Rock Chick 04 Renegade (7 page)

May must have caught something on my face because she smiled wide. “Bet he wouldn’t describe you as cute either,” she told me.

Whatever.

Time to move on.

“You hear anything about Roam and Sniff?”

“Not word one. They’re out on the street, of course, probably spreading this Crowe and Law Death to Al Denver Dealers Crusade story far and wide. I was you; I’d get those boys in here. Pronto.”

I nodded because she was so right. Then I went into the office to get what I had to get done, done, so I could go and look for my boys.

I checked my email, my voicemail, did a few return cal s and took the two morning appointments I’d made with a couple of my kids. I had a free afternoon, which I was going to use to do some paperwork, make some cal s and sit out in the rec room and talk to the kids but I grabbed my purse and headed out to Hazel.

Hazel and I cruised the streets of Denver checking out Sniff and Roam’s places, then checking out places where al the kids hung out, the whole time keeping my eyes peeled for Crowe or Cordova.

I came up with zilch. No one had seen them (this meant no one was talking).

I got myself some chicken tenders, an M&M cookie and a diet cola from Safeway and sat in the car eating and thinking of where Roam and Sniff would go.

Then it hit me.

Shit.

I put my head to the steering wheel and said to Hazel,

“Please tel me no.”

Last night, Roam had looked at Crowe like he’d stepped right up to the Messiah. There was the vague possibility that Roam would try to tail Crowe, especial y if he was shit-hot to “help” me in my crusade and looking for a mentor.

This meant Roam would look in three places.

One was the Nightingale Investigations office. I didn’t know where this was but I figured a phonebook or the Internet would tel me (and Roam).

However, I doubted Roam would approach the offices.

Watch them, maybe, approach them, no.

There were two other Nightingale Boys hang outs that I knew of.

One was Lincoln’s Road House, a biker bar.

The other was Fortnum’s Bookstore.

I threw my chicken tenders bag on the passenger side floor, sucked down some diet soda, ignored my cookie (for now) and headed to Fortnum’s.

* * * * *

Fortnum’s was in my ‘hood.

I’d been there a few times to buy books. It was only four or so blocks from my house. It had been there forever and had that feel about it. In fact, I was pretty certain some of the books had been there since it opened.

It was huge, smel ed musty and had three big rooms.

The front room had an espresso counter against the side wal facing Bayaud, a book counter facing Broadway and a door that opened from the corner. There was a couch, its back at the store length Broadway window, another couch facing it and a coffee table in between. There were bunches of tables and chairs and a few comfortable armchairs. Behind the book counter there were rows and rows of shelves, then another, smal er room ful of more shelves and a table topped with open milk cartons stuffed ful of old, vinyl records, then a huge back room fil ed with more shelves and books.

It was popular and getting more popular by the day. They had a coffee guy the last time I went there who made unbelievable lattes. Rumor had it he got into trouble, dragging the bookstore’s owner, India Savage, with him.

Luckily for Indy, her boyfriend was Lee Nightingale (thus explaining why the kickass Nightingale Boys chose to hang out at a bookstore), so her problems were sorted pretty damn quick.

The coffee guy took off and I heard they had a new coffee guy and he was supposed to be a maestro of espresso, the best of the best.

I parked the Camaro on Broadway and headed in. The bel over the door went and everyone looked at me. When they saw me, most everyone stared for a second, then most of them smiled.

Except one.

“Oh shit,” a super-deep, gravel y voice said. The voice came from a man behind the book counter and he was the one not smiling. He had long, gray hair pul ed back in a braid, a red, rol ed bandana wrapped around his forehead and a thick gray beard. He had on a black, Harley Davidson, long-sleeved t-shirt over which he wore a black leather vest.

Standing beside him was a gorgeous redhead who I knew was Indy Savage, the owner of the store and Lee Nightingale’s woman.

Sitting on the counter was a beautiful blonde woman wearing a kil er outfit and next to her was a woman who looked exactly like Dol y Parton, wearing a velour, powder-blue tracksuit, the top unzipped and showing so much cleavage she’d be arrested in some places.

Behind the espresso counter was an enormous man with lots of wild blond hair and a russet beard and beside him was a pretty blonde.

Looking at the women I decided there was another, more obvious reason the Nightingale Boys hung out at Fortnum’s.

Even though it was wel in the afternoon, way past coffee time, there were three customers waiting to give their order, two waiting for pick up and a scattering of customers in the seating area.

“Fuckin’ A, turkey!” the big man behind the espresso counter boomed looking extremely pleased and, for some reason, he pointed at the Harley man.

I ignored their bizarre behavior and did another scan of the room.

That’s when I saw, in the corner next to the espresso counter, Roam and Sniff sitting at a table trying to look inconspicuous even though they were of the age where they should be at school
and
they were wearing homey clothes.

I stalked up to them. “Let’s go,” I ordered.

“Law,” Roam replied, just that but it was enough.

“Up! Now!” I snapped.

“Law, no one’s even come in yet,” Sniff told me.

I turned to Sniff, not knowing what he was on about and not caring. “I’ve been worried sick and driving al over Denver looking for you two. We need to have a talk. We’re going back to King’s. Get up. Let’s go,” I repeated.

They looked at each other and didn’t move.

I put my hands on my hips. “Boys.” My tone held a warning.

“Law. We been waitin’ forever,” Sniff said.

Roam was silent.

“For what?” I asked.

“One of the boys to come in. Any of ‘em,” Sniff told me.

Roam sat back in his chair and threw Sniff a “shut up” look.

I leaned in. “I cannot believe this,” I snapped and shook my head because I real y couldn’t. “Which one of you started the rumor about last night?” I asked.

Sniff went silent and I got my answer.

“So, you’re sitting around waiting for one of the Nightingale Boys to show up, is that it?” I went on.

“Wanna talk to Crowe,” Roam final y spoke.

I opened my mouth to reply, or maybe yel (okay, probably yel ) but I was interrupted.

“Hey woman,” the big guy behind the espresso counter boomed at me and I looked at him, “you wanna latte? I’l make you my special. On the house.”

His generosity was a surprise and I looked around the room again.

Most of the customers from around the espresso counter had cleared; the rest of the folks who looked like regulars were al watching me openly and grinning like lunatics. I didn’t want to upset the lunatic asylum and didn’t know how it’d look if I waltzed in, yel ed at a couple of runaways and didn’t buy a coffee.

So I said to the big man, “Sure.”

“I’m Tex,” he informed me, even though I didn’t ask, and he started banging on the espresso machine in an alarming way.

“I’m Jules,” I replied because I didn’t want to appear rude.

“She’s cal ed Law,” Sniff declared loudly.

Oh crap.

“Law?” The blonde behind the espresso counter walked to our side and looked at us, smiling. Her smile was amazing and, for a second, I was dazzled.

“Yeah. She’s Law. Street name. Got it ‘cause she’s The Law. Gonna bring down al the dealers. She goes out huntin’ ‘em down at night, just like Batman,” Sniff announced.

“Enough, Sniff,” I said, my voice low.

The blonde’s eyes turned to me. They’d grown round.

In fact, the whole place had gone silent and there was a tremor in the air that was almost physical.

Then the big man pointed at me and boomed, “Fuckin’

A, darlin’!” Then he threw his head back and shouted, “
Yee
ha!
”

Yikes.

Indy, the blonde and the Dol y Parton lady had approached us.

“Seriously?” the blonde from the book counter asked, staring at me.

I glared at Sniff.

“I’m Indy.” The redhead came up to me and shook my hand, saving me from having to answer.

“Jet,” the blonde behind the espresso counter said and waved.

“I’m Roxie,” the blonde from the book counter put in, she shook my hand too.

“Daisy. Sugar, I like your boots,” the Dol y Parton woman offered, also shaking my hand but she was looking down at my shiny, black cowboy boots. They were a Christmas present from Nick the year before.

“Me too,” Indy said, “they’re the shit.”

“Um… thanks,” I replied as the bel over the door went.

“Holy fuck,” Roam breathed from behind me.

I twisted to look at him but he was staring, eyes wide, at the door. Slowly I turned around to the door, feelings of dread seeping through me.

Three men had walked in and at the sight of them my breath left me in a whoosh.

Al tal , al dark, one looked like the Al -American boy gone wrong but in a good way (a
very
good way). Another had close-clipped black hair and kil er facial hair, his mustache trimmed to razor sharpness down the sides of his mouth. If it had been on anyone else, it would have looked ridiculous but on him it was quite simply
hot
. The last was tal er than the other two (which meant he was seriously tal ). He had coloring and eyes that I knew, from the stories I’d heard about him, were from his Hawaiian ancestry. They al had fantastic bodies clearly noticeable under their clothes and they al looked like the badass mothers I knew them to be.

These men were Lee Nightingale, Luke Stark and Kai

“Mace” Mason, in that order.

“God dammit,” I muttered under my breath.

They approached and instinctively I moved in front of the boys.

Al of their eyes were on me and they noticed my movement. One side of Stark’s lips went up in a sexy half-grin, Nightingale’s eyes crinkled at the corners and Mace smiled flat out.

They thought I was some sil y woman, the jerks. My back went straight and my chin went up.

“Law,” Nightingale said when he arrived at our group.

“Shit, Law. He knows who you are!” Sniff piped up behind me, his voice fil ed with excitement.

“Quiet, Sniff,” I said, not taking my eyes from Nightingale.

“You got business here?” Stark asked, positioning himself beside Roxie and tel ing me not so subtly that I
didn’t
have business there.

“I’ve just come to get my boys,” I assured Stark. Then, eyes stil on Stark, I said to Roam and Sniff, “Let’s go guys.” I didn’t hear chairs scraping so I turned to them. They hadn’t moved.

“I said,
let’s go.
” And I used my word-is-law voice.

They both immediately stood.

“Don’t forget your coffee,” Tex boomed.

I nodded to the big man but said to the boys, “Hazel’s down the street. Get in. I’l be there in a minute.”

“But, Law,” Sniff whined.

“I’l be there in a minute,” I repeated, walking over to take my latte.

I wrapped my fingers around its heat ready to offer to pay when the bel over the door went. I looked toward it and saw Vance walk in.

“God
dammit,
” I hissed under my breath.

His gaze locked on me and he walked to our group and stopped, his eyes never leaving me. I felt his stare like he was touching me and my mind, working against me, flashed on this morning and my body, also working against me, reacted.

me, reacted.

Roam and Sniff had frozen.

I shook off the Crowe Effect. “Boys, get to the car.”

“I wanna work with you,” Roam said to Vance and Vance’s eyes left my face and sliced to Roam but he didn’t say a word.

“I wanna be, like, your trainee or somethin’,” Roam went on and you could tel just by looking at him that this was taking everything he had.

Crowe’s face was blank and he showed no reaction, not even to Roam’s obvious mixture of discomfort and longing.

I felt my heart squeeze and my breath freeze, worried that Crowe would make a fool of him. There was nothing in Roam’s life that he ever wanted that he actual y got and you could see, quite plainly, that there was likely nothing in Roam’s life that he wanted more than he wanted this.

“Roam –” I started to break in.

“You on the street?” Vance asked Roam and my eyes swung to Vance. He was not blank anymore, he was watching Roam closely.

“Sometimes,” Roam said. “At King’s,” he went on.

“Stay at King’s,” Crowe returned and that was al he intended to say. I could tel because his eyes cut to me.

I could feel Roam’s disappointment, it fil ed the air.

“We need to talk,” Vance said to me.

“I’l do what you say!” Roam continued and everyone looked at him because his voice had gotten louder, higher, more desperate. His body was tense, solid, and I felt my throat close. “Anything you say. I won’t mouth off. I’l just do it. I won’t be a problem, I swear.”

it. I won’t be a problem, I swear.”