Free Rock 01 - FRET by Sandrine Gasq-DIon Page B

around saying, ‘Hey I’m so and so and I’m straight’?”
    I chuckled at that thought.
    “I guess you’re right.”
    “Of course I am. I’m Gareth Wolf.” He smiled and shut the door.
    I placed my hand on the door and closed my eyes. “Yes. Yes you are.”
     
    ~*~
     
    Gareth maneuvered his Jeep alongside Ransom’s Land Rover; the other band members had gotten there already and were cleaning out the area. I grabbed the tent and sleeping bags and followed Gareth to the fire pit. Another car rolled up behind us and I whirled around, hand on my gun. Gareth’s hand closed over mine.
    “It’s okay. It’s Mikey and the guys.”
    “You didn’t say they were coming, too.”
    “I didn’t? Shit, I’m sorry.”
    “It’s okay. Can you sit right here for me? I’m going to go make a phone call.”
    “Up here? You’ll be lucky if you have signal.”
    I narrowed my eyes at Gareth and turned around, walking back toward his Jeep. I dialed Mac as I kept my eyes glued to the men in front of me. He answered on the fourth ring and I could barely hear him.
    “Hey, Mac. I need a favor.”
    “Where the hell are you? In some underwater cave?”
    “Never mind where I am. I need you to run background checks on a few people.”
    “Ah, taking the babysitting duty seriously now?”
    “Look, I infiltrate places. I don’t need to think about protecting someone when I do my job. This is different.”
    “Look at it this way. Pretend you’re keeping Gareth safe from you.”
    Well. That was another way of looking at it for sure. What would I do if I were after Gareth? My eyes widened and I spun around, keeping my voice low.
    “Check on the dad in prison and check on Paul’s assistant, Stan. If Stan has a parking ticket I want to know about it.”
    I gave Mac the names of the guys who were camping with us as well. When I mentioned Gareth’s bandmates, Mac chuckled.
    “I did that before you even headed out. I needed to know my guy was safe as well.”
    “Aw, you do care,” I snickered.
    “Fuck off.”
    “Later. Get back to me with that info.”
    “With what info?”
    I turned to find Gareth standing right behind me, head tilted to one side.
    “Nothing you need to worry about.” I shepherded him back to the fire pit.
    “Shit! Did anyone bring the pot?” Ransom rummaged through his bag.
    “I thought you guys didn’t do drugs?” I asked in astonishment.
    “Cooking pot, Hulk,” Ransom corrected.
    “Fuck my life.” Gareth sighed. “I was supposed to bring it.”
    “No worries.” I walked back to the Jeep and grabbed the cooler from the back. I pulled out a mini keg of Heineken and grinned. “A pot.”
    “You said you never drink on the job,” Gareth scowled.
    “Yep,” I acknowledged. “We’re going to cook in it. Years of roughing it taught me that these bad boys make awesome pots.”
    “I’ll help get rid of some of the beer.” Rebel raised his hand.
    “I was hoping one of you guys would volunteer,” I chuckled.
    “You don’t drink?” Rebel asked me.
    “You heard Gareth. Not on duty. Never.” I shook my head.
    “I’ll drink it. How much do you want left for cooking the hot dogs?” Doug grinned.
    “I’ll help.” Arson nodded.
    “Damn drunks!” Gareth laughed. “You know Doug is Native American. That’s why he can drink so much.”
    “I always heard Native Americans can’t hold their liquor,” Arson piped up.
    “Are you quite finished tossing around stereotypes?” Doug looked perturbed. “Yes, alcoholism is a serious problem among several ethnic groups. But that doesn’t mean every member of that group has a problem with it.”
    I tried to lighten up the atmosphere. “Arson, you are the whitest Native American I’ve ever seen,” I laughed.
    “Yeah, and you’re a moron, muscle head. Oh, wait. That stereotype is true!”
    I rolled my eyes.
    “This has got to be a dream come true for you, Gareth.” Mikey grinned.
    “Meaning?” Gareth raised a brow.
    “Out in the wilderness