“What’s up?” I asked when we stopped.

“The motherfucker Roam clocked?” Darius asked back.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“Name’s Cyrus Gibbons. Got his own strip club in Lincoln closed down ‘cause he forced his girls to do lap dances that went the extra mile. Did six months.”

Shit.

Not.

Good.

“Don’t know his connection with Steiner,” Darius went on. “Do know he moved from Nebraska to Colorado about four months ago, which was when he got out. Not sure, though, if his PO received his change of address form.”

“PO” was “Probation Officer” and they tended to frown on ex-cons going over state lines.

I didn’t mention that to Darius since he already knew.

I noted, “Which is about a month before Steiner got the job here.”

“Which gave him plenty of time to assess the talent and decide on his mark,” Darius added. “Had a sit down with Brody. Lee already tore him off the book thing to do other jobs. Told him shit here was bad and he needed to find time to get on Steiner and Gibbons. He’ll have something tomorrow.”

“We need to know who else is involved,” I said. “But, just saying, the guy’s in the bar, lording over it like his name’s on the deed.”

“Copy that, also saw him go in,” Darius replied then told me, “Dude’s packin’.”

I stared at him a beat before asking, “He’s carrying concealed at a strip joint?”

Darius nodded.

“Fuck,” I whispered, then stated, “His waitress is scared shitless of him. And he got a lap dance from JoJo and she came out looking freaked.”

“Steiner makes the pickups, Gibbons provides the threat,” he deduced.

“But what’s the threat?” I asked. “Any of those girls knows they say one word to Smithie, he’ll sort this whole thing.”

Darius shook his head. “No clue. We need to be all over those guys. Told Shirleen I want Roam and Sniff off this shit. Bobby and I are gonna look into it.”

“Good,” I murmured. “Tell him to keep track of his hours and we’ll sort something through Daisy with Smithie.”

“Got it,” Darius replied and his eyes grew intent. I was doing my all not to react to what I’d learned about him that day and keep my mouth shut about it until I could figure out what I was going to do when he said, “Guy’s got a weapon, you be smart in there.”

I nodded. “Always.”

“I’m eyes out here. Don’t like you in there without backup, but if one of the boys shows, they’ll wonder why they’re there when their boss’s sister is strippin’.”

“Ren’s coming later,” I told him and grinned. “And then there’s me.”

Darius looked relieved, but I would find it was not about the me taking care of me part. “This guy’s even a little clued into the players in Denver, he’ll have heard of Zano. If he knows you’re his woman, he’ll be smart.”

Shit.

“That might mean he knows about me,” I remarked.

“He’s gotta be pretty clued in to the game here to know you, Ally. You do good, and one of the ways you do good is you keep your head down. Your jobs have got around, but to players like Lee, not guys like him.”

“My apartment just exploded, Darius,” I reminded him. “That kind of thing gets a lot of attention. And my brother is a cop, the other one a PI.”

“Hold your cover and ride it, Ally. Bobby’s on board, Brody doin’ his gig, it’ll be done soon.”

That I could believe.

I nodded. “Gotta get back in there. Tell Bobby thanks from me.”

“Will do,” he murmured, moving to the door.

After he grabbed the brick and was holding it open for me, I looked him in the eyes. “Thank you too, honey.”

“Jeez, got yourself a man, you’re gettin’ soft.”

My back went straight. “Am not.”

“Gushy.”

“I’m just expressing gratitude,” I pointed out.

“Expressed. Now get your ass in there so no one wonders where the fuck you are,” he returned.

“Bossy badass,” I muttered, moving through the door.

“Ally?” he called and I turned back. “You’re bein’ a soft, gushy chick. But you’re also welcome.”

I watched him grin huge.

Then I watched the door close.

And then I thought about how Liam Edward Clark was missing out.

Huge.

I shook off this thought and went to the dancers’ dressing room. I bided my time, shooting the shit with Lottie until the opportunity came about five minutes before I went on again. I gave Lottie a look, she took off mumbling about needing the bathroom and I moved to JoJo, who’d come in for a break and stripper makeup refresh (a hefty undertaking, trust me).

I moved to her, and without a lot of time before I was due onstage, I had to get my message across and fast.

So I stood behind her and looked in her eyes in the mirror. “Hey.”

“Hey, Ally,” she replied on a smile that wasn’t quite real. But she tried, I could see. “You’re killing. After that big thing last night, the girls and me watched your next dance. You rock.”

“Thanks, babe,” I replied.

“You gotta show me how to do that pole flip,” she said.

“How’s tomorrow before shift change?” I asked.

“Works for me,” she went back to her blusher. “Tips went wild after you and Lottie left the stage.” Another smile to me, this one making the back of my neck prickle because it was melancholy. Possibly because she just handed her tips to Gibbons, or knew she’d be handing them to Steiner. “Thanks for that.”

“No probs,” I replied.

She again turned her attention to her blusher.

“JoJo?” I called. Her eyes came to mine in the mirror, her brows went up and my voice dropped low. “No matter what it is, you put your faith in the right person, they can move in and work it out. You with me?”

She was with me. She’d frozen and looked utterly freaked.

“Just take that in,” I whispered. “You don’t have to do anything. Just take it in. Yeah?”

She nodded slowly.

I smiled at her and moved away, hoping she’d more than take it in.

Then I moved into the hall because it was time to strip.

* * *

The rendezvous point for our late, late night activities was Tex’s house.

After finishing my last set, Ren followed me home so we could drop his Jag. We were taking my car, because in Tex’s ‘hood where tweakers were abundant, Jags were like shining beacons calling all to commit mayhem.

When he came to my ‘stang, he opened my door and leaned in. It was then I saw the look in his eyes, which meant I was hoping this business would be done, and quick, so we could get back home and fuck each other’s brains out.

In other words, one could just say that Ren liked to watch me take my clothes off while dancing. He might prefer it if I was a private dancer, but he still liked getting it as it came.

However, once positioned in my door, he proceeded to boss me with, “Get out, babe. I’m drivin’.”

My reply was, “It’s my car, Ren.”

Which got me a, “Yeah. I know. And I’m drivin’ it.”

Thus commenced a Rock Chick/Macho Badass exchange of words that got mildly heated and lasted ten minutes before Ren leaned further in, undid my seatbelt, hauled me to my feet, shoved me against the car and laid a hot and heavy one on me.

While I was recovering, he pushed me aside, folded behind the wheel and didn’t delay in adjusting the seat.

I allowed myself five seconds to fume. Then, as I couldn’t execute the same maneuver, I stomped to my side and angled in.

But once in, I declared immediately, “That lost you head for a week.”

“Bullshit, baby. I get you breathy and tell you I want your mouth, you’ll suck my cock deep so fast I won’t be able to blink.”

His words made me want to go down on him right there.

I didn’t give indication of that.

I buckled in saying, “We’ll see.”

“Yeah, this is done, we will.”

That sounded like a promise.

Hmm.

Ren drove to Tex’s. I grabbed my little pepper spray and stun gun out of the glove compartment before I got out. Shoving my stun gun in the back waistband of my jeans and my pepper spray in my front pocket, I stormed the rest of my pique off by stomping up to the door, Ren following me.

Tex opened it before we got there and ordered, “Keep it quiet inside. Nance’s sleepin’.”

She would be. It was three thirty in the morning.

We would also know to do this since Tex now had an official ball and chain and if she wasn’t flitting around serving coffee, we’d know to keep it down.

I understood why he gave us this warning when I walked in and noticed several things right off the bat.

One, Tex seemed to have twice as many cats as usual, and since he had about fifteen of them the last time I was there, this was a lot.

Two, Hector was there, as expected.

Three, Mace was there, as was not expected.

And four, The Kevster and fucking Rosie were there, as was insane.

“What the…!” I started on a shout. Tex cut his eyes to me and I brought it down about ten notches, “Hell?”

Rosie, looking like Rosie—that was to say a less kempt Kurt Cobain (except, obviously, alive)—jumped up from Tex’s couch and said (on a whisper), “The Kevster went to get some stuff from Kumar, Kumar told him what was goin’ down tonight. He told me and I came to help. It’s my way of sayin’ sorry.”

I glared at Kevin then I transferred my glare to Tex. “Why didn’t you kick them out?” I demanded to know.

“Did I not mention Nancy’s sleepin’?” he asked back on a low boom.

Crap.

I moved my glare to Rosie. “Daily deliveries of flowers for a year, replacement of my Firefly DVDs, and twenty-five rock ‘n’ roll t-shirts say I’m sorry, Rosie. You showing up prior to a mission does not.” I looked back at The Kevster. “And you know better.”

“Dudette,” he replied then said no more.

Then again, often for The Kevster, that was all he had to say.

I stared at The Kevster, who had a ginger cat in his lap he was stroking, a tuxedo kitty snoozing at his side, and a tiger cat on the floor by his leg, batting at the ragged hem of his jeans, and I sucked in breath.

“Two potheads and bring your boyfriend to work day. This isn’t startin’ great,” Mace noted, and I looked at him.

“And what are you doing here?” I asked.

“Not convinced about you. Here to get convinced,” he stated then uncrossed an arm that was crossed on his chest and swung it out before finishing, “Though, gotta say, this shit isn’t convincing me.”

It was nice he was considering backing my play. It was better he was there to help.

He was still annoying me.

“I’ve been here a minute and Ren can take care of himself, which I suspect you know. So keep your pants on, I’ll deal with shit and we’ll move out,” I returned.

“Right,” he replied, still obviously unconvinced.

I didn’t have time to chat with Mace. I had tweaker robbers to locate, a fight with my man to finish, then I wanted sex. Though, I could combine the last two. Angry sex worked for Ren and me, seeing as we mostly existed on that for a year.

I turned back to Rosie and The Kevster and ordered, “Go home.”

Rosie felt like being obstinate, unfortunately.

 “No. We’re gonna help. A tweaker will open a door to one of us way faster than they’d open one to one of you.” He, too, threw out an arm to indicate the crew. “We can go in, get the lay of the land, give the high sign.”

I stared at him and saw what I didn’t want to see.

That was to say, it was clear Rosie brought some of his primo pot from New Mexico for personal use.

He was lit. Which meant he’d fired up very recently.

“And bad shit goes down, you’re high, you think you can handle it?” I asked. Then went on, “And seriously, smoking a doobie at Tex’s? What’s the matter with you?”

“We smoked it in the car before we came in,” Kevin offered.

“Brilliant,” I snapped.

“Ally—” Rosie cut in, but I moved and did it quick.

Getting in his space and face, I stated, “You are not helping. All you’re doing is wasting time and pissing me off. Go home. Now.”

“But—”

“Now,” I bit out.

“I feel bad,” he said.

Seriously?

“You should,” I shot back. “I lost everything because you’re an idiot. But pissing me off isn’t the way to make it up to me. Now, we’re done. Go.” Since I was done too, I turned from him to look at Tex and asked, “You got a list of houses?”