Read Rock Chick 03 Redemption Online
Authors: Kristen Ashley
“They shot me! They shot my Mercedes! Those fuckin’
bastards!” Daisy squealed, then she hooked a right down some narrow road with parked cars on either side; barely enough room for us to drive down.
A car was coming toward us and Daisy leaned on the horn. “Get out of my way, motherfucker!” she shouted, leaning forward squinting through the windshield like she was nearsighted and nearly resting her huge bosoms on the steering wheel.
At the last possible moment in our scary game of chicken, the car swerved into an open spot and we flew by.
I looked behind us and saw the rest of the cars in our convoy fly by too.
“Drive to a police station,” I said to her.
“What?” she asked, stil laying on the horn.
“Take your hand off the horn and drive to a police station!” I yel ed.
She stopped honking her horn and I heard my purse ringing.
“Shit!” I snapped.
“Put your seatbelt on. Fuck the phone. Belt. Now!” I did as Daisy instructed. She hung a left running a stop sign and then two blocks down, she took another left, sign and then two blocks down, she took another left, thankful y through a green light, and got onto a two-lane road. My phone final y quit ringing and Daisy weaved in and out of traffic, honking her horn liberal y and staying out of the line of a clean shot.
We took several more turns. I kept glancing behind us; Eddie’s truck had fal en back, the Crossfire was behind the bad guys, Hank behind the Crossfire.
Daisy took another turn and we were in the parking lot of the police station Eddie had taken me to the day before.
I watched out the back window as the bad guys kept going. The Crossfire stopped on a squeal of tires. Hank’s 4Runner shot passed it and kept after the bad guys. Indy jumped out of the Crossfire and the minute she closed the door, it took off on another squeal of tires.
Then I could look no more.
Daisy executed what could only be described as a Bo-and-Luke-Duke-General-Lee stop on a squeal with the back half of the Mercedes swinging around and rocking to a halt. The red truck came in behind us. Annette’s Subaru fol owing it.
Two squad cars flew out of another exit; sirens and lights flashing.
Eddie didn’t bother to park. He stopped behind us, got out of the truck, Jet getting out the other side. She immediately started running toward the entrance of the police station, Indy was there, holding the door for her.
Eddie jogged toward us.
Daisy and I climbed out of the car.
“Get into the station. Now,” Eddie demanded and I
“Get into the station. Now,” Eddie demanded and I realized Jet and Indy already had their orders.
Daisy and I didn’t quibble. She threw her keys to Eddie, he caught them in midair and we hoofed it into the station, joining Jet and Indy. Annette and Jason came in not a minute later.
“What the fuck just happened?” Jason snapped.
Okay, so I’d learned of another situation that could take away Jason’s good mood.
I told them about the bad guys.
“Those fuckers shot my Mercedes,” Daisy said when I was done talking. She was shaking, maybe with rage but I figured it was something else.
I put my arms around her and she reciprocated the gesture.
“Those fuckers shot my Mercedes,” she whispered.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered back, feeling the weight of her fear settling firmly on my shoulders.
She held on.
Eddie walked in. His dark eyes, glittering with anger, went first to Jet and then they came to me.
“You okay?” he asked me.
I nodded.
“Daisy?” he said.
She took her cheek from my chest and nodded, but she didn’t let me go.
Eddie watched her a beat and then said, “I’l cal Marcus.”
Something changed in the air. I saw it in Daisy’s face and in Jet’s but I didn’t know what it was. Then Eddie looked at me. “You know those guys?”
I shook my head but said, “They took Bil y.”
“Bil y isn’t with them now,” he noted.
I just stared at him.
“Fuck,” Eddie finished.
He could say that again.
* * * * *
Daisy was by the door, being held by a good-looking, dark-haired man that I knew had to be her husband, Marcus. He was ignoring some very weird looks he was getting from al the cops in the room.
Indy was six feet away, talking to some handsome black man in uniform. Jason was standing with them, his face stil had not morphed back to the good-natured Jason I knew.
Jet was sitting on one side of me, Annette on the other and we were al holding hands.
Eddie was talking on the phone.
Then, some guy who was on another phone said, “Yo, Eddie!”
Eddie put his hand over the receiver and lifted his chin.
“Hank got ‘em,” the guy said.
Eddie’s eyes slid to me.
“Thank the goddess,” Annette breathed.
I stared at Eddie and felt my chest squeeze.
Before, I thought I was leaving town to guard my heart.
Now, I had to leave town to guard my friends.
* * * * *
What seemed like forever later, Hank and Al y walked into the room. Al y had been in the 4Runner with Hank and he’d taken her with him, hel bent on going after the bad guys. This was talked about by the cops like it wasn’t a big deal and I got the impression they al knew Al y was the kind of girl who could handle herself in a crisis.
I could tel from across the room that Hank’s body was taut, he was wired and he was seriously and completely pissed off.
He scanned the room until his eyes fel on me and then he came straight to me.
I got up from the couch.
He stopped in front of me, toe-to-toe, total y in my space.
He tilted his head down and looked me directly in the eye.
“You’re stayin’,” he declared in his authoritative voice.
Shit.
I was lying on top of the covers of Hank’s bed, wearing my dusty lilac, stretchy nightie with the black lace on the bodice and hem. It was a little risqué for hanging out in Hank,
the-guy-who-I-was-tel ing-myself-I-was-trying-to-shake’s bedroom but fuck it, these days risqué was my middle name.
Shamus was lying on his bel y beside me. His head on my stomach, his eyes closed, content as I scratched his ears. “Born to Run” was playing on the stereo in Hank’s bedroom and I’d just finished writing a letter to a friend in Atlanta (but did not share any of the recent goings-on; that would have to be a phone cal ).
I had put my stationery aside and I was staring at the ceiling and trying to decide how my life had descended into such madness (and obviously avoiding blaming myself in an attempt to save what was left of my sanity). It was like someone in a suit walked up to me and gave me a certificate, which stated “Roxanne Gisel e Logan, Your Life is Fucked”.
* * * * *
First, they took everyone’s statement, then, Daisy and I identified the two bad guys in a line up. It gave me a chil up my spine to see Sink Man again; so close he seemed
right
there.
Luckily, Hank was right there too, standing behind me, his strong hand warm on the back of my neck.
After that, we went back to the big room with the desks and phones and people. Hank didn’t come with us but everyone was stil there. Vance and Mace had arrived and both were looking grim. Or, at least, Mace looked grim, Vance looked pissed off.
They were talking to Lee but before they peeled off, Vance approached me, stared me in the eyes, his burning so deeply I felt the heat on my face.
“Don’t worry,” he said low.
Then, he and Mace took off.
Yowza.
I wasn’t certain what he meant. Al I knew was that whatever it was, he seriously meant it.
Then, everyone else took off. I tried to fol ow but Lee caught my arm and held me back. “You stay here, wait for Hank,” he ordered.
Eddie stood beside him, Jet and Indy stood beside their respective men. I looked at them.
“I need to –” I started.
“You need to wait for Hank,” Lee said and his tone brooked no argument.
I felt the need to argue, even though Lee scared me a bit.
“You don’t understand. Uncle Tex –” I told him.
“We’l talk to Tex,” Eddie cut in.
I felt another presence behind my back so I turned and there stood Malcolm, Hank and Lee’s dad; a handsome, older version of them both. I’d met him briefly at Indy and Lee’s party a week ago.
“Come on, Roxie. Let’s get you a cup of coffee,” Malcolm said.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Coffee with Hank’s dad after I’d been chased through the streets of Denver and shot at.
Shit.
I gave Lee and Indy, Eddie and Jet one last glance and a smal smile. Then I nodded to Malcolm and went with him.
He got me coffee (or what could loosely be described as coffee, I’d never again take coffee for granted after having one of Uncle Tex’s orgasmic creations) and we went back to the big room, its activity beginning to fade. He sat with me on the couch.
“Let me tel you what’s goin’ on,” Malcolm said to me.
I looked at him. His eyes were open and unguarded and infinitely kind. I realized two things straight off. One, this man had raised two pretty fantastic sons and an amazing daughter and I could tel the reason for that was because this was a good man. I also realized that he had been dragged into the mess that was the last week of my life right along with everyone else. The first thing humbled me, the second thing embarrassed me.
I tamped down the embarrassment, focused and said quietly, “I’d like to know what’s going on.” His eyes registered approval of my comment and I felt like I passed an important test. Not only that, I got an “A”.
He started talking. “They’re interrogating those men.
Jimmy Marker and Danny Rose are doing it. Jimmy and Danny are veterans, good at what they do and friends.
Hank can’t be involved because of you.”
I nodded, he continued.
“Hank’s watchin’, two way mirror. First, we want to know what happened to Flynn and if he’s stil at large. Then, we want to know who they’re workin’ for and why they came after you.”
I nodded again. I wanted to know al of that too.
“Hank wants you here, where he knows you’re safe and he can get to you. Wil you do that for him?” I swal owed, wondering if Malcolm knew how huge his question was.
Then I nodded again.
He patted my thigh.
“Good girl,” he said.
I did it again, passed another test and got another “A”.
I took a deep breath and he continued.
“This is a family affair, Roxie, in more ways than one.
Now, I’m gonna explain how that works. No one kidnaps a cop’s girlfriend out of his house then puts her in the path of a bul et. The whole department is gonna work until we get these guys and make you safe. Lee and I’l do whatever we can to that same end. You have my promise on that.” I tried not to focus on the fact he cal ed me Hank’s girlfriend, instead I focused on something that was even scarier. I liked this man; he was Hank’s dad and made Hank into what he was now and what he was to me. I didn’t want him to think badly of me.
“I’m sorry al of this is happening,” I said to him. “You must think –”
He squeezed my knee and interrupted me. “No offense, honey, but you don’t know what I think.”
I waited, quiet, knowing he wasn’t done and, for some reason, even more scared.
I may have passed a few tests but someone had shot at me that day. That probably wasn’t number one on a father’s list of the kind of girl he wanted his son to be with; especial y a son like Hank. It occurred to me I could be Hank’s “Bil y”, the girl that made his parents wince and get sad faces when they saw us together.
He continued.
“The only thing I want in this life is a piece of happiness for those I cal my own. I know my boy, he doesn’t fuck around when there’s somethin’ he wants, excuse my language.”
I did a hand gesture to excuse his language. It wasn’t his using the word “fuck’ that was making me freak out.
“It’s pretty damn clear Hank wants you and that boy doesn’t make stupid decisions. He’s smart, he’s control ed and he’s decisive. If he wants you, there’s somethin’ to want and that’s al I need to know.”
I looked at him, feeling funny. It wasn’t a bad feeling, it was a good one, a
really
good one and that scared me even more.
“You remind me of my dad, he doesn’t bul shit either,” I told him.
“Sounds like I’l like your dad,” Malcolm said.
He said this like it was a done deal that he’d meet my dad. I had visions of Malcolm meeting Dad and it made my heart skip a beat.
Mom and Dad had never met Bil y’s parents, neither had I. Bil y never even talked about them; he would close up the minute they were mentioned.
My parents would like Malcolm and they’d
love
Hank. I could hear Mom cal ing Sweet Jesus al the way from Brownsburg, Indiana at the mere thought of me with a guy like Hank.
“Thank you for tel ing me al of this,” I said to Malcolm.
He smiled at me and his smile was just as drop-dead gorgeous as his son’s. “My pleasure.”
We sat for a while longer, talking about Denver weather and then we started talking about sports. He told me it took awhile for him to warm to the Rockies; he’d been a Mets fan. I teasingly congratulated him for at least remaining faithful to the National League. Then, I told him I thought there was nothing better in the world than eating a hot dog and drinking a beer in the humid sun at Wrigley Field. After I finished with that, Malcolm gave me another one of his smiles, making me think I’d passed another test.