“How many reasons do you want?” she snapped back.

“Five,” I retorted.

She sat back in her chair, lifted her hand with one finger extended and launched in. “One, you’re hiring Lee Nightingale and, girl, you know, that dude has had books written about him. They were fictionalized, but he’s also in the paper all the time, so we both know whoever wrote that shit did not tone it down. He’s the badass to end all badasses. He’s such a badass, he’s the freakin’ definition of badass, and his team of badasses only exist to define alternate nuances of the same thing.” Her chin jerked out. “Badass.”

“This is good in a private detective,” I pointed out.

Natalie ignored me, lifted her hand again, and shook two fingers at me.

“Two, he’s the best of the best, and the best of the best is expensive. You got a sweet gig as a nurse, but even so, you also don’t have that kind of cake.”

I had to admit this was a concern.

When I moved into my apartment, Dad and Tyra sprung for my living room furniture set, the brothers bought me a killer stereo, and the old ladies got together to outfit my kitchen with junk I could use to ruin food. I just had to buy my dining room table and bedroom furniture and I was good to go. My rent was also cheap. And Nat was right, I had a sweet gig. I wasn’t a millionaire but my salary was nothing to sneeze at, especially at my age.

Therefore, I was comfortable.

That said, I’d been thinking on this scheme for a while, and I’d called over a month ago to get an appointment with Lee Nightingale of Nightingale Investigations, the premier private investigation service in Denver or, maybe, from their reputation, the world. They set me up, but my appointment was next week. That was how in demand this guy was. And usually that kind of thing reflected in fees.

“Three,” Natalie went on and I focused on her, “I don’t know, it’s a guess since I never was stupid enough to hire a badass but, I’d say, when a badass sends an invoice and it doesn’t get paid, he gets testy.”

Another concern I had.

“Maybe he’ll take installments,” I suggested.

She again ignored me.

“Four and five, because, girl, when I say it you’re gonna know this is worth two numbers, you manage to hire Lee Nightingale, he manages to find this guy, and, Tabby, you know Nightingale is so good, that case could be cold as the arctic and he’ll still find this guy, we’re talking about Shy Cage and Chaos here. The guy who whacked his parents is unearthed, he’s gonna go apocalyptic on his ass. We’re talkin’ takin’ this guy somewhere no one knows about, playin’ with him for maybe years, then probably tossing him into a pit, dousing him with lighter fluid, and setting him on fire like that stone-cold black dude did to Tig’s daughter on Sons of Anarchy.”

“Chaos is not SAMCRO,” I returned, referring to the acronym for the motorcycle club in that TV show.

She lifted her eyebrows.

I decided not to argue that point.

She leaned forward and continued, “Tab, I can see it. My girl is back and I don’t want to turn you to that dark place you’re leavin’ behind, but Shy Cage is not a physical therapist.” Her voice dipped quieter. “In other words, girl, he’s not Jason.”

I licked my upper lip and fidgeted in my chair.

Natalie kept talking, “If Jason’s parents were murdered, you found the guy who did it, he’d stand in front of reporters and make relieved statements about justice being done. You know, there is no way that motherfucker was found, Shy, who you’re suddenly weirdly tight with and we’ll talk about that later,” she declared ominously. “And your dad, I’ll put out there, since Shy is a brother and those brothers are all about the brotherhood, will not lose their fuckin’ badass biker minds and let that shit go unavenged the way they think it needs to be avenged.”

Okay, even though I’d been thinking on this awhile, maybe I didn’t think it all the way through.

“Okay,” I started. “Maybe I can make a deal with Nightingale that he finds enough evidence that when this guy goes inside, he never comes out.”

Natalie sat back, her brows shot up and she cried, “Girl, do you not watch TV?”

I glared at her.

She leaned toward me again and stated, “These guys got networks. That guy would be in the joint about two seconds before some inmate who owed Chaos a marker got the word and he started carvin’ that motherfucker’s name in a shiv.”

This, too, was probably true.

I leaned toward her and admitted, “Natalie, he’s been supercool with me. You’re right, we’re tight and he talks about his folks all the time. I have to do something.”

“Now we’re talkin’ about what I wanna talk about,” she informed me. “Tell me, how in the fuck am I in your kitchen for four hours last week helpin’ you botch batch after batch of cookies to get one good enough to give to Shy Cage?”

“I told you, we had a bet, we played pool. I lost.”

“Bullshit,” she returned and shook her head, her eyes moving over me, her face getting soft. “Tabby, I love you. I watched it happen. I watched you tossed into the pit of despair when you lost Jason. I took that fucked-up ride with you, and I’m tickled freakin’ pink that you’re finding the other side and comin’ back to you. And, babe, hear this, it’s been months and it’s time. Your girl parts are growin’ cobwebs. You need to get back in the saddle.” She held my eyes and her voice dipped quiet. “But not with Shy Cage.”

I felt my back go straight and I told her, “It isn’t like that.”

“You on the back of his bike?” she asked.

I ignored that question and said again, “Nat, it isn’t like that.”

She leaned further over the table. “Listen to me, Tab. I gotta give it to you straight and it sucks, but here it is. You know I didn’t like Jason. Thought he had a stick up his ass. I knew he didn’t like me. I know that was shit for you and I’m sorry. Make no mistake, that apology is straight from the heart. Lookin’ back, wish I played that differently. I didn’t and I gotta live with that, him bein’ gone. I also know, much as I hate to admit it, he loved you. Loved you like I’ve never seen.” I felt my breath hollow out and her hand came across the table to grab mine. “And, girl, burns in me to remind you of this shit but I gotta. You are never gonna get that back. It’s gone, he’s gone. Still, even havin’ that good from him, that doesn’t mean you might not find something even better. You just gotta get your ass out there and look.”

“I’m not ready for that,” I told her.

“You are,” she shot back immediately, and I started to get pissed.

“I am?” I asked sarcastically, pulling my hand from hers. “You know? Did you lose your fiancé three weeks before your wedding and I missed a memo?”

“No, I watched my best girl endure that shit and pull herself through, but you can’t get frozen in the process and not see it through. It’s been near on a year, Tab. It’s time to see that process though. Sayin’ that, girl, you get to the other side and move on, you don’t do it with the likes of Shy Cage.”

I felt the idea of moving on in life with Shy settle in my belly in a way that I immediately transferred it to my pit of denial.

Then I hissed, “Natalie, it isn’t like that.”

She shook her head, but her eyes never left mine. “Maybe not for you, but that boy is all about pussy. You think with you bein’ all sassy and hot and sweet and funny, he’s not doin’ the time in order to get payback?”

“No,” I clipped. “I don’t think that.”

“Well, you also know I have occasion to rub up close to the circles Chaos runs in and I know Shy Cage. I’ve seen him around a lot and, babe, he gets around a lot. Lee Nightingale defines badass. Shy Cage defines dawg.”

“He’s a brother, he’s family,” I snapped.

“He’s a dawg, Tabby, and you can’t forget that. If he’s bein’ cool with you, awesome. Pleased he’s givin’ that to you. Take it. You need family. I’m just tellin’ you to keep your eyes open and watch your heart. Or, more to the point, watch your ass because if you don’t, Shy’ll tap it.”

I rolled my eyes.

“No joke,” she stated.

I rolled my eyes back to her. “I’m thinking I liked it better when you treated me like I was fragile.”

“Kiss that good-bye,” she retorted.

Great.

I sucked in breath.

“Nat, honestly, we’re just friends,” I whispered, and she studied me.

Then she whispered back, “I believe you.”

I nodded.

“But do you feel me?” she pressed.

“I feel you,” I said softly.

She grinned.

I grinned back.

Then I sat back and she did too, turning her head and calling loudly and rudely to no one in particular, “Yo! Check!”

My grin grew into a smile.

That was Natalie. Loud, rude, funny, up for anything, always surprising and mostly always loving.

I just wished she was willing to listen to advice just as easily as she was willing to dish it out, and I determined that during our next lunch, it was my turn to lay it out.

This time, it was my turn to pay the check.

* * *

“Thanks, Lenny,” I called to the man under my car.

“No problems, Tab, be done in about half an hour,” Lenny called back.

“Cool,” I finished and then wandered out of the big garage bay at Ride.

The good part about not holding a grudge against Shy anymore was that I was at Ride more, on Chaos more, with the boys more, my family more, and, obviously, Shy more.

I also got free oil changes.