Rock Chick Revolution(79)

He got close again. “Ally, it’s not gonna surprise you that Dad—and Mom, I’ll add—are upset and worried. They need a sit down with you and you need to show them the respect of givin’ them that time and listening.”

He was right about that so I had no choice but to nod again but queried, “Can I ask why this meeting is being called through you and Hank?”

“Because by upset and worried I meant hurt and pissed.”

Oh man.

That was not good.

I loved my mom and dad. They were the shit.

Malcolm and Kitty Sue Nightingale weren’t perfect human beings or parents.

But they came really, really close.

Part of me was being nonchalant about all that was happening with me and how it would affect my parents because, as crazy as I was, they not only always loved me but expected, when it got down to the important shit, I’d do the right thing. And save for some lying and underage drinking and a few other things (okay, maybe not a few but nothing that was important), I did.

So I knew two things. The first was that whatever decision I made, if it wasn’t stupid, they’d back it (eventually). The second was that they knew they raised a woman who would not be stupid.

But hearing what Lee said sucked. And it pained me. Because I didn’t want to hurt or piss off my parents. And I’d done both.

So I needed to attend this meeting and see to sorting that out.

I drew in breath.

Then I let it out and nodded once again, mentally planning to send a text to Ren that was a lot less fun than the earlier ones to explain the change in plans for our evening.

Now, however, I had a job to do.

Therefore I asked Lee, “We ready?”

He stepped to the side for me to precede him, answering, “Let’s roll.”

I followed Lee out of the books and to the front.

Lee went to Indy.

I went to the door.

But as I did, I had eyes on my BFF.

She also had eyes on me and she mouthed, Be safe.

I mouthed back, Always.

Then I walked out the door.

* * * * *

I’d chosen locations wrongly.

This was because Lincoln’s had two rows of stationary tables down its front room, at the end there was a bar, an entrance at the front, a door to the smoking area at the back. That meant that there was no way to sit without your back to a door.

I picked facing to the front but turning my back to the wall so I had eyes either way.

I’d also clocked Tex sitting at the bar with a bottle of Bud in front of him. I didn’t look at him, but I clocked him. Then again, with his mass, that would be hard not to do.

Brian, I didn’t see and I didn’t look. I knew Brian enough, if he told Lee he was in place, he was.

I ordered a bottle of Fat Tire and waited, phone on the table by my beer, pepper spray in my back pocket.

At three seventeen, I was getting antsy.

It was then the front door opened and they came in.

I knew it was them right away. I knew this not because they looked like their mug shots (they didn’t), but because there were two of them and one was slight, wiry and looked as whiney and weasely as he sounded on the phone.

But the other one was big, brawny and I knew instantly he was not only the muscle, he was the brains.

And he was not to be messed with.

I also felt it. The prickle at the back of my neck and the charge of my adrenaline flowing.

They were not here to negotiate. I had no idea what they had planned but they offered deference in an attempt to outfox me and get my ass right where it was. This meant, regardless of any connections I had that they’d put together, they did not take me seriously.

It also meant they had something up their sleeve.

And last, it meant it was highly unlikely I had five to ten minutes to give to Lee.

I turned to face their way on my stool at the same time I casually ran my hand through my hair from top to back then let my hand fall to the table. I wrapped the fingers of my other hand around the beer bottle which, if broken against the side of the table, could be used as a weapon.

And I didn’t take my eyes off them.

They no sooner got their asses on their stools than I felt a presence at my back, close, and something that couldn’t be mistaken pressed hard to my ribs.

They had a soldier inside, and he wasted no time moving on me and jamming the barrel of a gun into my flesh.

Not.

Good.

I gave no headspace to what this might mean—this soldier free to make his move—if Brian or Tex didn’t clock him or if they did and they had some plan.

I needed to remain clearheaded and calm.

I also needed to remain alive so I could have my red and black Pope-approved nuptials then give Ren babies.

In my head I whittled the length of Ren and my f*ck-a-thon down to two years prior to making babies and whispered to the men at my table, “You don’t waste any time.”

“No woman f*cks with me,” the big-guy-brains-of-the-crew growled at me.

“Uh, just saying, I didn’t f*ck with you. You f*cked with me,” I pointed out.

“Okay then, I don’t waste time f*ckin’ around with women unless I’m actually f*ckin’ them,” he amended.

Well, he’d proved that.

“Now, you’re gonna come easy. Leave your phone,” Whiney Guy ordered.