Rock Chick Renegade by Kristen Ashley
“Nick?” I called.
“In the living room,” Nick yelled back, sounding impatient. “Monday Night Football,” he finished, explaining the impatience. You didn’t interrupt Monday Night Football at Nick’s. Or Saturday collegiate games. Or Sunday NFL day.
I walked in, dropped Boo and he pranced into the living room, big, bushy, black tail straight up. Then I heard him immediately complain to Nick about the lack of treats and cuddles on the other side of the house.
I opened Nick’s fridge. “You got any leftovers?” I shouted, head in the fridge.
“In here,” Nick yelled again.
I pulled my head out of the fridge, straightened, closed the fridge, turned and stopped dead.
Vance was standing in Nick’s kitchen in the exact same pose he’d been standing in mine that very morning, arms crossed, hip against the counter.
My eyes narrowed and I crossed the room in a flash, getting in his face.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed in a whisper, forgetting for a moment about our date and thinking he’d broken in, just like he had on my side. I was angry but also a little amazed. He hadn’t made a sound.
“Oh, Jules?” Nick called from the other room, “we got company. Seems you’re a little late for your date. I let him in so he could wait over here.”
Then I heard Nick chuckle to himself.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
When I opened them Vance was grinning at me.
I clenched my teeth.
Vance’s eyes scanned my face. “Murder is illegal,” he said to me.
“I’m willing to do my time; I just don’t know which of you to kill. How much more do you get if it’s a double homicide?” I asked.
His hand shot out and wrapped around my neck then he pulled me to him and I hit his body, full-on. I put my hands on his chest and pressed back with both my neck and my hands but I didn’t move so I gave up.
He got close to my face. “You don’t want me dead, you want me to fuck you. You can kill me after,” he said.
My eyes rounded at his bluntness then I pressed again and his other arm wrapped around my waist and he pulled me deeper into him. I tilted my head back and opened my mouth to say something smart but he got there before me.
“Be careful, Jules,” he warned, voice low so Nick wouldn’t hear, his eyes flashing with an anger that I hadn’t noticed before. “I’m bein’ patient here. I’m not overly fond of bein’ stood up.”
Unfortunately, at this, since Vance hadn’t made anyone levitate recently and I was standing in the kitchen of the only family I had, therefore felt safe, I decided to spit in the eye of the tiger.
“I didn’t agree to go on a date with you. If I remember, you told me we were going out,” I said in a quiet voice too.
“We have things to talk about,” he returned.
“No we don’t. You already know everything. Your cop friends were searching my name yesterday and you have a computer guy at the office who’s been looking into me. You just used that as an excuse to make me talk.”
He got closer apparently unsurprised I knew all of this. “Okay, we don’t have things to talk about. We have things to do,” he said.
My belly fluttered.
“Like what?”
“Like finish what we started this morning.”
I knew that was what he was going to say.
“That’s not gonna happen.”
“Yes. It is.”
“No. It… is… not.”
“You gonna come in here and get some food or what?” Nick shouted.
“Yeah,” I called.
Vance’s arms tightened.
“Let me go,” I said to Vance, going back to my quiet voice.
His hand fisted in my wet hair, held my head steady and he kissed me.
Oh crap.
This was not good.
I resisted and it worked for a few beats then his mouth opened over mine, mine automatically opened to let in his tongue and the minute it slid inside my mouth I melted into him and kissed him back.
Almost as quickly as it began, it ended and I felt of surge of disappointment.
His head came up and he looked down at me. “I’m gonna have you Jules,” he promised and at his promise, tingles rushed across my skin in a very a pleasant way. Then he let me go, turned me and gave me a little push toward the hall.
I walked into Nick’s living room. Nick was lying full-out on his couch.
“Hey Jules,” Nick said, grinning at me.
“Would you like your hemlock now or should I put it in the Thanksgiving turkey?” I asked Nick, throwing myself in an armchair. Boo jumped up in my lap and out of habit I began to stroke him. He settled in and began to purr.
“Like you’re cookin’ the Thanksgiving turkey. Please,” Nick returned, his eyes sliding to the TV.
Vance settled into another armchair. He nabbed a can of pop from the coffee table that he’d obviously been drinking and sat back, crossing a scuffed, cowboy-booted ankle on his knee.
“Jules doesn’t cook. You should know that. Kitchen plus food plus Jules equals disaster,” Nick told Vance.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Vance responded, his eyes cutting to me and there wasn’t any anger there anymore, just amusement.
“Nick. Shut up,” I said and I was sure my eyes still had anger in them.
“She can be rude sometimes too,” Nick shared, his gaze never leaving the TV.
“I’ve already learned that,” Vance said.
I leaned forward and grabbed a slice of pizza from the open box sitting on the coffee table. I took a big bite, chomping on it and deciding to watch the football and ignore both of them.
“She makes a killer margarita though,” Nick went on, a font of Juliet Lawler information and happy to impart it on anyone.
“I don’t drink,” Vance said.
This was such a strange comment that both Nick and I looked at Vance.
“No?” Nick asked.
“Recovering alcoholic,” Vance said, now his eyes were on the TV.
I moved my eyes back to the TV too, shocked at this knowledge and not wanting to make a big deal of it.
I couldn’t imagine Vance as a drunk or out of control in any way. He seemed to be totally on top of every situation.
I took another big bite of pizza, chewed and pulled off a bit and fed it to Boo who was staring at my slice of pizza with desperate kitty eyes.
“How long you been dry?” Nick asked.
“Ten years. Dried out in prison,” Vance replied.
Nick and I looked at Vance again.
“Prison?” Nick asked.
“Two years. Grand theft auto.”
I swallowed hard and turned back to the television.
“Christ, man,” Nick said softly, “you must have been what, a teenager?”
“Sent down when I was twenty,” Vance replied.
I took another bite of pizza and gave another piece to Boo.
Boo was in heaven. I was freaking out.
“Close with your folks?” Nick asked.
“Nick…” I decided to cut in. He was getting a bit nosy.
He was the only father I ever knew and any father’s duty was to be hard on his daughter’s dates. Especially when they informed you they were recovering alcoholics and ex-cons. But this wasn’t high school and this was a bit much.
“Haven’t seen ‘em since I was ten,” Vance answered without hesitation.
My head swung around and I looked at Vance. He was leaned back in his chair, eyes on the TV, casual and laid back, seemingly unaffected by Nick’s third degree.
I looked hard at him, an expert at reading people, it was part of my job, but he gave no indication he was uncomfortable in any way.
“Why not?” Nick asked, giving up on football and turned fully to Vance.
“Father turned me out. Wasn’t a good place to be so I didn’t go back.”
I took another bite, forced my eyes to the telev
“Well, there you go.” Even Nick couldn’t go on after that piece of information was shared.
“Can we watch football?” I asked the television.
“Yes ma’am,” Nick answered.
The room went silent. I finished my pizza and found my mouth was dry, probably for more reasons than just eating a slice of pepperoni pizza. I picked up Boo, got up and dumped him on Nick’s stomach.
“I need a beer. Nick?” I asked.
“No, Jules. I’m fine.”
My gaze moved to Vance. He was looking up at me and I could read nothing in his eyes.
“Another pop?” I asked.
He shook his head but kept watching me. I looked at the floor and started from the room.
I had to pass Vance’s chair to get to the kitchen. As I did, I slowed and as if it had a mind of its own, my hand came out and I ran the backs of my fingers along Vance’s jaw.
Do not ask me why I did this. I couldn’t tell you. When I was done, I didn’t look at him, I didn’t stop, I just kept on walking to the kitchen and I didn’t look back.
And when I got into the kitchen I filed my touch in my memory filing cabinet and locked the door.
* * * * *
After Monday Night Football was over, we said goodnight to Nick. Vance, Boo and I walked through the back room and over to my side. I opened the backdoor, Boo shot in, I turned and stood in the door showing Vance he was not invited inside. There was a step up from the back room to my kitchen so I was looking down at Vance and he was looking up at me.
“Well, nice date, I had a good time. Thanks,” I said, even though I’d screwed up the date totally, so much it really wasn’t even a date. However, my intention was to make my message clear. No entry.
Vance looked at me a beat. Then his shit-eating grin spread on his face, he put a hand to my belly, pushing me back as he stepped up and walked in, clearing the door. He shut the door behind him, took his hand from my stomach and turned to my alarm panel. Then he hit a four digit code and I heard the sequence of buzzes that meant my door and window sensors were armed.
I had the fleeting feeling of anger that he shoved inside but this was swept away by surprised admiration when I watched him set my alarm.
“How do you know my code?” I asked when he turned back to me.
He just kept grinning at me and then he started walking toward me.
My admiration cleared.
Um… not good.
I started backing up.
“Erm… Crowe, the date’s over,” I told him.
He shook his head and kept advancing.
I kept retreating. “Really, it’s late, I’m tired.” I wasn’t, I was going out that night and I needed him to get gone.
“You have two choices,” Vance said.
I stopped in the doorway to the hall and put my hands on my hips. “And those would be?” I asked.
“We can talk or we can fuck.”
My eyes rounded. Then they narrowed.
I didn’t answer.
“Though,” he went on, “I should tell you even if you pick talking, after we’re done, we’re still gonna fuck.”
I frowned at him and leaned in. “You are too much,” I snapped.
He ignored my threatening posture. “You don’t chose, I will and I’ll pick fucking. We can talk after.”
I was right, he was too much. “I’m not going to sleep with you,” I told him.
He just smiled at me.
“Excuse me but didn’t we just meet yesterday? I’m not that kind of girl.”
At that, he threw his head back and laughed.
“What’s so damned funny?” I asked, frowning and just stopping myself from giving him a big, old girlie shove.
He looked at me. “You were that kind of girl this morning.”
He was right, I was. Another ten minutes and I’d have been screwed, literally. I wasn’t sure that was a good thing for a number of reasons. At the moment, most especially, I didn’t want him to know I was a virgin. That might have an adverse effect on my street cred.
“Temporary insanity,” I retorted.
“Jules, choose.”
“No.”
His hands shot out and grabbed me, yanking me forward. Then his arms wrapped around me, pulling me into his body. I should have been smart enough to learn after seeing it enough times how quickly he could move.
“How about this?” he suggested looking down at me. “We talk but we save the fucking until later, maybe after our second date when I actually take you out somewhere.”
There wasn’t going to be a second date so I took this as a boon. “Agreed,” I said.
He smiled at me in a way that made me think he knew my thoughts.
He let me go. I walked down the hall but he grabbed my hand when we were walking by the bed platform and stopped me.
I turned to him. “What?” I asked.
His eyes shifted to the bed. “Climb up,” he said.
My mouth dropped open. “I thought we were going to talk.”
“Yeah, we’re gonna do it up there.”
Was he crazy?
“We’re not going to talk on the bed!”
“Climb up, Jules.”
“We can talk in the living room.”
“Climb up.”
“No one talks on a bed.”
“Jules, climb, the fuck, up.”
I whirled to make my way into the living room. I didn’t get even a step. Lightin’ Crowe grabbed my hand again, spun me around then bent, twisting his body and lifting me so he was carrying me around his shoulders, one hand on my arm, his other arm around my thighs.
“Holy shit! Crowe put me down!” I yelled.
I figured he was going to hurt me; no way was he going to climb up steps and get me into my bed without slamming me into the ceiling. The hallway ceiling was low, the bed area was an elevated alcove, the ceiling high, there was only a small gap to get in and a lot of that was taken by the bed. Even I, after living there five years, still conked my head on the hallway ceiling at least once a month.
I shouldn’t have worried. This was Vance Crowe we were talking about. He climbed, bent nearly double, shoved his torso through with me around his shoulders, not even scraping the ceiling. He released me, rolled me in and came up behind me, snagging me under my armpits and hauling me up the bed. He lay down on his back and pulled me up over his body.
I was too shocked to move and staring at him in disbelief.
God, he was good.
“Now we can talk,” he said, his arms wrapped around my waist.
“Why do you want to talk up here?” I asked.
“I like it up here.”
I rolled my eyes.
Whatever.
Time to get this over with so I could go out and annoy bad guys.
“How do you know my alarm code?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, just smiled.
“Crowe! I want to know.”
“You wanna know, I’ll show you. Later, not tonight.”
I blinked at him. “Seriously?” I asked, so wanting to learn that I completely forgot that tonight was our only night and tomorrow I was going to figure out a way to get Vance Crowe out of my life for good.
“You wanna know, I’ll show you,” he repeated.
“Wow. Thanks,” I was still forgetting.
“I like Nick,” he said conversationally.
I couldn’t help myself, I smiled. “I do too.”
“What do you call him?” he asked what I thought was a s
“I call him Nick.” I replied.
“No, he isn’t your Dad, but he is, so what do you call him?”
I stared at him. “How do you know that?”
“He and I talked.”
I went still. “About what?”
“About him raisin’ you, about your family dyin’, your granddad dyin’, your aunt dyin’.”
I gasped. I did this partly because Nick had apparently shared a great deal of information about me but mainly because Nick never talked about Auntie Reba, not to anyone, but me.
“He told you about Auntie Reba?”
“Yeah.”
I didn’t know what to do with that because I felt it said something about Vance that Nick would trust him enough upon first meeting him to mention it. It freaked me way, the hell, out.
I shirked off my freak out and forged ahead. “What else did he tell you?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable with the knowledge that he knew way too much about me.
“He told me I was your first date in five years.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered, horrified. I was going to kill Nick.
“And he told me your birthday is Thursday.”
I decided to be quiet and hoped that our talk wasn’t going to be a long one. After two minutes I was over it and wanted to shut down, move on, fill my mind with something else, anything else, but Vance.
Vance watched me. I kept silent.
“Tell me about Park,” he demanded softly.
“No,” I said instantly and pushed away. The conversation was officially over.
His arms tightened, he came up, twisting me to my back and his body rolled into me so he was half on me, his thigh thrown over both of mine, pinning me to the bed.
He looked down at me. “You already know we investigated you,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“You’re a busy woman.”
I stared at him and kept silent.
“Even before this shit went down with Park your name is all over police records. You worked at a battered woman’s shelter, got involved in a couple of messy cases. You got mentions in a number of kids’ files, comin’ down to the station when they got into trouble, puttin’ in a word for them. Got ‘em out and into King’s.”
I stayed silent.
“Park was different,” Vance said in a way that I knew wasn’t a question.