I so wanted to do that.

In fact, I couldn’t f**king wait.

“He’s also got a driving course,” Darius informed me. “Learn to drive defensive, learn to drive a chase. You’re doin’ that, too.”

I so f**king was!

“You’re tall but you’re slight,” he continued. “That means you don’t learn how to fight. You learn some defensive moves and you learn how to get away. I’ll teach you that. But, starting tomorrow, and every day after that, you run. You got trouble, there’s a high probability you’re not gonna be able to beat it down. You do not shoot at it unless you absolutely have to. Stun guns and pepper spray can get commandeered if you don’t got the moves to stop it, and then be turned on you. So you get your ass in trouble, you run away. But you’re not in shape, that trouble’ll catch you.”

This did not sound all that fun. I wasn’t an exercise sort of person, unless you counted walking in a mall. However, I didn’t share that with Darius, in case me poo-pooing any part of the righteous deal he was offering would mean he’d take the deal off the table.

And anyway, if I ran regularly, that meant I could drink more Fat Tire and eat more LaMar’s donuts.

So I decided to focus on that.

“You got it,” I agreed.

He nodded once and kept going.

“From here on out, you start anything, you gotta be invisible.”

“I already do that,” I told him, but he shook his head.

“Not what you’re thinkin’. I mean you go to Brody. He makes a mint off that game he programmed, but he gets off on this sleuth stuff. Lee pays him a whack, but that guy would come to work every day for free, he’s so into this shit. You give him more, he’ll be all over it. You can solve your problem with an electronic investigation that doesn’t put your ass on the line, you do that.” He paused. “First.”

This made sense and would likely only cost me energy drinks, Costco boxes of king-size candy bars and Apple app gift cards all of which I could make my “clients” procure for Brody. Since all that was doable, I nodded my agreement.

Darius kept talking.

“And from here on in, I’m briefed in full about everything you do. I know all your cases. I know what you uncover. And you do not,” he leaned in, “ever walk your ass into a place like this without me as your wingman. This last is the most important, Ally, and if you’re not down with that, you lose all the rest. You also buy me goin’ to Lee and lighting a fire under his ass to take you off Denver’s game board in a way no one will ever contact you again for this shit.”

Lee could do that.

And Darius would do that. He cared a lot about me.

And if either of them did that, it would piss me off.

But I didn’t need to expend that energy, seeing as I had absolutely no problem with him being my wingman.

In fact, I had absolutely no problem with any of it (save the running, but I figured I could rock a track suit and I could get some of those kickass double hair band thingies to pull my hair away from my face while I ran and be totally stylin’).

In order to communicate this to Darius, it was my turn to lean into him.

And when I did, I whispered, “You know, I totally love you.”

Something moved over his face. Something I’d seen before when he didn’t know I was watching.

Uncertainty mixed with melancholy. I didn’t totally get it. What I did get was that Darius Tucker had had a beautiful life a long time ago. A big loving family, good friends, a bright future. And all that went to shit. He made desperate—and it had to be said, angry—decisions, and his life spiraled down the toilet. In that time, I suspected he did a lot of things that seared marks onto his soul.

I just didn’t know if he was on a path to redemption or thought his future only held damnation.

That was his to know and share if he felt like it.

As for me, I’d learned over and over again, since Rosie dragged Indy into his mess (thus starting the Rock Chick Rollercoaster), good people did bad things and bad people did good things.

I just trusted God would sort it out as it needed to be.

When Darius said nothing, I assured him, “You don’t have to say it back. I know where you are. And if I didn’t, you coming here tonight and doing what you’ve done would have told me.”

To this, Darius said, “You’re a pain in the ass.”

He so totally loved me.

“Good,” I replied on a smile. “That’s what I strive to be.”

“Woman, trust me. You’re succeeding beyond your wildest dreams.”

My smile got bigger.

He took it in, shook his head, then looked back in my eyes.

“Tonight, you’re done. You wait until we look over what Brody gets. He gives you what you need, you got no reason to come back. He doesn’t, we’ll assess and plan. You down with that?”

“Totally.”

“Right,” he muttered, sliding out of the booth. “Get your ass outta here. We’ll go somewhere else and get a drink. You brief me, then I can end this day and get home.”

I followed him out, asking, “Would it be a hit to your street cred if I held your hand?”

“Pain in the ass,” he muttered as answer.

“Or hugged you?” I threw out an alternate suggestion.

“Total pain in the ass.”

I grinned.

We hit the door.

Darius pushed it open for me.

I moseyed through.

* * * * *

Two days later…

I hauled my ass up into Darius’s black Silverado and slammed the door. I didn’t put on my seatbelt. I leaned forward, put my elbows to the dash and drove my hands into my hair, yanking it away from my face and scrunching it at the back of my head.

Brody had found nothing.

But we’d just had a conversation with one of Darius’s informants, and he knew everything.

The vehicle rocked when Darius folded into the driver’s seat and closed his door. He didn’t hit the ignition and the cab stayed silent.

It was the dead of night and we’d just cracked Garden Girl’s case.

And what we learned sucked.

After some time, Darius broke the silence.

“Tomorrow,” he said gently, “you report this to her man and walk away.”

I sat back with a jerk, pulling my hands out of my hair and twisting to him.

“We have to do something,” I snapped.

“We don’t gotta do shit,” he returned, his words harsh but his tone still gentle.