Rock Chick Revolution(141)

“Hmm, what?” I asked.

“Hmm, if I tell you what that means, you’ll get ideas so I’ll keep the what of my hmm to myself.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Do you honestly think that’s gonna work?”

He studied me. Then he slid his hands from my neck so he could wrap his arms around me loosely.

I returned the favor and waited (but not patiently).

When he didn’t say anything, I said a warning, “Zano.”

He pulled me closer and asked bizarrely, “Have you heard the song Hold on Loosely?”

Had he temporarily lost his sanity?

I was a Rock Chick.

Of course I’d heard it.

“Hello?” I called unnecessarily. “I’m Ally Nightingale.”

He took my meaning therefore stated, “So you know the words.”

I rolled my eyes, rolled them back and said shortly, “Yes. Now can we get back—?”

“I heard that song this morning on the way to work and realized that’s how I gotta deal with you.”

I snapped my mouth shut.

Then I stopped being peeved.

Because he was so right.

And that was sweet.

“So I’m gonna tell you what that hmm means. But first, I’m gonna say that what Tucker’s givin’ you is all he thinks he has to give. I’m sensing that isn’t enough for you. And before you do shit, you need to ask yourself if what he has to give is enough, because what you have to lose with him is everything. You also have to understand that what’s at stake for you is at stake for everybody in your posse. You have to make that decision for everybody. All or nothing, or accept him as he comes. And that’s a huge decision to make, baby.”

“I get you,” I said softly.

He studied me a moment, obviously took in that I processed what he said, then he again spoke.

“My hmm meant that Chavez would not share shit with you if he didn’t trust you to use it wisely. He has faith in you to handle this situation. He’s not throwing you under the bus. You’re his partner in a tag team and he just tagged you in. But he’s expecting you to enter the ring and kick ass. Not let the team down. Now you gotta decide if you go through those ropes, honey, or throw in the towel.”

“I’m not a towel throwing type of girl, Ren,” I shared honestly, and his arms got tighter.

“I know. Still. Think about it.”

I nodded.

“Good,” he murmured. Then louder, “I got to clear some shit, it’ll take me about half an hour. You good to wait? Then we’ll go out to dinner.”

“I’m good to wait,” I told him.

“That waiting would be in here with me. Not out in reception, givin’ Dawn shit, knowin’ she can’t retaliate.”

Well, there went my plans for the next half hour.

“I wouldn’t do that,” I totally lied.

“You so f*ckin’ would.” He knew I was lying.

I rolled my eyes, but it was all for show.

Ren knew this because on the downward roll, he was kissing me.

After kissing me, he got to work.

I inspected his office.

But I did it thinking on how I could get Darius back with his family.

Without the one he already had losing him.





Chapter Twenty-Seven

Runs Deep



I stood in a dark corner of Smithie’s, surveying the scene.

I’d had a call that evening from Roam, reporting in. And what he’d reported was that he saw a waitress do a handoff to Steiner. Alarmingly, Roam then reported that he’d followed Steiner.

Fortunately, Steiner hadn’t noted the tail. Also fortunately, Roam followed Steiner directly to another meeting, and this wasn’t another girl. It was Steiner dropping off the take to a man Roam described as big, bulky, light brown hair, and “a white dude that’ll f*ck you up rather than look at you,” (Roam’s words).

After I told him to punt this information to Darius, not follow Steiner again, definitely not follow the other dude and not to use the f-word, I added surveillance onto my night at Smithie’s.

It was a good move because, in moments, I clocked him.

A man of that description was sitting at a table somewhat back from the stage. Steiner, who worked the room, gave him a wide berth, saying to anyone who knew what they were looking for that he was doing all he could so no one would associate the two.

As I stood there, back to the wall, I watched the man sitting at his table like he owned the joint, not Smithie. The waitress at his section served him, but she was jittery. She wasn’t having a bad night. She served her other tables more comfortably. That meant she knew him or understood his threat.

And Roam’s description was apt. Completely. This guy would f*ck someone up rather than look at them.

I kept my eye on him, and Steiner, with plenty of time to do it. I’d already danced my first song so I had time until the next one. And this, essentially surveillance, was one of the few things I could do patiently.

Therefore I also saw him leave his seat once for a private lap dance with JoJo.

She came out of the room where they did the private dances looking freaked.

He came out looking the same as normal, strolling back to his table that the waitress had shooed three customers from and resuming his seat like he was king of all he surveyed.