Rock Chick Renegade
Page 62

Vance didn’t answer. Neither did I.
“You’re through with Law then you won’t mind me movin’ in,” Luke said, clearly not worried about fanning the flames of the crackling-not-happy vibes.
Oh my God.
I continued staring at Luke with wide eyes but my mouth had now dropped open.
“You move in, we have problems,” Vance returned softly.
“You move out, don’t seem like it’s much of your business.”
The crackling vibes got red-hot.
It was time for me to say something. “Excuse me but I am in the room,” I snapped. “I thought you said not many men like their women roaming the streets looking for trouble?” I pointed out to Luke.
“Yeah, I did. Though I think it’s kinda cute,” Luke replied.
Oh my God.
“Well hurray for you but come tomorrow, you boys are off the job. I’m a single-act show again,” I returned.
“You’re in for trainin’ tomorrow, same time,” Luke shot back.
“No f**king way.”
“Only a girl would turn her back on a good deal just because she got f**ked in the process.”
“News flash, Luke, I am a girl,” I returned heatedly, hands going to my hips.
“Yeah,” he grinned, leaning back, “I noticed that.”
Vance moved. Luke and I swung our eyes to him and I realized too late the red-hot vibes went white.
His movement wasn’t distinguishable. He was still standing, arms crossed on his chest, but something about him went hostile.
I waited. Luke (thankfully) was silent. The room burned.
Then Vance said, eyes on me, “Five to eight.”
Then he was gone.
I whirled on Luke. “What in the hell was that all about?”
He just grinned at me.
“Stop grinning,” I demanded.
“Tomorrow, after training, you and I patrol.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do. You aren’t going to learn shit on a mat. You gotta learn in the field.”
“I said no.”
He kept grinning. “You got a new partner now.”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling.
These guys.
* * * * *
I wore a little black dress to the party.
And it was little.
It seemed like a good idea at the time, before the flowers, before my freak out, when I was in a happy birthday daze.
It wasn’t a good idea now.
I’d gone home from training, packed a backpack (better for the Harley), showered, done the whole makeup and hair bit. Subtle makeup, it was all I knew how to do and my hair was up in a messy twist, which I didn’t know how to do but luckily, after five tries, it worked.
During the mall extravaganza as birthday presents Roxie bought me this lotion that made my legs look shiny and ultra-smooth. Jet had given me three kinds of flavored lip gloss (I’d made the mistake of telling her about Vance’s “you smell of melons and taste of cherries” comment and she got a bit overexcited), bubble gum, grape and of course cherry (I went with grape for the evening).
My dress was clingy black jersey, to the knee, halter-necked, the front fell in a drape, low on my cle**age, the back also had a drape, super-low, exposing most of the small of my back. My shoes were spike-heeled, pointed-toe, open sides but with a full back and a thick strap across the very top of my foot, just under the ankle.
I went with bare (Roxie-lotion-shiny) legs, my new bracelet on my wrist and Auntie Reba’s diamond at my neck.
I was filling Boo’s food bowl, telling him he had to be a good kitty until I got home the next day when Vance walked in the backdoor.
I straightened and stared at him.
Hair back, leather jacket, black cowboy boots, thick black belt with a heavy silver buckle, jeans and a crisp shirt with subtle stripes of wine, navy, midnight and charcoal patterned into it. The shirt was opened at the throat.
At the sight of him my mouth went dry.
“You gonna be able to ride on the Harley in that?” he asked.
I decided a snotty, “Well, hello to you too,” was no longer in order. I wasn’t sure, as I’d had no experience but I figured I’d lost the right to bicker when I told him we had to stop seeing each other.
I also decided to ignore the clench in my gut that he didn’t rush me against the counter and kiss me like last time.
“It’s stretchy,” I answered.
His eyes moved the length of me then came back to mine. I couldn’t read them.
“Get a jacket,” he replied. “Where’s your bag?”
I put on my black leather blazer and the backpack and we rode to Fortnum’s.
The lights were blazing in Fortnum’s windows and I could see the place was already packed. I was a little shocked; they’d only planned the party the night before and spent most of the afternoon with me at the mall and the Shelter.
I hopped off the back of the bike, rearranged my skirt and then Vance slid the backpack down an arm. I whirled with it as he pulled it off the other side and I ended up facing him. He threw it over one of his shoulders.
I looked up at him. His face was blank. My stomach had decided to settle into a permanent, painful twist.
I turned away, biting my lip and feeling the weight in my chest that threatened tears.
The sooner we got in there, the sooner the party would be over, the sooner the night would be over, the sooner I could face whatever challenge the next day brought.
Or move to Nicaragua.
Vance caught my wrist and swung me back around, his body moving toward me at the same time so I collided with it.
He dropped my wrist, his arm went around me inside my jacket and his hand dipped straight into the drape at my back.
My lips parted and his other hand went into my hair, pulled out the clip and my hair fell over his hand and my shoulders.
“Crowe! It took me five tries to twist that thing in my hair.”
I forgot about not bickering.
He ignored my comment. “You get the idea to experiment with flirtin’ in front of me, think again. I won’t like it and you’ll be the one who’ll pay.”
I closed my eyes, sucked in a breath then opened them again. “Can we just get through the night?” I asked.
“We’ll get through the night,” he promised and something in that promise made me shiver.
He stared at me, hand at my behind, other one in my hair.
I became conscious of the fact that anyone could see us from the windows.
“Can you take your hand off my ass?” I asked, allowing myself a little shade of snotty. We were standing on a public street and in full view of the windows and Nick might be in there.