Whoops.
“Um…” I said.
“What’d I say about how I felt about bein’ stood up?”
“You said you’d call,” I told him.
“I got busy but our plans didn’t change.”
“Vance, I hate to tell you this but they were your plans.”
He was silent. I didn’t take this as a good sign.
Finally, he warned in a low, quiet voice, “Don’t make me come after you.”
Yikes.
I bugged my eyes out at Indy. She bit her lip on a smile.
“How did you know where I was?” I asked, deciding to change the subject.
“I planted a device in your car,” he told me.
I sucked in breath and this time, my eyes, still on Indy, went wide in shock.
Her smile faded and she mouthed, “What?”
“You planted a tracking device in my car?” I said slowly.
Indy put her hand to her open mouth.
“And in your bag,” Vance said.
“I do not believe you,” I hissed.
“Jules, get home.”
“I’m shooting then I’m going out for drinks with the girls,” I told him.
“Jules –”
I cut him off. “When’s this meet with Darius?”
“God dammit, Jules –”
“Forget it, I’ll ask Indy to call Lee. I’ll see you there.” I flipped the phone shut and looked at Indy. “Can you call Lee –?” I started.
She was nodding, already digging through her purse.
“I’m on it,” she said.
* * * * *
When we walked into Zip’s, Indy had her phone to her ear and she stood just inside the door while I approached Zip who was behind the counter.
“Girl, you are loco,” Zip shouted at me the minute he saw me.
“Now… Zip,” I said placatingly, arriving across the counter from him.
“Do not ‘Zip’ me. You’re f**kin’ loony tunes. It’s like you sent out an engraved invitation to every f**kin’ asshole on the street, ‘You are cordially invited to try and kick my ass.’ Shee-it.”
“Zip, let me –”
“And you got the Nightingale Boys backin’ you. Christ Almighty, girl. Those boys’re crazier than you.” His eyes went beyond me. “Fuck, is that Indy Savage?” Zip asked, staring at Indy.
“Yes –” I began.
“Oh no. No, no, no. I don’t want Lee Nightingale on my ass. You are not draggin’ her into this. She’ll recruit Chavez’s woman and Nightingale’s sister and it’ll be the Rock Chick Renegades against the Denver Drug Dealers. I see rivers of blood and pissed off bad boys denied their pieces of ass and they’ll come after me. No f**kin’ way, I won’t be a part of it.”
I couldn’t help it, he was being so dramatic I had to smile. “Zip, listen to me. Indy just wants to see me shoot. She’s not ‘into this’. Please, Zip, she’s just…” I hesitated and stared at him. “A friend,” I finished.
Zip went silent and watched me. He knew enough about me to know the importance of what I’d just said.
Then he said, “Crowe f**ked you yet?”
“Zip!” I snapped.
“Well, has he?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He dropped his chin and shook his head. “He has,” Zip said to the display case like I was his twelve year old kid and he was disappointed in finding me in the garage stealing a smoke. Then he looked up at me again. “Girl, you’re cruisin’ for a broken heart and a bullet-ridden body. God damn.” He reached into the case and pulled out a box of ammo and slammed it on the counter, indicating my tongue-lashing was over. “Get her glasses and ear protectors. Three’s open. God damn.”
Indy took her phone away from her ear, flipped it shut and approached us, smiling at Zip.
“Hey Zip,” she said.
“God damn,” he replied
Indy threw me a look. I mouthed “not now” and I walked her back to the range.
“What was wrong with him?” she whispered as we stood in the small soundproof antechamber, putting on glasses and wrapping ear protectors around our necks.
“Nothing. He just gets a bit… overprotective,” I explained. “What’d Lee say?”
She scrunched her nose. “Lee said that you go to the meet with Vance.”
“God dammit,” I muttered. I was worried those boys would stick together.
“I tried to get it out of him. I even offered na**d gratitude. But he didn’t bite,” Indy told me.
“Naked gratitude?” I smiled at her.
She linked her arm in mine and turned us to face the door to the range. “Why do you think I know everything? Naked gratitude. Works every time.” She winked at me. Then she said, “Well, nearly every time.”
I was still smiling at her.
We put our ear protectors over our ears and stepped inside the range.
* * * * *
With the target twenty-five yards away, I had both my arms up, gun in hand, the side of my right hand above my wrist held in my left hand, arms slightly bent to absorb the impact of the recoil, my head tilted to the gun’s sight; I emptied a clip in the target.
Seventeen rounds, head for three, then chest for three, and back again until the clip was spent. I dropped my gun, squinted at the target, saw that I didn’t do too badly even with my arms aching and Indy came up close to my back, super close, weird close.
Yikes.
I started to turn to tell her to back off but it wasn’t Indy.
It was Vance.
Before I could react, he reached low, grabbed my wrist with one hand and twisted the gun out of my grip with his other.
Oh crap.
I stared at Vance’s angry face for a beat then my eyes slid to the side.
Indy was sitting on a stool behind me. For the last twenty minutes we’d been taking turns with my gun, her father had taught her how to shoot and she wasn’t a bad shot.
Now she was sitting frozen and throwing me an “eek” look.
Vance’s hand was still at my wrist and he dragged me right by Indy without sparing her a glance and toward the soundproof door.
I tried to pull free. This didn’t work.
We went through the door into the antechamber and he closed it behind us.
I tore off my ear protectors and goggles and tossed them on the shelf on the wall.
“What the f**k?” I snapped.
He shoved my gun in the back waistband of his jeans, ripped off his protective gear and tossed it on a shelf next to mine.