Rock Chick Redemption by Kristen Ashley
“Are you okay?” I asked Hank.
He didn’t answer for a beat.
Then he spoke. “I’m gonna kill 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 physically 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 all 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’ll 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 all.
“Awhile back, a man hit Indy. Lee beat the shit out of him. He did it purposefully, methodically, leavin’ a message. A man’ll 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 filled 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 willin’ 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 callin’ my shot,” he said and I felt my heart spasm.
I sure as hell interrupted then. “You can’t do that Hank. You’re good, your lines aren’t blurred.”
“I’m not askin’ you, Sunshine. I’m tellin’ you, I’m callin’ my shot.”
Holy cow.
“You can’t do that for me.”
“I can. I finally 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’ll work with Lee.”
“Hank!”
“I’m only tellin’ you so you’ll understand. I’m not askin’ for permission and I’m not lookin’ for discussion.”
Holy cow, cow, cow.
“Well, 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 stillness 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.”
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.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Buttermilk
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 fallen 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.
<
“Tell me you’re fucking joking,” he growled, his voice vibrating with anger.
Shit.
Billy 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’ll 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’ll get him.”
I swallowed.
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 fell asleep.
* * * * *
“He has no buttermilk.”
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 walls, it was just that my parents talked loudly.
“Well, 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 called 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 tell 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 rolled me to my back and came with me, settling with him partially on top of me and partially 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.
“Well, drive around. Denver’s a big city. There have to be hundreds of grocery stores. You’ll run into one eventually,” 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?”
“Well, yeah,” Mom said, as if that was a perfectly normal request.
“Fuck that. I’ll find some fuckin’ place that sells 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’ll 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’ll get what I get,” Dad responded, obviously not in the mood to discuss it anymore.
“You do that. I’ll go get the dog. He’ll 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 tell 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 pulled 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’ll take awhile. You have time for a snooze.”
The whole time she talked, she kept her hand over eyes.
“Yeah, we heard,” I told her. “Mom?”
“Yes, sweetie?” she lifted her head a bit, hand still on her eyes.
“Go away.”
“Right, right. Going,” then she closed the door.
We heard movements, keys jingling, doors slamming, the whole time I lay on my back and watched Hank. His eyes were looking in the vicinity of my collarbone, his head slightly cocked, listening while a smile played about his mouth
When the noise died down, I said to him, “I’m sorry.”
He dipped his head, rubbed his nose against mine and my belly melted.
“My parents are a little nutty,” I went on.
He looked me in the eye. “Sunshine, first off, Tex is your uncle. And, no offense, I mean it as a compliment, but you’re anything but normal. It isn’t like I wasn’t prepared.”
“They’re nice people,” I explained, kind of desperately.
We’d just sorted things out. I’d taken a huge chance on us. I’d even promised to move to Denver. I didn’t want everything to go balls-up in less than a day. I was hoping he wouldn’t take what he just heard as an indication of his future life and run, hell bent for leather, to the next state and far away from me, my Mom and my Dad.
His hand came up and he trailed a finger down my hairline. He watched his finger, then his hand curled around my neck and his eyes came to mine. “I know that,” he said.
Obviously, he wasn’t in fear of a nutty future life, or, maybe, he was just resigned to it.
Either one worked for me.
I lifted up and touched my lips to his and then settled on the pillows again.
After I’d done that, I noticed the amusement was out of his eyes, the lazy was still there but there was also intensity.
“Any hope that your Mom went with your Dad to find buttermilk?” he asked, his eyes on my mouth.
I knew what he was asking and my melted belly did a funny, but pleasant, twist.
“She was in her robe,” I pointed out.
His lips came to mine. “Yeah,” he said against my lips and I could hear the regret.
I smiled against his mouth and watched, close up, as his eyes went languid.
“Kids!” Mom yelled from somewhere in the house.
Hank pulled away a bit, shook his head and smiled. It was a good bet he hadn’t been called a kid in a very long time.
“Yeah?” I yelled back.
“I’m taking Shamus for a walk. I got the key from the hook by the door and I’m locking you in. You two rest,” Then we heard the door open and shut and she was gone.
Hank didn’t hesitate, his arms came around me, he rolled me to the side and his face went to my neck.
It was clear we weren’t going to “rest”.
“How much time do you think we have?” he asked.
“Not long,” I answered honestly. Mom wasn’t exactly into exercise.
Hank’s lips came up my jaw to my mouth.
“We’ll be fast,” he murmured there.
“No, Hank, I need to get up. Mom’ll be back –”
He took my hand in his and pulled it between us, wrapping my fingers around him.
He was rock hard.
My belly twist turned into a dip and I felt a spasm between my legs.
“We’ll be fast,” I said.
He grinned and then he kissed me.
* * * * *
We were sitting around the dining room table. I was wearing my nightie with Hank’s plaid, flannel bathrobe wrapped tight around me. It’d been washed, like, a million times and it was huge, soft and snugly. It smelled like him and, the minute I put it on, I decided I never wanted to take it off.