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.”