Rock Chick Renegade

by Kristen Ashley

  His hand moved, it went down over my hip then up under my shirt then both his arms wrapped around me. “He could have blown off half your face, you survived, you’d still be lyin’ beside me.”

  I blinked.

  He didn’t pause for me to wrap my head around that mind-blowing statement, he went on. “One of those bullets could have torn through your spinal cord, you’d be lyin’ beside me.”

  Oh my God.

  His arms got tighter, pressing my body against his and his face came super-close. “This is it. You and me. No matter what,” he said.

  “Crowe –” I whispered, so stunned, so moved, I thought my heart had to have stopped beating.

  “No matter what,” he said, his voice fierce and strong and rumbling through me. “You told me I was home to you and I get it. You’re home to me. I’ve never had a home. I like the one I found and I’m not losin’ it. No matter what.”

  I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to but I started crying. It wasn’t the wracking-loud-sobs kind of crying, it was the tears-filling-your-eyes-and-spilling-over-silently kind of crying.

  He watched me cry and didn’t say a word, he just held me close.

  “You… you said…” I stammered, “if I ever changed my body –”

  “Show me,” he murmured, his voice and eyes had grown soft.

  I stopped crying immediately and said, “What?”

  “Show me, Princess.”

  I stared at him for what seemed like ages knowing exactly what he meant.

  His mouth came to mine and he said again, “Show me.”

  I sucked in a breath in an attempt to buy time to decide if I had the courage to show him. Then, deciding I did, in fact I had to, I pulled away and he let me go. He pushed down the covers, I pulled up the t-shirt and I closed my eyes.

  I opened them again when I felt his mouth on me.

  It moved, touching my scars gently, his hands roaming my sides, hips and then he pushed me on my back.

  Then he came up, kissing the scar at my chest then he moved his mouth to my breasts, spending a lot more time there, first at one then the other. It felt great and I totally forgot how gross I was.

  Then his mouth went lower. Then lower. Then he rolled between my legs and his mouth was there.

  That’s when I really totally forgot how gross I was.

  After awhile he pulled off my panties and made me come with his mouth.

  It was fucking fantastic.

  He rolled to his back, I got on top of him and wrapped my hand around him.

  “Jules, you don’t –” he started but I leaned down and kissed him quiet.

  Then I guided him inside me and moved on top of him. I took my time mainly because I’d just had an orgasm so I had all the time in the world, not to mention it felt really good.

  Vance wasn’t really into slow though. I figured he’d taken care of himself somewhere along the way but maybe I was wrong. He got impatient and sat up, his hands at my hips coaxing me to go faster. They slid up my sides and his eyes locked on mine.

  “I wanna take off your shirt,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  I shook my head.

  He kissed me deep and hard.

  Then he repeated, “I wanna take off your shirt.”

  I was a bit muddled from the kiss so I said, “Okay.”

  Gently, he pulled the t-shirt over my head.

  His mouth was at my chest, my scar, my breasts, his hands pressing in to make me arch my back and expose myself to him. I moved faster, faster and he tipped his head back. His fingers slid into my hair, tilting my face down to his and he kissed me right before he came.

  I guess he wasn’t grossed out by my body.

  * * * * *

  We had Christmas at Nick’s, just Vance, Nick and me.

  I gave Nick tickets to an upcoming Springsteen concert. I gave Vance this kickass choker with a thick, braided leather band and two small, silver medallions at the front, one of an eagle and one of a buffalo. He tied it on and usually I didn’t like jewelry on guys but that leather and silver on him looked hot.

  Nick stole my bracelet while I was recovering and had three more links put in. One with an emerald, for Nick which days later I found out signifies goodness, fidelity and love; one with a blue topaz, for me which signifies sincerity, courage and wisdom (and when I read this out to Vance and Nick, Nick said, “Don’t know about that last one,” a comment which Vance thought was so funny, he threw back his head and laughed, which meant I had to try and tackle him but he just caught me, swung me up in his arms and kept right on laughing, his face buried in my neck); and also one with a pearl, for Vance which signifies nobility, beauty and peace.

  How’s that for perfect?

  Of course I burst into sloppy tears when I opened it, which pissed me off because I seemed to be crying all the time those days but Vance pulled me into his lap and held me until I was done crying, which, head crackin’ mamma jamma that I was, I still had to admit was super nice.

  Zip dropped a gift by Nick’s. It was gun holster with a note attached that said “Just in case’. I laughed my ass off. Vance and Nick didn’t think this was funny (at all).

  We had Christmas dinner at my place because I had a better dining room table.

  I cooked dinner while Nick looked worried and Vance looked amused mainly because I banged around and cursed a lot through this process.

  I’d been practicing cooking at Vance’s cabin while I was recovering and wasn’t doing too badly. However the Christmas pork tenderloin somehow ended up kinda raw. I swore to both of them it was not my fault, it had to be my stupid oven. Then Nick asked me what temperature I cooked it on and I said, “One fifty, like it says in the cookbook.”

  Nick got the cookbook and showed me it said three fifty which I guess proved it wasn’t the oven.

  Vance, for your information, stayed silent through this exchange however he wore his shit-eating grin the entire time.

  Luckily, Nick cooked a backup pork tenderloin (just in case) so all was saved.

  Vance gave me my present later in bed when nothing but the moonlight was shining down on us. It was an ultra-wide, hammered, silver ring that went all the way up to my knuckle. It was gorgeous.

  I put it on my right ring finger and Vance took it off and put it on my left but not before kissing my finger and looking at me with that “mine” expression on his face.

  I could see it, even in the moonlight.

  What was more, I could feel it.

  Since then, I’ve never taken that ring off.

  * * * * *

  The week between Christmas and New Year’s was busy because I was going back to work after New Year’s and Vance and I had a lot to do, considering we were splitting houses.

  He brought a bunch of his stuff to my house and I moved some of my stuff back but left a lot of it at the cabin.

  We doubled up on kitty paraphernalia so Boo could go back and forth with us (Boo liked riding in the Sierra, by the way, crazy cat) without us carting around litter boxes and kitty bowls.

  I bought Vance some bookshelves for his cabin. He bought me a stereo so I could listen to music there. He also put in decent locks so no one would steal the stereo which I thought was a smart move.

  He gave me a key.

  * * * * *

  Lee was recruiting new Nightingale Investigations Men not to mention a new receptionist and he hit the jackpot that week before New Year’s.

  Darius, finally disentangled from the drug trade, went to work for Lee. Word on the street, Vance told me, this was not a popular move. Though I don’t think anyone at Nightingale Investigations ever cared if something was popular.

  Hector, who miraculously didn’t blow his cover, ended his long investigation by getting his man. After that, for reasons only known to Hector (and I knew this for certain because Indy tried naked gratitude on Lee, like, seven times, and got nothing), he quit the DEA and went to work for Lee.

  The kicker was Shirleen, also now drug-trade-fr
ee, was looking for a way to spend her days. She and Darius also owned a bar and ran a poker game. She shut down the game, hired a good manager for the bar and became Lee’s receptionist.

  No one really knew why Lee hired a crazy, ex-drug-dealing woman with a huge Afro and no experience whatsoever to be his receptionist (and we talked about it a lot, mostly over brunch at Dozens), but then again he’d also hired Dawn so go figure.

  * * * * *

  The only downer about the New Year’s Party Indy and Lee threw at their duplex was when the fireworks started going off and I freaked out.

  I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t control it, the noise… I just panicked.

  Once he ascertained I wasn’t going to go off half-cocked and run screaming into the night, Vance left me with the girls (and Tod and Stevie) all crowded around me. Then he, Luke, Mace, Lee, Hank and Eddie (not to mention Tex and Duke) took off, each one wearing a scary-angry look on their face. In about ten minutes there was no more noise and they all came back with a shitload of confiscated fireworks.

  So in some ways it was good being a badass’s girlfriend.

  Though the kids who were enjoying their firework celebrations probably wouldn’t agree.

  * * * * *

  In March, we packed Sniff and Roam into the GMC. Nick waved us off, promising to break up Boo’s wet food and the four of us headed to Ignacio, Vance’s hometown.

  A week before we left, Vance had called his Mom and told her we were coming to visit.

  She obviously hadn’t been expecting a call from her long-lost son and she flipped out then burst into uncontrollable sobs. That’s when Vance handed the phone to me (and I gave him a dirty look, which he ignored). I calmed his Mom down and found out that we were more than welcome, we could come anytime.

  Anytime.

  She said this like, fifteen times.

  About an hour out of Ignacio, I was fidgeting in my seat, more than even Sniff normally fidgeted, totally flipped out.

  I looked at Vance who was sitting back, driving with only his left wrist on the steering wheel, eyes on the road, thoughts hidden, cool as a cucumber.

  He sensed my agitation, his eyes slid to me and he said, “Still.”

  “Still, my ass,” I murmured.

  Vance chuckled. So did Roam.

  We drove up to the house and Vance barely got his new, shiny, black truck stopped when the door flew open and a beautiful Native American woman, a hint of gray in her thick, black hair and cheekbones I’d sell my soul for, came flying out of the house.

  She ran half the way to the truck then halted. Her body went solid and she stared at her grown son, seeing him for the first time in twenty years.

  Vance dropped down from the truck (still, I might add, cool as a cucumber, acting as if he came to visit every weekend) and he waited for me to round the hood to get to him. He took my hand and we walked up to his Mom, Roam and Sniff hanging back.

  She was a tiny, little thing and she watched us coming, her eyes leaving Vance only once to slide to our linked hands and then to gaze momentarily at me. When we got close she looked up at Vance like pretty much everyone did, like he was a god fallen to earth (sometimes, normally post-orgasm, I suspected that he was but I never told him that, though I did share my suspicions with Ally, Indy, Jet, Roxie and Daisy and they’d all laughed themselves stupid).

  “My son,” she whispered as if she couldn’t quite believe it.

  “Yeah, Ma,” Vance said.

  At his words she burst into tears.

  Unfortunately so did I. What could I say? Even a head crackin’ mamma jamma and a social worker who’d witnessed dozens of reunions was going to lose it in the face of that kind of reunion.

  Vance held his Mom. Roam slid his arm around my shoulders and I stuffed my face in his neck.

  Finally after a good long bawl, she looked at me. “My name is Roslyn,” she said, wiping her face and trying to get control.

  “I’m Jules,” I told her, doing the same as she was.

  Then for some ungodly reason, we burst out crying again, moving into each other’s arms.

  The guys just left us to it and unpacked the truck though I heard Roam mutter, “Shit, silly bitches.”

  “Don’t say bitches!” I shouted at his back just as the screen door slammed.

  Roslyn laughed.

  I watched her and it hit me that her son looked a lot like her.

  * * * * *

  We stayed with Roslyn for a couple of days. His Dad was mysteriously “on a fishing trip” which Vance took in stride but it pissed me right the hell off though with effort I kept my mouth shut.

  We found out his brother, Owen, was living in Santa Fe. Owen and his family came up on our last day when Vance’s Mom had a barbeque for us at noontime before we were going to take off.

  The reunion with Owen didn’t go so well. Owen sized up Vance immediately and didn’t like what he saw (pure jealousy, if you asked me).

  Owen was married with two young boys, was shorter than Vance and clearly took after his Dad in the looks department. Vance looked like his Mom, as in gorgeous. Owen wasn’t much but then again I could be prejudiced, Owen was kind of a jerk, I thought that right off.

  Around about the dessert stage of the festivities, Owen teetered over the rim of happy-drunk and got shitfaced drunk, loud and obnoxious in a way you knew he did it a lot especially when both Roslyn and Owen’s wife got very tense and started to shrink into themselves.

  The whole time we were there Vance had been, well, Vance, cool and laid back. It put Roslyn and all of us at ease and our time with his Mom had been good. She was funny and sweet and obviously happy to have us with her. Sometimes though, I’d catch her looking at Vance in a way that was lost and infinitely sad. Thank God Sniff was there, his motor mouth usually served to snap her out of it.

  But his brother’s drunken behavior got a reaction from Vance, who looked at his two nephews, his mother and sister-in-law then he took his brother around the front of the house for a chat.

  The chat degenerated when Owen became not only drunk, loud and obnoxious but also seriously pissed off. We heard the shouts all the way to the back and I got up and ran around to the front, the whole party following me. I tried to intercede as Owen yelled in Vance’s face and Vance stared him down.

  Owen turned an enraged face to me and screamed, “Shut up, bitch. Who the fuck’re –”

  Then quick as a flash (as was the way of Lightin’ Crowe), Owen was up against the house, Vance’s forearm to his throat and Vance in his face.

  There went the reunion barbeque.

  Owen looked stunned that one second he was five feet away and shouting mad and the next second he was pinned and powerless against the house.

  “Not smart,” Vance said in a scary, quiet voice, then shoved off and looked at Roam. “Pack it up.”

  Roam, not looking all that happy himself, didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Sniff and they ran into the house.

  “But we haven’t got to the pie yet,” Roslyn cried.

  Vance was not in the mood to change his mind. We were packed up and ready to go in fifteen minutes. Owen had disappeared, his wife and kids stood by Roslyn as we said our good-byes.

  “You’ll come back?” Roslyn asked Vance, standing a foot away, not touching him and the sound of her voice made tears crawl up my throat.

  “I’ll be back,” Vance told her.

  I was standing at Vance’s side and her eyes moved to me.

  “You’ll bring him back?” she asked, even though Vance had already answered the question.

  I smiled at her. “I’ll bring him back.”

  I gave her a hug and told her to come visit us in Denver.

  Vance touched his young nephews’ heads, nodded to his sister-in-law and turned to kiss his mother’s forehead.

  Then we were gone.

  * * * * *

  After the emotional start to our vacation, we spent the rest of the week camping.

  Two street-smart, urban runa
ways roughing it in the mountains outside Ouray was pretty hilarious. They didn’t have a clue.

  Vance was a patient teacher.

  I on the other hand never stopped giving them stick.

  * * * * *

  It was late March and May and I were hanging in the surveillance room with Vance, Monty and Mace.

  May and I had brought a lunch of calzones from Pasquini’s for the boys and Shirleen and we were consuming them and giggling ourselves silly while watching Tex and Duke argue about what happened at Kent State (though, I didn’t understand what the argument was about considering it sounded like they both agreed) when Vance got tense and he leaned forward.

  He turned down the volume to the Fortnum’s monitor and moved to the monitor that showed a visual of the reception area.

  Shirleen was sitting behind the reception desk, consuming her own calzone while alternately painting her fingernails, a mean feat, and a woman had walked in.

  I looked at her and liked her immediately.

  Tall, curvy, super-pretty and definitely cool in a female James Dean, throw-away-cool type of way. She was wearing a pair of very faded Levi’s, so faded, they were worn nearly through in some advantageous areas; a pair of black flip flops; a black Green Day t-shirt over a white thermal; silver rings on nearly every finger; several silver necklaces around her neck; a mess of silver bracelets on both her wrists and wide silver hoops at her ears. Her long, streaked-blonde hair was up in a twisty, untidy knot with chunks falling around her face in a way that looked artless and kickass.

  Her look was sah-weet. She had Rock Chick written all over her.

  Vance turned up the volume to the reception monitor in time for us to hear Shirleen say, “… help you?”

  The woman was looking at Shirleen and she didn’t look happy. Why, I couldn’t fathom, but she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there and was about ready to turn on her flip flop and leave.

  She hesitated for a moment then said, “I’m looking for Lucas Stark.”

  Uh-oh.

  I drew in breath.

  “You got an appointment with Luke?” Shirleen asked, looking through the total mess on her desk as if she actually kept appointments for Luke. Luke didn’t even take appointments. Luke was wherever Luke was and if you caught him you could count yourself lucky.