Rock Chick Rescue Page 37

His hands came to my face, holding me by the jaw and he did a lip touch.

  “I’m fine,” I whispered.

  His lips twitched but it wasn’t exactly amused and it wasn’t exactly unamused.

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chilli

  By the time we got to the waiting room, Mom, Daisy, Tex, Ada and Lottie were there. They’d been told Dad was in surgery. That’s it, nothing else. It was now a waiting game.

  Eddie took his badge out of his back pocket, hooked it onto his belt and walked to reception to see if he could get more answers.

  I caught the gang staring at the blood on my jeans, then Mom moved forward and pulled me into a one-armed hug, Lottie joined us and we became the McAlister huddle.

  Then Tex engulfed us with his wide arm span and Daisy burrowed in, bringing Ada with her.

  Tex, Daisy and Ada gave the only thing they had to give, seeing as they weren’t surgeons, nurses or miracle workers, they gave comfort and we took it.

  Eddie walked up to us, Tex noticed and we disengaged. Eddie put me into the Eddie’s Woman Hold and said, straight out, “Gunshot wounds were from the other night and shoulda been treated, stab wounds more recent. He lost a lot of blood and Slick did a lot of damage. It doesn’t look good.”

  I was glad he said it straight out. I wanted to know and it said a lot that he trusted me enough to say it, though tears started rolling from Lottie’s eyes.

  Indy came in a few minutes later with the cookies she’d made the night before. Ally followed her with a cardboard tray filled with lattes that Jane had made.

  It was the beginning of the parade.

  Mom made some calls and Trixie, Lavonne and Bear showed up. Lavonne and Trixie stationed themselves like sentries next to Mom and Bear sat alone with his head in his hands, probably thinking twice about his career choice as a bum.

  Vance and Matt did fly-bys, doing chin-lifts to me and talking to Bobby and Eddie, then they peeled off and disappeared.

  After awhile, Daisy took off with Ada and Trixie in tow and came back with bags filled with burgers and fries and more cardboard trays of drinks.

  Daisy handed me a burger saying, “Nothing says ‘hospital waiting room’ like greasy fries and a burger with cheese.”

  I doubted the burger joint was going to use that in their next advertising campaign.

  Lee showed up and Indy immediately walked over to him. Eddie was standing next to me, he grabbed my hand and walked me over.

  “Hey,” Lee said softly, then, I kid you not, he slid an arm around my waist and kissed my temple, right above the bandage that was still there.

  “Hey,” I said when he let me go. His eyes were warm and concerned and I thought maybe he wasn’t so scary.

  He looked to Eddie and the warmth and concern melted out of his eyes and I thought maybe I was wrong.

  “We got Slick.”

  Both Eddie and I tensed.

  “You bringin’ him in?” Eddie asked.

  Lee shook his head once.

  “He’s in the holding room. We have a few more questions to ask and then we’ll take him to the station.”

  I didn’t know what the holding room was but it didn’t sound like a good place to be. I didn’t feel too sorry for Slick. It might make me a bad person, but I didn’t feel sorry at all.

  Eddie didn’t seem overwhelmed with happiness about this statement, he seemed resigned to it, like it wasn’t the first time it happened.

  Lee’s eyes turned to me, “He’s done with your Dad and there’ll be no further involvement with your family.”

  I didn’t know if Slick was done with Dad because he beat the shit out of him and carved him up or because Lee made it so. I didn’t ask either, mainly because the expression on Lee’s face wasn’t inviting my participation in the discussion.

  “He formed an alliance with Vince,” Lee went on, “Vince convinced him they had the same goal and Slick was looking for reinforcements, so he didn’t need a lot of convincing. That’s why Vince was there the other night.” He paused, “We haven’t found Vince.”

  This was not good news.

  Lee looked back to Eddie.

  “Mace is taking vacation days, he’s after Vince, he’s on a fuckin’ mission. I’m two men down with Mace gone and providing protection for Jet. I have to pull Bobby. Mace had an assignment and Bobby needs to cover. Ike’ll be available when you need him.”

  Eddie wasn’t happy about this news either.

  “What’s on Mace’s mind?” Eddie asked.

  “Mace is working through some issues,” Lee told him.

  This really made Eddie unhappy, I could tell by the way his jaw clenched.

  “Vince is fucked unless I find him,” Eddie said.

  “Vince is fucked unless you find him,” Lee agreed.

  Eddie said a few bad words in two languages then he said, “I cannot believe I have to protect that fuckin’ asshole.”

  I couldn’t believe it either.

  “I gotta get on the street,” Eddie said, his arm coming around me.

  Both of mine went around him as well and I looked up at him.

  “Go. I’ll be okay.” Then I turned to Lee and said, “You don’t have to send more bodyguards, I have Tex and…”

  Lee interrupted me, “Primary objective for Nightingale Investigations right now is your protection. You’re okay in this waiting room but once you leave it, you have cover.”

  “But…”

  He turned to Indy. “She doesn’t leave unless she has cover.”

  Indy nodded.

  “I can’t ask you to—”

  He interrupted me again. “You didn’t ask.”

  “Lee…” I tried.

  His eyes cut to me and I shut up.

  Yep, I was wrong about Lee not being scary.

  Indy obviously didn’t think he was scary, Indy was grinning.

  * * * * *

  Eddie, Lee and Bobby left and we settled in for the long haul.

  Lavonne went outside every twenty minutes to have a cigarette.

  I considered joining her, even though I’d never smoked the situation seemed to warrant it. Though, I pictured the Nightingale Investigation Team swooping down on me in black SWAT clothes, rappelling off the side of the hospital, shackling me and taking me to the safe room if I even stepped foot out of the waiting room. I decided to start smoking the next time someone I loved was flung out of a moving vehicle.

  Eddie obviously made a couple calls himself and Blanca and Elena showed up and took turns with Indy, Ally, Daisy and Ada to get us coffees and make certain no one was alone with their thoughts for too long.

  I spent most of my time sitting with Lottie and holding her hand.

  “I wasn’t very nice to him the last time I talked to him,” she said to me.

  I squeezed her hand, “Stop it, no use to it so stop.”

  She squeezed my hand back.

  “Love you, Jet,” she said, looking at the wall.

  I swallowed my tears. Again.

  “Love you too.”

  A couple of hours later, the doctors came out. They told us a bunch of stuff about Dad’s injuries and what they did to him but all I heard was that he was alive.

  He was in ICU, in critical condition. We were allowed to go in, one by one. First Lottie (because she had things to say), then Mom (because I suspected she had things to say) and then me.

  I didn’t say anything, I just held his hand for awhile. He was asleep but he looked better. Mainly because there wasn’t blood all over him anymore.

  I walked out of ICU, away from everyone and down a hall.

  I called Eddie.

  “Yeah?”

  “Alive, critical, ICU.” I didn’t have it in me to use fancy language, like verbs.

  He was quiet a beat then he said, “You stayin’?”

  I thought about it.

  “I think I need to make chilli,” I replied. “Do you mind if I use your kitchen?
”

  “No.”

  “Do you mind if I invite everyone over?”

  “No.”

  “If you don’t get home in time, I’ll save you some.”

  “Your chilli as good as your chicken fried steak?” he asked.

  What could I say? Even I really liked my chilli.

  “It’s okay,” I lied.

  “You are so full of shit.”

  * * * * *

  Ike showed up and everyone broke off to perform the tasks I assigned. A contingent to my apartment to pick up my huge, heavy-bottomed pot that I made chilli in and other kitchen utensils that would be needed (because Lord knew, Eddie didn’t have what I’d need). A contingent to the liquor store (because Lord knew, we’d need booze). And I took Lottie and Ike to King Soopers and whisked them through in my normal mad dash.

  Ike was another of Lee’s boys that I didn’t know too well. I didn’t tag Ike as being the kind of guy who drank coffee. More like raw eggs and we didn’t serve those at Fortnum’s.

  He was a light-skinned black man, a few inches taller than me, wiry, bald and he had one of those tattoos that originated somewhere else, but you could see where it slithered partially up his neck and down his arm.

  We descended on Eddie’s and everyone went in. Mom and Trixie immediately started looking around with expressions that could only be described as awe, as if we’d entered the Taj Mahal.

  “Eddie own this place?” Trixie asked, or more like breathed.

  Wonderful.

  “Yeah,” I said, lugging groceries into the kitchen.

  Daisy was already there.

  “Is that the coffee maker?” She was pointing to the KitchenAid.

  I knew it was pushing it, considering God let my Dad live that day, but I still sent word.

  “What about the coffee maker?” Mom asked.

  “Eddie and Jet bought that together,” Daisy answered.

  God’s answer was that he didn’t feel like working overtime.

  Mom and Trixie stared at me.

  I couldn’t do it. They had hope glittering in their eyes and we needed hope that day so I nodded and let the coffee maker work its magic.

  I made vast amounts of chilli.

  Usually, chilli was easy to make.

  It was harder when Blanca was hovering around me.

  “You need more cayenne,” she said, after taking a spoonful of the simmering stew.

  “Okay,” I didn’t argue. I dumped more in and stirred.

  She took another spoonful. “More cumin.”

  I did a mental sigh and dumped more in.

  She took another spoonful. “Needs jalapeños. I’ll go to the store.”

  Then she nabbed Elena and they were off.

  They came back with seven bags of groceries, some for the party, most for Eddie and me so we could shack up and have uninterrupted sex for the next month, the better to give Blanca grandbabies.

  We ate, we drank. Vance popped by and had a bowl of chilli and decided to stay. He must have called Matt and Bobby because they came by too. The beer was running out so Lottie took off to get more and to replenish the quickly dwindling Frito supply.

  Duke and Dolores showed up and I ran to the kitchen and spooned out a mass of chilli into a Tupperware to put in the fridge so Eddie could have some when he got home.

  That was when my cell phone rang.

  I knew it wasn’t smart.

  Ike, Vance, Bobby and Matt were all in the other room, not to mention Tex and Duke. I had so much protection, it was an army of protection. I could have walked in there, I could have asked, I could have taken the risk.

  But I didn’t. The risk was too great.

  The risk was Lottie.

  See, my phone said, “Lottie calling”.

  I flipped it open and the minute I put it to my ear, Vince said, “Got your sister. You don’t want what’s supposed to happen to you to happen to her, you meet me in the parking lot of the 7-Eleven on Louisiana and Pearl. No tail, no protection, right now. Got me?”

  Disconnect.

  Fuck.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  At that point in my life, I was beyond worrying about the f-word.

  I stood in the kitchen and wasted two seconds deciding. Then I grabbed Blanca’s keys that were on the countertop and hightailed it out the backdoor.

  Blanca parked in the back drive, next to the garage. I saw her do it when she came back with the groceries. She drove a silver Honda Accord, it was newish and it was nice and I really hoped she didn’t mind me stealing it. I hoped more that I’d be alive to find out.

  The 7-Eleven on Louisiana and Pearl was less than a five minute drive away but I still made it in record time.

  I pulled in, there were a bunch of cars in the parking lot and I saw one at the end with people sitting in it, Lottie’s blonde hair visible.

  I got out, pocketed the keys and walked to it.

  Vince got out too, dragging Lottie across the driver’s seat with him. She was pale and trembling visibly, eyes wide, hands obviously cuffed or tied behind her back.

  “Jet, you shouldn’t…” she started.

  I was within reaching distance. Lottie was shoved forward before she could finish. My arm was grabbed and I was pushed into the car through the driver’s side. This all happened in seconds, I didn’t even make a noise.

  I could see Lottie was on her knees and struggling to get up without the use of her arms. Vince had the car idling and we rocketed out of the 7-Eleven parking lot so fast, he narrowly missed her.

  He drove like a crazy man and I held on for dear life but still had my head together enough to check and see if I could open the door and throw myself out of the car. I didn’t figure it would kill me, it would hurt but would leave less mental scars than what Vince had planned.

  There was no handle and no lock.

  Wonderful.

  I could throw myself at him, force an accident, but I wasn’t buckled in and an accident, at the speed he was driving, might kill me so that idea was out the window.

  I decided to try to talk my way out of it.

  “Vince…”

  That’s all I got out. He whacked me with the back of his hand against my mouth and I immediately tasted blood.

  Guess talking was out too.

  I decided to wait for my opportunity. There had to be one, there just had to.

  I hung onto that thought as he drove.

  * * * * *

  He took me somewhere I’d never been, no reason to be there and I hoped I’d never have the choice of whether or not to go back (I’d pick not).

  We went underneath the mousetrap interchanges, a mass of highway above us, nothing around us but hardscrabble cement and litter, likely left by homeless people and drug addicts none of whom were in attendance for the evening’s festivities.

  Vince stopped, pulled me out of the car through the driver’s side and before I could struggle or break away, he yanked a gun out of the waistband of his pants.

  Then he put it to my head.

  “Been lookin’ forward to this for a long time,” he said as he walked me forward, “Undo your jeans.”

  I was getting a little fidgety.

  My opportunity wasn’t arising and I was beginning to get scared.

  Therefore, I hesitated.

  He took the gun away from my head and squeezed off a round.

  I jumped, thinking he’d shot me but realized he’d fired away from me.

  He put the gun back to my head.

  “Undo your fuckin’ jeans.”

  I did what I was told. Maybe death before defilement was the way to go but I couldn’t think at that moment.

  The minute I unbuckled my belt and slid the zip down my jeans, he whipped me around and forced my torso to the hood of the car. He pressed his crotch into my behind, the rest of his body against my back and the gun against my temple.

  “Gonna fuck you against the car, then I’ll do you doggie style,” he said into my ear.

 
; My heart was racing, my breath coming in jerks and my mind was absolutely blank.

  He wasn’t done.

  “Then, got me a bottle and I’m gonna fuck you with that too, break it and fuck you with it. Hard. Tear you apart. The next time your wetback boyfriend puts his dick in you, you’ll fuckin’ scream.”

  It was then I decided death before defilement was the way to go.

  “First, you gotta beg,” he said.

  He tried to pull down my jeans. Problem was, it wasn’t easy with one hand pointing a gun to my head and my body bent at the hips.

  “Beg, bitch!” he demanded.

  Really.

  Enough was enough.

  “Fuck you!” I shouted and then did a backwards head butt, catching him somewhere pointy and I hoped it hurt because, for me it hurt like hell.

  I lifted up, taking him with me.

  He tried to force me back and I started to go with him but I got turned a bit and was wedged sideways against him and the car.

  I struggled, managed to slide around front-to-front and got my hand on the gun.

  Both our hands scrabbling for control of the gun, I put my ass on the car, forced my knees up, put my feet to his belly and pushed.

  He went flying and I came off the car and jumped on top of him before he could recover.

  Maybe I should have run, but I didn’t. I was way too pissed off to run. He’d made my life a living hell and that’s all that was in my head. It was probably stupid but I didn’t really care. I straddled him, reared back a fist and slammed it into his face.

  “Fucking bitch!” he snarled and brought up the gun, trying to point it at me. I saw it, did a sideswipe, hit his forearm and the gun went flying.

  “Motherfucker!” I shouted, my hands going to either side of his head, I lifted it up and cracked it against the cement.

  I’d never cracked anyone’s head against cement and it caused a weird sensation that could only be described as a repulsive, but kickass rush.

  I didn’t have to ask myself if I was a bad person. At that moment I just was.

  My arm went back, cocked at the elbow to hit him in the face again, but he grabbed my wrist, bucked and rolled me over onto my back, him on top.

  Hmm.

  This was probably not an advantageous position.

  I had little time to muse on it because one second he was there, the next second he was flying through the air.