Rock Chick Redemption (Rock Chick #3)(95)

“Check.”

“Out,” Luke said.

I heard the disconnect.

I stared at the phone.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“My assignment is you, not them,” Luke explained.

“But –”

“Lee’l take care of it.”

“But –”

He switched gears and put the Explorer on the road.

“Quiet.”

“But, my friend Annette is in there.”

“I thought her man was with her.”

“Yes, but Jason can’t lay out a guy like you!” I yel ed, getting panicked. “We have to go back.”

“We’re not going back.”

“We have to go back.”

No answer.

“Jason’s a pacifist. He’s a liberal. He’s a vegetarian. In a normal situation, Jason could handle himself but that wasn’t a normal situation. You’re, like, Superman. You have great facial hair. No one’l mess with you. We have to go back!”

“Babe?”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

We stopped at a light and I pul ed my phone out of my purse and cal ed Annette.

“Yo Bitch!” she answered.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah! Chaos! It’s f**kin’ cool. They like, love Lottie.

She’s doin’ an early encore. I can’t wait. Wasn’t it the shit?

Lottie told me Daisy showed her al of her moves. They’re gonna teach me.”

“Are Indy, Jet and Al y okay?”

“Wel … yeah. We’re al drinking champagne in the dressing room. Tod and Stevie left, not real y their gig.

Jason just got in. He got Jet’s mom and the old lady to the car. We’re groovin’.”

I closed my eyes with relief, then opened them again.

“I’l talk to you tomorrow,” I said.

“Later.”

Disconnect.

“They’re fine. They’re drinking champagne in the dressing room,” I told Luke.

No answer.

“It sounds like everything’s cool. Maybe you overreacted.”

Stil no answer.

I was beginning to feel like I was missing out. Al my friends were stil back there, drinking champagne and I was heading home. I wanted to drink champagne or, at least, have another appletini. Anyway, I liked Shirleen. She was hilarious.

So I said, “Maybe it’s okay. Maybe we should go back and drink champagne. Lottie is going to dance again and I’d like to see it. I’m sure it’s safe.”

That’s when I saw two squad cars, lights flashing, sirens whirring, speeding toward Smithie’s.

I watched them fly by us and kept turned in my seat, looking out the back window, hoping they’d also fly by Smithie’s.

They turned in.

Luke pul ed forward through the now green light and, half a block up, he slowed to let another squad car take a left onto our road and it flew by us too.

“Shit,” I muttered.

“You were sayin’?”

Jeez.

* * * * *

I let us into Hank’s and Luke made me stand at the door while he checked the house. Once he was done, we flipped on a bunch of lights and he took me to the backdoor where he let out Shamus. We stood together silently at the backdoor while Shamus did his business and then moseyed back into the house. Luke closed and locked the door and turned to me. Shit.

Alone with Luke.

“You want coffee?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered.

We walked back to the kitchen and I ground the beans and made a pot of coffee.

I had no idea how long Hank was going to be and Luke was obviously staying until Hank got home. It might be a long night. We’d need a lot of coffee.

When it was set to brewing, I turned to Luke and he was leaning with h*ps against the counter, arms crossed on his chest, watching me with his eyes half-mast.

Shit.

I decided to start an unsexy conversation.

“Where were you shot?” I asked.

“Gut,” he answered.

Holy cow.

Even I knew a stomach wound was serious business.

“Are you okay now?”

“You already asked me that.”

He was right, I had.

I found myself getting angry. I don’t know why.

“Wel that just sucks!” I snapped. “They get the guy who shot you?”

“Yeah.”

“Good!” Then I found myself getting mother hen. “You should wear protective stuff, like one of those vests. You should probably be wearing one now. Who knows what could happen in your line of business. It should be standard issue.”

“I was wearin’ a vest. They were armor-piercing bul ets.” I gaped at him.

“Aren’t those il egal?”

“It wasn’t exactly a law-abidin’ citizen who shot me.” After he said that, his eyes dropped to my legs and I realized Shamus was sitting on my feet and I was absently stroking his head.

“The dog’s claimed you,” Luke said.

“He’s a friendly dog, he likes everyone,” I told him.

“He isn’t sittin’ on my feet.”