“Not in money,” I answered.
“Then it’s not a profession. It’s a hobby. And it’s dangerous, Ally. And this is the last time I’m gonna tell you, you gotta stop doing it.”
My eyes narrowed further. My chest started burning and I opened my mouth to commence the yelling portion of The Talk.
* * * * *
Rock Chick Rewind
Backing up a bit, my name is Allyson Nightingale, but everyone calls me Ally.
And I’m a Rock Chick, in name and deed.
That is to say, I worship at the shrine of Rock ‘n’ Roll and I live the rock star life, doing what I want when I want how I want. When I’m not working as a bartender or backup barista, of course, and with a lot less money.
Me and my best friend, India “Indy” Savage (now Nightingale since she married my brother, Lee) have a posse called the Rock Chicks. It’s our posse mostly because we’re the band leaders, as it were, and being rock chicks, they’d be Rock Chicks.
So they are.
Indy and I began the tradition. And some of the Rock Chicks might not be as crazy as me and Indy, but they’re Rock Chicks to the core.
Definitely.
* * * * *
The Rock Chicks do not include my brothers (because they’re dudes, and unless the dude is gay, he can’t be a Rock Chick), Henry “Hank” Nightingale and Liam “Lee” Nightingale. They’re both older than me.
Hank’s a badass cop. As far as I can tell, Lee’s just a professional badass.
My dad is also a cop. So was his dad. Gramps died in the line of duty.
So badass and brave runs in the family.
And as far as I’m concerned, I got those genes.
It’s just that no one agrees with me.
* * * * *
See, about two years ago Indy caught a bit of trouble. She owns a used bookstore called Fortnum’s, but it also serves coffee. In fact, if she didn’t serve coffee, she’d be screwed because she doesn’t sell very many books.
She also landed herself a barista named Tex (who is a bona fide nut, but a lovable one—mostly) who’s a latte/cappuccino/espresso-making genius. He’s the Yo-Yo Ma of coffee. In fact, Mr. Ma would put down his cello in the middle of a performance to take a sip of Tex’s coffee, it’s that good.
Seriously.
Anyway, Rosie, the barista before Indy recruited Tex, did something stupid. Indy got dragged in, and Indy’s been my best friend since I could remember. Our parents were best friends. And, as I mentioned, she’s now married to my brother. So naturally, I got dragged in right with her.
Or, if I’m honest, I waltzed in. Happily.
I’d never been one to shy away from trouble. Or make my own, as the case may be.
That started a lot of stuff. As in, a lot. Some of it bad. Some of it very bad.
But most of it was awesome.
As for me, when Indy was in trouble and I got involved, we’d been after Rosie because he’d disappeared. And when no one could find him, I did.
That’s when I got bit by the bug. Like my dad and brothers, I was good at this badass investigation shit.
A natural.
So I kept doing it.
* * * * *
Don’t think I’m stupid. I’m not.
Along the way, I learned a lot. At first, I only did it for friends in a jam, snooping around, doing things such as getting the goods on a cheating ex, shit like that.
But I always took care of the situation.
Then my friends told their friends and I got referrals.
Eventually, shit got serious.
But I’m a Nightingale. I don’t shy away from serious. No freaking chance.
But Ren was wrong. I had a solid network. I had backup.
