Rock Chick Reckoning (Rock Chick #6)(103)

“Life goes on, sugar,” Daisy returned on a shrug. “I cal ed him last night. He had to leave town after your last gig. He’s comin’ back to Denver, gonna be at your gig on Thursday.

He wants a meet then. I suggested we do it beforehand, seein’ as most of the times you get kidnapped or shot at or jump audience members is after the gig. When I explained this to him, he agreed.”

I decided to ignore Daisy reminding Dixon Jones about the mayhem in my life considering he’d witnessed most of it and even if it wasn’t hard to forget, it’d been in the papers.

I was saved from having to retort when the door opened and Shirleen stormed in.

The girls weren’t wrong, she was fine but she was pissed.

“Who’s gonna pay for my couch, hunh?” She was yel ing at a man who was walking behind her. He had light brown hair, the cut expensive, and he was wearing a suit which also looked expensive. He was tal -ish and slight but stil fit maybe late thirties, early forties. His face was tight and, if anything, he looked even angrier than Shirleen. “Who’s gonna pay for therapy for Roam and Sniff?” she demanded.

Roam and Sniff, her teenaged foster kids, fol owed her in. Roam was a handsome, tal , gangly black kid, the gangly part beginning to fil out wel . Sniff was a smal , skinny white kid whose acne was healing and who was hilarious.

Something I’d learned during their first guitar lesson yesterday evening.

Neither of them looked like they were in need of therapy.

“Hey, Stel a,” Sniff cal ed, his face forming a goofy grin as he waved at me.

Roam gave me a chin lift, his eyes shifted to Jules and he muttered, “Hey, Law.”

Jules got up to greet the boys as the room fil ed with the Hot Bunch (al of them, every last one), Tex and Duke.

Body language, incidental y, screamed unhappy.

I looked at Mace but he didn’t look at me. I knew this was an act for the benefit of the Rock Chicks but it stil sucked.

The brown-headed man stopped and his eyes pinned Shirleen. “I’m glad you reminded me. Why don’t we talk about those boys, Miz Jackson? Tel me again how you, of al people, became a foster parent?”

I didn’t even know the guy and I knew that not only was he angry, what he’d just asked was not so vaguely threatening. I knew this because the air in the room went heavy.

“The boys were in my caseload at the Shelter,” Jules said to the man. “I did the background checks on Shirleen.” The man turned to Jules. “Your dedication is impressive, Mrs. Crowe, considering you were in Intensive Care when these two were placed with Miz Jackson.”

Uh-oh.

My eyes moved back to Mace. He had his arms crossed on his chest and his feet planted wide. He also had a look on his face that said, if this guy didn’t stop being such a jerk, Mace was going to rip his head off.

“That’s enough, George,” Hank said quietly.

“Yeah, Nightingale, it’s enough,” George replied, voice stil angry. “I’ve had nothing but shit from you and your men al f**kin’ morning.”

Hank’s eyes narrowed and I took back my earlier thought that he was less intense and more laidback then the rest of the men. At that moment, he was even scarier than his brother.

“We went through three boxes yesterday morning, George,” Hank clipped. “Not to mention, six days ago, there were four drive-bys and Stel a f**kin’ got shot.”

“That wasn’t reported,” George shot back.

When Hank spoke again, his voice was vibrating, he was so angry. “It sure as f**k was. Mace and Luke made statements and we had three squads on the scene while the incident took place. Furthermore, we got five hundred witnesses to rifle fire at a f**kin’ club on Friday night.”

“None of that was linked to Carter,” George returned.

“For f**k’s sake, George,” Eddie exploded. “Lee got the cal before the drive-bys!”

“Hearsay,” George replied.

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me,” Vance snapped.

George’s gaze swung to Lee. “You get the cal on tape?” Lee’s eyes were on George and I changed my mind again. Perhaps he did scare me more than Hank.

Not taking his eyes off George, Lee said low, “Hank…” and I got it immediately that if Hank did not handle this George guy, Lee would and it might get messy.

But Hank was already talking and he wasn’t paying attention to Lee, his eyes were also on George.

“We’re done,” he said.

George turned back to Hank. “I’m tel in’ you Nightingale

–”

Hank interrupted him.

“A week ago, the windows of my house were blown out by an AK-47, my fiancée in the house at the time,” Hank snapped. “And I’ve known Shirleen since I was ten f**kin’

years old. She’s family. And someone broke into her house this morning and dril ed three rounds into the wal of her livin’ room but they were aimin’ at her. ” George had the grace to look a might uncomfortable but stil hanging onto stubborn and angry as he glared at Hank.

Thus began a tense staring contest that went on until Hank broke it.

Hank broke it.

“Done,” he repeated then without another word he walked out of the room.

Al the men (and women) stared at George.