped (lie!).

“Bullshit,” he fired back (he knew
I was lying).

“How many times do I have to tell
you? We’re fuck buddies, Zano.”

He shook his head again, his thumb
sweeping across my cheek and his face getting so close to mine, his lips nearly
brushed my own.

“No, baby, we are not. I’ve had
fuck buddies, Ally. And not one of them looked like you look when I slide
inside you,
every fucking time
I
slide inside you. Like a piece of you has been lost and now it’s found.”

Oh crap.

I probably looked just like that.

Because when he slid inside me, that
was precisely what it felt like.

My eyes drifted away.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

“Get off me,” I returned.

He went silent.

I let him and waited, hoping this
would be a morning where Ren would give up, roll off and wait to fight another
day.

It wasn’t going to be that kind of
morning. I knew this when he kept talking.

“Your brothers by now are gonna
know about this. And when you roll into Denver, they’re gonna lose their
minds.”

“They’ll get over it.”

“If you think you’re pullin’ shit
on them, Ally, you’re wrong. Lee and Hank know everything that goes down in
that town, and they know you’ve been doin’ your thing and just how long. Make
no mistake, they’ve been distant, but they’ve been in your business. Part of it
was to keep an eye, part of it was to have your back. But you never got this
deep or went this far.”

I slid my eyes back to him.

“Newsflash, Zano. I’m not Nancy
Drew, solving crimes as a hobby just out of high school. I’m a big girl. I know
my brothers know and I don’t care what my brothers think.”

Something flickered in his
beautiful eyes. His fury was long gone, and just then his voice went back to
sweet. “Baby, I’m trying to impress on you,
this
is different
. And I was worried before at the shit you were doin’. But now
I’m fucking
alarmed
.”

It was then, something happened.

I didn’t know what did it for me.
The new tone to his voice. That look on his face. His warm, hard body pressing
mine into the bed after a night of mind-boggling, soul-enriching, life-changing
sex. Knowing he found out what was going on last night and drove for hours to
get from Denver to the Colorado mountain town of Carnal where all the bad stuff
was going down in order to get to me. Or the fact that he
really
sounded like he meant what he said.

Whatever it was, it did it for me
and it led me to doing something I’d never done with Ren.

I agreed.

But I did it quietly.

“I get you.”

He blinked. “You get me?”

I nodded, not about to say it
again.

His eyes grew sharp but his face
went guarded. “Maybe I should understand what exactly you get.”

This was a weird thing for fuck
buddies, and another way I had to admit we kind of broke that mold. It was also
something Ren used repeatedly to press the fact that we weren’t actually fuck
buddies, but together
together.
We
just didn’t go out on dates or meet each other’s parents… yet (the “yet” part
was Ren’s).

And what that weird thing was was
that he knew me. I also knew him. He paid attention, when we were having sex
and when we weren’t. I did the same.

So it wasn’t surprising he asked
this question.

“Those dudes were bad dudes,” I
explained. “I know how bad, Ren. I’d been poking around them for months.” I put
my hand to his chest to press my point home since his face went unguarded and
his eyes started to warm. “But they
buried
Faye alive.
I knew the risks. I weighed them and my friend got pulled out
of that box breathing. Barely, but she made it.”