Rock Chick Rescue
Page 68

 Kristen Ashley

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“I’l go with Indy,” I said.
“You aren’t out of sight on my watch,” Vance announced in a Tough Guy therefore No Discussion Voice.
Wonderful.
* * * * *
I’d never ridden on the back of a motorcycle in my life, much less a Harley. I had to admit, I liked it.
I liked it a lot.
I found out that Zip didn’t only sel guns, ole Zip sold a lot of different kinds of guns, handguns, shotguns, rifles. He also sold knives, ammo, stun guns, tasers, mace, pepper spray and calendars with my sister’s picture on the front. I pointed this out to Indy while Vance wasn’t paying attention.
“Nice,” she said, looking at Lottie wearing a barely there bikini, her body completely wet, her hair surprisingly dry and balancing precariously on a BMW motorcycle.
Vance outfitted us with stun guns, tasers and pepper spray. He explained how to use them, he gave instruction on how to be safe and he tried to pay.
I argued.
He gave me a Tough Guy Look.
I pul ed out The Glare.
While al this was going on, Indy paid.
That was okay with me, I could owe Indy. I didn’t expect her favor had anything to do with my Smithie’s uniform.
We were on our way back to Fortnum’s, our bag of goodies in Indy’s Beetle, Indy fol owing us. We didn’t have a lot of time before we had to meet Daisy at the Oxford Hotel lot of time before we had to meet Daisy at the Oxford Hotel for a drink and I was getting fidgety. I didn’t want to keep Daisy waiting, she could be scary.
We were stopped at a light on Colfax and I was pressed against Vance, my crotch to his ass, my chest to his back, my chin kinda resting on his shoulder. He drove fast and hard. I tried holding onto his waist and keeping a distance but I nearly went ass over head off the back of the bike when he shot from the curb.
It was a wrap-your-arms-around-and-hold-on-for-dear-life kind of ride.
A car rol ed to a stop at the light and I automatical y looked to my right.
My eyes widened at what I saw and I think I screamed a little inside my helmet. Sitting in the driver’s seat was Eddie, he was looking out the window, his mirrored shades directed at me, the rest of his face wearing a murderous expression.
I had on a helmet but I was also wearing a distinctive scarlet-red t-shirt, my hair was coming out the back of the helmet because I had to take out my ponytail holder, I was with Vance and Indy’s car was right behind us. It wouldn’t take a police detective to figure out it was me but Eddie was a police detective and from the expression on Eddie’s face, he’d figured it out.
Damn.
Damn, damn, damn.
There was a toot on the horn behind us, Vance looked in his mirror and I looked behind. Indy was gesturing to her side and to Eddie. I looked at the car pul ed up next to her.
Eddie was being trailed by a Crossfire, Lee’s Crossfire, with Lee behind the wheel.
Fuck.
Fuck, f**k, f**k.
Vance looked right, not wearing a helmet; he made a hand gesture salute to Eddie, two fingers straight out and a flick of the wrist. Mr. Cool.
We al drove together to Fortnum’s, Vance and I leading the new definition of My Convoy of Doom. The entire time I tried to come up with a plausible explanation, in other words, a believable lie.
Vance pul ed in up front, Indy and Lee parked in the back, Eddie parked behind us. I was off the bike and had the helmet off when Eddie arrived.
“What the f**k?” Eddie asked, looking at Vance and using his scary quiet voice.
Vance had come off the bike and was smiling, flat out. I didn’t think this was good, I thought it was kind of in your face. Even though it was not helping the situation, I had to say, I admired Vance for having the bal s to pul it off.
I decided to neutralize the situation.
“Eddie, I can explain,” I said.
His eyes turned to me. He had his arms crossed on his chest, his legs planted wide and I wished I’d let him take his anger out on Vance. Vance was a badass too, at least it would be a fair fight.
“Yeah?” Eddie asked, his voice dripping with disbelief.
Okay, I’d used the ride home to try to come up with a believable lie. The problem was, I didn’t succeed.
“Wel … ” I started, drawing out the word to buy time.
Al of a sudden, Eddie grabbed my arm, yanked the helmet out of my hand, tossed it to Vance and pul ed me away about five feet.
Guess he didn’t feel like giving me time to come up with a believable lie.
When we stopped, he opened his mouth to speak but I got there first.
“I can see you’re angry, I don’t know why but—” He interrupted me.
“You don’t know why?” he asked.
“No, you see—” I began again.
“No?” He interrupted again, stil using his scary quiet voice.
“Wel no, what I was going to say was…”
“I’m drivin’ down the road and, stopped at a light, I see the woman who’s sharin’ my house, my bed, wrapped around another guy. You’re that woman and you don’t know why I’m angry?”
It didn’t sound good when he said it that way.
“Eddie…”
He got close, his eyes were glittery and his voice was stil scary soft.
“Don’t f**king ‘Eddie’ me. Seems I gotta spel everything out for you so listen good, Chiquita. Last night, when I said no one touches you but me, that means you don’t touch anyone but me either.”
I put a hand to my hip.
I mean real y, did he think I was stepping out on him?
“It wasn’t what you obviously think, Vance was just taking us to Zip’s!”
Uh-oh.
I immediately saw my mistake. I should have told him we were out to lunch, visiting the dog pound to play with sheltered puppies, buying crack, anything but going to Zip’s.
“What were you doing at Zip’s?” Somehow, the low, scary voice got lower and scarier.
I decided not to lie, not because I thought it was a good way to go, more like I couldn’t come up with another story quick enough.
“Vance was outfitting us with gear.”
“What kind of gear?”
“A few bits and pieces,” I decided to be vague.
“What kind of bits and pieces?” I shouldn’t have tried vague, I’d already learned that Eddie wasn’t fond of vague.
“Stun guns, tasers, pepper spray,” I said.
“Why?”
I took a deep breath and, since I was being honest, I went whole hog. “I’m going to look for Dad.” His eyes narrowed, his mouth tightened and my stomach lurched but I tried not to let on that he was kind of flipping me out.