Kristen Ashley - Rock Chick Revolution

We were.

I looked into his eyes and wondered how on earth we were working.

Then it hit me I shouldn’t think on that too much. We were. That was all that mattered.

“I suppose I should thank you for giving up your six figure part of a criminal empire for me,” I said somewhat ungraciously.

This made him smile and pull me closer as his eyes dropped to my mouth and his lips murmured, “You’re welcome, honey.”

“Now, I need to go out and run off my French toast,” I informed him.

His eyes came back to mine just as his lips hit mine and he replied, “Oh, we’ll work it off.”

A shiver slid over my skin and my happy place got happy.

His head slanted, his lips pressed to mine and his tongue slid inside.

We then proceeded to work off the French toast and the sausages.

I wasn’t sure what we did would help me stay in shape should I have to outrun bad guys.

But it was a whole lot better than running.

“You good?” Ren asked, and I looked from my place in the passenger seat to him behind the wheel of his Jag.

“I’m good,” I answered. “You good?”

He grabbed my hand, gave it a squeeze and rested it on his thigh. “I’m good.”

I looked out the windshield.

Even though we were heading to have dinner with Mom and Dad, I was good.

This mostly had to do with the fact that Ren instigated Operation Two Year Fuck-a-Thon today. Ren got out of bed to make us these awesome toasted roast beef sandwiches with peppers, mushrooms and melted cheese for lunch, and we both got out of bed about an hour and a half ago to take a shower. The rest of the time was in bed making love or holding close, touching and whispering, or snoozing to prepare for more making love.

It was righteous.

So since we had no fights or breakups and nothing exploded, but I’d had seven orgasms, I was all set for dinner with my man and my parents.

“Date night tomorrow night, baby,” Ren said on another hand squeeze, and I looked at him.

“Okay, but I have a meeting at Lee’s office to discuss my future career plans tomorrow evening, so we’ll have to go after that.”

“What the fuck?” he asked, eyes narrowing on the road.

“It’ll be cool,” I assured him. “I’ll talk them around but if I—”

“No, babe,” he bit out. “What the fuck?”

I looked forward.

My parents lived in Bonnie Brae, which was just off the very popular ‘hood where I lived, Washington Park. Wash Park surrounded a massive park-slash-hotspot that even in the winter was teeming with activity. It was practically impossible to find a parking spot in Wash Park. Bonnie Brae, unless you were close to Bonnie Brae Tavern, didn’t have the same problem.

But lining the curbs outside Mom and Dad’s house were not only Lee’s Crossfire and Hank’s 4Runner but also a shiny black Caddy, a semi-sporty Hyundai coupe, a Chevy SUV, a Honda Accord and a GMC Acadia.

“There’s a space in front of the Acadia, Zano,” I pointed out, and it was only two car lengths down from Mom and Dad’s, so I wasn’t certain what the big deal was. Still, maybe Ren was feeling nervous so I said, “Sorry that Lee and Hank are here, even though we didn’t know they were coming. But they’ll be cool. And all these cars mean one of the neighbors is having a little get-together.”

“One of your neighbors isn’t having a get-together, babe. The Acadia’s Dom’s. The Honda is Connie’s. The Chevy, Jeannie’s. Hyundai, Ma. And the Caddy belongs to Vito and Angela.”

I stared at the lineup of cars.

Holy shit!

Ambush!

“Are you serious?” I asked, sounding like I hoped to God he wasn’t, mostly because I hoped to God he wasn’t!

“Yes, unfortunately,” he answered, putting on the brakes to swing in in front of the Acadia, which would mean he intended to park.

“What are you doing?” I yelled.

He stopped the car and looked at me. “Parking.”

“Don’t park. Do not park. Drive on. I just got a really bad headache, period cramps and I think that French toast gave me food poisoning. I’ll text Mom. She’ll understand.”

Ren didn’t listen to me. He swung into the spot, and while looking over his shoulder to reverse closer to the bumper of the Acadia, he spoke to me. “Of all that, I really hope you’re kidding about the period cramps.”

Like I’d have sex during a bout of food poisoning.

“Zano!” I snapped.

He put the car in park and turned his attention to me.

“Is this my Ally, scared of nothing?” he asked, sounding slightly pissed, but also slightly teasing, and I knew the former was for his family, the latter for me.

Still, I gritted my teeth.

He reached out a hand and curled it around the side of my neck, and when he spoke again there was no more teasing. “Do you think your mom planned this?”

“Absolutely not,” I answered.

“So I mentioned to Dom at the wedding yesterday I was havin’ dinner with your folks tonight. Dom opened his mouth and Vito did what Vito does. He horned in,” he deduced.

“Probably.”

His voice was just pissed when he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll get rid of them.”

“Do that fast,” I ordered, then explained my eagerness for him to be rude, “See, Mom and Dad will be cool with you because I love you. I don’t love Vito and Angela, and Dad really doesn’t love at least Vito. So he’s probably in there, about to have an aneurysm because Mom won’t let him be mean to guests. Even surprise ones. Even ones who engage in criminal activities. And anyway, knowing what you mean to me, he definitely won’t want to be mean in front of your mom and sisters. The problem is, Mom likely instigated the Lee and Hank being here thing without telling us, which means Dad also doesn’t have the upper hand. So he’s screwed, and he won’t like that.”

To all that, Ren’s answer was simply, “Like I said, Ally. Don’t worry, I’ll get rid of them.”

He let me go and turned to his door, but a thought occurred to me, I grabbed his wrist and yanked.

He turned back to me.

“You can’t get rid of your mom and sisters, so you just have to get rid of Vito, Angela, Dom and Sissy.”

Something else occurred to me and I yanked again at his wrist.

“No. Not Sissy, because she’s a sister, so you can’t get rid of her, which means we’re stuck with Dom, too. Which also probably means were stuck with Vito. Shit!”

Ren twisted his wrist to grab my hand and hold it tight as he leaned into me, and I noticed his eyes studying me.

Intently.

“You’re freaked,” he whispered, and his voice sent a chill over my skin.

“I… well, a little bit,” I admitted.

“You’re totally freaked,” he stated.

His family was in there with my family, and some of his family engaged in criminal activities and my family was a cop family.

Not to mention, without warning, I was meeting his mother and sisters.

Of course I was freaked.

“Okay, maybe more than a little bit,” I allowed.

His eyes moved over my face in the waning sunlight, the air in the car got heavy then, again with the scary whisper, “My woman doesn’t get freaked.”

Uh-oh.

“Ren—”

“Let’s go,” he clipped.

Before I could say another word, he let me go, turned to his door and angled out.

I rushed to do the same thing. I barely got to the sidewalk before my hand was seized and Ren half walked with me, half dragged me toward my childhood home.

The dragging part had to do with the fact that I couldn’t keep up with his pace. I had on a pair of high-heeled bronze sandals that were awesome and went great with my new brown-washed jeans and kickass Stevie-Nicks-meets-Olivia-Newton-John batwing dusty blue top shot with bronze and silver that had a deep vee. But even the reminder that I had on great jeans, shoes and a kickass rock ‘n’ roll top didn’t unfreak me (as it usually would do).

We were at the base of the walk when the door opened and expelled Roxie and Indy.

Roxie had her hands up, palms down, pressing the air and she was calling out (but quietly), “Calm. Calm. It’s all going to be okay. We got out the leaves for the dining room table.”

This did not make me feel better, and not just because Mom didn’t have that many leaves.

Indy just lifted a hand and stated, “No worries. It’s under control.”

I couldn’t tell if Ren even looked at either one of them before he hauled us through them.

As for me, I had just enough time to give them a wide-eyed, warning-danger-is-imminent look they both totally understood before he tugged at my arm, pulling me in front of him. He did this while reaching beyond me to yank open the storm door, push open the front door then shove me in front of him.

I took two steps in, Ren one, and we were faced with a tense family room filled with people holding cocktails or bottles of beer; none of them, I noticed on a quick scan, having a good time.

Except Vito looked like Vito always looked. Expansive and happy.

Shit.

The Montagues and Capulets were never congregated in anyone’s living room. If they were, I had a feeling from the vibe in my parents’ house right then, Romeo and Juliet would be a much shorter play.

Crap.

“Malcolm and Kitty Sue,” Ren greeted my parents tersely with a chin jerk, and then his eyes immediately went to Vito. “Vito, a word outside.”

“Son, we’re havin’ a drink,” Vito returned, lifting up what looked like a Manhattan.

“A,” Ren started, his voice on that one syllable rumbling and another chill ran over my skin, “word.”

Vito and Ren went into a staredown.

Indy and Roxie squeezed in through the limited space Ren left at the door, but they didn’t move in much further, just because movement in that kind of volatile environment could mean bad things.

I held my breath.

Surprisingly, Ren won the staredown when Vito turned to Mom and Dad and said, “Mal, Kitty Sue, my nephew needs a word.”

Mal?

Oh God.

Dad’s lips got tight.

Oh shit.

Mom murmured, “Of course.”

Dad just looked between Ren and Vito and nodded.

Vito moved toward the door.

Ren moved us out of his way and looked at Dom. “You too.”

Dom, incidentally a man with looks that could make him Ren’s brother, not cousin (except he had wave in his hair and his confidence had swagger), was playing it smart for once. I knew this when he immediately made his way toward the door.

They disappeared behind it.

Mom spoke. “Ally, honey, I had another pork tenderloin that I just popped in the oven, and you know I always have backup Pillsbury crescent rolls. It’s okay.”

Pillsbury crescent rolls could be served at peace talks to put the negotiators in good moods. However, I was thinking their magic wouldn’t work here.

I looked at Mom and told her, “He’s a hotheaded Italian American badass. I think he needs to do what he needs to do.”

“He needs to do what he needs to do,” an attractive, petite, stylish woman who was sitting on one of my mom and dad’s couches confirmed.

She rose.

I took in Ren’s mother, then his two sisters who had been flanking her on the couch.

His sisters looked like female versions of Ren, long, lean and attractive.

His mother had silver hair, lots of it, and it was fashioned in a becoming style that curled in at her shoulders. She also had fabulous cheekbones and exotic features that had not dimmed with age. Looking at her, it came semi-clear why Ren’s dad didn’t share with this woman that he was what he was. Because she was currently a knockout; erase thirty-five years, she would be breathtaking. So even with just her looks, a man would do a lot to keep hold of that.

But I knew she was much more than just beautiful. Therefore Ren’s dad likely would do anything.

And he did.

She stopped in front of me and offered her hand. “You must be Ally.”

I took her hand and held it. “Yes. And you’re Mrs. Zano.”

“Amalea,” she corrected on a hand squeeze.

“Amalea,” I repeated on my own hand squeeze.

“As I told your mother,” she went on. “I was under the impression we were invited.”

Vito.

Jeez.

“I’m really sorry for the misunderstanding,” I replied.