In other words, major ouch.

I powered through the hurt and nodded. “You too, Ren.”

He continued to hold my eyes, and long moments passed. Those moments feeling like he was waiting for me to say something, do something.

I did neither.

Then he turned, opened the door and angled out.

I watched him saunter to the pool hall and kept watching, even after he disappeared through the door.

I did this with a knot in my stomach, something stuck in my throat.

Then I pulled my shit together. Something I’d had to do a lot since Ren entered my life, and more after he exited it.

I decided I’d find another way to make amends to Sadie, though I didn’t know how I’d do that.

I just knew I would.

I turned the ignition, put my car into gear and drove away.

* * *

One month, one and a half weeks later…

I was at Sadie’s art opening at her gallery, but a more apt way to put it was that I was in hell.

This was because Ren was there and he was with another woman.

This was also because he was avoiding me.

This was not surprising. We were done and he was with another woman. I got a look, a chin lift and that was it.

It was the classy thing to do, not ignoring me, not getting in my space and being sweet or cool, and thus reminding me we were over and all I was missing.

Still, it hurt.

But this was mostly because, even avoiding him, that didn’t mean my eyes, against my strong directive, kept moving to him.

Therefore I’d caught him watching Ava.

Worse, he did it with a soft look on his face I’d never seen. I was too far away to be certain it was longing. I just knew it was something.

He was still hung up on her.

The only thing I had going for me was that I looked hot. My dress was awesome, showed enough skin and was tight enough to be slinky, but not enough of either to be slutty. And my high-heeled sandals were my own, and they were even better.

That was all I had.

Sadie and Hector were, I was hoping, heading toward the Rock Chick Reward. That was, everything got sorted and they moved into their version of happily ever after. There were still issues, all the Rock Chicks knew, and it wasn’t only because of the Balducci brothers (all of them were giving Sadie problems), we just couldn’t put our finger on what.

“You okay?” I heard from my side, and I turned my head and saw Indy there.

My best friend had lots of fabulous red hair and a lush body of the Ava variety. In other words, old-fashioned Hollywood bombshell: great rack, lots of ass, long legs and the ability to work them all in a huge way, as her current dress and strappy heels, which were (almost) as awesome as mine laid testimony to.

“Yeah,” I told her.

She studied me closely. “You sure?”

“Sure I’m sure,” I answered casually.

Indy didn’t take her eyes off me.

She’d been my BFF for so long, we were so tight, we knew each other’s deepest secrets (well, in Indy’s case, only most of mine). We’d been through pretty much everything, so even with the additions of the Rock Chicks, I would never have a BFF who was more of the “B” than Indy. I loved her. I would lay down my life for her and that was no joke. I knew she would do the same for me.

I also knew her just as well as she knew me.

And right now, she knew I was full of shit.

She leaned in, her eyes never leaving mine, and started, “Honey, you haven’t been—”

She didn’t finish. This was because a brouhaha was commencing. That was to say, Sadie’s loud voice was coming at us and she was being sarcastic and bitchy.

Not good.

Indy and I looked that way to see Sadie was into it with some woman who Sadie clearly did not like.

“Here we go,” Indy murmured and looked at me.

I threw her a grin and did what we Rock Chicks always did.

Got close to a Rock-Chick-in-need in order to take her back.

And I was right. As the events unfolded, one after the other, it became clear something was still very wrong with Sadie. It wasn’t that she wanted that outed. It was just that what happened gave her no choice. Being recently raped and consistently traumatized by four criminally insane brothers (literally, to all of that), it was time for the lid to be blown off.

And blow off it did.

It happened after Hector lost his mind when we all learned Sadie was secretly planning to move to Greece (Greece! What the fuck?) and he dragged her to her office.

No, that wasn’t right. It happened after what happened in her office leaked out into the hall when Sadie came rushing out.

“I’m protecting you!” Sadie screamed at Hector, “Don’t you get it? I’m protecting you!”

My head whipped around to the hall, and at her tone, my body went tight.

She went on screeching.

“You deserve better than me, Hector Chavez! You’re a good man from a good family surrounded by good people. My father was a Drug King. He kills people! It’s what I am, he made me. And Ricky Balducci raped and brutalized me. You know it. You saw it. You were even there! You saw me! You told me you’d never forget. You saw me! You’re better than that and I know it. You deserve more than that. You don’t think you do but you’ve got a tattoo on you that reminds you to think with your head, not your body. I don’t want to be the next tattoo you get when you learn your lesson one day and realize what you’ve done. That you could have had better. That you could have had more. That you could have someone good and clean and right. Someone who belongs at your side. Not someone vile and ugly and tawdry and used that you should have never, ever, ever settled for!”

I watched, my heart bleeding at her words, as she yanked free of Hector and started running.

“Don’t follow me,” she shouted over her shoulder. She stopped and turned. “Don’t!” she shrieked in a voice so shrill, it lacerated me.

My throat closed and I was weirdly paralyzed as others sprung into action when Sadie made a desperate dash through the gallery, grabbed something from a drawer and took off.

God, I fucking hated it when the Rock Chick Drama entered this stage. When the raw thing the Rock Chick was hiding was exposed in all its hideousness and we got to see inside to what we were actually battling.

Not that something like that happened every time. Not that I was there to witness it every time it happened. But I still hated it, whether I saw it or heard about it.

I was good at giving one-liners, making people laugh, giving support in my way. I could be gentle with the honesty. And I was always there, no matter what, no matter when, if they needed me.

But I had no healing hand, like Jules did (because she was a cool chick, but also a social worker). Or like Jet did (because she was shy, quiet and sweet and had a way about her). Or like Daisy did (because she had so much love, it leaked out of her pores and you couldn’t help but feel better if it leaked on you).

So I had not only not made amends for being a bitch to Sadie, I had nothing to give to her right now. I didn’t have the skills to get in there and make her see she was not even close to the things she saw in herself.

And that killed me.

“Ally.”

My head jerked at that familiar, deep, sweet voice and I looked up at Ren.

He was staring down at me looking gorgeous and worried.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No,” I whispered.

He lifted a hand, and it seemed like he was going to touch me but I moved before he could.

Fast.

As quick as my four inch stiletto heels could take me, I dashed to the counter where Sadie had her cash register.

I grabbed my bag.

And I got the fuck out of there.

* * *

Three hours later…

I sat in the dark on my ass in my living room. My back was to the wall, my knees up. I was still in my killer dress, but I’d taken off my heels.

The Rock Chick phone tree had been engaged so I’d learned that Sadie was okay. She had her thing, let it out, and then Duke had done his thing.

Duke worked at Fortnum’s with us. In fact, Duke had been working at Fortnum’s way before Indy inherited it from Grandma Ellen, so he was the veteran.

He was a Harley guy with a gray beard, long gray hair and a rough voice that somehow felt smooth on your soul whenever he used it (even if he was tearing you a new one while using it; I know it sounds crazy but it’s true, trust me). He wore Harley tees (always), leather vests (occasionally) and rolled bandanas around his forehead (without fail).

And he was wise. Very much so.

Therefore, when the Rock Chicks came to the point in their drama where it was clear everyone needed to quit fucking around because they needed their shit sorted—tough love or gentle and sweet (as the case may be)—Duke stepped in.

So it was Duke who stepped in with Sadie and sorted her shit.

Duke could do that.

But not me.

I closed my eyes, shook my head to get my mind off that path, and opened my eyes, pointing my thoughts in a new direction.

I stared into the dark at the shadowy shapes in my apartment and commenced trying to figure out what the fuck was up with me.

And not why Sadie’s outburst that night so deeply affected me.

I sensed I wasn’t ready to face that.

No, I thought about where my life was leading me.

I gazed at the shadows.

I liked my apartment. That said, it wasn’t much to write home about, but since I wasn’t there often, it didn’t need to be.

The building was two-story and built in the fifties. The rooms were not spacious and there was no personality. Though, the last couple of years, the landlord had pulled out all the dull, uninspired bathrooms and kitchens and put in new dull, uninspired bathrooms and kitchens.

Not much, but it was something.

He’d also jacked up the rent.

Annoying but not surprising.

Recently, though, my unit had been getting a facelift that came all from me.

I had new cushiony, awesome furniture that invited you to sink in and stay forever (major discount from a person who used my services who knew a person who owned a furniture store). I had a new flat screen TV (ditto on the discount, as you know). Due to gift certificates from other “clients”, I had new kitchen implements (not that I cooked much, seeing as I was never home; still, gadgets were gadgets, and everyone needed as many gadgets as they could get), new bathroom towels and sheets (total lush—I should so totally have gone the way of expensive towels and sheets ages ago; alas, a bartender/barista couldn’t usually afford luxury).

Also due to my activities, I had more shoes and clothes in my closet and a collection of gift cards of a variety of denominations to restaurants, bars and movie theaters.

All payments for my services.

All making life that little bit sweeter.

I’d done the defensive/evasive driving course and kicked its ass. I was all over defensive/evasive maneuvers in a vehicle and could not wait to do the chase program. And with more practice at Zip’s and wisdom from Darius, I’d also cleared the house in C. Springs without killing one innocent.

This shit was it for me.

I loved doing it and I was good at it.

And it made life better in a variety of ways.

So I didn’t understand what was holding me back from going whole hog, getting licensed and putting out a shingle.

And maybe more importantly, with all that going so well, why did I think I was missing something?

That you could have someone good and clean and right.

Sadie’s words haunted me, yanking me back to the path I was avoiding, and I closed my eyes.

I had to get on making amends. I had to be certain, in my way, to make sure Sadie knew she was part of the family.

She seemed to be getting there.

But I’d sensed she wasn’t there entirely.

And tonight proved I was right.

On that thought, a knock came at my door.

I looked to the door. I didn’t want to get it. I had no cases brewing. I’d cleared the slate when Sadie’s shit hit so I could focus on that.

However, since I’d gotten home that night, my phone had been ringing. All the calls were from the Rock Chicks to natter about what happened and what we were going to do next about Sadie. So once I got the “all’s good” with Sadie, I’d turned off my ringer.