Rock Chick Renegade (Rock Chick #4)(41)

“Yeah?” he asked.

I nodded. That was it. The extent of my conversation.

“What are you doin’ this birthday?” Vance asked.

I was so nervous without thinking I blurted, “Going for drinks with Heavy and Zip.”

It was his turn to stare at me and he did so as if I’d just announced I was going to hula dance on the moon.

“Heavy and Zip,” he said.

Damn. Not good.

“They’re –” I started, thinking fast for a lie. I didn’t figure there were dozens of men in Denver nicknamed Heavy and Zip but I was going to make two of them up, no doubt about it.

“A retired PI and a gun shop owner. I know who they are. Jesus, Jules,” Vance shook his head.

Too late for the lie.

“They’re my friends,” I said.

“They’re in on this with you.”

“They know what they’re doing,” I told him.

“Yeah, Heavy knew what he was doing about five years ago when he should have retired. Instead he retired last year when he was well passed it. Zip’s just a lunatic,” Vance said.

I felt my blood pressure rise. “Zip is not a lunatic. He’s a good shot.”

“It all comes out,” Vance muttered.

“And Heavy used to be a cop before he was a PI. He still has friends on the Force and his ear to the ground. Not to mention, he was a semi-pro boxer.”

“And his wife was a speed freak and he couldn’t get her clean so he scraped her off to save himself even though he didn’t want to and it f**ked with his head. Now he’s using you to exact vengeance.”

Wow. I didn’t know that.

I didn’t let Vance in on the fact that this was a revelation.

“That isn’t true.”

“Which part? Her bein’ a speed freak or you bein’ his instrument?”

I turned my body to him and my eyes narrowed. “Me being his instrument.”

Vance’s head went around and he watched the waiter putting down our shrimp bowl. Then without a word to the waiter, he turned back to me when the waiter moved to leave.

“Jules –”

“Vance, we’re not talking about this,” I warned.

“We are. You want to get serious, you come into the office. Mace or Luke will work with you.”

That was not going to happen. “I’m fine with Zip, Heavy and Frank,” I said, not wanting to work with Mace and Luke mainly because they’d kick my ass.

I looked at Vance and saw his expression had changed from just disbelief to disbelief mingled with anger.

“Frank?” he said low.

Whoops.

“Um…” I stalled.

“Please tell me you are not working with Frank Muñoz.”

“He’s a good guy,” I defended Frank.

“He makes Zip look adjusted.”

“Okay,” I gave in a smidge, “so he’s a little intense.”

“A little? He has stockpiles of arms, water and canned goods in his basement.”

“He does?” I asked.

Vance nodded.

See? I knew Frank was thinking about destroying the world.

Damn.

“From now on, you’re workin’ with Mace and Luke,” Vance stated as if that was that, moving away from me and leaning back as our drinks arrived.

“I’m not. I’m fine where I am.”

“Are you ready to order?” the waiter asked.

I looked down at my menu which I hadn’t even opened.

“No,” Vance said shortly.

“Thank you,” I finished for Vance.

The waiter moved away.

Vance turned to me again and got even closer than last time. “Jules, Zip’s son OD’ed in the eighties. Heavy’s wife was a speed freak. They’re out for revenge and using you to get it. Frank is just a nutcase.”

I didn’t know Zip’s son OD’ed either. I hated it that Vance knew more than me.

“Crowe –” I started.

“You keep this up you need to work with people who have their heads in the game.”

“Like Mace and Luke aren’t their own kind of crazy,” I said.

His eyes flashed.

Yikes. Again, not good. I’d definitely said the wrong thing.

“Mace and Luke know their shit, understand their limits and play to their strengths. They do what they do because they’re good at it. They could teach you a few things.”

I was sure they could. Still.

I looked away, picked up my menu and started to read it like it was the most fascinating novel ever written, nonverbally making the point that our discussion was over.

Vance pulled the menu out of my hands and tossed it on the table, nonverbally making the point that our discussion was not over.

“I was reading that,” I protested.

“In a minute.”

“Now. The sooner we order, the sooner this date is over, the sooner we’re over.”

At my words I watched, fascinated in a kind of passing-a-car-accident way as he leaned in and his eyes went hard. If I thought I’d made him angry earlier with my (admittedly stupid) comment about his friends, I’d thoroughly made him angry now.

“We’re not over because of an idiotic fight.”