by Naomi West
Rip looked torn for a moment, then he came over to the bed and sat down next to me, pulling me carefully into his arms. “Hey,” he said gently, lightly stroking my hair. “It's okay. You're going to be okay.”
I sobbed and clung to him, burying my face against his chest even though I knew I really had no right to be doing that. “He's the reason I was trying to be more spontaneous,” I finally told Rip. “He told me he would date me if I was more spontaneous. But he doesn't really want me to be more spontaneous, he just wants ... a damsel in distress, I guess. He wants a silly doll that he can put up on a pedestal.”
“Guy sounds like a jackass,” Rip muttered into my hair.
I shook my head. “He was really good to me,” I said. “Patronizing maybe, but good. And he never got me caught up in anything like this.”
“Except for how he kind of did,” Rip pointed out. “If you hadn't been trying to be more adventurous, would you be where you are now?”
I shook my head again, trying to get my tears under control. I sniffled a little and pulled away from Rip, even though I almost wanted to stay there against his solid torso for the rest of the night, burrowed against his warmth and protection. I wanted that, but I didn't need it — and I supposed that was the real difference between Rip and Hollande.
“I'm okay,” I said, although my voice was still a bit watery. I tried a smile and shrugged a little. “Sorry to go to pieces on you like that. I'm going to go get cleaned up.”
“Okay,” Rip said, his voice still impossibly gentle as he reached up to wipe one last tear from my cheek. Then, his voice turned gruff: “For what it's worth, I think you deserve better than him.”
I shook my head. “You don't even know him,” I said. “And anyway, I'm not sure how much I value the opinion of a criminal.” But I couldn't help smiling a little at him. “Thanks,” I said softly.
Chapter Eight
Rip
The next morning, I let Liv sleep in a little — partially because I knew she must be exhausted after our ride across a good portion of the country and partially because I couldn't bring myself to disturb her when she was looking so peaceful and angelic sprawled out against the sheets like that.
I puttered around a little on my computer, checking my email, and found that Damien had written to me with a request that I call him. I sighed and decided to save that until after breakfast at least. Finally, I went to get breakfast for us.
Liv was just sitting up when I returned from the store. She blinked blearily at me and then yawned widely. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice still rough with sleep.
“A little after ten,” I informed her. “We don't have that far to go today, and I thought you could use the rest.”
She blinked at me, and I could see a few different emotions flicker across her face: gratefulness, surprise, and maybe a hint of suspicion.
I grinned at her, amused by the suspicion especially, and held up the bags of food. “I brought us some breakfast, if you're hungry.”
“Yeah,” Liv said, scooting towards the edge of the bed. “Yeah, uh, that's great. Thanks.”
I wanted to ask how she was feeling, but I bit it back, not needing to upset her before we even got started for the day. I didn't know who this Hollande person was to her except that he was maybe a potential suitor, but I would have had to be blind to not realize that she had feelings for him that either weren't entirely reciprocated or were reciprocated in the wrong sort of way.
I silently pulled out coffee and breakfast sandwiches and set them out on the table, sitting unceremoniously to unwrap one of the sandwiches. “I didn't know what you wanted, so I got kind of a selection,” I told Liv around a mouthful of egg, bacon, and cheese. I pointed at the other sandwiches. “There's a sausage-and-egg one and a bacon-and-egg one, or there's a blueberry muffin. And coffee.”
Liv's brow furrowed, and she looked like she wanted to say something, but then she simply sat down across from me and grabbed the sausage-and-egg sandwich, unwrapping it slowly. “What's our plan for today?” she finally asked.
“I have to call Damien,” I said with a shrug. “And then this evening, we're supposed to meet with Cherri to coordinate the drop off of the packages. I expect to have more details from her soon.”
“You don't know where we're supposed to be dropping them?” Liv asked, sounding confused.
“She needed to make sure the location was secure and that it could be changed if necessary,” I said patiently, reminding myself that Liv didn't know how these things were normally handled. “She gave me the city, but the exact location was yet-to-be-determined when we last spoke.”
Liv shook her head, but she didn't push the topic. “What does Damien want?” she asked instead.
I shrugged a little. “Not sure. Could just be news from our branch of the Gemini Riders; he knows I'm on a delivery at the moment and so we can't meet up in person. Or he could be calling to chat about this mission. It could be that he knows something about Cherri that could be important to us.”
“Do you trust Cherri?” Liv asked, picking at her sandwich a little. “I mean, I know you said to Damien that you don't know anything about her, but you trust her not to … I don't even know.”
I took a bite of my sandwich and chewed while I considered this. “It's difficult to explain to you what it means to be a part of a biker gang if you're not part of that lifestyle,” I told her. “It's kind of like being a part of a fraternity or a sorority in college, I guess, or part of a ... really solid group of friends. Even if your friends have friends that you don't know, you trust them, right? Because your friends are friends with them and your friends wouldn't be friends with people that they couldn't trust. Something like that.”
“So Cherri's kind of a friend-of-a-friend?” Liv pressed.
“Kind of like that,” I said. “I mean, the other thing about it is that there are...certain rules that go along with your membership. You agree to follow leadership's decisions, and you agree to accept their judgement.”
“So if Damien told you not to deliver these packages, you'd listen to him?”
“It's not that simple,” I said, shaking my head. “See, there's a hierarchy. Damien is the regional president of our branch. But Cat Zodiac is our national president — despite the fact that she's in jail at the moment. My orders are first from Cat and secondly from Damien.”
“Do you trust Cat?”
I sighed and rolled my eyes a little. “Look, this isn't really breakfast conversation, all right? Can we drop the discussion of politics?”
Liv watched me for a moment and then shrugged, ducking her head a little. “Fine,” she muttered. “Just trying to know what I was getting myself into.” She sounded sullen, almost as though I'd hurt her feelings, and I had to suppress a sigh.
Painfully young and naïve, I reminded myself.
I finished off my sandwich and dialed Damien's number, pressing the phone against my ear this time. I had learned my lesson with the speakerphone thing last time. Even though I didn't think there were any other details that he could accidentally give away to Liv, I didn't want to risk it.
The phone rang a few times before Damien picked up. “You asked me to call you?” I said, with no preamble.
“Rip,” Damien acknowledged, sounding almost relieved to hear that I had called. “Do you still have the packages?”
“I'm supposed to make the delivery this evening,” I responded. “Did you have some information for me?”
“Listen, I've been doing some discreet asking around for you. About this whole thing.” He paused for a moment. “It doesn't sound good.”
I'd heard Damien discuss a number of different missions over the years, and I'd never heard him sound so grim. That made me sit up a little. “What do you mean?” I asked carefully.
Damien sighed. “It honestly sounds like Cat may be staging some sort of prison break,” he said.
“I could have guessed that, given what's in the packages,” I pointed out, sh
rugging a little.
Damien made a noise of frustration. “Rip, have you thought through what the consequences of this could be?” he asked, sounding agitated. “There's a reason Cat went away to prison. Somebody narced on her. And after that, how many people agreed to stand as witnesses against her to either reduce or commute their sentences? What do you think is going to happen to all of those people once Cat gets out?”
“Don't you think they deserve it, for turning against her?” I growled.
“All right, what about this,” Damien continued. “What do you think she's going to do to remind people that she's not to be crossed?”
I paused for a moment, wondering what he was thinking. “What do you mean?” I finally asked.
“She's done this before, Rip. It was before you were part of the Gemini Riders, but you must have heard the stories. She'll purge every level of leadership that she can and put into place those that she knows are loyal to her.” His tone turned bitter. “Of course, if you deliver the packages, you're probably one of those people — but I had no idea that you were gunning for my job.”
I stared blankly at the floor for a long moment, processing what he had said. Damien had long been my mentor and my friend — one of the people that I could always count on to be at my side when I needed him the most.
“Don't be ridiculous,” I finally said. “I'm not gunning for your job — you know that.”
Damien was silent for a minute, allowing me to continue thinking things over. “Do I?” he asked quietly. “Because at the moment, it sounds like you're getting pretty chummy with the national leader — and ignoring your regional leader in the process.”
I flinched a little, remembering what Liv and I had just been talking about. The thing was, I didn't really know Cat — sure, I'd met her once or twice at Gemini functions, maybe had a couple drinks with her. But I didn't really know her, not the way I knew Damien. But still...
“I think you're overreacting,” I told Damien. “I don't think that's what her plan is. I mean, her plan is probably to get out of jail, and she probably will go after everyone who had a hand in putting her behind bars. But I just don't think she's going to kill off all of our leadership individuals. There would be a mutiny otherwise.” At least, I'd like to think so.
I shook my head. “Anyway, what am I supposed to do, Damien? I've already agreed to carry the packages. I already have the packages, and I'm clear across the country to drop them off. What am I supposed to do, just turn around and leave and somehow dispose of them? It's my life if I do.”
“You'd need to disappear,” Damien agreed grimly. “And the girl who's with you too. It's a shame because you're one of my best people. But we can make it happen, if you're willing to go.”
“I don't want to leave,” I said, shaking my head before he'd even finished talking. “I'm not going to hide like a scared and sniveling little rat, Damien. What do you take me for?”
Damien sighed. “You always did have a little too much pride,” he said, but he sounded almost amused. Then, his voice turned serious again. “As I said, there's a reason Cat is behind bars. It doesn't take a genius to realize she was getting a little too impulsive, and a little too careless. She was becoming a liability. There are plenty of Geminis who would be more than happy to see her continue to stay behind bars. If you chose not to deliver the package, there are people who would support you.”
“But otherwise, I've made myself a target, is what you're saying,” I said bitterly, rubbing at my temples. I should never have gotten mixed up in this to begin with.
But when I glanced over at Liv, who was watching my patiently, I suddenly had the thought that not all of this mission had been unpleasant.
“Damien, I'm expecting a call from Cherri to come through at any time,” I said finally. “I need to hang up.”
There was another long pause. “All right, Rip,” Damien finally said. “But be careful. You're better than this.”
Chapter Nine
Rip
Liv scowled over at me, folding her arms across her chest. “Are you seriously going to do that all day?” she asked.
I looked up mildly from the message that I was in the process of typing out on my phone, ceasing tapping my pen as I did so. “Keep doing what?” I asked.
“Tapping that pen,” she snapped. “You're driving me nuts.”
I gave her a surprised look and then glanced down at the pen in my hand, twirling it deftly around my fingers for a moment. “Sorry,” I said, sounding almost sheepish. “Didn't realize I was doing it.”
“Well, stop,” she said crossly. “It's bad enough that I have to sit here with nothing to do all day, waiting for this phone call so that I can get out of this stupid situation, but it's another thing to have what practically amounts to torture: you incessantly tapping that pen against the armrest.”
I rolled my eyes at my dramatic whine. “I'm sure there's worse things I could be doing,” I pointed out before turning my eyes back towards my phone. But I set the pen down off to the side. She was being much more patient than I'd expected her to be, and I appreciated that. She hadn't even asked very many questions about my conversation with Damien, although I was sure I'd been obvious enough about the fact that I really didn't want to talk about any of it with her.
“What do you do when you're not transporting illegal packages across the country anyway?” Liv asked suddenly, probably desperate to do something. Her phone was dead, and I imagined she must be bored out of her mind.
I smiled a little, amused by the question, but didn't look up. “Just normal things,” I said vaguely.
“Things like what?” she pressed.
“I ride my bike. Get drinks with my friends. Work.”
“What kind of work?”
I raised an eyebrow over at her, deciding to tease her a little. “Do you really want to know?”
She blushed and ducked her head. “Probably not,” she admitted.
I laughed, delighted that I had gotten exactly the reaction that I'd expected from her. “I work as a bouncer,” I said. “It's all strictly legal.”
“Then how'd you get mixed up in all of this?”
I shrugged, trying to figure out how much I could really tell her. But the thing was, there wasn't much to tell. “I guess I just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” I said. “And I needed the money, so...”
“You need money badly enough that you're willing to do something illegal?' she asked skeptically.
“It's not really illegal,” I insisted. “I'm delivering a package from one friend to a ... friend-of-a-friend. Nothing wrong in that.”
“Except that the package contains guns, and somehow Cat Zodiac is involved,” Liv concluded.
“That doesn't mean anything,” I said. “The packages contain bits of plastic that could be assembled into who-knows-what, and I'm delivering them to Cherri Velasquez. As far as I'm concerned, Cat has nothing to do with it.” It was exactly the story that I'd stick to if I was caught in this mess. Not that I anticipated being caught, though.
“You'd have a hard time proving that one in court,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You know exactly what you're doing.”
I was silent for a long moment, thinking back to the phone call with Damien that morning.
Before I could respond to her accusations, though, there was a knock on the door. I blinked and then shrugged. It was probably housekeeping or something like that. I had already arranged to stay for another night since I wasn't sure when exactly Cherri would contact me.
I rose and went over to the door, pocketing my phone as I went. When I opened the door, a posh-looking man stood outside, scowling at me. He was wearing a well-tailored suit — I'd seen enough of them to know that what he was wearing had to have cost an arm and a leg. And his hair was styled so that it swooped off to the side in a cascading wave. He had a thin, pale face and was the opposite of me in nearly every way.
“Hello?” I asked, wondering just who the hell he wa
s. He definitely didn't work at the motel, that was for sure.
Liv came up behind me and made a noise of surprise, pushing me off to the side a little. “Hollande, what are you doing here?” I wasn't entirely sure how to read the tone of her voice. She sounded at once relieved but also nervous.
Hollande looked back and forth between the two of us, his eyes finally settling on Liv. “Who is this?” he asked, sounding scandalized.
Liv gave me an almost fearful look, clearly uncertain how to proceed.
“This is none of your business,” I snapped, making to close the door.
Hollande stuck a foot out in front of the door, though, and even though I knew I could force the door shut anyway — the man was practically a twig — the last thing I needed was for him to complain down at the reception desk. Or worse, to go to the police and tell them about the strange man in the room with his not-quite-girlfriend.
