by Naomi West
Liv moved slowly so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed, cocking her head to the side. “But aren't you curious?” she asked. “You said on the phone that no one else would do this, that it was dangerous. Don't you want to know what you're carrying?”
And that, at least, gave me an inkling of how much she'd heard. It was too much. I narrowed my eyes at her. “It's none of my business,” I said.
“Whoever your friends are, they're putting your life at risk to carry this package, apparently,” Liv said. “I don't think that's the kind of thing that friends do.”
And oh, how foolishly and painfully naïve she was… But there was something inside me that wished I could be there with her, in that silly little world that she evidently lived in. I wanted to think that Cat Zodiac and Damien and all the others were as interested in my well-being as ... well as Liv was in her brother's well-being.
But that was ludicrous.
“Can you at least show me the packages?” Liv asked. “I promise I'll go quietly, I just want to have some kind of idea what we're carrying. It'll be safer that way, in case we're stopped by anyone along the way. If anyone asks, then I can kind of have some sort of a story to cover with.”
And I had to admit, that was a pretty sensible thing to do. We weren't going to be crossing any country borders to deliver the package, but the police could stop us for all sorts of random things — although I kept my bike in tip-top shape, so at least I knew they wouldn't be stopping us for something silly like the lights being out.
“Fine,” I finally conceded. “I'll show you the packages. Just so we have a clear story, if the need should arise.”
“Good,” Liv said. We stared at one another for a moment before she started to look impatient. “Well? Are you just going to stand there and watch me change?”
I blinked, and for a moment, I was tempted to leer at her and say that, yes, that was exactly what I intended to do. But I needed her cooperation, so I reluctantly shook my head and left the room. “Be ready to go in fifteen minutes,” I told her over my shoulder as I exited.
Downstairs, I pulled out the three shoebox-sized packages that I was carrying, staring down at them. They were wrapped in heavy paper and taped haphazardly closed. On the outside, there was no indication of what they might contain, and that information hadn't been part of my briefing. I had a feeling I could open them and take a peek inside, but the curiosity hadn't really struck me until Liv had pressed me for details. Now, all I could think about was what might possibly be inside them.
Surely it would be best for me to open one of them, just to make sure I knew what I was carrying? That way there, I'd know what to do with the package's contents if the police stopped us. If it was drugs, I'd want to throw the packages away and declare it a lost cause. If it was something a bit less illegal, then maybe I could hold on to the packages, make up some sort of convincing story. Just a little look…
I hesitantly opened the first of the packages, glancing towards the stairs as I did so. I could still hear Liv puttering around upstairs, though. It would probably be best that she didn't know what it was that we were delivering, regardless of what was in the packages. But I knew women; she'd take a little while longer to pick out her clothes, fix her hair, and do whatever else it was that women needed to do in the morning.
I stared down at the contents of the first package and then quickly moved to the second package and the third. I had a sinking feeling in my gut as I contemplated just what it was I was transporting. Although there were no manuals or any sort of packaging to go along with the plastic pieces, there was only one thing that they could be.
I was transporting all the pieces needed to assemble cheap, plastic guns. And I was meant to deliver them to a known criminal who was currently serving a long sentence in a federal prison.
“Are those what I think they are?” Liv asked, surprising me as she appeared over my shoulder, staring down in disbelief at the still-open packages. She looked over at me, eyes wide. “Please tell me you have a license to be carrying guns with you.”
I scowled over at her, trying to hide my own unease, and began sealing the packages again. Inwardly, I was a bit surprised that she was able to identify what the plastic pieces were for so quickly. But I didn't comment on that. Instead, I had to come up with some way to get her to go along with me and not rat me out to the police at the first opportunity.
“Look, I'm about to make a fair amount of money for delivering these,” I told her. “I'd be willing to split that profit with you — I imagine you must not make much money, living in a place like this. This would be thousands of dollars that you could walk away with, enough to cover a new vacation to somewhere you actually want to go to. How does that sound?”
I could see indecision on her face, but finally, she nodded. “Okay,” she said, holding out a hand. I shook her hand firmly, somewhat amused that she required the gesture but again, not about to comment on it and risk upsetting her.
“Then let's go,” I told her. “We have a lot of ground to cover today to get to our motel for the night.”
“No more AirBnBs?” Liv asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Well, you can see how well that worked out for me last time...”
Chapter Five
Liv
I groaned as I swung off the back of Rip'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 Rip. “This is the place? Really? You couldn't have sprung for someplace a little more...”
Rip 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.
Rip 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 Hollande had said and be more adventurous. I knew even Rip 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 Rip 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 Rip 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 pretend
ing that we're a couple?” Rip 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 Rip 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 Barry'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.
Rip 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 Cherri Velasquez?” the man on the other end of the call asked.
Rip 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.”
“Rip,” the man said, clearly disappointed. “You should do your research prior to accepting jobs like these.”
Rip 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. Rip smiled a little but continued his phone conversation.
“Damien, 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,” Damien 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,” Rip 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.”
“Rip, if you don't know what's in those packages, how do you know you're not being asked to kill someone?” Damien asked.
“They're guns,” I blurted out, before glancing over at Rip 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 Rip did then. But before he could say anything, Damien spoke.
“Rip, who is that? Don't tell me you've taken some bimbo along on a freeride with you...”
“That's Olivia Harrell,” Rip 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 Damien spoke again, he sounded incredulous. “So, what — you've kidnapped her? Rip, 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 Rip down a little. “He's made me ... a sort of business partner.”
Again, there was a long silence. But Rip did at least look a little placated.
“So you're bribing her for her silence,” Damien surmised, sounding like he didn't even know what to say anymore. “Rip, you'd better be careful out there. I'm only going to say this once, but Cat Zodiac 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 Gemini Riders, 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 Cat Zodiac, 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 Damien telling me that she wasn't good people.
Although apparently Rip did.
Without another word, Rip 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.”
Rip sprang off the bed with the grace of a cat, cornering me, refusing to let me leave the room. “Liv — Olivia,” 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, Liv,” Rip 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.
Chapter Six
Liv
The next morning, I waited sullenly for Rip to finish his shower. He was singing in there, and if it hadn't been for the phone call the previous night, for the knowledge of what this mission was really about, I might have been soothed by his voice.
But I refused to let myself relax even a little.
That morning, I had tried to slip out of bed and run off, but Rip had apparently been expecting that, because I wasn't even halfway to the door before he had grabbed me and hauled me over to tie me to one of the chairs. No matter how hard I pulled at the bindings, I couldn't seem to get myself free. So I was stuck there waiting for him, plotting some way to get away from him.
Finally, he got out of the shower and came into the bedroom with nothing but a towel hung precariously around his narrow hips. I couldn't help staring at him, eyeing his tanned and toned chest and that trail of dark hair that ran down from his navel and disappeared beneath the towel. I spent a wild moment imagining what his penis might look like, thinking of how heavy it would be as it rested in my palm, picturing its girth and the way it would curl up towards his stomach when he was aroused…
I could feel a blush spreading across my face, and I could tell that Rip noticed it, judging by the smirk he gave me. He sat on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs a little — just enough that I
imagined I could almost see everything beneath the towel — and leaning towards me.
“Now, Liv,” he said slowly, “just what are we going to do with you?”
I swallowed hard. When he had been talking to Damien, it had sounded as though he was opposed to killing people — but I couldn't be too sure that he wouldn't kill me to save himself. At this point, I had enough information that I could turn over to the cops that I was definitely a liability. And here in this little, dingy highway motel… Well, it was the perfect setting for a murder.
Who would come looking for me, even? Barry would alert the cops that I was missing, but he thought I was on vacation at the moment anyway, so he wouldn't be concerned for a week or more. And other than that… Well, they'd notice that I was missing around work, but I didn't really have many friends or anything like that who might come looking for me. I didn't really have any identifying features, and if Rip took my wallet and destroyed my ID cards..