Rock Chick Revolution (Rock Chick #8)(3)

Seriously.

Anyway, Rosie, the barista before Indy recruited Tex, did something stupid. Indy got dragged in, and Indy’s been my best friend since I could remember. Our parents were best friends. And, as I mentioned, she’s now married to my brother. So naturally, I got dragged in right with her.

Or, if I’m honest, I waltzed in. Happily.

I’d never been one to shy away from trouble. Or make my own, as the case may be.

That started a lot of stuff. As in, a lot. Some of it bad. Some of it very bad.

But most of it was awesome.

As for me, when Indy was in trouble and I got involved, we’d been after Rosie because he’d disappeared. And when no one could find him, I did.

That’s when I got bit by the bug. Like my dad and brothers, I was good at this badass investigation shit.

A natural.

So I kept doing it.

* * * * *

Don’t think I’m stupid. I’m not.

Along the way, I learned a lot. At first, I only did it for friends in a jam, snooping around, doing things such as getting the goods on a cheating ex, shit like that.

But I always took care of the situation.

Then my friends told their friends and I got referrals.

Eventually, shit got serious.

But I’m a Nightingale. I don’t shy away from serious. No freaking chance.

But Ren was wrong. I had a solid network. I had backup.

Because I got help.

* * * * *

One of my partners is Darius Tucker. He’s one of Lee’s best friends (and one of mine, too). He’s an awesome guy who I love and have loved since he started hanging with Lee way back when they were in school. He’s an awesome guy I love more now because he’s cool, he’s kind, he takes my back and he believes in me.

He’s also an ex-drug dealer and current private detective on staff at Lee’s agency, Nightingale Investigations.

Even though Darius got out of the trade that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know everybody. And if he doesn’t know them know them, he knows of them.

My other partner is Brody Dunne, another friend of mine for forever. Brody’s a boy-man (with more boy than man, even though his age says more man than boy) who could work a computer like Yo-Yo Ma a cello, Stephen Hawking an equation and Tex an espresso machine.

As you can see, both good partners to have.

* * * * *

Fast forward to last night, when I found out another friend of mine, Faye, was getting buried alive because her boyfriend’s dad is a dick.

Don’t ask, it’s a huge-ass story.

Anyway, someone had to step in. And since I’d been monitoring the situation for some time, I was in a place to do that.

So I did.

And I saved her life.

* * * * *

However, it must be said that Ren was not wrong (though I was not going to admit that to him).

The men involved, including Faye’s boyfriend’s dad, were not good men.

Not even close.

* * * * *

Fast Forward—Hit Play

“This is the last time you’re gonna tell me?” I yelled at Ren.

“Baby—”

I shoved at his shoulders and succeeded in rocking him back enough I could roll across the bed.

This I did, snapping, “Don’t you baby me.”

I got a foot to the floor and nowhere fast because Ren hooked an arm around my belly and yanked me back into bed.

Then he covered me with his body.

This was an effective maneuver he utilized often during Our Talks because I could possibly land a knee to the ‘nads, but I was loath to do that since I liked his ‘nads as they were in those times we weren’t fighting.

Other than that, he was bigger, heavier and stronger than me so I was totally screwed.

Exhibit B. Ren had no problem using his physical advantages to give him more opportunities to be bossy and in my face.

“Get off me,” I demanded.

“Listen to me.”

“Get off me,” I ordered on a buck of my hips.

When my h*ps settled back on the bed, Ren was still on me.

Fuck!

Then his hands moved to frame either side of my face. He dipped his head so he was all I could see and his voice was a voice he’d never used. It was deep and it was sweet, but it was also weighty and thick and it kind of freaked me out (in a maybe good way) when he said, “Ally, baby, listen to me. I care about you, you mean something to me, and I don’t want to see you in a box under three feet of dirt without the tank of oxygen to keep you safe until I find you. Are you understanding me?”

He cared about me.

I meant something to him.

Yeah.

Right.

I’d give it to him. That was a maybe.

He just cared about someone else a whole lot more.

“I’m understanding you’re a bossy, annoying, in my face jerk who thinks he can tell me what to do when he cannot, no matter how often I tell you it’s my damned life and I’ll do with it as I please,” I retorted.

Something flashed in his eyes so fast I couldn’t catch what it was before he started, “Ally—”

“Now, get off me. I got shit to do. I have to get home to Denver.”

His body pressed mine into the bed. “We’re finishing this here.”

“Fine by me,” I agreed readily. “We’re finished. Leave me alone, and we’re all done.” I drew out the “all” sarcastically.