“Kitten.”

I felt another happy shiver.

“Hey,” I said softly.

“Hector told me he gave you a clean phone.”

“Yeah.”

“When’d that happen?”

Oh dear.

“Erm, last night. When he took me home from Head West.” It wasn’t a lie unless it was lying by omission as to why he gave me the phone and that he stayed while I used the phone for the secret reason he gave it to me.

“Not al fired up about this newfound closeness you got with Chavez,” Mace said in a low, unhappy voice.

“Hector’s my manager.”

Silence.

“So are Daisy and Shirleen. I think the Rock Chicks on the whole are mini-managers too.”

“Jesus,” Mace muttered.

“It’s al good,” I said breezily, even though that was definitely a lie.

Mace decided to move on.

“You wanna come to the offices? Have lunch with me?” Fuck yes! My brain shouted.

“Sure,” I said out loud.

“We’l cal your Mom after lunch.”

Shitsofuckit.

“Erm…” I muttered.

“Kitten, you gotta cal her.” This was said softly.

“I know,” I whispered, squeezed my eyes shut hard then said, “Fuck.”

“I’l be there. You’l be fine.”

At least that made me feel better. “Okay.”

“One of the guys’l pick you up.”

“Okay.”

“Around one.”

“Sure.”

“You got a list for the grocery store, bring it. I’l swing by King Soopers on the way home.”

Another happy shiver.

“You want Belgian waffles tomorrow or leftover coffee cake?” I asked him.

“Coffee cake.”

“You gonna be home for dinner?”

“I want to say yes, but we’l see.”

“Okay, I’l plan flexible.”

“Later, Kitten.” I heard the smile in his voice.

“Later.” I hoped he heard the smile in mine.

Disconnect.

God, I loved him.

* * * * *

The cel phone Hector gave me rang at a quarter to noon. I went to it, thinking it would be Mace again and hoping he didn’t have to back out on lunch (or dinner) when I flipped it open and said, “Hel o?”

“Stel a?”

It was Lana.

“Hey Lana. How’re you?”

“I’m packing and freaking out. That’s how I am. Chloe and I’l be in Denver tomorrow.”

Oh my God!

“That’s great!” I said to Lana.

“I hope you’re right, sweetie. Chloe’s freaking out even more than me. Kai and her… Kai was bad after… he thought Chloe blamed him. He convinced himself of it. No matter what she said…” She trailed off then breathed, “Oh God.”

“It’s al gonna be okay,” I said like I knew it was true but I knew no such thing.

“She looks like Caitlin,” Lana told me.

Oh man.

Oh shit.

Oh man.

That was it.

No matter what Mace said, I needed the Rock Chicks.

No way in hell I was going to be able to pul this off without the Rock Chicks.

“You’re gonna be good,” I promised. “Mace, I mean Kai, has a lot of friends. Good friends. Good people. We’l take care of you and we’l take care of him.”

“If you say so.”

Last night, during my planning, I realized that I had to keep Lana (and now Chloe) protected. Not only did we have Sidney Carter to worry about, we had Preston Mason and maybe that jerky George guy too.

“Don’t book a hotel. You have to stay with friends,” I told Lana.

“Oh, we couldn’t impose.”

“You have to,” I said quickly. “Kai would never forgive me if I didn’t take steps to keep you safe.” Silence, then, “Oh.”

“That’s okay too. Safe is these people’s middle name.” I was thinking about the Hot Bunch. They had other middle names like “Bossy” and “Scary” and “Badass” and “Hot” but I decided not to share those middle names with Lana. She was already freaking out.

“Okay,” Lana said.

“Let me know your flight numbers. I’l send someone out to get you at DIA. Okay?”

She gave me the flight numbers and I wrote them down on Mace’s tablet. Then I ripped the top sheet off, folded it up and put it in the back pocket of my cutoffs.

While I was doing this, Lana cal ed, “Stel a?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

I did another happy shiver, a different kind that didn’t involve Mace, his voice, eyes, hands or mouth. But it was happy al the same.

“No, Lana, thank you,” I said back.

* * * * *

I programmed Lana’s number into the phone under “Bogey One” just in case Mace saw it. I wanted a warning if she phoned again.

Then I sat on the couch and thought about my options.

Then, because I couldn’t decide, I cal ed Fortnum’s. I’d talk to whoever answered the phone.

“Hel o, Fortnum’s Used Books,” a woman said and I knew it was Jane, the super-thin, kind of weird, pathological y shy woman of indeterminate age that had worked there since before Indy inherited the store from her grandmother.

“Jane?” I asked anyway, just to be sure.

“Who’s this?” she sounded guarded.

“It’s Stel a.”

Effing hel , now I had to pick someone.

It hit me.

Duke.

Perfect.

“Is Duke there?” I asked.

“No,” Jane answered.

Beautiful.

Maybe my luck hadn’t changed.

Plan B.

“Okay, then, can I talk to Tex?” I blurted.

“Sure,” I heard the muffled noises of a hand covering a mouthpiece, then, “Tex?”

I also heard Tex’s muted, impatient boom. “What?”

“Phone,” Jane told him.

“I figured that, woman. I got, like, five hundred customers.

Take a message.”

“It’s Stel a Gunn,” Jane informed him.

“Shit. She’s not riddled with bul ets, is she?” I rol ed my eyes to the ceiling.