Rock Chick Renegade (Rock Chick #4)(70)

I heard the bathroom door close and I realized Vance wasn’t listening to a thing I said.

I yanked Boo’s food bowl out of the cupboard and slammed it on the counter.

Whatever.

Chapter Fourteen

Your Real Family

Nick walked into Fortnum’s ahead of Vance and me. We walked in (I kid you not) holding hands (or Vance was holding my hand and I was giving myself a secret birthday present by letting him).

Yes, the badass mother and the head crackin’ mamma jamma holding hands. The dealers would probably piss their pants laughing if they saw us.

The place was packed.

Tex, Jet and Ally were working the espresso counter. Indy was clearing used cups from the seating area. The big, gray-haired, gravelly-voiced Harley guy was behind the book counter next to a woman I hadn’t seen the first time I was there. She was dark-haired, painfully thin and very tall.

“Oh f**k,” the Harley guy said loudly when he saw me, “batten down the hatches.”

Nick’s eyes moved to the Harley guy and then narrowed when Nick saw that he was talking about me.

“What’s his problem?” Nick asked just as loudly, turning to Vance and me.

Um.

Uh-oh.

“I’ve no idea,” I replied, feigning innocence.

“She’s my problem,” the Harley guy answered, still looking at me. “We’ve had the works. Indy’s kidnappings and murder. Jet’s kidnappings and rape attempt. Roxie’s kidnapping and stalking. Car bombs. Grenades. Knife fights. Female wrestling at Chinese restaurants. Mayhem at a haunted house. Gunshots at a strip club. Showdowns at society parties. Now we got a vigilante on our hands.” The man looked at Vance while the tall woman edged away from him and disappeared into the shelves (which I thought was a smart move). “What is it with you boys?” he asked Vance. “I really wanna know.”

Everyone was staring at us and there were a lot of everyones. Nick and I were staring at the Harley guy; both of our mouths were open.

“Excuse me, I’ve gotta talk to Duke,” Vance murmured, face blank (which I didn’t figure was a good sign). He let go of my hand and walked to the book counter.

Nick’s arm went around my shoulders and he dipped his head to my ear. “You think he knows about you?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “I think he knows about me.”

“Do you know what he’s talking about? Mayhem at a haunted house? Gunshots at a strip club?” Nick asked.

“Some of it,” I answered.

Nick looked closely at me. He was wearing a rendition of his Morgue Face with a little bit of “Oh my God” thrown in. Then he shook his head.

“Don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know,” he said.

“Gotcha,” I replied, thinking he really didn’t want to know.

“Shee-it, it’s the f**kin’ birthday girl,” Tex boomed from behind the counter, a crazy-man grin on his face. “Get up here, Law.”

“Hey Tex,” I called.

“Do you know these people?” Nick was still whispering as he led me toward the coffee bar.

“Um… yeah. We’ve kind of become friends. Vance hangs out here,” I answered.

“Ah,” Nick said slowly, though his expression showed that he didn’t know if that was a good thing.

“Get outta the way. Get… the f**k… outta the way. There’s a birthday girl here. She comes to the front of the line,” Tex was booming at the customers. They were looking at each other, some of them seemed taken aback, others, likely the regulars, just did what they were told.

“I’ll make you today’s special. Vanilla and spice. It’s a knockout and it’s on me,” Tex told me as we approached him then when we arrived at the counter, he asked, “Who’s this guy?” His eyes were on Nick.

I introduced Nick to everyone. Indy came up and gave me a birthday hug and Jet and Ally wished me a happy birthday while they completed coffees.

We placed our orders and moved to the other side of the counter to wait for our drinks. Vance met us there. When he did I looked back at Duke. Duke was frowning at me. I looked at Vance again.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

Vance just smiled at me. I decided to take that as a “yes” though Duke’s face said it was a “no”.

“What’re you havin’?” Tex boomed at Vance.

“Sorry, but I was next.” The male customer at the front of the line, clearly having a death wish, spoke up.

Tex’s eyes cut to the customer and his brows drew together.

Um.

Yikes.

“Oh yeah? You are?” Tex asked the customer.

“Uh… yeah,” the customer said, now sounding not so sure even though he was standing at the front of the line.

“You a badass motherf*cker who hunts down drug dealers at night?” Tex went on.

The customer stared at Tex then he stared at Vance then he stared back at Tex.

“Er… no,” he replied.

“You a badass mother f**ker at all?” Tex continued.

The customer looked at Vance. Then he looked at Tex. The customer had thinning sandy-brown hair, was an inch or two shorter than me, was wearing a suit and was perhaps ten pounds underweight. He was no badass motherf*cker. He looked like an accountant.