Rock Chick Revolution (Rock Chick #8)(92)
Author: Kristen Ashley

I leaned right back.

“I love you,” I hissed, and his face behind his shades blanked but I didn’t stop. “And something’s not right with you. You’re holding back and I’m gonna find out why that is and help you get things right.”

“Outta the truck.”

“You know me, honey,” I said. “You know I won’t give up.”

“How’s this?” he asked, leaning back at the same time retreating. Not physically. Emotionally. “What’s wrong with me can’t get right.”

Fuck.

I had a feeling, and my feelings usually were right.

Still, I returned, “That isn’t true.”

“You know?” he asked.

“Yeah. I know. That isn’t true. It’s never true. Anything wrong can be made right.”

“You don’t know dick,” he bit out.

“Darius—”

“Outta my truck.”

“Darius!”

He leaned back in and rumbled (definitely scarily, even to me), “Get the f**k outta my truck.”

I sucked in breath but I didn’t get out of the truck.

I leaned in deep so we were nose to nose, shades to shades, and I declared, “I won’t give up on you. I’ll never give up on you. What I’ll do right now is get outta your truck. But I’ll do it with you knowing me doing it does not mean I’m giving up on you.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “Brace, brother. Because I’m gonna knock myself out to heal what’s broken in you. And I won’t quit until I’ve done it.”

On that, I didn’t give him a chance to reply.

I got out of his truck and sashayed into Lucy.

But I did it not thinking about the kickass running gear I was going to buy that would make my man lose control and give me orgasms in his kitchen (or elsewhere).

I did it worried.

* * * * *

I drove into the underground parking lot of Lee’s offices, my mind on a number of things.

One was trying to figure out what dress I was going to wear out to dinner that night with Ren. I hadn’t had a chance to try any of the four on that Roxie, Tod and Stevie bought me, but I knew just looking at them they were all on par in hotness so there wasn’t an obvious frontrunner.

This meant I needed time to try them all on and make a decision.

Another was the fact that my sit down with Lottie got me nothing. Whatever this guy was doing, he was not doing to her.

She did tell me she felt the vibe and had talked with some of the girls even before Smithie approached her to talk to the girls. They were closed up tight.

Even as the headliner, she didn’t have her own dressing room, although Smithie offered it. But she was social; she felt they were sisters and didn’t want to foster that kind of thing with the girls so she was in with them. Though she was, she hadn’t seen this dude do anything or heard him say anything.

Nothing there.

But she was also worried.

She came with me to Daisy’s house to help with my stripper classes. Once at The Castle, I discovered that Daisy had one of her many rooms set up with a stage that had a couple of poles.

“Gotta keep up my skills, sugar,” she said after she led us there and I stopped and stared at the set up. “Anyway, how do you think I keep this killer body?”

I had actually never asked how she kept her killer body, though I knew she power-walked regularly.

Thus commenced my stripper instruction, and even with two women I cared about the only ones in attendance, I felt awkward and danced stiffly.

After both of them showed me some moves, however, Daisy put on some music.

That did it.

Then again, music always did it for me.

Thus, three hours later when I finally hopped off the stage, Lottie gave me a huge-ass grin and declared, “You’re a natural. You’re even gonna give me a run for my money.”

I had no idea why that compliment made me feel warm inside. It just did. So I went with it.

After hugs and setting up my next class the next day, I headed out to my car but before I took off, I sat in it and called Smithie to tell him we were on the case, were amassing a file and I would be making my debut on Thursday.

He was ecstatic. Not about the file, about me dancing.

I ignored that and the not-so-great flutter that it sent shifting through my stomach, hung up and called Duke.

He wasn’t at Fortnum’s, so I phoned his house.

Duke had always been the kind of guy that, if you wanted to connect with him, you did that on his terms. In other words, face to face. Therefore, until Indy bought him and Dolores an answering machine last Christmas, there was no way to get a message to him.

Thanks to Indy’s intervention, I was able to leave a message at his place. That said, it was a crapshoot if he actually listened to it.

What I said was, “Hey Duke. Please don’t erase this without listening. I know you’re pissed at me and we need to talk about that. You know you mean a lot to me so you gotta know I don’t like that you’re pissed at me. But more, something’s up with Darius. I need to sit down with you about that and get your wisdom. So please, stop avoiding me so we can talk things out.” I paused then finished, “Hey Dolores.” Then I hung up.

It was slightly manipulative to drop the Darius thing, because Duke might be rough and gruff but he looked out for the crew. He probably already had his eye on Darius and was worried. So sucking him into that was totally making a play.

But I told Darius I would stop at nothing.

So I was going to stop at nothing.

I parked in Lee’s garage, got out of my car and made my way into the building and to the elevators. After running, shopping and stripping, I couldn’t face the stairs.

Truth be told, I didn’t know how I was going to face my getting ready preparations and a late dinner with Ren. I really wanted our date, as in, really. But I’d been running around all day, was facing what would likely not be a happy conversation with my family, and would rather go home, eat Ren’s delicious food and curl up on the couch and watch Nathan Fillion (and, of course, the rest of the cast of Castle).

The elevator expelled me on Lee’s floor. I made my way down the hall and into his office.

Shirleen was not behind the reception desk, but Vance was standing beside it, tossing a file on the top.

When I entered, he turned to me.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Ally,” he replied.

“What’s shakin’?” I asked.

He grinned his shit-eating grin and seriously—he was Jules’s; I loved Jules and I had Ren who I loved—but I had to admit that it wasn’t just once in the time I knew Vance that I wondered what it would be like to be horizontal and have him aim that shit-hot grin at me.