I buckled in saying, “We’ll see.”

“Yeah, this is done, we will.”

That sounded like a promise.

Hmm.

Ren drove to Tex’s. I grabbed my little pepper spray and stun gun out of the glove compartment before I got out. Shoving my stun gun in the back waistband of my jeans and my pepper spray in my front pocket, I stormed the rest of my pique off by stomping up to the door, Ren following me.

Tex opened it before we got there and ordered, “Keep it quiet inside. Nance’s sleepin’.”

She would be. It was three thirty in the morning.

We would also know to do this since Tex now had an official ball and chain and if she wasn’t flitting around serving coffee, we’d know to keep it down.

I understood why he gave us this warning when I walked in and noticed several things right off the bat.

One, Tex seemed to have twice as many cats as usual, and since he had about fifteen of them the last time I was there, this was a lot.

Two, Hector was there, as expected.

Three, Mace was there, as was not expected.

And four, The Kevster and fucking Rosie were there, as was insane.

“What the…!” I started on a shout. Tex cut his eyes to me and I brought it down about ten notches, “Hell?”

Rosie, looking like Rosie—that was to say a less kempt Kurt Cobain (except, obviously, alive)—jumped up from Tex’s couch and said (on a whisper), “The Kevster went to get some stuff from Kumar, Kumar told him what was goin’ down tonight. He told me and I came to help. It’s my way of sayin’ sorry.”

I glared at Kevin then I transferred my glare to Tex. “Why didn’t you kick them out?” I demanded to know.

“Did I not mention Nancy’s sleepin’?” he asked back on a low boom.

Crap.

I moved my glare to Rosie. “Daily deliveries of flowers for a year, replacement of my Firefly DVDs, and twenty-five rock ‘n’ roll t-shirts say I’m sorry, Rosie. You showing up prior to a mission does not.” I looked back at The Kevster. “And you know better.”

“Dudette,” he replied then said no more.

Then again, often for The Kevster, that was all he had to say.

I stared at The Kevster, who had a ginger cat in his lap he was stroking, a tuxedo kitty snoozing at his side, and a tiger cat on the floor by his leg, batting at the ragged hem of his jeans, and I sucked in breath.

“Two potheads and bring your boyfriend to work day. This isn’t startin’ great,” Mace noted, and I looked at him.

“And what are you doing here?” I asked.

“Not convinced about you. Here to get convinced,” he stated then uncrossed an arm that was crossed on his chest and swung it out before finishing, “Though, gotta say, this shit isn’t convincing me.”

It was nice he was considering backing my play. It was better he was there to help.

He was still annoying me.

“I’ve been here a minute and Ren can take care of himself, which I suspect you know. So keep your pants on, I’ll deal with shit and we’ll move out,” I returned.

“Right,” he replied, still obviously unconvinced.

I didn’t have time to chat with Mace. I had tweaker robbers to locate, a fight with my man to finish, then I wanted sex. Though, I could combine the last two. Angry sex worked for Ren and me, seeing as we mostly existed on that for a year.

I turned back to Rosie and The Kevster and ordered, “Go home.”

Rosie felt like being obstinate, unfortunately.

 “No. We’re gonna help. A tweaker will open a door to one of us way faster than they’d open one to one of you.” He, too, threw out an arm to indicate the crew. “We can go in, get the lay of the land, give the high sign.”

I stared at him and saw what I didn’t want to see.

That was to say, it was clear Rosie brought some of his primo pot from New Mexico for personal use.

He was lit. Which meant he’d fired up very recently.

“And bad shit goes down, you’re high, you think you can handle it?” I asked. Then went on, “And seriously, smoking a doobie at Tex’s? What’s the matter with you?”

“We smoked it in the car before we came in,” Kevin offered.

“Brilliant,” I snapped.

“Ally—” Rosie cut in, but I moved and did it quick.

Getting in his space and face, I stated, “You are not helping. All you’re doing is wasting time and pissing me off. Go home. Now.”

“But—”

“Now,” I bit out.

“I feel bad,” he said.

Seriously?

“You should,” I shot back. “I lost everything because you’re an idiot. But pissing me off isn’t the way to make it up to me. Now, we’re done. Go.” Since I was done too, I turned from him to look at Tex and asked, “You got a list of houses?”

He was smiling big at me and he answered, “Yup.”

“How many?” I asked.

“Seven,” he answered.

Jeez.