Rock Chick (Rock Chick #1)(61)

His partner was Carl Farrell who Ally had made out with after an F.O.P. hog roast. Carl had a bachelor’s, majoring in biology and political science and was now studying forensics. Carl was tall, big, blond-haired and blue-eyed. Carl’s hair was always a bit of a mess, Carl had a killer, dry sense of humor and Carl had a way of looking at you like he knew what you looked like naked. In other words, Carl was very sexy. If I hadn’t been so hung up on Lee, Ally’d have had competition for Carl.

I waved to Jorge and Carl as they walked inside. Jorge shook his finger at me mock-angrily. Carl grinned, then winked as he walked by.

Hank headed toward me.

I was about to call Lee when my cell rang.

I flipped it open.

“Hello?”

“Hello yourself, woman. You comin’ to get me, or what?”

It was Tex.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“They’re lettin’ me out and won’t let me walk or take a taxi.”

I thought about this. He was at Denver Health and it was at least five miles from his house. Crazy Tex roaming the streets whacked out on pain killers did not sound like a peaceful afternoon for Denver.

Two more cop cars angled in, followed by a Channel 9 News van.

Great.

The pot jungle was going to be big news.

“When are they releasing you?” I asked Tex.

“Ten minutes ago.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I flipped the phone shut and Hank stared at me. “What now?”

Ally came out of the house just ahead of Jorge, Carl and The Kevster.

Or, I should say, Ally sashayed out of the house with a knowing smile on her face and Carl followed staring at her ass, a knowing smile on his face too.

Another cop car angled in and Channel 7 News jockeyed for a parking spot. Jorge tossed Hank his cuffs as he passed us, escorting Kevin to the squad car.

“Come visit me, Rock Chicks,” Kevin shouted, luckily not holding any grudges. “Bring brownies!”

“You take him brownies and I’ll kill you,” Hank said.

I ignored his threat. “Do you have to stay here?”

“No, I briefed Jorge. They have it covered. We’ll go into the station later to give our statements.”

“Good, we have to go get Tex from the hospital. They released him ten minutes ago and he needs a ride.”

Hank was shaking his head again.

“We’re not goin’ to Tex’s house. There’s strong physical evidence that suggests he has tear gas and grenades. I don’t even want to think about what we’ll find in his house. I’ll have to call the ATF and those guys are nuts.”

“Then don’t come in,” I suggested.

“Indy –”

I pulled out my trump card.

“He took a bullet for me.”

That did it.

“Lee owes me big time for this,” Hank muttered as he walked to his SUV.

My cell rang as we pulled away from the curb.

The display said, “Lee calling.”

“Hey, I was just gonna call you,” I said.

“The office phoned, you’re all over the police-band.”

Oopsie.

“I kind of led Hank to a house full of pot plants and he went all cop on me.”

Silence.

“Lee?”

“Why aren’t you at the condo?”

“Duke called, he opened the store. There was a Mini-We-Want-Rosie Riot. We settled that and then The Kevster called and told us someone was at his house, scaring him. I thought it was my kidnapper, Pepper Rick and it was. That’s why I was gonna call you because he was at Kevin’s early this morning banging on the door. I thought you’d want to know.”

Silence again.

“Lee?”

“Where’s Hank?”

“He’s driving, we’re on our way to get Tex and take him home. The hospital released him.”

“Let me talk to him.”

I looked at Hank. Hank looked unhappy.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“I think he’s kinda mad at you.”

“Let me get this straight, he’s supposed to be lookin’ after you and he takes you to a house where your kidnapper was, just hours ago, and he’s mad at me?”

Yikes.

“I guess the feeling’s mutual.”

More silence.

“I kinda talked him into it.”

“Yeah, I suspect you’re good at that.”

“If it makes you feel better, he’s already threatened to kill me.”

I heard the sigh before, “Be safe, for Christ’s sake.”

Then he hung up.

When Hank swung in the SUV, Tex was at the Emergency Room entrance, sitting in a wheelchair, his arm in a tight sling, a stocky guy in scrubs and clogs standing behind him.

Tex pushed himself out of the chair as we walked up to him and he shot a filthy look at the guy in scrubs.

“Fuckin’ wheelchairs. Fuckin’ orderlies,” Tex groused.

“I’m not an orderly, I’m a nursing assistant,” Clog Guy said and from the look of him, there was no way I’d disagree. He could be anything he wanted.