Page 88 of Rock Chick Bonus Tracks

“Or nearly rolled onto I-25 when someone was chasin’ Ava’s Range Rover.”

And absolutely that.

“Or when someone had to pull me off Harvey Balducci when I was beatin’ his stupid ass in the alley behind a gay bar.”

He didn’t really have to wonder about that.

“Or when Roxie and I got shot at when that bad man from Chicago’s boys were on our ass through the streets of Denver.”

He didn’t even want to think of that.

“Stop talking,” he ordered.

“See?” she said like she’d proven her point. “What do you think the men are doing when an RCG is going on?”

“I don’t know. Drinking raw eggs before taking Krav Maga classes?”

Her laugh filled the room, and she shook her head. “No, sugar. They’re havin’ HBAs.”

“What’s an HBA?”

“A Hot Bunch Assembly, where they hang at Lincoln’s, or one or the other’s houses, shooting the shit and makin’ bets on stuff that don’t matter, and silently hoping that Tex isn’t gonna be given a reason to craft another makeshift bomb.”

He smiled at her.

She didn’t smile back.

“You’re a member of the Hot Bunch, honey,” she told him in all seriousness. “All you gotta do is join the club officially.”

He felt something he didn’t understand, because it had been so long since he felt it.

It came to him.

Uncomfortable.

“I’ve never really been a joiner,” he admitted.

She approached again, putting her hands back on his chest and leaning into him.

He loved everything about his wife.

But he wasn’t so sure about the look in her eye.

“Don’t you worry, honey bunches of love. Leave that part to me.”

Right, then…

Fuck.

His intercom in the office buzzed.

He hit it. “Yes, Sarah?”

“Mr. Nightingale is here for his appointment.”

“Bring him back.”

“Right away, Mr. Sloan.”

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