Kristen Ashley - Rock Chick Revolution

And it must be said, when it interrupted dinner and discussion on the later positions in which Ren would be giving me the business, I didn’t like it much either.

He looked through the double row of three square windows set high in his door. I heard his sigh all the way across the house (his sigh was that big) and he opened it.

I couldn’t see anything since Ren was standing in the door and hadn’t fully opened it, but I did hear a deep, somewhat familiar voice I couldn’t place ask, “Is Ally Nightingale here?”

When I heard Ren’s answer of, “You wanna explain why you want that information?” I pushed back my chair and threw down my own napkin.

“We need to have a chat,” the familiar voice answered.

I walked that way as Ren replied, “And you’re lookin’ for her here, how? How is it that you’re here lookin’ for her?”

The voice had turned guarded, probably with caution and maybe a little irritation, when it returned, “Man, she’s yours and her apartment is a black hole. Where else would I look for her?”

I made it to Ren’s back and put a hand there, but it was clear the voice’s answer was acceptable because he was moving back to open the door.

I then saw how I knew the voice.

Jacob Decker. And Jacob Decker was Chace Keaton’s friend. And Chace Keaton was my girl Faye’s hot guy badass.

I’d met him briefly during the brouhaha up in the mountains. And when I saw that mountain of muscle, thick dark hair and intelligent hazel eyes, I lamented there were no Rock Chicks left I could toss in his path. He looked like a man who could handle a Rock Chick. Even a man who needed one. The more fucked up her life, the better. And if there had been one left, it would be me causing mayhem in order for him to get one.

“Deck, hey,” I greeted as I stepped back with Ren and Jacob Decker stepped in.

His eyes went to the table, flowers, food and candlelight, then they skimmed through Ren and me.

“Interrupting. Apologies,” he murmured.

Ren slid an arm along my shoulders, moved us into the house and out of the entryway, and Deck followed.

What he didn’t do was accept Deck’s apology, though his moving us all in probably didn’t need words. I suspected Jacob Decker spoke macho alpha so he likely wasn’t offended.

“This won’t take long,” Deck assured as we settled in the living room and his eyes settled on me. “I’m cleanup in Carnal,” he announced.

I didn’t get it.

“Sorry?” I asked.

“The situation in Carnal. I’m batting cleanup,” Deck said the same thing with more words.

Therefore, I still didn’t get it.

“Uh… those dudes buried Faye to force Chace to get the dirt other dudes were holding on them. My crew got that dirt. We turned it over. They have it. No cleanup necessary.”

“You did do that. You also turned over enough to the cops they took down two of those guys,” Deck replied.

I did do that. Or Brody, Darius and I did that.

I shrugged.

“Them’s the breaks,” I stated blithely. “Anyway, added deterrent to the others not to fuck up. It should all be good.”

Ren got closer and his arm got tighter when Deck’s face went way scary.

“You don’t understand me,” he said on a growl. “Nothing is good. My boy’s woman got buried alive. I’m cleanup in that situation in Carnal.”

I finally got it.

Those dudes were not going to get away with burying Faye alive.

I was down with that. Those shitheads deserved whatever this mountain of man had in store.

And anyway, that meant I could tick one thing off my watch list.

I didn’t speak macho alpha, therefore could not communicate telepathically, via chin lifts or through actions to other macho alphas, so I felt it prudent to agree verbally. I did this by mumbling, “Okeydokey.”

“You got anything that will help me do that in a timely manner,” he stated, “It’d be appreciated you turn that over to me.”

“What we have, you’ll have by tomorrow,” I told him, adding a call to Brody on my to-do list for the next day.

He nodded, reached in his back pocket, pulled out a wallet and then a card that he handed to me.

“Email,” he said.

It was my turn to nod as I shoved his card in my back pocket.

Deck looked at Ren. “No blowback.”

Why he told this to Ren, I did not know, but I suspected it was because I had a vagina.

I decided not to throw a hissy fit and I did this for two reasons. One, a hissy fit took time and I wanted to finish dinner, drink more champagne, eat my chocolate candle then do three, one, two (and maybe four) with Ren. Two, Jacob Decker could break me in half and he seemed to be fired up to accomplish his mission, so I didn’t feel it was wise to waste his time which might make him testy.

“Grateful,” Ren murmured.

I fought an eye roll.

“I’ll leave you to dinner,” Deck said.

He nodded to me, gave a macho badass chin jerk to Ren then disappeared through the door.

Ren let me go to walk to it and turn the locks.

He claimed me again and guided us back to the table.

Once there, after refreshing our champagne, he shared, “Jacob Decker. Qualifies for Mensa. Occupation, hazy. Reputation, not a guy you fuck with.”

I stared at Ren. “You checked him out?”

“I checked out everyone close to Faye Goodknight and Chace Keaton.”

I kept staring at Ren. “When did you have a chance to do this?”

“When I texted Dom to get his ass on it about five minutes after Keaton shook my hand and said, ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Chace Keaton,’ which was about two seconds before I laid into you.”

I continued staring at Ren. “Okay, why’d you do this?”

“Because you got your ass on radar for that guy and his woman, and since your ass is my ass, I protect that ass, both proactively and retrospectively. I do that by gathering any and all information on anyone who might be involved, even unintentionally, in threatening that ass.” He looked back to his plate, muttering, “Though I prefer proactively or not having to do it at all.”

I didn’t know what to do with this. It wasn’t a surprise, really. It also wasn’t an invasion, exactly.

Before I could make a decision about what to do with it, Ren swallowed a bite and kept talking.

“One good thing, you with me, all that shit is over.”

Uh-oh.

He reached for his glass, but before he took a sip, he looked at me and stated, “And Decker’s visit means that shit’ll be shut down. His occupation may be hazy, but his reputation also says he gets a job done.” He took a sip, put his glass back and finished, “Finally something good happened today. A line drawn under that mess. And if you got any other shit goin’ on, you work with Tucker and Dunne to finish it, then you’re free to find a real job and settle in with me.”

Oh man.

He picked up his fork.

“Uh… Zano,” I called.

“Yeah, honey?” he answered his chicken.

Shit.

I stared at his profile, his square jaw, the line of his full lips, the spikes of his thick eyelashes. Then my eyes slid through the food, the champagne bucket, the flowers, the candles.

I took this all in, but my head was filled with promises of three, one, two (with the possible inclusion of four) and the way it felt when he drew my pendant in his mouth that morning.

Then I decided we’d both had enough for the day and tomorrow would be a better time to explain to Ren about the “real job” I was finding.

So, I scooped up some peanuts and mumbled, “Nothing.”

Crap!

Darius stared at me.

“Well?” I prompted.

We were sitting in his truck outside Fortnum’s the morning after Chinese with Ren (and, by the way, after chocolate candles, we did four along with one, as well as three and two; it was righteous).

I’d just told Darius my future career path.

“You got instincts I haven’t seen except in men trained and experienced or earned on the streets,” Darius stated.

Well that was good.

“I still don’t like it,” he finished.

Hmm.

“It would mean a lot if I had your support,” I said quietly.

He shook his head but said, “You have my support, Ally. I know you enough to know no one’s gonna be able to talk you out of it, but that isn’t it. Seen it time and again, takin’ your back, you got your shit tight. But your girls are nuts. The reason I don’t like it is because those women don’t have their shit tight.”

“They won’t have anything to do with this,” I assured him.

“How you gonna manage that miracle?” he asked.

“I explained it to Indy, she gets me. They will too.”

He shook his head again and looked forward. He also looked reflective. And lastly, he didn’t say anything.

“Darius,” I called, and his head again turned to me.

“You need to get licensed, and for that you need bona fide investigative hours. And the way to get them is workin’ with Lee,” he announced.

I blinked at him, something funny, but by no means bad, moving through me.

Before I could pinpoint what that feeling was, he kept talking.

“And no way your brother is gonna take you under his wing. He’s been on my ass now for months to find a way to shut you down. He doesn’t give a shit you close cases, you’re trained, you shoot, you run, and you take this shit seriously. He knows the dangers and he wants you nowhere near that. Your dad and Hank agree.”

“Maybe I can convince them,” I suggested, but when Darius’s expression turned from pensive to dubious, I tried something else. “Maybe I can work my next case with one of the Hot Bunch and whoever that is can vouch for me.”

“You’re workin’ your cases with Brody and me and that hasn’t worked. Brody thinks you’re the shit, Ally. And he’s shared that with Lee. Repeatedly. Lee isn’t swayed.”

Okay, as annoying as Brody could be, at Darius’s words, I remembered why I loved him.

“Then I’ll work with another investigator,” I proposed.

“Sylvie Bissenette,” Darius said immediately.

I knew of Sylvie. I’d never met her, but she was a private investigator in town who had a reputation, a good one.

And this idea was a good one, too. Badass bitches take on Denver.

I liked it.

“She had a partner,” Darius went on. “He re-enlisted, died overseas. That means she’s used to workin’ with somebody. But Lee also contracts with her occasionally, so she might not be big on takin’ you on if that makes things shaky with Lee.”

God.

Lee.

Every time I turned around it came back to Lee standing right in my way. And he was my brother. I loved him, respected him, admired him. I needed to finesse that, not try to find my way to blow through it.

“That said,” Darius carried on, “she’s a chick in the business and knows it isn’t easy breaking through. She might be down with workin’ with you because of that.”

A ray of light.

“Uh, dude,” I started, “there is another way.”

“That would be?” he asked.

“You’re in the biz, so you could vouch for me with the Licensing Board.”

That expression I did not like crossed his face before he hid it and replied, “Ally, I’m not licensed, and I’m not gonna be. Workin’ with Lee, I don’t gotta be. But still, it isn’t going to happen.”

I didn’t get this.

Sure, he had a rap sheet, but as many times as he got arrested, nothing ever stuck. He’d never done time.

And it wasn’t like he was the only human being who did wrong and turned his life around.

I wasn’t certain how the Colorado Licensing Bureau felt about it, but he’d been working under Lee now for over a year. He was on the crime-free wagon and hadn’t once even teetered, much less fallen off.

I could tell by his face that this wasn’t the time he was going to share, and I wondered if there would be a time he would do that voluntarily.

I suspected there would not.

So that meant it was soon going to be my time to get out the tequila and have a sit down with my brother of another color. He lived. He breathed. He worked. He even smiled and sometimes laughed.

But something about him made me feel he was on hold. Waiting.

For what, I didn’t know.

But it was becoming clear it was time I did what I could so Darius Tucker would stop existing on pause and hit play.