This was not understandable, seeing as I had no idea what he was talking about.

Therefore I asked, “What?”

“That’s the part I need time to explain,” Ren replied. “And I don’t have that time now, but I’ll explain it, honey. It’s not bad. But it is somethin’ you gotta know.”

Oh shit.

I was not good at waiting for information. Especially if it was juicy. Especially if it had something to do with someone I cared about. And this sounded juicy and it definitely had something to do with someone I cared about.

“Uh… Zano,” I started. “Something to know about me—”

I stopped speaking because he smiled and that took all my attention.

Then he pulled me deep into his body and dipped his face close to mine.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he noted, still smiling.

“Cats have nine lives,” I replied and his smile instantly died.

“How many of those you gone through?”

Uh-oh.

We were hitting a conversational danger zone. This was because, counting nearly being blown up the day before, I suspected I was close to the end of my quota. I also suspected Ren knew that and didn’t like it all that much.

In an effort to prevent this talk from becoming a Talk, I stated, “I’ll wait until we have time for you to explain.”

“Good choice,” he returned.

“Now kiss me and go to work so I can go meet Indy,” I ordered and got the smile back.

Then I got his mouth back, another squeeze and a sweet, soft, “Later, baby,” before he let me go.

I watched him walk away.

And when he disappeared, I gave myself a moment to kick my own ass (mentally) for not initiating this together togetherness ages ago.

Then I got over it because it happened, I fucked up, it was over and there was nothing I could do about it. Except live in the now and make that now the best it could be, for me and for Ren.

I jumped off the counter, did the breakfast dishes and headed out to make amends with my friend.

Hopefully.

* * *

I was sitting outside a Starbuck’s in Cherry Creek North.

In other words, I was taking my life in my hands.

No joke.

This was not because there might be snipers (don’t think I’m kidding—I was a Rock Chick; anything goes when you’re a Rock Chick, the scarier, the more possible).

This was because, if Tex knew I was at a Starbuck’s, he’d lose his mind.

Tex felt, and shared this philosophy liberally, that the coffee counter at Fortnum’s was like your momma’s dining room table at Thanksgiving. That was to say, on Thanksgiving, your ass was at that table. You didn’t tell your mother you were going to a Chinese restaurant with your friends or suggest you have Thanksgiving catered at your house or explain you were taking that longed for, once in a lifetime vacation to a five star resort in Antigua.

You sat your ass at your momma’s table.

And you got your coffee from Tex. Even if you had to go out of your way, you went to Fortnum’s and Tex handed you your cup.

No excuses were accepted.

If you didn’t do this, things could get ugly.

So although I had a lot on my mind, I was also scanning the area just in case Tex’s radar pinged and sent him on a mission to ream my ass, throw away my latte and drag me to Fortnum’s to make me a coffee.

I knew this sounded weird. It was also true.

But outside of being unfaithful to Tex’s coffees and the possible consequences of that, what was on my mind wasn’t that I’d been waiting over an hour for Indy to show. It also wasn’t that none of the Hot Bunch were taking my calls so I could ask what was happening with Rosie. It further wasn’t the fact that this informational lockout pissed me off, considering I might not be a member of their team, but it was my apartment that had blown sky high because Rosie dropped my name, so I had the right to know.

What was on my mind was that my boss had called and told me not to go into work that night.

This was because I was fired.

He was nice about it, and truth be told, I was expecting it. He’d put up with me a lot longer than I would have put up with me, that was certain.

Suffice it to say, I wasn’t a stellar employee. Shit went down with the Rock Chicks, not to mention my cases, and there were only so many times you could call in when your friends had been kidnapped or you’d been in a high speed chase and totaled your car or you needed to stake out a cheating husband.

That shit no longer flew, even if my friend was buried alive and I was a key player in her rescue and the next day my apartment had exploded. Drinks needed to be served. I got that. And it had to be said, these excuses, although honest, were frequent. So I also got that would be a little alarming for any employer.

So now I had a lot to do, including serious shopping, which would have been made easier by the gift cards at my pad that were probably melted. My insurance would undoubtedly not cover everything, and my income had been significantly reduced. Fortnum’s sold a shitload of coffee and the tip jar was never light. Then again, the tips at Brother’s were a whole lot better, so that was going to be a hit.

I also had a decision to make because I’d known for some time a career as a bartender/barista was not for me.

Now I had an excuse to make things official.

But, although licensing was voluntary for investigators in Colorado, to be taken seriously and charge that way, I needed a license. And this might be a problem. I no doubt had the hours of investigation logged to get it. I just did not have those hours in any official capacity. Lee, Hank, Eddie or my dad would have to vouch for me, and the prospect of that happening was not rosy.

I also now had a boyfriend, and always had a family who would not take kindly to this career shift. And by “not take kindly” I meant their reactions would be volatile.

But it was what I wanted to do, and not on a whim. I’d been doing it for a long time, and loving it, and now I had the opportunity and the time to go for it.

I just had to manage the reactions of those around me.

On that thought, I activated my phone, checked the time then scanned the area.

Still no Indy.

Fuck.

It wasn’t like we didn’t disagree or even fight.

But this kind of silent anger was not her thing and it unnerved me.

I was about to hit buttons to call her again when my phone rang with the display saying, “Zano Calling.”

I took the call and put my phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hey, baby. She show?”

My insides warmed. He was checking in because he was concerned for me.

Totally sweet.

“Not yet,” I replied.

“She will.”

Totally supportive, which was also sweet.

On this thought, I saw her blue Beetle drive by, Indy’s redhead at the wheel.

I let out a breath and said, “She just drove by.”

“Good,” he murmured.

“It’ll take half an hour for her to find a parking spot, which is plenty of time for me to get her a coffee,” I told him as I left my table and headed inside. “So I’m on that.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Ally.”

Jeez. This together together shit with Ren was so easy.

And awesome.

“Thanks, babe,” I whispered.

“See you tonight.”

“Later, Zano.”

“Later, honey.”

We disconnected, and by the time I came out with the coffees and resumed my seat, Indy had found a parking spot and was walking up to my table.

She made it to me and stopped.

I looked up at her through my kickass, gold-framed, orange-lensed Ray Bans that had been payment on a “job” and also had luckily been in my purse when my belongings exploded. She looked down at me through her righteous, huge, black-framed, black-lensed Hollywood Starlet shades.

I opened my mouth to speak but she got there before me.

“Tex knows we’re here, he’s gonna go ballistic.”

This was a promising opening.

“This is clandestine because we need privacy, and that’s because I need to know I’m cool with you before I take on the Rock Chicks,” I explained.

She said nothing and didn’t move.

This was not promising.

I slid her cup toward her. “I bought you a skinny vanilla latte.”

Her shades dipped to the cup then came back to me. Other than that, she said nothing and didn’t move.

This was definitely not promising. India Nightingale was Queen Coffee. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her turn down a cup. Definitely not a vanilla latte. In fact, during road trips, I made sure we had a bottle of tequila for when we reached our destination. Indy made sure we had travel mugs filled with java.

I closed my eyes.

Then I opened them and stated, “That night Ren fought with Luke, in an effort to calm him down, I suggested we go for drinks. He took me up on that offer. We went to Brother’s but when we got there, it wasn’t about Ren and Luke and Ava. It was about Ren and me. And it was good. So good, he took me to his house. That was better. Way better. Out of our stratosphere better.”

Indy remained silent, another bad sign. She got me. I was talking about sex. And the Rock Chicks existed on a conversational diet heavy on sex talk, Hot Bunch bitching and skincare tips.

Time to pull out the big guns.

“I fell in love with him, chickie,” I whispered and watched her lips part.

There it was, thank God. I was getting in there.

So I kept at it.

“In one night, I fell in love.”

She bit her lip.

Yes. Getting in there.

“I woke up in his arms in his bed and I was happy. Totally happy, babe. So happy I was lying there smiling. And he curled me closer, shoved his face in my hair and said Ava’s name.”

That did it.

Her body jolted before she yanked out a chair, sat her ass in it and leaned toward me, exclaiming on a horrified hiss, “Oh my God! Seriously?”

I nodded. “Seriously.”

“Holy crap,” she breathed.

“It killed,” I admitted.

“It would,” she agreed.

“Ren was asleep when he did it,” I explained. “I snuck out. He got pissed that I did, came over that night and that didn’t go very well. I didn’t share why I left so he didn’t know until yesterday why I established stringent fuck buddy boundaries. Boundaries, I’ll add, that he didn’t really adhere to and, looking back, I didn’t either. Since he was asleep, he didn’t know he did it and was pretty upset when I threw it in his face. He explained, we worked it out. I love him, he loves me and it’s all good.”

Something moved over her face that I could read even behind her shades.

Surprise.

And warmth.

“You love him?” she asked quietly and I felt my lips tip up.

“Yeah,” I answered just as quietly.

Her head tipped to the side. “He loves you?”

I nodded and full-on smiled. “Oh yeah.”

No surprise that time. Just warmth.

“He’s good to you?”

My smile got bigger as my hand lifted to touch the pendant at my neck. “Definitely.”

Her shades dropped to my throat. Her mouth got soft but she didn’t say anything. I knew she’d like the pendant. I knew she’d know it was from Ren. And I knew she’d know, just looking at its kickassness, that it was thoughtful and generous and said it all.

She took in a breath, looked at me, and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

Right. The hard part.

“He said Ava’s name,” I told her.

“And?” she prompted when I said no more.

“And that hurt,” I answered. My voice was quiet, but there was a tremor in it that was not me.

And Indy knew me. She knew what that tremor meant. She knew exactly how much it hurt.

This was why her hand shot across the table and grabbed mine as she murmured, “Oh, Ally.”

“I didn’t want to share. I didn’t want to relive. It haunted me enough as it was. And I didn’t want Ava to get wind of it,” I told her.

“I see that, but you know I would never—”

I cut her off.

“I know. And I know it isn’t the same. You’ve been in love with him since you were five, but it still kind of is, so what would you do if Lee was holding you in his arms in bed after you had a great night, the best you ever had, and he said another woman’s name in your hair?”

Her hand gave mine a squeeze. She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. Her face, even with shades, said it all.