Rock Chick Renegade (Rock Chick #4)(56)

“What was wrong with him?” she whispered as we stood in the small soundproof antechamber, putting on glasses and wrapping ear protectors around our necks.

“Nothing. He just gets a bit… overprotective,” I explained. “What’d Lee say?”

She scrunched her nose. “Lee said that you go to the meet with Vance.”

“God dammit,” I muttered. I was worried those boys would stick together.

“I tried to get it out of him. I even offered na**d gratitude. But he didn’t bite,” Indy told me.

“Naked gratitude?” I smiled at her.

She linked her arm in mine and turned us to face the door to the range. “Why do you think I know everything? Naked gratitude. Works every time.” She winked at me. Then she said, “Well, nearly every time.”

I was still smiling at her.

We put our ear protectors over our ears and stepped inside the range.

* * * * *

With the target twenty-five yards away, I had both my arms up, gun in hand, the side of my right hand above my wrist held in my left hand, arms slightly bent to absorb the impact of the recoil, my head tilted to the gun’s sight; I emptied a clip in the target.

Seventeen rounds, head for three, then chest for three, and back again until the clip was spent. I dropped my gun, squinted at the target, saw that I didn’t do too badly even with my arms aching and Indy came up close to my back, super close, weird close.

Yikes.

I started to turn to tell her to back off but it wasn’t Indy.

It was Vance.

Before I could react, he reached low, grabbed my wrist with one hand and twisted the gun out of my grip with his other.

Oh crap.

I stared at Vance’s angry face for a beat then my eyes slid to the side.

Indy was sitting on a stool behind me. For the last twenty minutes we’d been taking turns with my gun, her father had taught her how to shoot and she wasn’t a bad shot.

Now she was sitting frozen and throwing me an “eek” look.

Vance’s hand was still at my wrist and he dragged me right by Indy without sparing her a glance and toward the soundproof door.

I tried to pull free. This didn’t work.

We went through the door into the antechamber and he closed it behind us.

I tore off my ear protectors and goggles and tossed them on the shelf on the wall.

“What the f**k?” I snapped.

He shoved my gun in the back waistband of his jeans, ripped off his protective gear and tossed it on a shelf next to mine.

“What the f**k?” I repeated, thinking he hadn’t heard me with his ear protectors on.

Then he looked at me.

Wow.

I didn’t have to know him very well to know he was seriously pissed.

“You hung up on me,” he said, voice smooth and quiet.

“Vance.”

“Don’t ever hang up on me.”

Most girls would probably hear the way he said those six words and nod meekly.

I wasn’t like most girls.

“You put a tracking device on my car,” I said in my defense.

“So?” he responded.

“And in my purse,” I went on.

“This is a problem because…?” he asked.

“This is a problem because…” I couldn’t think why it was a problem with his angry eyes on me. Then it came to me. “It’s intrusive,” I finished.

“It’s intrusive,” he repeated.

“Yes,” I clipped.

“Then you’ll probably not be happy to learn that your house is bugged. The living room and kitchen have cameras as do the front and back entrances.”

My mouth dropped open. “You’re joking,” I whispered.

“I put them in myself the first night I broke in. The only reason the windows don’t have them is because you have protective bars.”

Oh my God.

I was going to have to learn not to sleep so heavily. I didn’t know how to manage that but I’d have to try. I could not believe he wired my house while I was asleep.

God, he was f**king good.

I shrugged off my admiration and pulled back my anger. “You’re watching me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“The Team’s watching you in the surveillance room at the office.”

Oh my God.

My mind flashed to the Sacred Girlfriend Ritual, complete with margaritas and makeup and discussion of popping cherries. Mace had been in the surveillance room last night. He’d picked up my call when Vance had gone after Sal. He’d probably watched and listened to the whole thing.

No doubt about it, I was moving to Nicaragua.

“God dammit,” I muttered under my breath and, embarrassment overwhelming me, I sagged against the wall.

Then my mind flashed to Vance and I on the couch and my head which was tilted down to stare at my boots shot up.

“Last night –” I started.

“They’re instructed to turn off the internal cameras when I’m with you,” Vance told me.

“What if they don’t?” I asked.

“They do.”

“What if they don’t?”

“They f**kin’ do. Jesus, Jules, that isn’t the point.”

“What is the point?”