Page 152 of Rock Chick Rescue

“I’m not sure you have a choice,” I informed him.

I was proud of myself. It came out with attitude and conviction. Enough to make his dark eyes flare. I thought he was angry for a second, then he got over it and his lips twitched.

“Chavez is fucked.”

I didn’t know what that meant and I didn’t ask.

Vance looked at Indy. “We’re goin’ to Zip’s.”

Immediately Indy clapped and cried, “Yippee!”

“Zip’s?” I asked.

“It’s a gun shop,” Indy explained.

“What?” I kind of yelled.

Why on earth did we need a gun shop?

Vance answered my unasked question. “I’m not gonna help, but I’m not lettin’ you two loose in Denver without protection. We’re goin’ to get you some gear.” He turned to Indy. “You take your car. Jet’s on the Harley with me.”

Harley?

As in, Harley Davidson motorcycle?

With Vance?

No.

No, no, no and really,no.

“I’ll go with Indy,” I said.

“You aren’t out of sight on my watch,” Vance announced in a Tough Guy Therefore No Discussion Voice.

Wonderful.

* * *

I’d never riddenon the back of a motorcycle in my life, much less a Harley.

I had to admit, I liked it.

I liked ita lot.

I found out that Zip didn’t only sell guns. Ole Zip sold a lot of different kinds of guns—handguns, shotguns, rifles. He also sold knives, ammo, stun guns, Tasers, mace, pepper spray and calendars with my sister’s picture on the front. I pointed this out to Indy while Vance wasn’t paying attention.

“Nice,” she drawled, looking at Lottie wearing a barely there bikini, her body completely wet, her hair surprisingly dry and balancing precariously on a BMW motorcycle.

Vance outfitted us with stun guns, Tasers and pepper spray. He explained how to use them, he gave instruction on how to be safe and he tried to pay.

I argued.

He gave me a Tough Guy Look.

I pulled out The Glare.

While all this was going on, Indy paid.

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