Covert Identity (11 page)

She wasn't fond of meat herself, but Jimmy loved it. Attempting to cook this disgusting lump of dead animal could be an epic failure or a grand success.

"Tiffy, I have no idea what to do with this."

The dog wagged her tail.

Only one thing to do: Google. Her computer suggested a plethora of recipes and she wasted half an hour browsing through them. Finally, the large piece of raw meat was in the oven accompanied by spices and vegetables.

Back to work.

After a couple of hours, it started to smell good.

She peeked into the oven and in there it smelled so good she almost wanted to taste the meat.
Almost
. In her book, dead cow wasn't food.

"Another hour, and it should be perfect. Hey, get your head out of there."

Tiffy looked up from the trash with almost comical doggie innocence.

"I'll give you a cookie."

That
word was clearly interesting; the puppy trotted over and wagged her tail.

"Sit. Can you sit?"

She could both sit and wave her paw. Impressive. Dogs sure grew fast.

How big would she get?

The phone played "Born to be Wild" and Sharon bounced over to the table. She wasn't sure Jimmy would like her choice of his personal ringtone, but he wasn't there, and odds were he would never know.

"Hey, handsome."

He didn't speak at once, and when he did, he sounded weary. "Hey, babe."

His tone of voice set off all her alarms, but she did her best to play cool. "What's up?"

"I... Something has come up. I can't come home tonight."

Something? An unspecified something? Gimme a break.

"What? Why? I'm cooking you a big chunk of dead cow."

"I can't talk right now, I just didn't want you to worry. I'll call you in the morning, okay?"

No, not okay.

It was too late to protest. The line was dead.

She walked around the house, battling an urge to kick something.

"Who does he think he is?"

She should probably be grateful he took the time to call and didn't just disappear, but what might he be up to?

What could be that important, and that secret?

Her mind painted out images of a wild biker party with all sorts of drugs and naked women. Another part of her all too imaginative brain added rape, robbery, and murder.

Dammit.

Tiffy bumped her with her nose, and she patted the dog's head absent-mindedly.

"Guess you're getting pot roast for dinner."

She wanted to be angry, but lacked energy to keep the emotion up. It turned into worry instead, and she kept the phone close all evening and night, just in case he'd call. She wanted to text him, but she was afraid to. Whatever might be going on, she might not want to know.

Remembering Mr. Hate and the rest of the friendly gang, contacting him might put him in danger.

She slept on the sofa, just in case he'd come over. Tiffy sensed her need and stayed close. Sleeping came easier with the warm puppy pressed against her.

Thank God for dogs. How did I cope with life without her?

*****

S
haron opened her eyes to darkness.

Why was she sleeping on the couch with the dog?

Oh yes... Jimmy wasn't there. What was that infernal noise?

Phone. It was her phone playing, "Get your motor running, head out on the highway..."

"Born to be Wild"
was
the right choice of ringtone for a biker.

What time is it?

The display gave a clear answer. 4:40 AM. She should probably answer before the call went to voicemail.

"Hello?"

Not the wittiest way to answer, but it was in the middle of the night. Jimmy's voice was quiet.

"Sorry to wake you up, but I need to talk to you. I'll be away for a few days."

"Where? Why?"

"I have to go. Don't worry. Pet Tiffy for me."

"But..."

This time he didn't hang up on her.

"I'll be there as soon as I can, but it will take a while. I know you want me to tell you all about it, but I can't. It's... it's complicated."

"What? Are you away visiting your other girlfriend?"

She was only half joking, but the words made him chuckle.

"No. I'd tell you about
that
. Take care of yourself. I'll see you soon."

How soon?

She couldn't ask without seeming needy. He clearly wanted her to trust him, and she should be able to do that, shouldn't she?

Jimmy murmured, "I might not be able to call you, but I'll text you. I have to go."

With that, he was gone, and Sharon stared into the darkness.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The dog offered no answers.

––––––––

J
immy kept his promise and texted a couple of times every day, but the messages were short and strange.

Most of the texts came at peculiar times, making her suspect he contacted her when everyone else slept. She chose to be happy he remembered about her at all, and the messages let her know he was alive.

After a couple of days he sent a picture of the border to Mexico. It explained why he couldn't come home, but it didn't make her happier. Her imagination suggested many scenarios for a criminal motorcycle gang going that way, and none of them were good.

Tiffy became her rock. The dog provided company and distraction from reality. Her paws and ears had become quite large compared to the rest of the dog, and it was impossible to refrain from smiling at her goofy antics.

The message she waited for came after a week.

"Be home tomorrow."

She fluffed up her hair, put on nice clothes and silky underwear, and made a new attempt at cooking a steak.

Jimmy didn't show.

Enough was enough.

Until now she had avoided public databases, but now she searched them all, scouring them for information.

He wasn't arrested, which made her happy at first. A few minutes later, she realized it meant that he either was dead or stayed away for some other reason. He
could
have been delayed on the way, ran out of battery in the phone, and lost the charger, but it didn't seem likely.

She cursed and took a long walk with the dog to calm herself.

Where was this stupid club anyway?

To her surprise, Siri offered an answer to that. And a map.

Sharon put Tiffy in her crate and headed for the car.

"This is probably the worst idea I've had in my life."

The car offered no answers, and Siri led the way to a ragged industrial area outside the city, yet surprisingly close to her house.

There could be no doubt which of the sordid buildings belonged to the bikers; a long row of big machines glittered in the sunshine. She pulled up close to a warehouse and leaned her chin against the steering wheel as she looked out.

The door opened and a group of people came out. There was no mistaking Jimmy.

He started smoking again. That's bad.

As if that was a problem worthy of attention at the moment. Everyone in the group looked dangerous and biker-ish. Maybe not as much as Mr. Hate, but definitely dangerous.

A brunette dressed in torn jeans and a tank top came out of the building and wrapped her hands around Jimmy's arm, making Sharon feel like throwing up.

No. He doesn't get to do this. If he's dumping me, I should at least get the opportunity to yell at him for it. He can't just disappear.

She got out of the car and put her sunglasses on, trying to decide what to do. As tempted as she was to storm up to the group and make a scene, it probably wasn't a great idea.

The group stirred before she could make up her mind. Someone pointed towards her and the car, and even from a distance she could see an expression of surprise fly over Jimmy's face.

Had someone recognized her from Sebring?

No, it was the car. It
had
to be the car. These guys knew their vehicles, and if someone had seen her truck there they would know it anywhere.

Jimmy made himself free from the brunette and Sharon took some satisfaction in seeing how brusquely he shook the woman off. He jogged towards her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her towards the car.

She struggled to get free, but it was in vain. He was immeasurably stronger than her.

Is that fear in his eyes? Fear for me, or of me?

"I know how this looks, and it's not like that, I swear it's not like that. You can't be here, it's not safe. Slap me and storm away."

His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him.

"What the hell is going on?"

He stopped by the driver's door and met her gaze for a moment.

"You have to go."

He bent forward, brushing his lips against her cheek.

"I'll try to come by later. Now please, pretty please, hit me and get out of here."

"You want me to hit you? You really want me to hit you?"

The expression on his face said, "Yes."

She never raised her hand in violence before, not against anyone, and it surprised her how easy it was to slap him. She hit him harder than she intended, and yelled, "Asshole!"

It was well loud enough to carry over to the group by the building, and she heard a man laugh as she jumped into the car and slammed the door so hard she feared the glass would break. She didn't have to pretend being upset, and the tears welling out of her eyes were real. Stomping on the gas pedal made her rear wheels spin and screech, and then the car finally found traction.

In spite of all the dust and smoke she stirred up, she could still see Jimmy in the rear view mirror. He rubbed his cheek and looked after her for a second before heading back to the group with his arms stretched out in a gesture of
women.

The brunette swept her arms around him, and the last Sharon saw before she turned the corner was him wrapping an arm around her shoulders, reaching for a beer.

Not what it looks like my ass. I should go back and run him over with the car. Or at least go back and yell some more. Maybe hit him again.

Appealing thought.

She eased off the gas pedal and looked for a place to turn around, but it must be rush hour for semis. She was surrounded by trucks so large they made her old Chevy look like a midget, and stopping or turning was out of the question.

Her phone beeped on the way home. The message said, "I'll talk to you soon."

She said, "Like hell you will," and turned it off.

*****

S
haron still sniffled when evening came, and curled up on the sofa with the TV on and Tiffy pressed against her.

"I guess it's just you and me, girl. I thought your dad was different, but he's a cheating douchebag just like all other men. At least we have each other."

She couldn't stand to sleep in the bed where they spent so many nights together, so she curled up on the sofa once again. The dog seemed content with snoozing next to her under the throw, and feeling the warm puppy body close made things better.

When someone knocked on the door, she couldn't place it at first. The sound didn't belong in her solitary dream world.

Tiffy growled deep in her throat.

"You're a good girl."

Looking through the peephole revealed Jimmy standing outside.

I shouldn't let him in. I should let him stand there, so he can see how it feels.

Tiffy barked.

"Whose side are you on? Do you want me to let him in, or keep him locked out?"

The dog barked again.

"Let him in?"

Tiffy wagged her tail.

"Fine."

She kept the security chain on and opened the door to a slit.

"What do you want?"

"Can I come in?"

Glaring was almost impossible when wanting to fall to the floor in a whimpering pile, but she still gave it her best.

"Why? Did your new girl throw you out?"

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He really did look unhappy.

"Sharon, please let me in."

She didn't realize how her hands shook until she tried to get the security chain off.

At least Tiffy was happy to see him. The entire dog seemed to wag, as if she had a hinge in the middle.

Sharon was sure her eyes were red and puffy, but when Jimmy stepped inside, he didn't look all that good either. He had dark rings under his eyes and his face looked gray and wrinkly. He headed for the sofa, sank down, and rested his head in his hands.

She went back to the corner where she'd been sleeping and pulled the throw up over her. It was soft and cuddly and would help her keep it together. The day had been a disaster. No reason to expect the night to be any better.

Jimmy glanced over towards her and she couldn't bite down a mean comment.

"You look like shit. What have you been up to? She keeping you busy?"

"I can't tell you everything yet, babe. I wish I could, but I just can't."

"I think you've forfeited the right to call me babe."

He sighed and reached over to take her hand. She pulled hers back and he took it again.

"I know how this looks. Can you have faith in me just a couple more days and I will tell you everything?" He pressed her fingers against his cheek. "Please?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Tell me about the girls."

While still looking tired, he also seemed amused.

"You don't want to know where I've been the last few days, if I killed anyone, raped any kittens, or sold drugs to puppies?"

When put like that, she couldn't prevent her mouth from twitching too.

"I might be stupid, but I trust you with all those things. Tell me about the girls."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Can I have a beer?"

"No. Girls. Truth."

He murmured, "Come here," and she didn't protest when he pulled her close, entangling his fingers in her hair. Sitting close to him soothed her, and when resting her head against his chest, feeling his jacket against her cheek and his strong arms around her, his words almost seemed reasonable.

"I know this will sound like something a cheating man would say, but that girl you saw, all the girls over there, mean absolutely nothing to me. I don't even like them."