Covert Identity (3 page)

It was too much to answer at once, and Sharon settled for the last question. "Oh yeah? They're there every day. At least she leaves the car running. I guess they have the air on."

Her friend put pleasant-smelling bags with Thai food on the counter and frowned.

"You should call someone, you know."

"I don't know who. I mean, I think it's wrong, but it's not illegal, is it?"

Mona shrugged. "Child services. I'd consider it child abuse. Look into it."

"I think she does drugs."

"The mom? Who owns the house?"

When Sharon didn't answer, Mona frowned. "I'm serious. They're so small they can't take care of themselves. I mean, sure, I left my kids but I left them with their dad, not sitting in a car. Hey, are you really
wearing
that?"

Sharon looked down at herself. She thought the red shirt and short black skirt were quite flattering.

"Why? Does it make me look dumb?"

"I thought you're going on a motorcycle."

So...?

Mona rolled her eyes.

"You need something practical. Like... jeans, real shoes, and a jacket. You could take my leather pants, but that's not your style."

"Oh..."

It
was
winter, but winter in the south could seem like summer. Sitting on a bike would probably be cold. Was there a reason for all those jeans and leather jackets?

With a little help she was soon practical, comfortable, and at least kind of cute. She would have preferred stunning, but cute would have to do.

Mona said, "Lemme see your purse."

Sharon handed it over. What did her handbag have to do with anything?

"This is fine for shopping, but what will you do with it on the bike?" She adjusted the straps. "Now it's practical. Wear it across your shoulder. And..." She pulled out the pink Glock. "You remember how to use this, right?"

They had been to the shooting range once, a both exhilarating and terrifying experience.

"I'll just shoot myself in the foot or something..."

"No, you won't. Show me what to do with it."

When Mona was satisfied, she dropped the gun in Sharon's purse. "See, nothing to worry about."

"Won't I get in trouble for having that?"

What was so funny?
Mona looked about to burst with laughter.

"You have a concealed carry permit, remember? We got them together? Besides, would you rather need a gun and not have one, or have one and not need it?"

I'm so confused.

The purse became bulky and heavy with the gun inside, but Mona might be right. Jimmy didn't come across as dangerous, but one never knew, and he might bring friends. Nothing wrong with being prepared when doing something new and potentially dangerous.

Mona grinned. "It's not okay to shoot him just for making a move on you, or for
not
making a move on you."

"You think you're so funny."

"That's because I
am
funny."

Each minute seemed to take on the length of a day, and when the time came, Sharon was convinced Jimmy wouldn't show up.

He probably forgot about me. Maybe he wasn't serious to start with. What would a guy like him want with a girl like me anyway? I'm sure there are better fits for him where he is.

"He's here."

Sharon sat up as if she'd had a spring in her back.

"Really? That wasn't loud."

"Maybe he fixed it. Ooh, he's cute. Go on, get out there."

Stepping out on the porch took a fair amount of courage, and she stopped again, right outside. There was something sexy about a man straddling a large machine.

The thought made her cheeks heat.

I hope I don't look like a tomato.

Jimmy smiled and waved, but didn't look at
her
. Following his gaze, she saw Mona disappear from the window.

"Roommate?"

"Friend."

He got off the bike and towered over her.

"You're looking out for each other, that's good. You need to be careful when dealing with guys like me."

His eyes glittered and it didn't sound like a warning, but she still asked, "Why? Do I need to be afraid?"

The question made him laugh.

"Not a bit."

Standing close to it, the motorcycle was both colossal and intimidating. She attempted to postpone closer contact with it. "Wanna come inside? Say hi to Mona and have some coffee?"

Jimmy grinned. "No. It's a fine day for being
outside
. See, I even put that on for ya."

He poked the muffler with his foot and glanced towards her, shaking his head just a little to get the hair out of his eyes.

I have butterflies in my stomach, this can't be good.

She didn't have time to say anything. He produced a helmet and plopped it down over her head, adjusting it deftly.

"Why aren't you wearing one?"

"There's nothing in my dumb old head to protect. You, on the other hand, are a clever girl working with computers and stuff. I have to take care of
you
."

Building websites for nearby industries wasn't exactly working with computers, but close enough. If he thought her smart, she wouldn't shatter the illusion.

He was already back on the bike and patted the seat behind him.

"First time?"

"Yes."

As much as she hated to admit her ignorance, she had no idea what to do.

Jimmy winked. "Just trust me. Lean with me and don't fight it."

Swinging her leg over and adjusting her purse over her shoulder seemed reasonable, but what was she supposed to do with her hands?

As if reading her mind, he said, "Hold on to me, okay?"

"Hold on to you?"

Just sitting so close made her heart race. Touching him was surely morally dangerous, and she put her hands carefully on his hips.

"Oh my God, woman, I'm not going to eat you."

Why did everyone she met sound like they were about to fall over with laughter? Was she really that comical?

She leaned forward to wrap her arms around him. His clothes looked like they would smell like sweat and smoke, but he smelled like fresh laundry and leather. The ever-reasoning part of her mind cried out.
You still have a chance to run. Go back inside, go back to everything normal, and stop this folly right now!

Closing her eyes made the voice go away, and she forced herself not to let her hands wander. Why was temptation so hard to resist?

He fired up the engine and it was all she could do not to scream. First with fear, and soon with undiluted joy.

––––––––

J
immy drove towards the beach, and the combination of speed and sitting so close was intoxicating.

He pulled into a parking lot much too quick, and she had to force herself to relax the grip on him.

Please don't stop, just keep going. We can go see what Key West looks like or something. That should take a while.

Would he find her crazy if she asked to go further?

He turned towards her and smiled.

"You okay back there?"

"Yes. I was hoping you'd never stop."

His eyes smiled and he brushed a finger against her cheek.

"We can go a bit further soon."

Touch me more. I'd pay to have you touch me more. Damn, I'm lost, aren't I? This can never end well.

"Get up. I won't abandon you here, I promise."

But I don't want to move...

She obeyed anyway, of course. They walked side-by-side down the beach, and she giggled when he ambled towards an ice cream stand. He did not strike her as a man who would like ice cream.

Jimmy squinted and scrutinized her.

"I figure you for... blueberry and... butter pecan?"

"I didn't think men knew blueberries existed, or pecans. You know, you're not at all what I expected when I saw you on the road yesterday."

He winked, eyes glittering with mischief.

"I'm sorry I don't live up to the stereotype."

It didn't take long before she held a huge ice cream cone—and struggled not to spill it all over herself. Eating never used to be this difficult.

Jimmy didn't seem to have any such problems. He strolled to a bench, stretched his long legs in front of him, and one arm along the backrest behind her, not quite touching, but almost.

She wanted to rest her head against him. Did he have someone who did that? Would he hold her if she did?

At least he didn't seem able to read thoughts. He ate ice cream and pointed at people passing them.

"See that guy over there? He drank Diet Coke and ate Mentos until he almost exploded. Now he's banned from buying soda. Was in the hospital for a month. True story."

"That can't be true."

"Of course it is. That girl, the blonde over there, she tried to climb Mount Everest, but she was so skinny the wind caught her and blew her all the way down."

He didn't miss a beat; he told bizarre anecdotes about everyone in sight. Once he got going, she laughed so much she had to dry her eyes. He didn't ask anything about her, no awkward getting-to-know-you-on-the-first-date conversation. It made her feel like she'd always known him.

Just as she relaxed for real, she spilled ice cream.

"Oh crap."

"I'll get some more napkins."

She snuck her phone out and sent a text to Mona, "Having best day ever!!!!
"

Jimmy was already on his way back. She pretended to text, but took a couple of photos of him. A treasure to keep for later.

He smiled. "Checking in?"

"Yes. Gotta let her know I couldn't make it half an hour before spilling something."

It didn't take long before she was perched on the back of the bike again. He turned around to meet her eyes. "Do you want to go home, or drive down the beach?"

She sometimes took the winding road along the coastline in her truck just because it was beautiful, and the very idea of going there on this monster-machine handled by
him
was exhilarating.

"Down the beach, if you don't mind."

He looked extraordinarily happy.

"That's the spirit."

By the time they returned to the house, they'd been driving around for over two hours and Sharon's body ached from sitting in an unusual position for so long. She was still reluctant to let go of him, but couldn't stall getting off the motorcycle.

She fumbled to get the helmet off, but Jimmy shook his head when she tried to hand it over.

"Keep it. If I'm lucky, you might need it again."

She rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you. Wanna come inside?"

He flashed a smile, teeth looking very white in the sunburnt face.

"Yes, but I can't. I've gotta go do something."

When did I become so bold? And why can't I stop touching him?

The bike must have distorted her concept of personal space. Yes, that was it.

She wanted to tell him to come back later, or at least the next day, but she couldn't force the words over her lips. Instead she looked down at her feet so he couldn't read the truth in her eyes.

He took her hand and pressed his lips against it.

"I'll call you." Glancing over towards the living room window, he added with laughter in his voice, "I'd better go now before your friend comes out to shoot me."

Oh no, she doesn't.

Oh yes, Mona had the pink .20-gauge next to her. She smiled and waved, thankfully not with the hand that held the shotgun.

"I'm really sorry about that. I didn't expect her to."

Jimmy chuckled. "That's okay. I've been shot before and I might survive one more time. You have someone who cares for you; it's a good thing."

Her hand seemed cold and lonely when he no longer held it, and she stayed outside the door, holding her new helmet tight, watching him roll backwards out on the road.

He waved, and the little gesture made her heart swell.

*****

I
n spite of Jimmy's words, Sharon didn't expect to hear from him again. Surely, he'd find something more interesting to do, and if he called it would just be to get the helmet back.

When her phone rang late in the evening, she stared at the display for a long moment before answering. She wanted to sound sexy, but was too happy to even try.

He said, "Hey, it's me," and she heard a man call out for him in the background. Jimmy shouted, "I'll be right there."

His voice returned to her, laughing softly. "Crazy day. Hey, I have so much to do this week, but... Can I take you for lunch tomorrow?"

Her heart sank into a trench when he said
busy,
and jumped back up at the word
lunch.

"Sure."

Speaking one-word sentences hardly made her sound intelligent or fun to talk to, but all words were gone from her brain.

"I'll pick you up. Is one too late?"

"One is great."

Wow, I can still talk coherently? Amazing.

"Good, I'll see you then. I'm looking forward to it."

Then, he was gone, and she shouted into the silence of the little house, "Yes!"

One the next day was a long time away. How could she fill the hours until then? When she thought at least twenty minutes must have passed she looked at the clock and the hands had barely moved at all.

Ridiculous.

Had she fallen into a space-time anomaly or something?

Her laptop balanced on the edge of the table. She had avoided computers all afternoon, reasoning it was better not to know too much about certain things. Now, the screen beckoned.

She pulled up a new browser window.

"Don't do it."

Talking to herself didn't help. Her fingers typed, "
Criminal motorcycle gang
."

Some of the websites looked like propaganda, pro or con, but others were useful. When she found a long article, she turned on text-to-speech and heard the synthetic computer voice read:

"The typical internal organization of a motorcycle club consists of a president, vice president, treasurer, secretary, road captain, and sergeant-at-arms."

She leaned back in the sofa, but bounced back to upright when the computer said, "Sergeant-at-arms."

"Arms? They can't possibly mean that the way it comes across."