Indy put her hand to her open mouth.
“And in your bag,” Vance said.
“I do not believe you,” I hissed.
“Jules, get home.”
“I’m shooting then I’m going out for drinks with the girls,” I told him.
“Jules –”
I cut him off. “When’s this meet with Darius?”
“God dammit, Jules –”
“Forget it, I’ll ask Indy to call Lee. I’ll see you there.” I flipped the phone shut and looked at Indy. “Can you call Lee –?” I started.
She was nodding, already digging through her purse.
“I’m on it,” she said.
* * * * *
When we walked into Zip’s, Indy had her phone to her ear and she stood just inside the door while I approached Zip who was behind the counter.
“Girl, you are loco,” Zip shouted at me the minute he saw me.
“Now… Zip,” I said placatingly, arriving across the counter from him.
“Do not ‘Zip’ me. You’re fuckin’ loony tunes. It’s like you sent out an engraved invitation to every fuckin’ asshole on the street, ‘You are cordially invited to try and kick my ass.’ Shee-it.”
“Zip, let me –”
“And you got the Nightingale Boys backin’ you. Christ Almighty, girl. Those boys’re crazier than you.” His eyes went beyond me. “Fuck, is that Indy Savage?” Zip asked, staring at Indy.
“Yes –” I began.
“Oh no. No, no, no. I don’t want Lee Nightingale on my ass. You are not draggin’ her into this. She’ll recruit Chavez’s woman and Nightingale’s sister and it’ll be the Rock Chick Renegades against the Denver Drug Dealers. I see rivers of blood and pissed off bad boys denied their pieces of ass and they’ll come after me. No fuckin’ way, I won’t be a part of it.”
I couldn’t help it, he was being so dramatic I had to smile. “Zip, listen to me. Indy just wants to see me shoot. She’s not ‘into this’. Please, Zip, she’s just…” I hesitated and stared at him. “A friend,” I finished.
Zip went silent and watched me. He knew enough about me to know the importance of what I’d just said.
Then he said, “Crowe fucked you yet?”
“Zip!” I snapped.
“Well, has he?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He dropped his chin and shook his head. “He has,” Zip said to the display case like I was his twelve year old kid and he was disappointed in finding me in the garage stealing a smoke. Then he looked up at me again. “Girl, you’re cruisin’ for a broken heart and a bullet-ridden body. God damn.” He reached into the case and pulled out a box of ammo and slammed it on the counter, indicating my tongue-lashing was over. “Get her glasses and ear protectors. Three’s open. God damn.”
Indy took her phone away from her ear, flipped it shut and approached us, smiling at Zip.
“Hey Zip,” she said.
“God damn,” he replied
Indy threw me a look. I mouthed “not now” and I walked her back to the range.
“What was wrong with him?” she whispered as we stood in the small soundproof antechamber, putting on glasses and wrapping ear protectors around our necks.
“Nothing. He just gets a bit… overprotective,” I explained. “What’d Lee say?”
She scrunched her nose. “Lee said that you go to the meet with Vance.”
“God dammit,” I muttered. I was worried those boys would stick together.
“I tried to get it out of him. I even offered naked gratitude. But he didn’t bite,” Indy told me.
“Naked gratitude?” I smiled at her.
She linked her arm in mine and turned us to face the door to the range. “Why do you think I know everything? Naked gratitude. Works every time.” She winked at me. Then she said, “Well, nearly every time.”
I was still smiling at her.
We put our ear protectors over our ears and stepped inside the range.
* * * * *
With the target twenty-five yards away, I had both my arms up, gun in hand, the side of my right hand above my wrist held in my left hand, arms slightly bent to absorb the impact of the recoil, my head tilted to the gun’s sight; I emptied a clip in the target.
Seventeen rounds, head for three, then chest for three, and back again until the clip was spent. I dropped my gun, squinted at the target, saw that I didn’t do too badly even with my arms aching and Indy came up close to my back, super close, weird close.
Yikes.
I started to turn to tell her to back off but it wasn’t Indy.
It was Vance.
Before I could react, he reached low, grabbed my wrist with one hand and twisted the gun out of my grip with his other.
Oh crap.
I stared at Vance’s angry face for a beat then my eyes slid to the side.
Indy was sitting on a stool behind me. For the last twenty minutes we’d been taking turns with my gun, her father had taught her how to shoot and she wasn’t a bad shot.
Now she was sitting frozen and throwing me an “eek” look.
Vance’s hand was still at my wrist and he dragged me right by Indy without sparing her a glance and toward the soundproof door.
I tried to pull free. This didn’t work.
We went through the door into the antechamber and he closed it behind us.
I tore off my ear protectors and goggles and tossed them on the shelf on the wall.
“What the fuck?” I snapped.
He shoved my gun in the back waistband of his jeans, ripped off his protective gear and tossed it on a shelf next to mine.
“What the fuck?” I repeated, thinking he hadn’t heard me with his ear protectors on.
Then he looked at me.
Wow.
I didn’t have to know him very well to know he was seriously pissed.
“You hung up on me,” he said, voice smooth and quiet.
“Vance.”
“Don’t ever hang up on me.”
Most girls would probably hear the way he said those six words and nod meekly.
I wasn’t like most girls.
“You put a tracking device on my car,” I said in my defense.
“So?” he responded.
“And in my purse,” I went on.
“This is a problem because…?” he asked.
“This is a problem because…” I couldn’t think why it was a problem with his angry eyes on me. Then it came to me. “It’s intrusive,” I finished.
“It’s intrusive,” he repeated.
“Yes,” I clipped.
“Then you’ll probably not be happy to learn that your house is bugged. The living room and kitchen have cameras as do the front and back entrances.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’re joking,” I whispered.
“I put them in myself the first night I broke in. The only reason the windows don’t have them is because you have protective bars.”
Oh my God.
I was going to have to learn not to sleep so heavily. I didn’t know how to manage that but I’d have to try. I could not believe he wired my house while I was asleep.
God, he was fucking good.
I shrugged off my admiration and pulled back my anger. “You’re watching me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“The Team’s watching you in the surveillance room at the office.”
Oh my God.
My mind flashed to the Sacred Girlfriend Ritual, complete with margaritas and makeup and discussion of popping cherries. Mace had been in the surveillance room last night. He’d picked up my call when Vance had gone after Sal. He’d probably watched and listened to the whole thing.
No doubt about it, I was moving to Nicaragua.
“God dammit,” I muttered under my breath and, embarrassment overwhelming me, I sagged against the wall.
Then my mind flashed to Vance and I on the couch and my head which was tilted down to stare at my boots shot up.
/> “Last night –” I started.
“They’re instructed to turn off the internal cameras when I’m with you,” Vance told me.
“What if they don’t?” I asked.
“They do.”
“What if they don’t?”
“They fuckin’ do. Jesus, Jules, that isn’t the point.”
“What is the point?”
He moved quick and got in my space.
I was really going to have to learn to be prepared for how quickly he moved.
He stared down at me, eyes still angry. “The point is, you stood me up and you hung up on me. That’s what we’re talkin’ about.”
“No, now we’re talking about you and your boys keeping tabs on me.”
“We’re protecting you.”
“I want them taken out, the cameras, the bugs, the tracking devices, all of it,” I demanded.
“That isn’t gonna happen.”
“I’ll take them out myself,” I told him.
“You wouldn’t find them.”
He was probably right.
“I’ll ask Frank to take them out,” I said.
Frank would find them, I was certain.
“Muñoz pulls them, I’ll put more in,” he shot back.
“God dammit Crowe.”
“Jules. The shit stays at your house so I can protect you. No discussion.”
That’s when I saw red and I snapped, “I hate it when you do that.”
“What?”
“Make these macho man declarations. It pisses me off.”
“If you weren’t so fuckin’ antagonistic, you’d realize it’s for your own damned good.”
Again, he was probably right.
Still.
My anger ebbed a bit, I frowned at him but this had no effect.
“We’ll take Indy home. Then we’re goin’ to dinner and we’re talkin’,” Vance said.
“No, I can’t. The Rock Chicks have decided to throw me a birthday party and we’re going to Brother’s to plan it.”
His eyes narrowed. “You wanna explain to me how you’re all of a sudden close with Indy and her gang?”
I shook my head, not because I didn’t want to explain it but because I couldn’t.
“I have no idea.” When he looked dubious I continued. “Honestly. I swear. I actually tried to get them to leave me alone but I thought Daisy was going to take me down in a bitch-slapping fight when I told her my life was none of her business. Have you seen that woman’s nails? I’m not gonna go there.”
He shook his head a few times. His hand came to the wall at my waist and he leaned into it and, therefore, leaned into me, getting way close.
“We got shit to discuss,” he said, his face an inch from mine.
“Yes. We do. Unfortunately I’m moving to Nicaragua after our meet with Darius so we won’t be able to do that,” I declared.
He stared at me a beat then slowly his anger disappeared and he grinned, just like he did last night as if I was downright adorable.
“What’ll Roam and Sniff do if you move to Nicaragua?” he asked.
With him no longer being angry, the smooth was still in his voice but it was an altogether different kind of smooth. This had an effect on me, an effect I ignored.
“I’ll take them with me,” I decided on the fly.
He moved in closer, his free hand coming to my hip, his eyes getting soft and sexy and I felt my belly flutter in a way I couldn’t ignore. “What’ll I do if you move to Nicaragua?”
Immediately I mouthed off. Do not ask me why but I was going with the Belly Flutter Defense.
“Find yourself a woman who can cook and doesn’t mind you ordering her around all the time, being bossy and dictatorial and macho and hyper-intense and actually likes it when you get all… whatever… and make her belly flutter.”
After I said that, my mouth snapped shut.
Damn.
I’d gotten carried away and went too far.
He finished moving in, pressing me back into the wall with his body. “I do that to you?” he asked, his voice silk.
Like he didn’t know.
“Back off, Crowe.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth and my heart started hammering in my chest.
“I do it to you,” he muttered.
See? I knew he knew.
“Back off,” I repeated.
His hand went from the wall to curl around the side of my neck, his other arm went around my waist and he pulled me to him. “Get Indy to show you where the offices are. Meet us there after Brother’s.”
I nodded, deciding tardily to keep silent.
“We sleepin’ at your place or mine?”
I changed my mind about keeping silent. “I’m sleeping at my place,” I informed him.
“That works for me. I like your bed.”
I rolled my eyes. When they came back to him, he was grinning again.
What… ever.
The door opened and Indy came through, closed the door and took off her ear protectors.
“Sorry guys, I tried to give you time,” she said.
I slid away from Crowe. “That’s all right,” I told her. “We’re done.”
Indy turned to take off her goggles and put them and the ear protectors away. When she did with an arm around my waist Vance pulled my back to his front. He slid my gun in the back waistband of my cords and his mouth came to my ear.
“We’re far from done,” he said there.
Over my shoulder, I threw him a look.
He threw me a grin.
Again.
Whatever.
Chapter Twelve
Channeling My Head-Crackin’ Mamma Jamma
“I think we should have a theme.”
“A theme?”
“We’re not having a theme.”
“We’ve never had a theme. We should do something, like dress up like James Bond characters.”
“It’s tomorrow night. We don’t have time.”
“I am not dressing up like a James Bond character.”
We were sitting in the back room of My Brother’s Bar, a drinking establishment in lower, lower downtown that was decorated in “wood”, had no bottled beer, only beer on tap and had arguably the best bar menu in Denver, including buffalo burgers; hot, soft pretzels with jalapeño cream cheese; and fantastic onion rings.
We’d been there over an hour and had dinner (I got the ticky turkey, a hot, shaved turkey sandwich with jalapeño cream cheese and some delicious orange gunk on a fresh hoagie roll).
Most everyone was into their third or fourth beer. I was drinking diet cola. I wanted nothing to impair my judgment when I sat down with Darius.
The conversation was fast and furious and, as far as I could tell, no decisions had been made.
I was not participating. I’d never had a birthday party with more people than Nick and Auntie Reba in attendance. I didn’t feel I had anything to offer.
Our group consisted of all the girlie gang, including May, Tod and Stevie, and surprisingly Indy’s coffee guy, the humongous, hairy Tex.
Tex also didn’t participate in the party planning discussion.
Hank brought Roxie. Eddie brought Jet. Hank and Eddie didn’t sit with us but positioned themselves in the front room at the bar by the door. Jet said this was because they didn’t have a lot of insight into planning parties. I figured their presence at the bar at all was because I was there, they thought I was dangerous, I was with their women and they weren’t taking any chances. Thus they moved off to stand at the entrance and keep watch.
“Jules, who do you want us to invite?” Indy asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Just Nick, my uncle, and Zip, Heavy and Frank,” I answered, wondering if they decided on a theme how any of those men would take to that idea. Not very well, I guessed, and the thought of Heavy in a James Bond-esque costume made me smile.
I came back into the room and saw they were all staring at me.
“Zip the gun shop
guy?” Jet asked.
“Yeah, he’s my friend,” I told her.
“Anyone else?” Indy cut in.
I shook my head.
She stared at me. “No one?” she went on.
I kept shaking my head.
“Friends form work?” Roxie prompted and I started to get uncomfortable.
“Let’s move on,” Tex boomed from beside me, saying his first words of the night (except, “Give me a Ralphie Burger and a Bud,” then, “What do you mean, you don’t have Budweiser? Fuck! This is America!”)
Everyone jumped at Tex’s boom, looked at each other and then they started a bewildering conversation about cashews.
This went on for awhile when Tex leaned into me. “You wanna blow this joint, go out, crack together some dealer heads?” he asked in a booming whisper.
The group had moved onto whether they should make a bowl of sangria, pitchers of margaritas or personally created mojitos, which was apparently a very important decision that took all their undivided attention, so they missed Tex’s boom.
I turned to him. “I don’t crack heads very often. I usually slash tires and throw smoke bombs,” I told him.
He stared at me.
I went on. “Sometimes I get creative with plastic wrap and once I doused a dealer’s Mercedes with canola oil. Inside and out.”
At this he grinned. “Bet that took a lot of oil,” he said, sounding impressed.
“Three gallon jugs,” I smiled.
He nodded his appreciation. “You ever want to get serious, I know where to get tear gas and grenades,” he told me.
It was my turn to stare not knowing if he was serious or trying to be funny. I decided he was trying to be funny.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He nodded again and then turned to the group and boomed, “Sangria! Next topic!”
I got up and announced, “I’m getting a drink, anyone need anything?”
Lots of shaking heads and then they moved on to decorations. Yay or nay and if yay, what kind?
I wandered to the bar. When I got to the front room it was packed. The only space available at the bar was next to Eddie Chavez.
Damn.
Just my luck. I took a deep breath, slid in beside him and caught the bartender’s attention.
“What ‘cha need?” the bartender asked me.
“Diet,” I ordered.
He put ice in a glass and pulled out the soft drink gun. I felt rather than saw Hank and Eddie’s eyes on me.