Rock Chick Revolution
Page 56

I nodded.
Darius carried on. “Because of their relationships with you, Hank and Eddie can’t work this case officially. They’ve assigned it to Jimmy Marker. Jimmy’s keepin’ them briefed, they’re briefin’ me.”
Poor Jimmy.
A colleague of my dad’s, I’d known Jimmy Marker since I was a little girl. And Jimmy was batting a thousand. That would mean he’d picked up every Rock Chick case, now including mine.
“You got Santo and Lucky on your ass,” Darius continued. “You still carry, keep your stun gun and pepper spray on you. Vigilance, Ally.”
“Always, honey.”
This time, he nodded.
“Shit to do,” he muttered, which meant we were done.
“Darius?” I called, even though he was looking at me.
“Right here, Ally.”
“I love what I do. I’m going to love doing it for a living. But the thing I love most is that you always believed in me.”
Darius held my eyes a beat before he looked down to the seat.
When he lifted his eyes again, I took in a hissed breath at the unconcealed pain there.
“And I love it that you always believed in me,” he whispered.
Oh God.
I leaned toward him. “Darius—”
“Get outta my truck, Ally.”
“Darius—”
“Out, sweetheart.”
It was him calling me sweetheart and doing it in a voice that was rough with emotion that made me nod and exit his vehicle immediately.
I stood on the sidewalk and watched him drive away.
Definitely time for tequila and a sit down between Darius and me.
I looked across the street and gave a wave to Lucky who was standing outside a sedan and leaning into his forearms on its roof.
He lifted a hand and gave me a salute.
I gave him a chin lift that was probably not macho badass and walked into Fortnum’s.
It was a hair after opening, which meant the place was packed.
Duke was behind the book counter, and when I caught his eyes, he scowled at me, turned and disappeared into the rows of shelves behind him.
Okay, so, tequila with Darius. And also beer with Duke.
Tex and Jet were behind the espresso counter and I headed there, even though both of them being there left little room for me. Not because there wasn’t enough room for three people. Just that, with the addition of Jet’s seven month’s pregnant belly, it made it a tight squeeze.
We got to work, but I knew I was operating on borrowed time caused by the coffee rush and this was confirmed when it slowed and immediately Tex turned to me.
“Not happy,” he boomed, even though I was three feet away.
I was not surprised by this announcement. Not because I ticked everyone off with my secrecy.
No, because Tex was rarely happy.
“What now?” I asked.
“You’re hooked up with Zano.”
Shit.
Here we go.
“Tex—” I started.
“That means you got Zano Family protection. So that means no one’s gonna f**k with you. So that means you’re gonna do whatever it is you’re gonna do, but still, shit’s gonna stay boring.”
I stared.
Tex kept booming. “That apartment explosion was a fluke. Those New Mexicans get wind you’ve got family protection, they’re gonna back off. Then where we gonna be?”
“Safe and happy?” Jet suggested, and Tex turned a narrowed gaze and knitted bushy brows to her.
“What fun is that?” he asked.
“Just pointing out,” I entered the conversation, “the other Rock Chicks had Nightingale and police protection, not to mention Sloan and Zano protection in some cases, and shit happened to them.”
Was I assuring Tex of impending danger and mayhem?
“You women burned your way through anyone stupid enough to spit into the eye of those tigers. There’s no one left,” Tex replied.
“Maybe those New Mexicans won’t get wind of all that,” I proposed. “Out-of-towners with no local known associates, they may be slow to cotton on.”
Yes, I was assuring Tex of impending danger and mayhem.
“It’s thin,” Tex muttered. “But it’s something.”
He turned back to the espresso machine and jerked off a portafilter with such force, the entire machine (and it was not small or light, not by a long shot) moved sideways half an inch.
He also kept muttering.
“And we got that book thing. Those badasses were beside themselves yesterday. Got a feeling that shit’s gonna get interesting.”
I had a feeling he wasn’t wrong
I looked to Jet.
Jet rolled her eyes and shrugged.
I got close to her and asked, “How are you feeling about the book thing?”
Her head tipped to the side before she replied. “I can’t find it in me to get worked up about it. Sure, there’s more detail in Indy’s book, but it isn’t like it wasn’t mostly all laid out in the papers.” She righted her head and went on to inform me, “Eddie’s not pleased.”
That wasn’t a surprise.
“So I’m thinking I should probably devote my attention to not getting wound up about it.” Her hand went to her belly. “He’s not big on me getting worked up about stuff.”
I knew that. If Eddie adored Jet before (and he adored her, in his macho badass way), he doted on her now. He was ecstatic (again, in his macho badass way) that she was having his baby, thus he treated her like porcelain. No Eddie Chats that pissed her off. No being bossy. It was all about soft looks and sweet touches and handling her with the utmost care.
It was pretty righteous.
Then again, Eddie had always been a really good guy (in his macho badass way).
So that wasn’t a surprise, either.
I dipped my head to her belly. “How’s preparations for the blessed event coming?” I asked, and she gave me her knockout smile.
“The addition is done,” she told me, referring to the new kickass laundry room Eddie and Hector added on to their house so Jet didn’t have to walk down to the basement to do laundry. “The nursery is done,” she went on. “Now he’s starting on refinishing the basement so we can move number one out to a bedroom downstairs,” she patted her big belly. “And move number two into the nursery upstairs when the time comes.”
“Forward planning,” I noted and got another big smile.
It was safe to say Jet, as well as Eddie, were looking forward to having a big happy family.
I pulled in a breath and got to the hard part.