“It was over then when the Hot Bunch’s women got targeted by a criminal overlord, you wouldn’t have been cal ed out, exposed and shot at,” Al y pointed out logical y.

This was true. This was also something to mul over, later, privately, perhaps over some risotto and a nice, chil ed glass of pinot grigio.

“Can we talk about this later?” I asked, al of a sudden exhausted. I threw the other pil ow at the head of the bed.

Al y opened her mouth. Indy shot her a look. Al y closed her mouth. They smoothed the covers and made to move out.

“Just as long as we do talk about it later,” Al y said on her way out, not about to be silenced for long by Indy.

“Goodnight,” I cal ed, giving no assurances.

“Later,” Indy replied and she closed the door.

I careful y took off Daisy’s cream, velour, Juicy Couture track bottoms but left on the snug, white t-shirt she’d given me.

“It’s new, haven’t worn it yet so I haven’t broken in the chest area,” Daisy informed me, circling her extraordinary bosoms with a pointed, frosty white-polished, ultra long finger-nailed finger to make her point. Ava had seized my Heidi shirt which had a bit of blood on it and disappeared, muttering something about stain removal.

I took the pain kil ers using a glass of water Daisy brought me, got in bed and stared at the ceiling.

My first thoughts were of Linnie and Buzz. Then, for peace of mind, because thoughts of Linnie were too difficult to bear and because I no longer had my phone so I could cal Buzz and see how he was doing because Mace had confiscated it; my thoughts went to the final chapter of the weird and wild evening.

After getting stitched up and changing clothes, the Rock Chicks were cal ed into a Tribe Meeting by Lee.

We al sat in Daisy’s big room. The gathering had grown bigger. Jet’s fiancé, Eddie Chavez was there. Roxie’s boyfriend, Hank Nightingale as wel . There was a handsome man who I found out was Marcus Sloan, Daisy’s husband. Bobby, Matt and Ike, al Nightingale Men, had also arrived. Bobby was a barrel-chested, sandy-blond behemoth; Matt was a fit, also-blond, cute guy; Ike was light-skinned black man, shaved bald with a cool-as-shit tattoo you could see slithering up his neck and down his arm around the sleeve and col ar of his t-shirt. The man who stopped my retreat earlier was Nick, Jules’s uncle.

There was also a guy I didn’t know, he looked a lot like Eddie but definitely as yet untamed by domesticity and, by the looks of him, untamable. His eyes came to me when I walked in, I thought because I was the only one injured in the night’s proceedings. His eyes didn’t leave me, though.

They felt hot on me. So hot, they made me feel hot but in a nice way, a way I hadn’t felt under the gaze of a man in a very long time. Eventual y, it made me feel so hot, I had to look away.

Lee “briefed” us about the situation. Some guy named Sid was under investigation by the police (for your information, when he said, “police”, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he meant Hank and Eddie). The police had partnered with the Nightingale Team to hasten the act of bringing Sid down. Mace was overseeing the Take Sid Down Project for the team. Other entities were recruited and my guess those “other entities” were Marcus Sloan and his be-suited, big-gun-toting army.

They were close to something; Sid didn’t like it so Sid declared war by going after the girls. Lee knew this not only because it was obvious but also because he’d had a phone cal five minutes after the precisely timed shootings and drive-bys. The cal er informed him that he should take this as a warning. Either they backed off or Sid’s boys were going to pick off the Rock Chicks one by one.

Me getting shot was not planned, I was only supposed to get shot at. Again, I would take this opportunity to remind you I was the Queen of Super Shitty Bad Luck.

This information of certain death to the Rock Chicks was met with the vague murmur here and there. For myself, I was total y flipped out as threats of one by one kil ings of myself and my friends, hel , of anyone, was wont to do.

Everyone else acted like this was a smal bother, like getting a splinter, irritating but not much more.

Effing hel .

Lee told The Tribe that Daisy and Marcus would be our hosts for the evening and we’d get our orders the next day.

It was then my phone, which I was holding in my hand, rang.

“Sorry,” I muttered to the assemblage when al eyes swung to me.

I looked at the display; it said “Buzz Cal ing”. I flipped it open but before I could put it to my ear it was pul ed out of my hand.

My head shot up and I saw Mace, my phone to his ear, his back to me, walking away.

“Erm, excuse me?” I cal ed, getting up from my perch on the arm of a couch and fol owing him.

“Buzz, she’l talk to you tomorrow,” Mace told the phone.

“Yeah. She’s al right.” Then he flipped my phone shut.

Do something! My brain ordered me.

I did something. I poked him in the back. The Tribe had melted from existence (not real y, as people can’t melt, except in movies like Raiders of the Lost Ark, they just melted from my mind) and my pissed off vibe came back with a vengeance.

“Excuse me? ” I repeated to his back.

Mace turned. I put my hand out for my phone.

Mace shoved my phone in his back pocket. My eyes fol owed this action then narrowed and shot back to Mace’s face.

“Give me my phone,” I demanded.

“No,” Mace replied.

“Give it to me.”

“No.”

“Mace, give me my goddamned phone!” My voice was rising.

Mace leaned into me and responded calmly, “No.”

“I need to talk to Buzz,” I explained with rapidly waning patience. “He’s gonna need me. His girlfriend had her head blown off tonight, for God’s sake!”

“Lindsey’s head was blown off by Sid’s men. She’s the reason they were able to get close to you, watch you, figure you out, find a way to get to you. She’s the reason they knew Buzz would cal you and knew you’d come running when he did. Lindsey got herself kil ed so you could be target practice as a warning to me.”

My mouth snapped shut and I took a step back. I had not put this together but it made sense and the idea that I had anything to do with Lindsey’s death felt like the gut kick to end al gut kicks.

Mace took a step forward and his steps were longer than mine.

“Stel a, I’m not gonna let any of the members of that f**kin’ band of yours put you in harm’s way. No phone. No communication. Not until we know the lay of the land. Your band wants to talk to you, they do it through me.” Oh no. He did not just say what it seemed like he just said.