Rock Chick 06 Reckoning (40 page)

“Not good enough,” he returned, his voice now unbearably rough and so low, it was barely a mumble.

And his eyes were haunted.

I couldn’t help it, it hurt too much to keep looking at him, I closed my eyes.

I felt a streak of wetness rol down my left cheek, opened my eyes again and whispered, “Tel me.”

I held his gaze for a beat then two then he muttered,

“Fuck, Kitten…”

He stopped speaking, his head dropped, he stared at the floor and that’s when I moved.

I went right to him, fit myself into his body, the top of my head under his face, my arms tight around him. Al the while I did this, he didn’t move, not a muscle. Didn’t even put his arms around me, just kept leaning against the counter.

I pressed my cheek into his chest.

“Tel me,” I whispered again.

I heard his cel ring and his taut body went tighter.

“Ignore it,” I said.

He didn’t.

His head came up, he pul ed the phone out of his pocket and I leaned back to look at him.

It was over.

The guard had slid down over his eyes.

I lost him.

Shitsofuckit.

Even so, he wrapped an arm loosely about my waist as he flipped open his phone with his thumb, put it to his ear and muttered, “Yeah?”

I turned to face his chest and put my forehead there so I felt his body give a smal jerk as his fingers flexed into my hip with such strength, it caused a little bit of pain.

My head snapped back. I saw his jaw was clenched and I felt a coldness start seeping through my veins.

“I’l be there in ten,” he clipped into the phone, flipped it shut and without hesitation let me go, on the move to something urgent.

I turned to watch him nab his belt and boots, the oxygen burning in my lungs.

“What’s going on?” I asked, scared shitless whatever it was was about the Rock Chicks.

He dumped his boots on the edge of the platform and started to slide his belt through the loops.

Then his eyes came to me.

“Carter branched out,” Mace’s voice was hard. “With the Rock Chicks protected, this morning he went after Shirleen.”

I took a step back as if he’d dealt me a physical blow.

Effing hel .

Stella

Mace took off after he put a gentle fist under my chin, tilted my face to his and brushed his mouth on mine, muttering a promise that he’d let me know as soon as he knew anything.

He cal ed twenty minutes later (a
long
twenty minutes) to tel me a squad car with two uniformed officers would be at my house to pick me up “in five”. He also told me I was not to let the cops in unless they said the code words. As he was talking, I heard angry, male shouting in the background but Mace disconnected without giving me an update.

When my buzzer went, I saw a uniform on the video display who showed his badge and said, “Hunky dory.” At that, Juno and I headed out.

The officers balked at Juno taking a ride in the squad car but I held my ground and since that ground was outside and exposed, Juno went with me to Nightingale Investigations.

No way in hel I was leaving my dog behind.

If Sidney Carter was branching out, how soon would it be before he went after pets?

Even if my luck had started to turn, I was taking no chances.

The not-very-informative officers didn’t update me about Shirleen either except to say they were stil sorting things out “at the scene”.

The only scenes that involved my friends that I liked were the ones we created ourselves (and, for your information, I didn’t like those much either).

The officers escorted me to the outer office door of Nightingale Investigations. We were greeted by a silent, tight-faced, angry-looking Jack (and an angry Jack scared me enough to stay silent too), who took over, walking Juno and me to the down room.

The down room was where the boys had meetings and hung out if they were on cal . It also had a variety of fitness and weight lifting equipment. There was a couch but in the few times Mace had taken me to the offices the last time we were together, I’d never seen anyone sitting on it. The boys were usual y on the treadmil or the weight bench.

In other words (if you hadn’t already figured this out), the Nightingale Men didn’t real y know the meaning of “down time”.

As Juno and I entered the room, I saw Jules, Ava and Jet had their asses planted on the couch and they were sipping coffee. Daisy was sitting in a chair, leaned back, filing her nails. Al y had lifted up the back of the weight bench and she was lounging on it, legs straddling the bench. Indy and Roxie were seated at a table, playing double solitaire, mugs of coffee beside the cards.

In case this had not been proved irrefutably, their mel ow demeanor was verification they were al effing nuts.

“Is Shirleen okay?” I asked upon entry, Juno loping toward Roxie who had leaned to the side and was snapping her fingers at my dog.

“She’s fine but she’s pissed. She has to buy a new couch,” Al y replied.

I stared at Al y.

This answer both relieved and confused me.

“Thank God. Looking at that old one gave me a migraine,” Jet muttered.

I turned to stare at Jet.

“I liked it. Al those big swirls, black against white.

Drama. It was pure Shirleen,” Indy commented.

My gaze swung to Indy.

“Maybe Luke and I should get a new couch,” Ava put in thoughtful y. “I’m not sure I’m into al that leather.” I looked to Ava.

“I like Eddie’s couch,” Jet was stil muttering. When my eyes moved to her, I saw she had a smal smile on her face and it didn’t take a mind reader to know why she liked Eddie’s couch.

“Sugar, how you doin’?” Daisy asked and my gaze went to her to see hers was sharp on me.

I was pretty happy we weren’t talking about couches anymore, that’s how I was doing.

I opened my mouth to speak then clamped it shut.

Mace told me the Rock Chicks needed to be kept in the dark.

Effing hel .

So instead of sharing (anything), I said, “Hanging in there,” and it wasn’t a total lie.

Things were good with Mace and me (which I couldn’t tel them), shit everywhere else (but that wasn’t news).

However, I had a feeling that I had one more trial to get through when Mace final y told me the whole truth about Caitlin. And, after what happened that morning, I preferred someone shooting at me to whatever Mace had to say.

I walked deeper into the room and in order to get off the subject of me, I asked (against my wil taking the conversation back to couches), “What’s this about Shirleen’s couch?”

Daisy waved a hand in the air. “Oh, she just shot the guy who broke in this mornin’, used her .44, which means mess, comprende?”

It was Daisy I was staring at now.

Shirleen
just
shot the guy who broke in?

With a .44?

Why did Shirleen have a .44?

Strike that, I didn’t want to know.

When it appeared Daisy was waiting for me to confirm this information had sunk in, I nodded and Daisy continued,

“He reeled back, landed on her couch, blood everywhere.

She’s pissed. She loved that couch.”

“Did he shoot at her?” I asked.

“Yeah, she ain’t stupid,” Daisy kept talking but her attention went back to her nails. “With her history, no way she’d shoot someone, even an intruder, without him shootin’ first. Got three bul et holes in her wal but that’s okay, just needs a little spackle.”

Her history?

A little spackle?

Effing hel .

“He dropped the gun when she nailed him,” Daisy went on. “Problem is, she’d disarmed him but she was so pissed about him bleedin’ on her couch, she cold-cocked him with her gun butt anyway. She’s gonna have a bit of a problem explainin’ that.”

Oh my Lord.

“Anyway, they’l be here soon,” Daisy said, her eyes moving from her nails back to me. “And you and me got to talk about Dixon Jones.”

Nope.

No way.

Not gonna happen.

I pul ed a chair toward the couch and sat down. Juno decided to make the rounds and began doing person-to-person greetings. That was to say sniffing everyone.

“Maybe we can talk about Dixon Jones when people aren’t breaking into houses and bleeding on couches,” I said to Daisy.

“Life goes on, sugar,” Daisy returned on a shrug. “I cal ed him last night. He had to leave town after your last gig. He’s comin’ back to Denver, gonna be at your gig on Thursday.

He wants a meet then. I suggested we do it beforehand, seein’ as most of the times you get kidnapped or shot at or jump audience members is after the gig. When I explained this to him, he agreed.”

I decided to ignore Daisy reminding Dixon Jones about the mayhem in my life considering he’d witnessed most of it and even if it wasn’t hard to forget, it’d been in the papers.

I was saved from having to retort when the door opened and Shirleen stormed in.

The girls weren’t wrong, she was fine but she was pissed.

“Who’s gonna pay for my couch, hunh?” She was yel ing at a man who was walking behind her. He had light brown hair, the cut expensive, and he was wearing a suit which also looked expensive. He was tal -ish and slight but stil fit maybe late thirties, early forties. His face was tight and, if anything, he looked even angrier than Shirleen. “Who’s gonna pay for therapy for Roam and Sniff?” she demanded.

Roam and Sniff, her teenaged foster kids, fol owed her in. Roam was a handsome, tal , gangly black kid, the gangly part beginning to fil out wel . Sniff was a smal , skinny white kid whose acne was healing and who was hilarious.

Something I’d learned during their first guitar lesson yesterday evening.

Neither of them looked like they were in need of therapy.

“Hey, Stel a,” Sniff cal ed, his face forming a goofy grin as he waved at me.

Roam gave me a chin lift, his eyes shifted to Jules and he muttered, “Hey, Law.”

Jules got up to greet the boys as the room fil ed with the Hot Bunch (al of them, every last one), Tex and Duke.

Body language, incidental y, screamed unhappy.

I looked at Mace but he didn’t look at me. I knew this was an act for the benefit of the Rock Chicks but it stil sucked.

The brown-headed man stopped and his eyes pinned Shirleen. “I’m glad you reminded me. Why don’t we talk about those boys, Miz Jackson? Tel me again how
you
, of al people, became a foster parent?”

I didn’t even know the guy and I knew that not only was he angry, what he’d just asked was not so vaguely threatening. I knew this because the air in the room went heavy.

“The boys were in my caseload at the Shelter,” Jules said to the man. “I did the background checks on Shirleen.” The man turned to Jules. “Your dedication is impressive, Mrs. Crowe, considering you were in Intensive Care when these two were placed with Miz Jackson.”

Uh-oh.

My eyes moved back to Mace. He had his arms crossed on his chest and his feet planted wide. He also had a look on his face that said, if this guy didn’t stop being such a jerk, Mace was going to rip his head off.

“That’s enough, George,” Hank said quietly.

“Yeah, Nightingale, it’s enough,” George replied, voice stil angry. “I’ve had nothing but shit from you and your men al fuckin’ morning.”

Hank’s eyes narrowed and I took back my earlier thought that he was less intense and more laidback then the rest of the men. At that moment, he was even scarier than his brother.

“We went through three boxes yesterday morning, George,” Hank clipped. “Not to mention, six days ago, there were four drive-bys and Stel a fuckin’ got shot.”

“That wasn’t reported,” George shot back.

When Hank spoke again, his voice was vibrating, he was so angry. “It sure as fuck was. Mace and Luke made statements and we had three squads on the scene while the incident took place. Furthermore, we got five hundred witnesses to rifle fire at a fuckin’ club on Friday night.”

“None of that was linked to Carter,” George returned.

“For fuck’s sake, George,” Eddie exploded. “Lee got the cal before the drive-bys!”

“Hearsay,” George replied.

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me,” Vance snapped.

George’s gaze swung to Lee. “You get the cal on tape?” Lee’s eyes were on George and I changed my mind again. Perhaps he
did
scare me more than Hank.

Not taking his eyes off George, Lee said low, “Hank…” and I got it immediately that if Hank did not handle this George guy, Lee would and it might get messy.

But Hank was already talking and he wasn’t paying attention to Lee, his eyes were also on George.

“We’re done,” he said.

George turned back to Hank. “I’m tel in’ you Nightingale

–”

Hank interrupted him.

“A week ago, the windows of my house were blown out by an AK-47, my fiancée in the house at the time,” Hank snapped. “And I’ve known Shirleen since I was ten fuckin’

years old. She’s family. And someone broke into her house this morning and dril ed three rounds into the wal of her livin’ room but they were aimin’
at her.
” George had the grace to look a might uncomfortable but stil hanging onto stubborn and angry as he glared at Hank.

Thus began a tense staring contest that went on until Hank broke it.

Hank broke it.

“Done,” he repeated then without another word he walked out of the room.

Al the men (and women) stared at George.

George stared at the door.

Then he looked at Eddie. “He wouldn’t be that stupid.” It was Eddie’s turn to cross his arms on his chest and with one look at him, he went to the top of the list of Hot Bunch Boys Who Scared Me Most. “We played your game, you fucked us and this mornin’ Shirleen nearly got her head blown off,” Eddie said, his voice tight. “Now,
hombre
, we’re gonna fuck you.”