"Well, believe it, Brick. For a week, whether you like it or not."
The two men hugged, and Nick gestured to the chair. "Plant yourself buddy. I gotta wake up this fat piece of shit over here. Tiny!" he yelled, "Get up, asshole!"
As Tiny groggily sat up, Nick looked at Ellen. "Oh...hi. You're that friend of Chloe's we saw in Ventura."
"Yeah," she said softly, casting a furtive, disappointed glance at Chloe. It didn't work. He didn't remember. It was all for nothing.
"Ey," Tiny said loudly, "you're Derick Sands!" His eyes were wide, as he stared at Derick. "I got all your music, man. You guys kick ass."
Nick took a closer look at Derick, as Chloe and Ellen brought chairs from the kitchen and sat down.
Peering at him, Nick said softly, "You are Derick Sands. I never even recognized you in pictures. You look totally different now."
Then, as he sat by Tiny, Nick said, "You should have seen this guy in high school, Chloe. He was so...well, he had almost a crew cut then, and he was skinny. Man, you've filled out, Double D."
"Yeah. I guess I have," Derick replied with a grin.
Chloe watched Ellen's face, as the woman gazed at Derick. Her look was a soft one, and Chloe thought Ellen must be smitten. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her friend in faded jeans and a t-shirt. She seemed almost relaxed, which was unusual too.
"But, how did you find me?" Nick asked.
"Ellen called me. Said you'd been in a crash and couldn't remember anything. Figured me being here would jog your memory."
"Remember, honey?" Chloe added quickly, "You told me the other night."
Nick frowned, and looked over at Ellen. "How did you find him?"
"Well, Nick," Ellen said casually, "you're always telling us about the wild things you guys did in high school. So, I called the school. They told me what city he was in, and luckily, I have a contact, a friend at the phone company."
Chloe held her breath, waiting to see what Nick would do.
But then, his face broke into a grin, and he said, "Damn!" Then he looked back at Derick. "Damn!" he repeated.
However, Derick was watching Ellen with a curious expression on his face. And Chloe wondered if he knew what was really going on here. Probably not, she mused. Ellen wouldn't tell a stranger they were operatives. It was too risky.
The next few hours passed quickly, as the two friends shared memories. More bikers dropped by, and now the front door was open and people spilled out onto the small porch of the house, including Tiny, Ellen and Chloe, who sat together on the steps.
"Ey," Tiny said, "who woulda thought it? Nicky knowin' Sands and all?" His cigarette smoke curled around in front of him, mixing with the sweet aroma of pot drifting out the front door.
Chloe smiled. "He seems very nice."
"He is," Ellen said emphatically. "He's been through a lot. I'll have to tell you about it sometime."
Nodding, listening to loud conversations and sporadic bursts of laughter from the house, Chloe realized how much she's missed her conversations with Ellen. And, it remained unspoken between them. The operation might fail unless Nick regained his memory. That thought remained in Chloe's mind, casting a gloomy pall over everything. She hated to fail at anything. Now, she'd failed Nick and possibly the mission as well. Depressed, she tried unsuccessfully to edge the black thoughts from her mind.
"Where is he staying?" she said, absentmindedly.
"At my place."
Chloe looked over at her. "My, that may prove to be interesting."
Ellen's lips twitched. "He's nice-looking, in sort of a primeval way, isn't he?"
"Yes, he certainly is. He's got the hots for you too. I saw the way he was staring at you. It's only obvious."
Tiny snorted, stood, and slowly moved his bulk to the opposite end of the porch, where he began good-naturedly harassing a fellow group member.
"You think so?" Ellen replied.
"Yeah, girl. He has that dirty-sexy look. But, only when he looks at you." Chloe narrowed her eyes, and grinned at Ellen.
"Huh?"
Chloe laughed. "Never mind. Just take my word for it."
Max pulled up then, with Tessie on the back of his motorcycle.
"Well, well." he said, as he thumped the kickstand down. "What's going on –"
His eyes raked over Ellen, and Chloe saw Tessie nudge him, as she frowned and got off the bike.
"Max," Chloe said, "this is my friend, Ellen."
He walked over, put one foot on the step, and leaned towards Ellen, who sat back nervously. "Big, blue eyes," he breathed, "big, beautiful, blue eyes."
"Don't get too attached to them," a voice said from the doorway.
"Derick Sands!" Tessie screamed, "Oh, my God!"
Max stepped back, and looked first at Derick, then at Chloe. "What the hell?"
Chloe said dryly, "One of Nick's childhood buddies."
"Son of a bitch," Max muttered. "How long you in town, Sands?"
"A week," Derick responded, with a slight edge to his voice, as his eyes flicked back and forth between Ellen and Max.
"We're goin' on a ride tomorrow. Why don't you come with us? See how the other half lives." The look on Max's face was the closest thing to respect Chloe had ever seen there. And that was unusual for this man. Max had no respect for anything.
"I'll have to ask my hostess, here," Derick drawled, sitting on the step next to Ellen, taking her hand possessively.
She shrugged. "Why not? I've got the week...I've got time."
Chloe noticed the slip. No, Ellen hadn't told Derick anything about being with the D.E.A.. Then she realized her relief was immense, as Ellen would be there with them. For once, Chloe wouldn't have this pounding isolation she'd felt since Nick's accident. She'd felt almost alone, even when Nick was around. She had been alone, too alone. A lump grew in her throat, and she hastily excused herself and ran through the house, then into the bathroom.
Plunking the lid down on the toilet, she sat and tried to will the tears away. But Nick came in just then, with a worried look on his face. "You okay?" he asked.
She looked up at him, and a sob escaped her lips. He was half the old Nick, half the man she used to know. But he was still concerned. Maybe there was hope after all.
Kneeling in front of her, he said, "What is it, baby?" His face held stubble, his hair was rumpled, but it was still Nick.
Throwing her arms around his neck, she cried, "I feel so alone!"
As his arms folded around her waist, he said, "Jesus Christ, Chloe, there are about twenty people in the house!"
"No!" she cried, "You don't understand!"
He pulled back, and his face was inches from hers. "Tell me. Tell Nicky." When had he said that? By the ocean, so long ago.
But, she couldn't. Tears streamed down her face, but she couldn't tell him that he seemed like a different person now. He just wouldn't understand.
Nick watched her, his eyes roved over her tear-streaked face, and a memory assaulted him. They were by the ocean...she was telling him...
"Your husband," he breathed, "you're thinking about your husband."
Her eyes widened, and her tears stopped. "Nick! Tell me. Tell me what you remember."
"We stopped by the ocean at night. On the bike. You told me you were thinking about him."
"Before that!" she urged, "Where were we?"
He sighed. "I don't know."
Suddenly, she raised both fists and pounded him. "Remember!" she screamed, "You have to remember!"
Grabbing her wrists, he glared at her. "Stop it!"
Her face collapsed, and she was wracked with sobs again.
Pulling her close, wrapping his hands in her hair, he whispered, "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if I remember or not. We still have each other."
"But you aren't the same," she sobbed, finally saying out loud what she'd been thinking for days.
She felt him stiffen, and his hands dropped to his sides. And his eyes were hard, now, as h
e stared at her. "You don't want me?" he asked tightly.
"Nick, please, I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to," he replied, smiling briefly, trying not to let his hurt show.
As he stood, he said, "Don't worry, you'll find a replacement for me."
"I don't want a replacement!" she screamed, now losing the slight bit of control she'd had before, "Don't you ever leave me! Not ever!"
She stood and faced him, her hands clenched in tight fists, tears streaming down her face.
Nick watched her impassively, not revealing the inner turmoil her words created. What was he supposed to do? Conjure up the old Nick? Who the hell was he? And, why was he so different now than before?
Rubbing his temples, he sighed deeply, and looked up at the ceiling. Feeling her arms wrap around his waist, he was filled with dread about their future together. Would he lose her? Was she already seeing someone else?
Then, he felt her body shaking. "God help us," he whispered, "God help us, Chloe."
Chapter Fifteen
Ellen was worrying, glancing back at the house periodically, wondering where Chloe was. Then, over the loud din of the bikers, she heard Chloe scream.
"Wait here," she told Derick.
Jumping to her feet, she ran into the house. Following the sounds, she banged on the bathroom door, and yelled, "Chloe! Are you all right?"
Nick's voice answered, "Yeah, Ellen. She's okay."
"I want to hear it from her!" She didn't trust Nick to tell her. Not anymore.
The door opened slowly, and Chloe's tear-streaked face appeared. "I'm all right. I...I just got upset."
Ellen's face was filled with concern. She knew the pressure must be intense for Chloe. "Is there anything I can do?"
Chloe shook her head. "I think I'll have Nick clear everyone out of here."
"Okay," Ellen replied briskly, "we'll start the procession. Listen, call me at home if you need me, please."
"Sure, thanks, Ellen."
"And, don't forget, we're joining you on the ride tomorrow. We're driving up with Limpy's old lady in their truck. See you then, Chloe."
Ellen walked back to the porch steps, and grabbed Derick's arm. "That was our signal to get the hell out of here," she said under her breath.
Nodding, he waved a hand at the bikers, and the two walked towards the street.
When they returned to Ellen's house, along with being worried about Nick and Chloe, Derick felt exhausted. He was often this way after a tour; after days of adrenaline pumping through his system, and too little sleep. He felt like he couldn't even think right now, much less take one step further.
Excusing himself, making apologies to Ellen, who seemed to understand, he fell into a deep sleep on the bed.
When he awoke a few hours later, a little groggy, he saw she'd covered him with a light blanket. Tossing it off, he stood, stretched, and looked out onto the patio. Dusk was approaching, but he could see the well-lit pool gleaming.
He heard splashes, and realized Ellen was swimming. Donning his bathing suit, he went out to join her. The evening was warm, and he heard a frog chirping in the distance. The enticing smell of roses came to him from somewhere, and he breathed deeply, enjoying the fragrance, enjoying the mellow feeling this home seemed to bring to him.
Leaning casually against the patio door, not wanting to intrude, he watched her swim. She was graceful, fluid in the water, as she swam laps.
Then, not realizing he was there, she stood at the shallow end, wiped the water from her face, and smoothed back her hair. Breathless, her chest rose and fell with effort, and her face was pink from the exercise.
As she got out of the pool, his eyes raked over her body. She wore a plain, one-piece blue bathing suit, almost the same color as her eyes. Her backside was tightly honed, yet still rounded pleasantly. Her legs were long, he thought, for such a short woman, and very shapely. As she turned this way and that, bending down to dry herself, he saw her breasts were high and firm, good sized for such a small woman, and he noticed her nipples contracting with the cold.
Desire stirred in him at the sight of her. She seemed so soft, feminine, and somehow, untouched. He knew she'd been married. But the guy, Derick thought, must have been crazy to let her go. And obviously, their sex-life had been boring. He'd seen it in her face when he'd asked her about it the night before. 'Compatible' was not Derick's idea of good sex. No, she hadn't been touched the way a woman deserved and needed to be touched.
Seldom did Derick feel these urges towards a woman. In spite of his rock-star image, he was still somewhat old-fashioned when it came to sex. Making love without any feelings for a woman, he'd often thought, was like masturbating. There just wasn't any point to it, and unlike his fellow band members, he couldn't do it.
Yes, he enjoyed women, and they sometimes pursued him with a passion that amused him. But he'd only had two serious relationships in the past six years. And with those, jealousy on the women's part and his chaotic schedule had interfered.
Ellen looked up, sensing someone's presence, and saw Derick lounging in the shadows by the patio door, watching her. She flushed at his intense gaze, but continued drying herself.
Wrapping a towel around her hair, she finally said, "You're up! Come out and join me."
He walked slowly towards her, and her flush grew deeper as she realized he wore just a small, black speedo. His body was muscular, and his long hair didn't detract from the image. Actually, it added to it. It made him seem graceful, like a wild jaguar or a leopard. He was sleek, hard, and his eyes glittered in the faint light.
The flushed wandered through her body, and she felt more than mildly uncomfortable. He was awakening feelings in Ellen that she wasn't even aware of before this. "Why don't you go for a swim?" she asked casually, trying to ignore her warmth, as she sat on a patio chair.
"I think I'll just laze," he said quietly, as he stepped into the shallow end, and she noticed the nice sized bulge in the front of his bathing suit.
Smiling, he continued, "Isn't that what California people do? Laze in the pool? I'm from the Mid-West, you have to fill me in here."
She laughed. "I never do. I just swim my laps and get out." Her voice was tinged with nervousness, and it seemed to echo in the stillness of the night.
His hair fanned out in the water, as he lay back, placed his arms on the side of the pool, and stretched his legs out in front of him.
"You don't get into lazing too much, do you?" he asked, as he watched her with a steady gaze.
She laughed again. "I'm hyper during the day, but I do have my lazy moments. When I wake up, I'm like a slug!"
"I'd like to see that," he said slowly, "I bet you're beautiful when you first wake up."
The implication of his words was clear and, suddenly, the creeping warmth settled between her thighs with intensity. She tried to ignore it, and simply smiled. "I never thought I was."
"But, you don't see what I see," he countered, as a smile tugged at his lips.
"What do you see?" she asked softly, curious, yet wondering if she really wanted to hear this.
"A beautiful woman...feminine...provocative..." his eyes slid over her body and his voice was silky, like a verbal caress. Her nipples tightened involuntarily, and she knew it must show under the light fabric of her bathing suit.
"Responsive..." he added, obviously noticing her reaction to his words.
Smiling tightly now, she replied, "That's not what my husband used to say."
"Well," he drawled, "I get the distinct impression that he didn't have much of a way with women."
"I wouldn't know. I've never been with anyone but Charlie. I have no basis for comparison."
He looked at her curiously now, as she watched his hair swirl around him in the water.
"Really? Now that surprises me. A beautiful woman like you, with no boyfriend or lover."
She shrugged. "The opportunity never presented itself. I get so busy with my job." her eyes widened, as she realized her
slip.
"Your job," he repeated softly. "When are you going to tell me what you really do? Who you really are?"
"I can't," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "not yet. You'll have to trust me on this."
He nodded. "I can respect that. All right, let me ask you, if," he paused, and his eyes were soft, as he watched her, "if the opportunity presented itself to you, if a man hungered for you, lusted after you, wanted you, what would you do?"
She shrugged again. "Buy a box of condoms," she said, grinning at him awkwardly.
"You should keep some around," he said slowly, "you never know who might drop by."
They were silent now, and his eyes came up to meet hers with that famous, sensual gaze. The eyes were half-closed, but she could see desire in their depths, and she almost felt his desire flowing towards her, from across the pool. Yes, he was hungering, lusting, wanting her. She could feel it.
Time seemed to stop for Ellen, as she tried to still her quickly beating heart. But it began pounding furiously in her chest, and she realized she'd been holding her breath. Sighing deeply, she said, "I should start dinner."
"Nah," he replied, giving her a lazy grin, "come in the pool. We can play."
She eyed him suspiciously. "What kind of play?"
The grin on his face grew wider. "Foreplay."
"I don't think so," she said, as she stood up, laughing. "I've got to start dinner." Throwing the towel off her head, she shook out her hair.
"No you don't," he countered, "besides, I'm not hungry, and we've got all night."
Looking towards the kitchen, wondering what to do, she heard him splash his way out of the pool.
"Come on," he urged, "come in the pool, Ellen. Laze around for a change. Forget your laps, and your schedule. Enjoy yourself."
"No, really," she protested weakly, "I can't." I can't go in there with you, she thought, I'll never want to come out.
She felt the shock of his wet hand on her own, as he guided her down the pool steps.
"Just for a little while," she added weakly, finding herself unable to resist the invitation, or the man.
Nicky's Fire Page 13
