Rock Chick Revolution

Chapter Nineteen We’re a Fuckin’ Pair

The morning after Luke and Ava’s wedding, I walked into Ren’s bedroom carrying a tray.

That morning, for the first time since our first night together, I woke up before Ren.

And I decided that this time was going to go a whole lot better.

So I walked in seeing Ren still asleep on his stomach, the bedclothes down to his waist, the smooth olive skin and defined muscles of his back bared to me.

I smiled at the sight, set the tray aside and put a knee in the bed. Then I put a hand between his shoulder blades and leaned in to kiss the indent of his spine at the small of his back.

He shifted and turned.

I lifted and looked toward his face.

“You sleep any longer, Zano, breakfast is gonna get cold,” I said as my good morning.

The brows over his sleepy eyes went up (hot) before his gaze slid to the nightstand.

I’d made French toast Roxie’s way. That was to say, with powdered sugar sweetened cream cheese sandwiched in the middle (we could just say it was good Ren cooked—he had everything in his kitchen). I’d also fried up some smoky links and cut up some strawberries with the stem still on so I could fan them on the plates, two of which, with mugs of steaming coffee, were on the tray.

It looked and smelled awesome.

His eyes came back to me. “You cook?”

I felt my brows knit. “Sure I cook.”

“You’ve never cooked for me.”

This was true. I hadn’t. I’d made toast, but that didn’t count as cooking.

I smiled, leaned in and whispered, “Lucky boy, you have a plethora of delights awaiting you.”

His eyes got hot, his arms closed around me and I found myself back to the bed, Ren on me and his tongue in my mouth.

Nice.

When his lips slid to my neck, I noted, “Baby, this gets any hotter, breakfast is gonna suck.”

He kissed my neck, lifted up, looked at me and mumbled, “Right.”

Then he touched his lips to mine, rolled off and away. I turned to my side and got up on an elbow to watch his ass as he went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of gray drawstring pajama bottoms. He tugged them on (hot) and I then watched the muscles in his back move as he walked to the bathroom (also hot).

I was in a new satin nightie the color of lemon chiffon with light blue lace (which was also hot; Roxie, Tod and Stevie set me up) as well panties. I was sitting cross-legged on the bed and had a coffee mug in my hand when Ren returned.

He joined me, back to the headboard, legs stretched out, ankles crossed, one of his thighs touching my knee. He grabbed some coffee, sucked it back then handed me a plate. I stowed my mug snug in the bed beside my hip as he nabbed his own plate, picked up the fork resting on it and looked at me.

His brown eyes were still slightly sleepy. They were also still totally hot.

“Breakfast in bed on a Sunday, baby. I like it,” he said quietly before he commenced eating.

“I’m buttering you up,” I admitted, and that was when his eyes narrowed on me.

“For what?” he asked.

“Twenty questions,” I answered.

His eyes unnarrowed, he looked back at his plate and forked into the French toast, saying, “Fire away.”

That was it. Fire away. Nothing to hide. Not with that reaction. He didn’t tense. He didn’t evade. He just said, Fire away.

I liked that.

“Actually, it’s just three questions, not twenty,” I amended, and he looked at me, chewing.

When I said no more, mouth still full, he prompted, “Yeah?”

“Why do you park in front?”

His head jerked and he swallowed. “What?”

“You have a perfectly fine garage out back. Why do you park in front?”

“Because it’s half a football field away from the house,” he answered the answer I’d guessed.

I grinned at my plate because I liked being right, and I liked it more when Ren was witty, then I forked into French toast.

“Do you wanna park in back?” Ren asked, and I looked at him. “Got remotes for the opener. You should have one anyway, and when you do you can park where you want.”

“Okay. But I’m fine in the front. I just didn’t know why you didn’t park there,” I shared.

“And this is important?” he asked.

“No,” I answered.

He stared at me then he grinned. “You always wanted to know.”

I said nothing.

“And badass Ally Nightingale, holdin’ me at arm’s length, wouldn’t let herself ask.”

I rolled my eyes even though he was right.

“I was so totally in there,” he declared.

“I think we established that, Zano,” I replied.

“Just good to know how in there I was,” he murmured, still grinning even as he bit off half a sausage link. Bite in his mouth, he asked, “What else you always wanna know, honey?”

“Do you have a gardener?”

“Yes.”

Ren Zano didn’t mulch.

Why did having that confirmed make me feel melty inside?

I didn’t ponder that.

I kept going.

“You seem to have an aversion to the mall.”

His answer to that was, “Do I have a dick?”

I felt my lips curl up and I replied, “Yes, baby. You have a dick.”

“Then, yeah. I got an aversion to the mall.”

“Okay. Then how do you dress so well?” I asked.

He went back to his plate and answered, “Personal shopper.” He dug into French toast, lifted it to his mouth, chewed, swallowed and looked at me as I tried to process this surprising information. “Gotta have clothes. Don’t like shoppin’ for them. There you go.”

Interesting.

And an excellent solution to every badass’s problem of having to be clothed and being allergic to the mall.

“And, we gotta talk about this, so might as well do it now,” he started. I bit off part of my own smoky link and focused on him. “My woman’s her own woman, so I get that it’s likely gonna be important for you to feel you’re contributing. I’ll say now I’m good with covering everything until you get on your feet. I’m also cool with you making a contribution, just as long as it isn’t you making a statement that overextends what you can actually afford.”

I got what he was saying, so I told him, “I wouldn’t be good with living here without doing something, honey.”

“Right,” he replied. “Then come up with something you think you can afford, and we’ll talk about it. Yeah?”

Clearly, we were back to the easy part of this together togetherness.

Thank God.

“Yeah, Ren,” I said softly.

He grinned and went back to his plate.

I did the same and kept doing it until I heard him say, “This is delicious, baby.”

I looked at him. “It’s Roxie’s recipe for the French toast.”

“Your hand that made it.”

Again I felt melty.

God, I was totally becoming a Rock Chick.

Nevertheless, I decided breakfast in bed every Sunday until that day long in the future when Ren and I were both in a nursing home where we didn’t have kitchen privileges.

“You done with your questions?” he asked, and I nodded. When I did, he stated, “Right. Then we got something else we gotta talk about.”

I hoped whatever it was stuck with the easy vibe of our together togetherness because I was still riding the high of Ava and Luke’s wedding, the fact that I introduced Ren to Mom and Dad (eventually, between Ava and Luke’s dance and cake cutting) and they’d both acted genuinely nice instead of stiffly polite, and breakfast in bed with Ren was the bomb. I was digging easy. We hadn’t had a lot of that. And, with our personalities, this was as easy as I suspected it would get.

“What do we have to talk about?” I asked.

“What I’ve been needin’ to get down to talkin’ to you about since we got back from the mountains, just haven’t had the time.” He sucked back some coffee and finished, “Now we have the time.”

Okay.

Good.

I was happy we were getting to this. So much had been going on I hadn’t thought about it that much. That didn’t mean I wasn’t curious. Then again, I was always curious.

“Shoot,” I invited, grabbing my mug and leaning over him to deposit my plate on the bedside table.

Ren followed suit, lifted one knee and twisted partially to me.

“Shit’s goin’ down at work,” he announced.

Oh man.

This was sure to take us out of easy.

Denying what Ren and I were, having my apartment explode and the rest of all that went down, it didn’t hit me in our together togetherness that an official Ren and Ally would not only include us sharing mundane things like why he parked out front, but also non-mundane things, like how his day was at the office where he was in charge of the legitimate side of a crime empire.

Fuck.

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“And you gotta know what it is,” he went on.

“Okay,” I repeated.

“You also gotta know why it is what it is,” he continued.

I didn’t repeat an “okay.” I just nodded.

He looked away and took a sip of coffee, but something changed in his face that I did not like.

Then he looked back at me and I saw whatever it was I really didn’t like.

But it was familiar. I’d seen it before whenever he mentioned his dad.

“My mother wasn’t in the life,” he shared. “She came here from Chicago after college for a job and met my pop.”

Yep. This was going to be about his dad.

I took in a breath and nodded.

“The way Aunt Angela told it to my sister Jeannie, Ma didn’t know shit. Not until Pop took over the business from my grandfather and two weeks later got whacked.”

Holy shit!

“Then she knew,” he said.

“Wow, I, uh… honey,” I stammered, reaching out and curling a hand around his thigh. “I hadn’t heard about that. That’s terrible. Awful. I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah. It was awful and there’s nothin’ to say. I was three. Jeannie was five. My younger sister Connie was barely a year old. Ma was fucked. She didn’t have a job. Gave it up to be a wife and mother. Young. Three kids. Then she sorted it out, why Pop was dead from a bullet to the head, and it set her reeling. She packed us up and went back to Chicago to be with her family.”

Now it was becoming clear why he wanted me to be a stay-at-home mom. That was what he knew, and I knew he loved his mother; she’d done a good job with him, so that was what he wanted for his kids.

“That’s understandable,” I murmured, squeezing his thigh.

“She made a mistake though. She took family money.”

Uh-oh.

Not good.

“In the meantime,” Ren kept going, “Vito and Angela, they couldn’t have kids. Dom was around, but he’s a fuckup and he didn’t start fuckin’ up when he started usin’ his dick for more than jerkin’ off. Vito’s all about family, in good ways as well as not so good, so he looked after Ma. He also came to visit. And he had his eye on me. Time came when he had to start to think about who’ll take over when he’s ready to retire. Me and Dom the only males, Vito old school, he decided it would be me.”

As much as this sucked, I didn’t blame Vito. I knew Ren’s cousin Dominic. He was a fuckup.

I also knew his wife Sissy. Dom had fucked around on her and treated her like garbage. Ava’s Rock Chick Ride dragged Sissy along with it and Dom woke up, saw he was screwing over a good woman and got his head out of his ass. Now they had a baby and were happy.

I wasn’t Sissy. He didn’t cheat on me, so it wasn’t up to me to judge.

Still, I wasn’t his biggest fan, even if he now seemed a devoted husband and family man.

Ren brought my attention back to his story.

“Uncle Vito leaned on Ma to come back to Denver. She didn’t like it, but since she was still mostly a stay-at-home mom with only a part-time job—but a nice house and nice car all paid for by Zano family money—she was in a tight place. She couldn’t say no. She also had a lot of misplaced gratitude. So we came back.”

At this juncture, it must be noted, as whacked as it was, I’d always liked Vito. He was outspoken and funny, and he’d stepped up for two of the Rock Chicks.

But I didn’t like this.

“And Vito started grooming you to take over,” I guessed.

“Not right away, but yeah,” Ren confirmed. “So, in one ear, I got Vito. In the other, I got Ma, who wants me to have nothin’ to do with that shit.”

It was all coming clear.

“That’s why you’re the legitimate side,” I said quietly and his focus intensified on me.

“Yeah,” he replied just as quietly.

“And now Vito wants to retire?” Again, I was guessing.

“No. Now, I got a mom I love and respect who had to be both parents to me for as long as I can remember. And I don’t remember my dad, Ally. Not what he looked like. Not a touch. Not a smell. Not even a feeling. He’s gone. The only thing I got is pictures, and they mean shit to me. He’s a phantom that haunts my mother to this day. So we’ll also say, I don’t remember him, but I don’t like him either.”

With a dad like my dad and thinking everyone should have a dad like my dad, his words made my heart bleed. I’d hate that. And obviously Ren hated it, too.

I leaned closer, squeezed his thigh harder, and whispered, “Ren, honey.”

His jaw got tight before he said, “He lied to her. Brought her into the life and didn’t say dick. You don’t do that to a woman. Not with that life. Not with any fuckin’ life. You don’t hold shit back. Ever.”

I sure was glad he thought like that.

I nodded. “I get it.”

“What I also got is hooked to a woman whose father and brother are cops.”

This surprised me so much I leaned back and took in a sharp breath.

“Yeah,” he stated, still watching me intently. “So Vito’s mutterin’ about me makin’ inroads into the other side of the business, my ma will lose her mind if I take over and the woman I was fallin’ in love with is tangled up in blue.”

“Tangled up in blue?” I asked.

“Cop blue,” he answered.

“Right,” I mumbled.

“So what do I do?” he queried.

“I don’t know, honey. What do you do?”

“It’s not what do I do. It’s what I did do. And what I did was told Vito we’re movin’ the whole thing to legit. He eventually bows out, Dom tows my line or he gets another job, and we’re done with the business.”

Holy shit!

I knew my mouth had dropped open, and I knew Ren didn’t miss it because he was still watching me closely, but he ignored my reaction and kept going.

“That didn’t go over too well.”

Oh man.

I bet it didn’t.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Vito lost his shit is what happened,” he answered.

I pressed my lips together.

“The good news is, he loves me. I get out of the life, he won’t order a hit on me.”

Oh my God!

A hit?

“The bad news is, he’s all over me to change my mind, and if I don’t, I’m excommunicated.”

Okay, that was bad news. But a hit was a whole lot worse.

“I know you’re tight with your family, Ren, but is that really a bad thing?” I asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, honey, because I’m tight with my family. But it’s better than dead.”

It totally was.

“But, even with this and all the shit before, bottom line, Vito has been good to me, my sisters, my ma. He’s the only father I ever had, Ally. He’s fucked up along the way, like now, bein’ stubborn and tryin’ to bend me to his will. But mostly, he’s been a good one. I don’t wanna lose him and it looks like he’s givin’ me no choice.” He paused then finished, “It also means I got no job.”

Oh man!

“That isn’t good,” I noted, again cautiously.

“No. We do well, Ally. When I say that, I pull down high six figures,” he told me.

Yowza!

High six figures?

I made eight hours of a couple bucks above minimum wage and fifty dollars from the tip jar the day before yesterday.

I couldn’t wrap my mind around high six figures.

No wonder he drove a Jag, had a gardener and a kickass pad in Cheesman Park.

“So I got some put away, and we’re good in a live-real-good type of way for a while. We’re good for a live-content type of way for a longer while. I’m just not the kind of man who golfs.”

Thank God.

Nothing against golf. I was just not the-man-who-golfed-being-my-man type of woman.

“So what’re you thinking of doing?” I asked.

“I know what I’m doing. I’m settin’ up with Marcus.”

I blinked and my voice squeaked when I asked, “What?”

“This is not popular with Vito either,” Ren noted.

I didn’t understand.

“So, let me get this straight. You’re going out of the family business, but staying in the business?”

He shook his head. “No. Marcus has been pullin’ back for a while now. He has one thing on this earth he gives a shit about, and that’s his wife. I don’t have to tell you she had a tough life. They got together, with his social set, she had a tough go. She hasn’t had anything solid, anything at all, not her whole life, except Marcus…” he grabbed my hand, “and the Rock Chicks.”

I knew this.

“Chavez hates him because of what he does,” Ren continued, letting my hand go and taking a sip of coffee before he went on, “Hank also wouldn’t hesitate to take him down if given the opportunity. Marcus feels that tension. The truces made to deal with Rock Chick shit are tentative, baby. And that also means with my family. You women settle in, focus will shift. And when it does, it will not be good. So that Marcus can give Daisy what she needs, the family that comes with the Rock Chicks, without that tension or any shit hangin’ over their heads, he’s been growin’ the legit side of things, lettin’ go of the other. He’s almost there. The thing is, his talents lie in the other. But my talents lie with the legit.”

I had also always liked Marcus.

Now I liked him more.

Suddenly, I smiled huge.

“Perfect fit,” I decreed.

He smiled back. “Yeah.”

Just as suddenly, I was again confused.

“Was this what you were talking with Lee about after my apartment exploded?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed.

“This isn’t bad, so why were you in each other’s faces?”

“Because I was with you and Lee suspected where that was going, which is where it is now, and he wasn’t pleased with the pace the other shit was going.”

Yep, that was Lee.

“You go at whatever pace you wanna go, honey,” I told him.

“I intend to, baby,” he said on a grin.

I took a sip of coffee and asked, “How does Dom feel about all this?”

Ren shook his head, but replied, “He’s calmed his shit since all that went down with Ava and Sissy, but he’s still a fuckup. It’s just that now, he knows it.”

“And that means?”

“That means he doesn’t want to be at the helm, because Vito’s gonna retire but still be up in his face all the time. He also doesn’t want the helm because he’s got a wife and kid, his wife got roughed up in some bad business, and he doesn’t want any of that shit ever to touch his family again.”

I didn’t get a good feeling about this.

“So it’s crumbling,” I remarked.

“Yeah, Ally, and I can’t get worked up to give a shit about it,” Ren said, and his voice had gone harsh. “I gave them an out. Everyone connected to us does well with what I do. They don’t need that other shit. It’s just stubbornness and fear of change that’s makin’ him hold on. Vito’s a few years from retiring, so that makes even less sense. What does he care?’

Good question.

Ren kept going.

“And I didn’t grow up in the life. Until we got back to Denver, I had no fuckin’ clue. Then when I had a clue, I didn’t want it and that shit was forced on me. I didn’t like that. They pulled me in and I worked my ass off to keep my shit as separate as I could,” his eyes locked on mine, “but I’m not clean, Ally. Far from it. I know what they do. I’m in on meetings where decisions are made. And I’ve made decisions. I’ve also carried them out. I’m removed and I’m not.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“Yeah, you know,” he said, eyes still holding mine. “Before you knew any of this, you accepted me. And that was not a test, baby. Just circumstances that prevented you from knowin’ where I was at. But gotta say, I’m glad to know it.”

I leaned in and touched my mouth to his.

He put a hand to my neck and slid it up into my hair to hold me there so my mouth touch lasted longer and included some tongue.

Only then did he let me go, but when I resumed my position, I did it closer.

“So how’s that all gonna go for you? Disconnecting from the business?” I asked.

Again his eyes caught mine in an intent way that made me brace.

“Your brothers know. Lee’s men know. Marcus knows. Now I’m gonna tell you,” he said softly, but his soft voice was not his sweet voice.

It was a voice that was telling me to brace.

Luckily, I already was. I just did it more.

“What are you gonna tell me?” I asked.

He leaned into me and his hand went back to the side of my neck and stayed there when he declared, “You do not fuck with me, Ally. This disconnect with Vito is gonna go fine, because the people who I deal with in my business understand that.” He paused. “And why.”

“You’re a made man,” I whispered my guess.

His head moved back an inch and his eyes narrowed. “What?”

Why was he asking “what?”

“You’re, uh, not a made man?”

Ren said nothing and stared at me.

“Ren?” I prompted when this went on a while.

“We’re Sicilian, babe, but we’re not Cosa Nostra.”

My head jerked. “You aren’t?”

“Fuck no. If we were, I’d never get out.”

Wow.

I did not know this.

How did I not know this?

I mean, I didn’t know everything that went down in Denver and I’d purposefully never gotten into Zano business, but I knew a lot.

Just not this.

“I just assumed—” I started.

“We aren’t clean,” Ren interrupted me. “Vito’s into a variety of shit that his father was into and his father’s father started. But they left New York to come to Denver to leave that shit behind and do their own thing.”

“Oh,” I mumbled.

“Fuck, you thought my family was mafia?” he asked, his voice getting louder. Which, by the way, was not a good sign.

What it was was a sign that we were moving out of easy.

“Actually, I—”

“Jesus,” he clipped. “I was gonna say this is gonna go fine, not because if it doesn’t, I’ll whack anybody who fucks with me. Just that they all know I know how to take care of myself and my family. I’ve proved that in a variety of ways. I’ve also not hesitated proving it or getting creative. So they’ve learned not to fuck with me.” He scowled at me and repeated, “Jesus.”

I didn’t know what to say. I personally didn’t think that it was a huge leap to make, him being Sicilian and the nephew of a third generation crime boss, but it was also an assumption that didn’t shine a great light on me.

“Ren, your family does certain… things. And they’re Italian. Sicilian Italian. Your dad was whacked. And Vito can be scary. I put two and two together—”

“And made twelve.”

Oh man.

I put a hand on his chest and leaned in. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That was totally uncool. Totally. Really, I’m sorry.” I tipped my head to the side and pressed my hand into his chest “Forgive me?”

“For thinkin’ I’m an underboss?”

Hmm.

Time to shut my mouth.

See, I’d been stupid and I’d apologized.

And he hadn’t accepted.

I offended him and maybe his acceptance was going to take a few minutes.

So I was going to give them to him before I lost my patience and pointed out (in a perhaps snotty or sarcastic way) that he should accept my apology.

“I’ll just take the dishes down to the sink,” I muttered, moving to exit the bed.

Instead of getting out of the bed, my coffee mug was pulled from my hand, put on the nightstand, and I was shoved back into position facing Ren.

“All this time, you thought you were fuckin’ a wiseguy?” he asked.

“Um…” I mumbled, because I did. It was just that he was angry and I didn’t want to say it out loud.

“You did. You thought you were fuckin’ a wiseguy,” he pressed.

I pushed my lips to the side.

“And you let me in there,” he went on.

“Yes,” I whispered.

He stared at me.

I fought squirming.

Then he burst out laughing.

I stopped fighting squirming and glared.

“What’s funny?” I snapped.

His hand shot out and hooked me behind the neck, pulling me into him even as he leaned close.

“Christ, you love me so much, I was so damned in there, you accepted me as a wiseguy.”

I had a feeling I was never going to hear the end of that.

“Just saying, Zano, if you’re looking for new career paths, I’d prefer you veer from that one,” I returned.

“Babe, you thought I was already on it.”

This sucked, but it was true.

“Whatever,” I muttered, yanking at his hand at my neck and looking anywhere but at him.

“Ally,” he called.

“What?” I asked the bedpost.

“Baby, give me your eyes.”

He was talking sweet.

I heaved a sigh and gave him my eyes.

“So, I want a stay-at-home mom and you give me a badass PI. You accepted a wiseguy and got whatever I am. We’re a fuckin’ pair.”

We were.

I looked into his eyes and wondered how on earth we were working.

Then it hit me I shouldn’t think on that too much. We were. That was all that mattered.

“I suppose I should thank you for giving up your six figure part of a criminal empire for me,” I said somewhat ungraciously.

This made him smile and pull me closer as his eyes dropped to my mouth and his lips murmured, “You’re welcome, honey.”

“Now, I need to go out and run off my French toast,” I informed him.

His eyes came back to mine just as his lips hit mine and he replied, “Oh, we’ll work it off.”

A shiver slid over my skin and my happy place got happy.

His head slanted, his lips pressed to mine and his tongue slid inside.

We then proceeded to work off the French toast and the sausages.

I wasn’t sure what we did would help me stay in shape should I have to outrun bad guys.

But it was a whole lot better than running.