This wasn't his best plan ever, and he was grateful when the police car pulled up.
Bishop stared at his battered face. "What happened to you?"
"I'll tell you at the station. Just please don't cuff me."
It was a matter of minutes before he sat in a well-lit office with a doctor frowning over his bruised body. His sergeant crossed her arms over her chest and drummed her fingers.
"You don't look so good. All the shit these people do and you want to bust them for dogfighting."
"I like dogs."
Selena sighed and sat down. "I like dogs too, but we need something substantial."
Jimmy didn't even blink. "How many of the Devil's Spawns are in prison today thanks to my information?"
Good thing she's such a tough bitch. She's not asking if I want out.
Tough, and gorgeous. He had hit on her before figuring out she was his new boss. Bad move.
The doctor said, "Pets are the next big thing. Don't you two know pet bloggers are the new rock stars? Play on it. All these poor innocent creatures rescued from the big and bad motorcycle gang. Now they will be rehabilitated and go off to good homes where they'll encounter love for the first time. You'll get prime news spots with that, and people will be lining up to pat your backs."
He's right. Never underestimate the power of a happy story. Given enough press the Spawns will be surrounded by animal rights activists wanting to tear them to pieces. Those people aren't always smart, but they're brave as hell.
His sergeant sighed. "Fair enough. We'll do it tomorrow, but we'll have to make it look good. Make sure you're there. We'll take you in, and release you and one more guy."
"I need to get going."
Selena nodded. "I'll have someone call you a taxi. And try to come up with something solid. We need to wrap this up."
*****
The bike waited at the bar.
The painkillers had taken the edge off the throbbing ache, but he was still no happier to see the vehicle now than when Sharon dropped him off. It was a fine machine, but right now he'd rather meet a bed.
He couldn't go home, and thinking about it wouldn't make anything any better.
"Drive or die."
Talking to himself didn't improve the situation either, so he clenched his teeth and rolled onto the street.
The club had never been this far away, and when he reached it, he had to pause before going in.
Fuck, my ribs hurt. I can't believe no one has burned this place down since yesterday.
A man stepped out, stopped in the door, and stared.
"You have a lot of nerve coming back here. Rusty might never drive again."
"Rusty's an ass."
The other man laughed.
"You're okay, Shaw. A lot to go through for a fucking dog. Guess you really wanted it."
It was time to stop procrastinating and go inside.
Chapter Eleven
Having a puppy was more work than Sharon ever imagined.
How could such a little thing pee so much?
She gave up on working by her desk and settled with her laptop in a chair in the yard. Much easier than running in and out. Tiffy dug a few holes in the lawn, but it wasn't the end of the world.
When Jimmy pulled in, the little dog hid behind her and whimpered until he killed the engine. He moved slowly and looked stiff, but smiled when she lifted the puppy up and walked towards him. It was hard to find a spot that didn't look bruised, but she finally stood on her toes and brushed her lips over his temple.
"How are you?"
"I'll live."
She held the puppy up so it could lick his face.
"She's glad you're home."
"I'm glad I'm home."
When they went inside, he sank down in the sofa with a grimace. Sharon lifted Tiffy up on his lap, and rejoiced in seeing him smile.
"Do you need to see a doctor?"
"You asked that earlier."
At least he said it with a smile.
I don't want to nag him, but it's damned difficult not to.
He opened his jacket and pulled the shirt up, showing a bright, white bandage. "I was a good boy, I saw a doctor. You know what would really help?"
"No clue. Knowing you I'd normally answer sex, but you don't look up for that."
He pulled out a small orange pill bottle from a pocket. "A beer to chase these painkillers down."
"Gimme that. Are you sure you should take them with alcohol?"
For a moment she thought he'd be angry, but he leaned his head back and laughed. Was she that amusing to him?
The next day he came home in the evening carrying bags with take-out food. The bruises on his face had darkened to purple, and she imagined him scaring the people in the Thai restaurant.
"There won't be any more dogfighting."
"That's wonderful. What happened?"
He pulled her close and nuzzled his face against her neck. The stubble tickled and made her giggle.
"It doesn't matter. All that matters is that it stopped."
When Sharon turned the TV on that night the news channels covered a large police bust on a dogfighting ring, showing numerous men being pulled away in handcuffs. One of them looked a lot like Jimmy.
He grabbed the remote and flipped the channel. "You're missing your show."
"Were you arrested?"
"Of course not."
She reached for the remote. This clip would run over and over on the news channel.
"Give me that."
"No." His voice was patient, but firm.
"But..."
"I wasn't arrested. I'm not going to be arrested. Now, can we please forget about those morons for a little while?" Jimmy's face showed a mix of amusement and fatigue, making her feel guilty. He stared into her eyes, and he wouldn't do that if he were lying. Right?
Her instincts still claimed something important was going on that she didn't know or fully understand, and it drove her crazy. She could at least agree with the sentiment of forgetting his peculiar friends. Forever would be great.
Tiffy scratched at her leg and she lifted the dog up on her lap, stroking her short fur. She could always watch the news later, or at least look it up online.
*****
Sharon didn't forget about the newscast, but Jimmy kept distracting her, and she pushed it to the back of her mind. He said he wasn't arrested, he was home, and she ought to believe him. There were many large bikers in leather and denim. Besides, the little dog had a knack for keeping her busy, and she didn't have much time to worry.
Tiffy got the hang of the leash quickly, but Jimmy admonished the dog was too young for long walks. Good thing he knew so much about animals or she'd kill the poor thing by accident.
He said, "They don't know when they're too tired, they can just keep walking until they collapse. You have to keep an eye on the temperature too, or she'll get too warm. The pavement gets really hot. We've got to be careful with those little paws."
The basics were self-explanatory: make sure puppy had water. Feed her, play with her, and love her. Take her out after playing, sleeping, and eating. Sharon could do all those things, but teaching Tiffy stuff was another matter.
Jimmy made her sign up for puppy school. She assumed it was to teach the dog to behave, but she was mistaken. Tiffy got socialization, Jimmy tagged along to have coffee and pointedly not flirt with the other doggie moms, and Sharon learned how to train a dog.
Homework? I'm getting homework? Ugh.
Mona came to visit and said, "You know I love you, and I adore both Jimmy and your dog, but don't be surprised if other people are afraid of both of them."
Sharon looked at the puppy. How could anyone be afraid of that sweet face and those kind eyes? She still nodded.
Mona made a grimace. "It's just ignorance, you know. People fear pitbulls because they don't know better, and media reports everything that happens as a pitbull bite, whether it's a Chihuahua or an Irish wolfhound."
"I g
uess."
She had wondered about Jimmy herself before she knew him. She still wondered about his friends. Would other people see her and the dog the same way?
Oh well. If they did it was their loss, not hers. All of a sudden she understood her lover better. People feared him, but he refused to let it get to him. She would follow his good example.
Sharon found new routines around the puppy's needs. Jimmy was fantastic with the dog when he was home, and when he wasn't, Tiffy was much better company than she would ever have expected.
She was relieved to see his bruises fade without any new ones appear, and as the weeks ticked by he no longer winced when moving. He was back to his old energetic self too, making her go hiking, alligator watching, and all sorts of activities she would never have considered on her own.
How could anyone be so obsessed with being outdoors?
They went on an airboat ride and Tiffy was braver on the boat than Sharon, winning everyone's hearts in the process. On the way home, Jimmy pulled her old truck in at the grocery store.
"We need stuff. Do you want to stay here with the dog or should I?"
"I'm done. I'm not moving."
He laughed. "Fair enough. But then you get to drive the rest of the way home."
She shrugged. Driving wasn't walking. Driving was fine. Besides, it was always fun to see what he came back with when he went shopping. It could be anything.
Just as she suspected, he returned with a large amount of bags. "I got some beer, snacks, dinner, dog food. I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?"
He was gone before she could even finish the sentence, and returned after a few minutes with two cups of coffee. Tiffy sniffed the mug and he chuckled, "I don't think you want that. Try this."
My big and scary biker boyfriend has his pockets filled with dog treats. Adorable.
Strange how these little things could make her feel so happy. Content.
When she pulled out of the parking lot, she almost missed the man sitting by the exit. He was very thin, sunburned, and dirty, and his face was covered with a thick beard. From this mess a pair of bright blue eyes peeked out, and she didn't have to read the cardboard sign to want to give him money.
How scary it would be to live like that, with nowhere to go, nowhere to call her own, and not knowing where the next meal would come from. The mere thought of not knowing where to sleep at night terrified her.
She eased her foot off the accelerator and made a U-turn back into the parking lot.
"What are you doing?"
She didn't expect Jimmy's question and shrugged. "I'm just gonna give that guy a twenty."
He frowned. "He's probably scamming you, and if not, he might be dangerous. He'll probably buy drugs with your money."
She stopped the car as abruptly as she dared without sending the dog flying.
"You're stereotyping people? Seriously?"
A quick glint of something flew over his face. He didn't look angry; it was a look of being busted. He looked as if she'd caught him with his pants down and his dick in another woman.
"It's your money."
She flashed a smile, "It is my money. And I'm not too worried about meeting someone dangerous as long as I have you in the car."
The compliment made him smile, too. "Well, if a guy like me who sells drugs to puppies and rapes babies in the basement tells you someone could be dangerous, it might be true."
The joke wasn't all that funny, but her mouth still twitched when she muttered, "Idiot."
She was glad he just lifted an eyebrow and didn't look offended.
By now, the man with the sign had gotten to his feet, looking hopeful, and she let the car coast towards him. He took the money and said, "God bless you."
"You, too. I wish I could do more for you. Good luck."
She glanced over at Jimmy when she drove away. "Harmless."
*****
Just as she suspected, Jimmy bought a lot of strange foods.
He made a Thai course with shrimp for dinner, and she helped through stealing the ingredients and demanding kisses to give them back. It was a great evening.
The fridge held a big chunk of meat for her to cook for the next day. She held the package between two fingers and wrinkled her nose.
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?
*****
Sharon 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 th
e 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.
Chapter Twelve
Jimmy 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.
Covert Identity Page 8
