Chapter Twelve

 

RYAN

 

I don't know what time they think it is, knocking on my door, but I don't do business before dinnertime. Everything before then, that's my own time. For me.

I answer the door anyways. A wild haired woman that looks like she could—and would—kill a man pushes past me.

"Nice to see you this morning, Agent Davis."

"Fuck you, Beauchamp."

I smile at the response. She's really starting to warm up to me, even after the short time we've known each other. It must be my electric personality.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We've got word that there's a threat on your life, and I'm here to make sure it all goes off without a hitch."

I can hear the sarcasm in her voice. "If you don't want to tell me, just say so."

"Okay, well, how about this? Fuck off, I'm here for my own reasons. We need to get you out of here."

"What? Agent Davis, this is my house. No business here. Never."

"Well, I found you, didn't I?"

I growl, dipping my head out through the door to get a glimpse of the old Indian, still sitting there in the driveway. At least she hasn't gone so hellcattish that she needs to knock it over every time she goes by.

"So what?"

"So, someone's coming after you. And if I know where you live, they definitely know."

"That doesn't follow, boss-lady. You know where I live because you read it. Off my I.D."

"What's your point?"

She looks tired. I don't tell her. No reason to hurt the woman's feelings, after all.

"If you're so worried about it, come on. We'll get going."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, you big God damned ape. Get your shit together, we're leaving."

I get my shit together. We leave. I toss her a helmet on the way out, which she looks at like it—and then as if I—had grown a second head.

"What's this for?"

"We're going out, you tell me."

"I have my own car."

"Nope. If we're going out, someone's leaving a vehicle here. You know this neighborhood? They're going to be in there the second I leave the driveway empty."

"Really? Even with your reputation?"

"Particularly with my reputation," I answer.

I can't begin to tell her how many times I've come back to find my T.V. missing, because I stopped counting myself a long time ago.

All I know is, it used to happen at least once a week, until I started leaving a car outside. People start getting weird ideas that there might be someone in there. Someone protecting my fucking T.V. from some petty thief.

I kick the Indian to life. I wait a minute for her to buckle the helmet around her full hair. It looks like a tight fit. I don't particularly feel bad for her, I have to admit. Oh, well.

The saddle isn't made for two, but I scoot forward a bit and give her space on the front. I can tell she doesn't know where to put her feet. I consider not telling her for a minute. I'm enjoying this a little too much.

Then again, she would have to ride with me if I didn't want her to be there, so I should be fairer to her. I lift my feet off the foot-holds on the side of the Indian and move them up to the highway pegs.

She puts her feet on the platforms tentatively, and then seeing I'm not going to use them, a little more firmly. No problem.

I tell her, over the scream of the engine, to wrap her arms around me. This is going to be a bit of a bumpy ride.

I feel her breasts pressing into my back, the way her soft body molds to mine, and I lift off my other foot and twist the throttle, let out the clutch and go.

The bike starts slow. I take a slow slalom to get a feel for it under the added weight of Agent Davis behind me. Now I'm good, though, ready to take some added speed. We get going on the highway and head out.

If we're going someplace we don't want to be found, that rules out the bar. I'd rather go there. It's a good place, a place I control. A place where we can talk privately. But there's no way that's going to happen, not right now.

I need someplace that I would normally go. It doesn't take me long to figure out what the right answer is. I turn around at the next light and get myself going the right way.

Where would nobody go looking for me? Well, that's easy. It's not getting there that's hard, either. It's easy, in fact. So easy that I have had to avoid going there in the past.

The one place nobody would look for me is somewhere I can't go, and in this case, that means Crazy Horse territory. All I have to do is go hide under Brent McCallister's nose, and we can have a little talk and figure out where to go next.

The Indian screams out, both cylinders kicking smoothly beneath us. A nice, easy ride. I pull up to a stop in front of an Irish pub that I've never had the right to step inside.

It stands out compared to the rest of the area, an Irish joint in the middle of a town full of Mexicans. No problem for them, though, and the only problem for me is if I get caught.

The only thing going to get me caught, of course, is this bike. I pull it around back before kicking down the stand, leaning it down gently onto the concrete, checking to make sure it won't fall.

The asphalt here feels soft, soft enough that I might dig into it more than I'd like. But it's fine. Turns out there was nothing to worry about.

I turn back to Davis and motion her to go inside. I follow her, watching her ass swish from side to side as she moves. She's got a body built for—well, not for what she's doing with it, I think.

She settles into a booth, barely lit. Like the rest of the place. An old, fat-backed TV shows a twenty-year old sitcom through static. The wonders of daytime television.

"What's this about?"

"We need to move faster, Beauchamp. We can't afford to wait on whatever the fuck—the stars to align, for you to get McCallister. I need him soon."

"So, what? You can arrest him instead of me? Don't rush me, Agent."

"You need that immunity we offered you. You need it to get out of here without getting arrested, or worse, ending up with a bullet in your head."

I can hear the threat in her voice, even as she's trying to hide it. As if she can't quite resist the urge to take a little dig at me, even when she's pleading for me to help save her bacon.

"And what happens if I don't go quickly?"

It only takes a split second, but I can see in her eyes, where she's trying to decide how much to tell me. One day she'll learn, but until she decides to tell me everything from the start, I have to wait on her.

"Some of my superiors aren't too happy about the immunity deal. You move fast, we can keep it on the table, but if you don't move, and I mean move, then we have trouble."

I don't tell her what she already knows. If that's the case, we already have trouble.