Rock Chick Rescue (Rock Chick #2)(101)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“It’s okay,” I lied.

“You are so ful 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 chil i 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 tal er than me, wiry, bald and he had one of those tattoos that originated somewhere else, but you could see where it slithered partial y 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 stil 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 chil i.

Usual y, chil i 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’l 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 chil i and decided to stay. He must have cal ed 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 chil i into a Tupperware to put in the fridge so Eddie could have some when he got home.

That was when my cel phone rang.

I knew it wasn’t smart.

Ike, Vance, Bobby and Matt were al 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 cal ing”.

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, f**k, f**k.

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 real y 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 stil made it in record time.

I pul ed 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 al 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 stil 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 kil 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 kil me so that idea was out the window.

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

“Vince…”

That’s al 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, pul ed 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.”