Rock Chick 03 Redemption (44 page)

“Are you okay?” I asked Hank.

He didn’t answer for a beat.

Then he spoke. “I’m gonna kil that motherfucker,” his voice was so low, an edge sliced through it.

My head jerked at his words and I winced. I’d heard them many a time before but the way Hank said them made me believe him.

“Whisky –”

“Get over here,” he ordered.

I blinked. “What?” I asked.

“Get over here,” he repeated.

I stared at him.

Then I skirted the bed and walked to him.

The minute I got within arm’s reach, he snatched me to his body and his arms went around me so tight, for the first time in days, my ribs hurt.

“Whisky, my ribs,” I breathed.

His arms didn’t loosen.

“He isn’t gonna touch you,” Hank said to the top of my head.

“Okay… um, Hank… my ribs.”

“He isn’t gonna get near you.”

I realized what was happening.

He
had
been making every effort to stay in control. So much so, he’d been physical y unable to move.

At my realization, I melted into him, my arms went around him and I held tight too.

I leaned back in his arms and looked up at him. “Whisky, we’re going to be al right.”

He didn’t say anything but he let me go just a fraction, the tension started to ebb from his body and we stayed there, just hanging on.

“Welp! See you got this under control, son. We’l see you in the morning,” Dad announced behind my back.

“Nightie night,” Mom said.

The door closed.

Hank and I just held on.

Shamus sat down and leaned into our legs.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” I said quietly.

“Lee plays by different rules than me,” Hank replied and I became confused at the sudden change of subject.

I leaned back and looked at him again. “Yes?”

“He recruits men who play by those rules.” I nodded, having no clue whatsoever what he was on about but deciding things were sensitive enough, I should just go with it.

“They work for money, their lines are blurred. Mostly, they do right, but other times, they do what they’re paid to do and don’t ask questions.”

I put my hand to the side of his face and let it drift down to his jaw.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Sometimes, they dispense justice, their form, which isn’t the same as mine. Sometimes, Eddie and I play their game. Sometimes, we use them to get what we need.” I thought it was good that he was so handsome, because, when he got philosophical, he made no sense at al .

“Awhile back, a man hit Indy. Lee beat the shit out of him.

He did it purposeful y, methodical y, leavin’ a message. A man’l think twice before he touches Indy.” Oh shit.

I was beginning to see where he was going with this.

I pressed my body to his.

“Whisky.”

“Those boys don’t take people to the holding room to hurt them. Interrogate them, yes, but as far as I know, no one has been held there and harmed on purpose.”

“Maybe we should lie down,” I suggested.

Hank ignored me.

“Vance was pretty pissed off, the way he found you.

Vance comes from a broken home; a violent one. His Dad set him out after the first time Vance stepped between him and Vance’s Mom when his Dad was beatin’ her. Vance was ten.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered, my mind fil ed with a ten year old boy trying to protect his Mom and being kicked out of the house for it. What did he do then? Was Vance ten years old and out on the street?

Good God.

It didn’t bear thinking about, at least not now. I shoved it aside and focused on Hank.

It was like he hadn’t heard me speak.

“Vance asked for a go with Flynn, payback, instead of overtime, for his search for you. It would set a precedent, but the way Vance figured it, as a woman, you hadn’t been given the opportunity to a fair fight. Flynn deserved the same treatment. Tex jumped on the bandwagon. Lee left it to me. I didn’t agree. I was wil in’ to turn a blind eye, but didn’t agree. Indy was about to lose a knee when Tex saved her. She’d been kidnapped and they were gonna shoot her to get her to talk. Lee felt obliged to Tex and they agreed to let Tex at Flynn, then Vance. Eddie and I stepped up the game to find Flynn before Lee in hopes that wouldn’t happen.”

I had stopped interrupting and let him be.

“I’m cal in’ my shot,” he said and I felt my heart spasm.

I sure as hel interrupted then. “You can’t do that Hank.

You’re good, your lines aren’t blurred.”

“I’m not askin’ you, Sunshine. I’m tel in’ you, I’m cal in’ my shot.”

Holy cow.

“You can’t do that for me.”

“I can. I final y understand Lee. Anyone thinks of touchin’

you, they think of speakin’ to you that way, I want it known, they should think again.”

“Hank, someone finds out, you could lose your badge.”

“Then I’l work with Lee.”

“Hank!”

“I’m only tel in’ you so you’l understand. I’m not askin’ for permission and I’m not lookin’ for discussion.” Holy cow, cow, cow.

“Wel , we are going to discuss it because I’m not going to permit it!” I snapped with a stomp of my foot. “You said earlier you never wanted to be anything but a cop. Now you’re saying you’re going to put that in jeopardy for me.

And you think
I’m
nuts?”

His face changed, the stil ness of anger went out of it, something else came over him, something I was a lot more familiar with.

He started walking me backwards to the bed. “So, you’re staying?” he asked.

I shook my head like I was clearing it. “Excuse me?”

“Denver. You’re staying?”

My eyes narrowed.

“Do not even
think
of trying to change the subject, Hank Nightingale.”

My legs hit the bed and I went down. He came down on top of me.

“Are you movin’ to Denver?” Hank asked patiently, then, before I could answer, his lips went to my neck.

“We were talking about you putting your career on the line due to some macho idea of revenge.”

“We’re done talkin’ about that. Now we’re talkin’ about you movin’ to Denver.”

you movin’ to Denver.”

His tongue touched the back of my ear.

My body did a quiver.

I jerked my head and neck away from him.

“Hank, look at me, we need to finish talking about –” His head came around and he kissed me.

Then I forgot what we needed to finish talking about.

A little later, I’d gotten his jeans off him, managed to get my mouth on him (for a while, it must be said, Hank did like his control, not that I was complaining), he had his hand between my legs and his lips were against mine, when he asked softly, “Are you movin’ to Denver?”

Then his finger slid inside and his thumb did a swirl.

My neck arched.

“Yes,” I breathed.

When I looked at him, he was grinning at me.

Fucking Hank.

Hank’s phone rang.

I opened my eyes and it was dark.

Hank was on his back, I was pressed to his side, my head on his shoulder, my thigh thrown over one of his, half my leg had fal en between his and my hand was resting on his chest.

Shamus had his back pressed to mine.

I’d been fast asleep, my body relaxed but it went tense instantly at the sound of the phone.

Hank grabbed it and flipped it open one-handed, not disturbing me, but his arm around my waist got tight.

“Yeah?” he said into the phone.

He listened.

I waited.

“Tel me you’re fucking joking,” he growled, his voice vibrating with anger.

Shit.

Bil y had gotten away.

I twisted my neck and pressed my forehead into his shoulder. My arm went around his waist and I held tight.

“Find him,” Hank said and flipped the phone shut.

“Whisky,” I whispered and even I could hear my voice held a tremor of fear.

“He’l get him,” Hank replied.

“Is Vance okay?” I asked.

“Flynn was gone when he got there. Trail’s hot though.

Vance is on it. Roxie, he’l get him.”

I swal owed.

He tossed the phone on the nightstand and both of his arms came around me.

“Relax, sweetheart. He’s not gonna hurt you,” Hank murmured.

I nodded and forced the tension from my body. I was able to do this mainly because I had help from Hank’s hand stroking my back.

After awhile, I fel asleep.

* * * * *

My eyes slowly opened and I could see Hank’s throat in the dawn’s early light.

We were front-to-front, my thigh thrown over his hip, one of his arms resting lightly on my waist and mine was doing the same on his.

“Of course he doesn’t have buttermilk. Who has buttermilk?”

I blinked.

Mom and Dad were in the kitchen and I could hear them talking as if they were in the bedroom.

Hank’s house didn’t have thin wal s, it was just that my parents talked loudly.

“Wel , if he doesn’t have buttermilk, how’m I gonna make buttermilk pancakes?” Mom asked. “Sweet Jesus!” she cried. “He doesn’t have flour either!”

She said this as if it was a criminal offense.

“Of course he doesn’t have flour! Does he look like a man who bakes?” Dad said in a loud(er) voice.

I looked up Hank’s throat just as he tipped down his chin.

His eyes were open.

Damn.

He was awake.

I closed my eyes and shoved my face into his throat.

“No, he doesn’t look like a man who bakes, but Roxie’s been here and she bakes,” Mom said.

“Yeah, like Roxie’s been floatin’ around makin’ cookies while that sum a’ bitch has been after her. Jesus, Trish.” I heard slamming cupboards

“There’s nothing in this house. Eggs. Bread. Milk. Lots of coffee and beer. I don’t understand. He looks like a healthy boy. It’s like he exists on coffee and beer. That can’t be.

What am I going to do?”

Good God.

My mother just cal ed Hank a “healthy boy”.

I shoved up closer to Hank’s warm, solid body, mortification overtaking mine.

Hank’s arm tightened.

“Make some fuckin’ coffee,” Dad answered as if that answer was obvious.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Herbert Logan,” Mom snapped.

“Don’t tel me what tone to take, woman,” Dad returned.

Mom ignored Dad’s reply.

“Go get some buttermilk. And bacon. And maple syrup,” I heard a cupboard slam. “No, wait, I found some syrup,” Mom said.

“Go where and get buttermilk?” Dad asked, his voice now incredulous.

“The grocery store,” Mom answered like Dad was a dim bulb.

“Please, God, shut up,” I whispered against Hank’s throat.

Hank rol ed me to my back and came with me, settling with him partial y on top of me and partial y up on an elbow.

I opened my eyes and saw his were lazy and amused and his lips were twitching.

“What grocery store? We’re in Denver. I have no idea where a grocery store is,” Dad returned.

“Wel , drive around. Denver’s a big city. There have to be hundreds of grocery stores. You’l run into one eventual y,” Mom replied.

I took in a deep breath and bit my lip.

Hank’s eyes were smiling and his body started shaking.

I scowled at him and his lips spread into a grin.

“Let me get this straight,” Dad clipped. “You want me to get in the car and drive around a city I’ve never been to in my fuckin’ life to buy buttermilk?”

“Wel , yeah,” Mom said, as if that was a perfectly normal request.

“Fuck that. I’l find some fuckin’ place that sel s donuts,” Dad told her and I heard movement in the other room as if Dad was preparing to leave.

“Don’t you dare buy donuts!” Mom shrieked. “Hank’s a cop. He’l think you’re making some smart remark.” Hank’s forehead dropped to mine and his body started shaking harder.

“This isn’t funny,” I whispered.

“You’re wrong,” he replied quietly, his voice trembling with laughter.

“People other than cops eat donuts, you know,” we heard Dad return. “I’m not a cop and I eat donuts.”

“Buttermilk pancakes are Roxie’s favorite breakfast. I want to make Roxie’s favorite breakfast,” Mom said.

“I’l get what I get,” Dad responded, obviously not in the mood to discuss it anymore.

“You do that. I’l go get the dog. He’l probably want out and Hank and Roxie need to sleep in. They had a tough night.”

Both Hank and my bodies got tense.

“Don’t go near that damn room, Trish,” Dad warned.

“I’m just getting the dog. I won’t peek,” Mom returned Hank lifted his forehead from mine.

“Please tel me your mother’s not comin’ in here,” Hank said to me.

“Trish! Get back here!”

“Herb, relax.”

Mom sounded closer. A lot closer.

My mother was coming in.

“We can hear you!” I shouted, in hopes of waylaying her.

Silence.

Hank and I were both naked and the sheet was around our waists. He pul ed the sheet up to my chest just as Mom opened the door.

Good God.

Hank’s head twisted to look over his shoulder, other than that, he didn’t move, likely trying to shield me further with his body. I put my hands to his biceps, lifted up and peered over his shoulder.

Mom was standing in the doorway in her robe, her hand over her eyes.

“Mornin’ kids. Don’t mind me. Come here Shamus, come on boy,” then she made kissy noises, the whole time she kept her hand over her eyes.

Shamus lurched up, jumped off the bed and jogged out of the room, tail wagging.

As he wagged by Mom, she said, “Go back to sleep. I’m making pancakes but Herb’s got to find buttermilk so it’l take awhile. You have time for a snooze.”