Jess
I groaned as I swung off the back of Thorn's bike later that evening. I supposed that for him, long journeys like this might be normal, but for someone like me who had never been on a motorcycle before that morning, the journey was grueling, and I ached in places I hadn't even known existed. Plus, I was tired and cranky and just wanted to get out of the leathers that he had insisting on my wearing. I needed a long, hot bath and a comfortable bed for the night — but the dingy motel that we pulled up to didn't look like it would be able to provide either of those things.
I frowned at Thorn. “This is the place? Really? You couldn't have sprung for someplace a little more...”
Thorn gave me a look. “This isn't a joyride, baby,” he reminded me as he grabbed his bags out of the pull-behind trailer. I grabbed my backpack from him, wishing it contained more than a sweater, an oversized teeshirt to sleep in, and my toiletries — but there hadn't been space for anything else, and I reminded myself again that I was lucky he had granted me that much freedom.
Thorn led me towards the entrance to the motel, a hand at my lower back. “I think it's best that we pretend we're a couple,” he said in an undertone. “Less questions that way. Plus, they'll probably assume it anyway, so it's easier if we just...go along with it.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling a bit dazed by all of this. I still didn't know why I was going along with his plans, although there was still that nagging feeling inside of me that I should do as Emmanuel had said and be more adventurous. I knew even Thorn considered what we were doing to be dangerous, though, and that was before he even knew what was inside the packages. As a risk assessor at one of the top insurance companies in the country, it wasn't like I was hurting for money.
Then again, even if I'd refused to join into this venture as a business endeavor, I was pretty sure he would have dragged me along with him anyway. He just probably would have had me handcuffed to the bike or something like that.
I swallowed hard and followed him into the lobby, trying to smile at the receptionist as though this were just a normal couple's vacation for the two of us. I was afraid my smile felt as fake as it looked, but the woman didn't even bat a lash, efficiently checking us in and directing us towards our room for the night.
Inside the room, there was only one bed, and Thorn leered over at me. “I sleep on the left,” he told me, throwing his bags into one of the chairs.
I bit my lower lip, considering my options. There honestly wasn't enough space in the room that I'd be able to comfortably lie down on the floor, and Thorn was even bigger than I was. But I couldn't imagine sharing a bed with him either. “Couldn't we just get two rooms?” I asked, voice more plaintive than I would have liked.
“What happened to pretending that we're a couple?” Thorn asked. He took a step closer, towering over me. “And are you trying to say that you're not sure you could control yourself, sleeping side-by-side with me?”
And even the thought of sharing a bed with him had my panties dampening. I wanted to have him touch me, to have him pull me into his arms and kiss me… But I couldn't do that.
“I'll stay on my half of the bed if you stay on your half of the bed,” I said saltily. I grabbed my backpack and went into the bathroom without another word, pulling the door closed behind me. Inside, I sat heavily on the toilet lid for a moment, trying to catch my breath. Being around Thorn made me feel totally breathless and out of control — but I supposed it was kind of a nice feeling to have. Once upon a time, I'd been motivated by passion like this, motivated by adventure. But that had been before Brent's accident, before I'd needed to be the responsible older sister who was there to help him out when he needed it. That had been a long time ago…
Slowly, I got up and started the shower, stepping under the hot spray and trying to wash away the indecisiveness and worry. Then, I pulled on my teeshirt and went back into the bedroom.
Thorn was on the phone with someone, lying back against the pillows as he talked, with the phone resting on his stomach, speakerphone initiated.
“Do you know anything about Gabi Gonzalez?” the man on the other end of the call asked.
Thorn sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, as though he had a headache coming on. “No,” he said. “That's part of why I'm calling.”
“Thorn,” the man said, clearly disappointed. “You should do your research prior to accepting jobs like these.”
Thorn looked over at me, as though just now realizing that I'd walked into the room. But rather than disengaging speakerphone, he patted the bed next to him, inviting me to stretch out as well. And after the long ride we'd had that day, even though I wasn't really sure I should be getting that close to him, I reluctantly moved over to the bed and lay down beside him, groaning under my breath as my muscles finally relaxed. Thorn smiled a little but continued his phone conversation.
“Dorian, I know I need to do research,” he said impatiently. “That's why I'm calling you. I just didn't realize there was anything wrong with this mission until—”
“Don't give me that bullshit,” Dorian interrupted. “You knew there was something wrong with this mission the moment no one else wanted to take it — that's exactly what we were talking about the other night.”
“She's paying good money, though,” Thorn said defensively. “And it's not that difficult to carry a few packages across the country. It's not like she's asked me to kill anyone.”
“Thorn, if you don't know what's in those packages, how do you know you're not being asked to kill someone?” Dorian asked.
“They're guns,” I blurted out, before glancing over at Thorn and biting my lower lip. “I mean, you kind of are being asked to kill someone, aren't you? Or you're giving someone else the tools to do it.”
I would never have imagined a person could look as angry as Thorn did then. But before he could say anything, Dorian spoke.
“Thorn, who is that? Don't tell me you've taken some bimbo along on a freeride with you...”
“That's Jessica Harper,” Thorn gritted out, still looking at me with murder in his eyes. “She's the person whose house I was staying in. She ... walked in on me the other day.”
There was dead silence for a long minute. When Dorian spoke again, he sounded incredulous. “So, what — you've kidnapped her? Thorn, you could go to jail for all of this, do you realize that? Not that what we do normally is… But it's not usually so stupid as all of this. I would have expected—”
“He hasn't kidnapped me,” I interrupted, hoping this would at least calm Thorn down a little. “He's made me ... a sort of business partner.”
Again, there was a long silence. But Thorn did at least look a little placated.
“So you're bribing her for her silence,” Dorian surmised, sounding like he didn't even know what to say anymore. “Thorn, you'd better be careful out there. I'm only going to say this once, but Katia Sin is not the type of person that you want to get yourself mixed up with. Trust me, I know from personal experience.” He paused. “She may be the national president of the Sigma Saints, but that doesn't mean she's good people. There's a reason she's locked up at the moment, remember.”
I tried to suppress my gasp. Of all of the things that I could have gotten myself tangled up in…
I could remember the images of Katia Sin, the notorious bike gang member, on TV. Between the lead-up to her trial and the trail itself plus all of the aftermath, I must have seen her gaunt, manic-looking face dozens of times. I could remember her cold, piercing eyes staring out from her mug shot. I could remember the frenzied way that she'd given her testimony. I could remember her chilling laughter as they tried to question her about the endless string of murders that she was charged as an accessory to.
Seemingly every news outlet in the country had picked up her story. I didn't need Dorian telling me that she wasn't good people.
Although apparently Thorn did.
Without another word, Thorn reached over and hung up the phone, staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. I could sense that he wanted to say something to defend himself — or maybe he thought he could bribe me with more money to ensure my silence.
But I stood up, moving away from him. “No,” I told him, shaking my head in an attempt to ward off whatever it was he thought he could say to make the situation better. “No. This is crazy. This is absolutely insane. I'm a risk analyst and I can tell you that 100% this is too risky an investment. Absolutely.”
Thorn sprang off the bed with the grace of a cat, cornering me, refusing to let me leave the room. “Jess — Jessica,” he said forcefully. “I need you to calm down.”
“Calm down?” I practically shouted. “You told me you were delivering a package for a friend. I thought this was going to be an adventure; I didn't realize we were delivering guns to someone in prison for murder!”
But as much as I wanted to continue arguing with him — as much as I wanted to run, to get away from the situation — I suddenly sat down hard on the edge of one of the chairs, black spots swimming in front of my vision as I hyperventilated. I was a good kid, and I'd never even gotten so much as a traffic ticket. Now…
“Easy, Jess,” Thorn said, his voice surprisingly soothing. “Take deep breaths for me — in ... and out. And again, in ... and out...”
But as hard as I tried to catch my breath again, I could feel that it was futile. The black spots coalesced in front of my vision, and I passed out.