Rock Chick Renegade Page 4

  “Seriously, Law, I was only tryin’ –” Roam started but I interrupted him.

  “Stun gun. Now. Talk. Tomorrow. Go,” I snapped.

  He grumbled something about “fuckin’ bossy white bitches” and stomped away.

  I stared daggers at his back.

  “What’d I say about calling me a bitch?” I yelled at his back.

  “Law,” Crowe cut in.

  My head rounded to him and, I’m afraid to say, I’d had about all I could take.

  “Not now. I’ve had a bad day. I have to get these kids to bed and then I’m gonna go home and have a bubble bath. Then I’m gonna sleep like the dead. I have to be ready for tomorrow because tomorrow, I’m going to kick some black-teenage-kid ass.”

  Crowe didn’t say anything. Then again, what could you say?

  I looked down at Shard then back at Crowe.

  “You have this covered?” I asked, like I’d been helpful in some way taking down Shard.

  “I’m thinkin’, yeah,” Crowe told me.

  “Good. Great. Marvelous. Have a fabulous evening.”

  Then I stormed up to the bike path where Roam was waiting for me. He held out my stun gun and I snatched it out of his hand.

  “Let’s get to Hazel. Move. Sniff is probably scared shitless. I don’t even know what to say. You get out your phone and call your friend. Tell him you’re okay…”

  And the whole way down the bike path, even while Roam was on the phone with Sniff, I reamed him.

  And most of the way, even though I didn’t know it, Vance heard me.

  Chapter Three

  The Interrogation

  I took the boys to King’s and got them to their beds.

  King’s had six bedrooms, each with three sets of bunk beds, three rooms for boys, three rooms for girls. Not many of the kids spent the night there, usually they came during the day to hang, play pool, eat, and, if we were lucky, talk to the social workers or work with the tutors.

  I talked Park, Roam and Sniff into staying most nights there. They’d had permanent beds for months. Roam on the top of the last bunk by the window, Sniff in the bunk under him.

  Park had slept on the top bunk in the bed next to Roam. Even though it’d been months, no kid had slept there since Park mainly because Roam frowned on this.

  As they settled, I stood beside their beds and looked at Roam. He was on his back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling and ignoring me.

  I knew he was angry. Not only had Sniff ratted him out and I cut into his action but I’d embarrassed him in front of macho man Vance Crowe.

  “Be mad at me, Roam,” I said softly, “but don’t be mad at Sniff. He did the right thing.”

  Roam didn’t reply.

  I didn’t touch the boys, touching was not right. I might nudge them or shove their shoulder playfully but I only did these things after months of getting to know them. The only other time I’d touched Roam was to slam him against the building when we found Park.

  After hesitating, I laid my hand on Roam’s chest.

  “Something happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do. We lost Park, I don’t want to lose another one of you,” I whispered.

  I felt his breathing go heavy like he was fighting emotion. He still didn’t say anything and I left him alone.

  I bent to Sniff. He was also lying on his back, arms to his sides. I could see his eyes staring at the top bunk.

  “You did the right thing, Sniff,” I told him.

  Sniff turned his back to me.

  Oh well. So be it. For now.

  I left them to their thoughts and went home.

  I let myself in, set the alarm so the door and window sensors were activated but the motion sensors were not. I took a long, hot bubble bath and let the tension seep out of my body. Then I got out, toweled off and slid open the door to the under bed storage.

  I had two dressers under there. My clothes were mostly utilitarian, chosen for comfort with only a bit of attention to style.

  My nightwear was anything but.

  Outside of decorating my house, my only extravagance was sexy nightgowns. I had two drawers stuffed full of them.

  I pulled out a nightie and put it on. It had smoky gray lace at the triangular bosoms and at the hem which came to my upper thighs. The thin straps and body of the nightie were the palest pink satin.

  I climbed into bed and Boo settled in beside me.

  I shut down my mind, and, just as I told Crowe, slept like the dead.

  * * * * *

  I woke up, groggy from sleeping heavily, and felt strange. The covers were tucked close to my back; an odd intense warmth coming from there. And, for some reason, even though he’d never done this, Boo was draped over my waist.

  My eyes opened slowly and I saw Boo, lying beside me, watching me and waiting for me to get up and give him his morning portion of wet food, the favorite part of Boo’s day.

  I closed my eyes again. My morning alarm buzzer hadn’t gone off so I figured I had time to sleep some more.

  Then my eyes opened again and I stared at Boo.

  If Boo was lying beside me, then what was draped over my waist?

  My mind cleared.

  Oh crap.

  I moved quickly, dislodging what was on my waist and heading out.

  At my sudden movement, Boo went flying on an angry, “Meow!”

  I was snagged around the midriff and thrown back to the bed, my head hitting the pillows, and Vance Crowe rolled his body over mine.

  I stilled and looked up into his dark, lushly-lashed eyes.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed.

  “‘Mornin’,” he said to me, like we woke up next to each other every day.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed again.

  His hair was not in a ponytail but falling around his face and shoulders and, I kid you not, he looked like a Native American Warrior God.

  “Do I have your attention?” he asked.

  Yes, he had my attention. He seriously had my attention.

  “How did you get in here? My alarm –” I started.

  “I disabled it.”

  “Oh my God,” I said again.

  My alarm was a good one. Nick had it installed for me. It had settings for when I was home and when I was not. The motion sensors had been specifically placed so Boo wouldn’t set them off, even if he used his kitty flap. When an intruder tripped it, an alarm sounded and it immediately called a security dispatch then the police. It was not a rinky-dink alarm, it cost a fortune, not only installation but monthly maintenance fees.

  “How did you disable it?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer, instead he gave me his shit-eating grin.

  Then it came to me where I was, where he was and I bucked to throw him off.

  This didn’t work.

  “Get off me!” I yelled.

  “We’re gonna talk,” Crowe replied.

  “No… we… are… not. Off!” I was using my Law-at-the-Shelter-telling-off-the-kids voice.

  This had no effect on Crowe.

  “Don’t make me hurt you,” I warned, mostly for show.

  The shit-eating grin spread to an amused smile and that pissed me off.

  “Like to see you try,” he said it like he would, indeed, like to see me try.

  It was a challenge and, because I was all kinds of fool, I took him up on it.

  Heavy and Frank had shown me a number of moves and they’d made me practice them until my body ached. Unfortunately, these moves were mostly done standing up but I used them all the same.

  We wrestled and I realized Crowe knew all my moves, knew also how to deflect them and he had far more moves in his arsenal, not to mention he was a hell of a lot stronger than me.

  Nevertheless, I pushed him off, got my opening and surged to my feet on the bed in order to run. This was not smart considering the platform where my bed sat had a five foot ceiling.

  I slammed the top of my head against it and then went down, hard, on my knees. I sa
w stars and my right palm went to my head, my left palm came out to steady my body and landed on Crowe’s chest. I settled my ass on my calves.

  “Jesus, Law, you okay?” Crowe asked, coming up from his back, taking my hand with him.

  I blinked to take the stars away. This didn’t work so I blinked again.

  “Jules?” Crowe called, using my real name for the first time. One of his hands went to my hip, the other one was sliding up the arm that was lifted toward my head.

  With effort, I focused on him. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  I was sitting back on my calves, my hand still on his chest. He was sitting up, torso twisted to me, hands on me. His face had softened to concern, a look that did something to my heart rate.

  I took him in.

  He was wearing his clothes from last night, without the jacket, a black henley now untucked and jeans. His feet were bare.

  For some reason, I stared at his feet.

  Most feet weren’t very attractive but his were somehow sexy. How he could have sexy feet, I did not know, but I figured if anyone would have sexy feet, the unfair laws of the universe that made everything about Vance Crowe sexy, would also give him sexy feet.

  This reminded me I was pissed off.

  I made a move, hopeful that I’d take him off guard but, alas, I didn’t.

  His hand moved from my hip, his arm swept under my legs pulling them out from under me and I landed, head on the pillows again.

  He got on top and we struggled. I looked for a chance to knee him in the ‘nads but he got up, sat astride me, making my legs useless even though I kicked out to dislodge him. He caught my wrists and held them down at the sides of my head and loomed over me. I pushed my wrists against his hands and bucked my hips. He didn’t move.

  “Get off!” I shouted.

  “No. You lose, now you talk,” he said.

  “Get… off,” I demanded.

  “What were you doin’ last night?” he asked, ignoring my demand.

  I stared at him, stopped struggling and kept silent.

  “Who was that kid?” he went on.

  I kept my mouth shut.

  “Is he from King’s?” Crowe continued.

  I felt my heart begin to race but I kept my face blank or at least I hoped I did.

  “He one of your street kids?” Crowe kept at it and I kept silent.

  “This have to do with Park?” he carried on and, I couldn’t help it, my body stilled at his use of Park’s name and my head turned slightly to the side in an attempt to hide my reaction.

  How he knew about Park, King’s and my “street kids” I didn’t know and I didn’t want to know. But he told me.

  “You’re on record as finding Park’s body. You made a statement to the police, told them you were workin’ with him at King’s. Park had a juvie file a mile long, last few years of his life, your name is in it,” he paused, “Jules, your name is in it a lot.”

  I looked back at him and frowned but kept silent.

  He changed tactics. “Tell me about Cordova.”

  I clenched my teeth and just stared at him. When I didn’t speak, he stared back at me.

  Then he did the change. I saw it, felt it and was captivated by it.

  I watched, enthralled, as his head came toward mine. My racing heart skipped into overdrive and I felt a belly flutter so strong it had to be off the charts.

  When his face was an inch from mine, he said, his deep voice silky, “See I’m gonna have to make you talk.”

  “No,” I finally spoke but it was too late.

  His mouth came down on mine and the belly flutter broke the Richter scale.

  You should know about something I hadn’t yet shared.

  See, I was not exactly experienced in the boy department. I’d had a few dates here and there, some kissing, some groping but other than that, nothing.

  Yes, I was a twenty-six year old virgin.

  Many women would be embarrassed by this. Not me. I had no interest in sex, relationships, romance and I had no time for it. I was out to save the world, or at least save a few kids. And anyway, people in my life had sad and awful ways of dying on me, Park being the latest. I had to guard my heart and I did, like a vicious, trained Rottweiler.

  My body tensed and I tried hard not to react but the kiss was nice. I liked his hands on me, even if they were holding me down, and I liked his heat.

  Then his tongue touched my lips and I felt a strong, pleasant tingle strike me between my legs. I opened my mouth to say something, get him off me but his tongue slid inside. He slanted his head and the kiss got serious.

  I was not experienced but I could tell he was good at it, mainly because I melted, my lips fitted themselves to his and I kissed him back.

  His mouth disengaged from mine but he kept kissing me, lightly, softly, then he said against my mouth, “I wanna know about Cordova.”

  I shook my head, not only in a “no” to his request but also to clear it and he kissed me again. The between-the-legs-tingle strengthened and emanated out through my body and my mind muddled again, focused only on what his mouth was doing to me. My wrists pressed against his, not to get away but so I could touch him.

  I wanted to touch him, needed it.

  His grip tightened, likely thinking I was trying to struggle even though I was kissing him back.

  His mouth came away just a fraction and he spoke against my lips again. “Who taught you to shoot?”

  I was breathing heavily and I just stared at him, trying to clear my head.

  “Who’s in on this with you?” he asked.

  I kept silent.

  “Who’re you after?” he persisted.

  “Please get off me,” I said softly.

  He shook his head, his lips turned up a bit and he kissed me again.

  I lost any clarity that I had gained with his mouth not on mine and kissed him back, struggling against his hands at my wrists. His mouth moved away, down my cheek to my ear and he said, “I’ll keep this up all day. You’re gonna talk to me, Jules.”

  I twisted my head and, don’t ask me why, I was just driven by something I couldn’t control, I touched the tip of my tongue to his neck.

  This caused an interesting response. His knees slid down so his body came to rest on top of mine and his hands let go of my wrists. My arms went around him immediately. He brought his lips to mine again and his kiss changed.

  This wasn’t a muddle-your-mind, get-you-talking kiss, this was something entirely different.

  My body reacted instantly, softening, melding itself to him and one of my hands went under his shirt, my fingers tracing the hard muscle and soft skin of his back above the waistband of his jeans then they slid up the indentation of his spine.

  He made a noise, low in his throat that shot straight through my body and pounded between my legs.

  He rolled to his side, taking me with him, kissing me, hot, hungry; his hands gliding over the satin of my nightie. I could feel the calluses on his fingers snagging at the material and, for some reason, this thrilled me.

  His leg moved. He pushed a hard thigh between mine and his hand slid down my back, over my bottom, up the back of my thigh, lifting my leg at my knee and hooking it around his hip. Then his thigh pressed up between my legs.

  It was then the phone beside my bed rang.

  Vance ignored it, so did I. We kept kissing, Vance using his talented tongue, then he’d give me soft, quick kisses, then he’d use his tongue again. My hands moved up his back, feeling him and pressing him to me at the same time.

  I hadn’t gone the way of voicemail. I still had an answering machine mainly because I liked to see it blinking on the very odd occasion that someone phoned me.

  My voice could be heard asking the caller to leave a message as Vance and I kissed and groped, totally oblivious to the sound.

  “Jules? This is May. I know it’s early, hon, sorry. Listen, do you know where Sniff and Roam are? Their beds have been slept in but they’re gone…”

&n
bsp; My body froze for a nanosecond then I pulled away from Vance, rolled, came up on my knees, my ass again on my calves and I snagged the phone.

  “May?” I said into the phone, slightly breathless.

  May was a volunteer at the Shelter. She worked more than most of the paid staff. She was a sweetheart and a soft touch, but she hid it just enough so the kids wouldn’t walk all over her.

  “Hey hon,” May said into my ear. “You sound like you were running.”

  “No, just… never mind,” I said, not about to explain it. “What’s up with Sniff and Roam?”

  “They’re not here. Thought you might know something. The kids are talking but not straight out. We think something is happening, or has happened, and we’re a little concerned.”

  I closed my eyes and dropped my head.

  Then I took a deep breath to calm my heart and mind and said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Okay, hon. See you when you get here.”

  Then she disconnected. I put the phone back and turned my eyes to Vance.

  He was on his side, up on an elbow watching me.

  “Sorry. Gotta go,” I said.

  And before he could respond, I scooted to the end of the bed and, not using the steps, jumped to the ground, landing lightly on my feet. I headed straight to the kitchen.

  I went to the table, pulled my cell out of my purse, found Roam’s number and called it. It rang to no answer and Vance walked into the kitchen, stopped, leaned a hip against the counter and crossed his arms on his chest, watching me while I left a message.

  “Roam, you get this message, you call me immediately. Got me?”

  Then I hit the off button and scrolled to Sniff’s number.

  “You gonna share?” Vance asked.

  I kept my eyes on him while I listened to the phone ring. What I didn’t do was share.

  Sniff didn’t pick up either, so I left the same message.

  I flipped the phone shut, threw it on my purse and headed to a cupboard. Boo was circling my feet, oddly absent during the bed area frolicking, he was now ready for breakfast and told me so repeatedly. I got out his wet food, got out one of his bowls and made him breakfast.

  Vance watched me and I was acutely aware that I was only wearing my nightie.