We were cut from the same cloth. She might be a redhead and me a brunette. She might have curves where I had angles. And she might be a tad bit less crazy than me (a tad).
But other than that, we were sisters.
To the core.
I did not share any of this deep crap with her.
I didn’t need to.
She already knew it.
Instead I guided the discussion to something (else) that was important.
That was, I warned, “No Rock Chick involvement. I don’t tell Roxie how to design websites. I don’t tell Jules how to counsel runaways. And you need to back me on that.”
She lifted a hand, palm my way.
A Rock Chick Promise.
“You got it. I’m all in on backing you on that.”
“That includes you,” I added. She dropped her hand and I knew what was coming, so I started, “Indy—”
“What if you need a decoy or something?” she asked.
Yep. I knew that was coming, and it was precisely why this conversation was two years late.
Fuck.
“If I do, that decoy won’t be you.”
Her head twitched. She was offended.
“It’s always me.”
That was true too, but now it couldn’t be.
I leaned in further in order to lay it out.
“This is the deal and you know it. My brother, your husband, runs this town. What he doesn’t run, Marcus or Vito do. And Hank and Eddie protect it. In that mix, there are allegiances and there are alliances. Some of them are unholy, but for some reason, all of them work. And if you think you don’t come with Daisy, Jet, Roxie, Jules, and I could go on, and those men won’t shut me down because you do, you’re wrong.
I put my hand flat on the table between us and kept talking.
“Honest to God, Indy, this is the first time I understand what I want to do with my life. And if I’m going to be taken seriously doing it, I have to do it. I have to be professional about it. I have to be smart about it. And I have to make my own allegiances and alliances, and the most important ones I can make are with Lee Nightingale, Marcus Sloan and Vito Zano. You get involved, Indy, any of you, I’m done. Lee will see to it, and even if he didn’t, any member of the Hot Bunch has enough cred on the streets to make that happen, and any one of them wouldn’t hesitate. I don’t want to be done, and I need to do everything I can to avoid that. Are you with me?”
“I’m with you,” she said softly.
“I need to believe in that,” I told her, then continued with the honesty. “I love you, but I can’t be making my plays in that game, focusing my attention on that and dealing with you or any of the Rock Chicks at the same time.”
Her hand came out again and curled around mine. “I’m with you. I get you. I understand. And you can believe in that,” she stated firmly.
Yeah. I could believe in that. Indy wouldn’t lie to me.
Or she would (told you we were cut from the same cloth), just not about something like this.
I drew in breath and let it out, saying, “Thank you.”
She grinned and replied, “Our next come to Jesus, should there be one, which I hope there isn’t, but if there is and you feel the need to court the wrath of Tex, let’s do it at Paris on the Platte so I can get a Café Fantasia and make it worth it.”
Shit. I should have thought of that. Paris had the second best coffees in Denver.
I grinned back. “Agreed.”
Her hand tightened on mine. “Love you, honey.”
Again with the breath, this one going in deep and coming out deeper. “Right back at cha, sister.”
She let me go, let the tough part go, and I knew this because she again sat back and she changed the subject.
“So. Ren Zano. He’s hot. You’re hot. You look great together. And bonus, he doesn’t seem to mind you throwing a punch at him at a wedding, which is good news for you.”
I laughed because this was true.
She continued after I stopped laughing and she did it smiling, “So you love him. He loves you. Are there Catholic classes in your future?”
My brows drew together. I wasn’t following.
“What?”
