for came after a week.
"Be home tomorrow."
She fluffed up her hair, put on nice clothes and silky underwear, and made a new attempt at cooking a steak.
Jimmy didn't show.
Enough was enough.
Until now she had avoided public databases, but now she searched them all, scouring them for information.
He wasn't arrested, which made her happy at first. A few minutes later, she realized it meant that he either was dead or stayed away for some other reason. He could have been delayed on the way, ran out of battery in the phone, and lost the charger, but it didn't seem likely.
She cursed and took a long walk with the dog to calm herself.
Where was this stupid club anyway?
To her surprise, Siri offered an answer to that. And a map.
Sharon put Tiffy in her crate and headed for the car.
"This is probably the worst idea I've had in my life."
The car offered no answers, and Siri led the way to a ragged industrial area outside the city, yet surprisingly close to her house.
There could be no doubt which of the sordid buildings belonged to the bikers; a long row of big machines glittered in the sunshine. She pulled up close to a warehouse and leaned her chin against the steering wheel as she looked out.
The door opened and a group of people came out. There was no mistaking Jimmy.
He started smoking again. That's bad.
As if that was a problem worthy of attention at the moment. Everyone in the group looked dangerous and biker-ish. Maybe not as much as Mr. Hate, but definitely dangerous.
A brunette dressed in torn jeans and a tank top came out of the building and wrapped her hands around Jimmy's arm, making Sharon feel like throwing up.
No. He doesn't get to do this. If he's dumping me, I should at least get the opportunity to yell at him for it. He can't just disappear.
She got out of the car and put her sunglasses on, trying to decide what to do. As tempted as she was to storm up to the group and make a scene, it probably wasn't a great idea.
The group stirred before she could make up her mind. Someone pointed towards her and the car, and even from a distance she could see an expression of surprise fly over Jimmy's face.
Had someone recognized her from Sebring?
No, it was the car. It had to be the car. These guys knew their vehicles, and if someone had seen her truck there they would know it anywhere.
Jimmy made himself free from the brunette and Sharon took some satisfaction in seeing how brusquely he shook the woman off. He jogged towards her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her towards the car.
She struggled to get free, but it was in vain. He was immeasurably stronger than her.
Is that fear in his eyes? Fear for me, or of me?
"I know how this looks, and it's not like that, I swear it's not like that. You can't be here, it's not safe. Slap me and storm away."
His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him.
"What the hell is going on?"
He stopped by the driver's door and met her gaze for a moment.
"You have to go."
He bent forward, brushing his lips against her cheek.
"I'll try to come by later. Now please, pretty please, hit me and get out of here."
"You want me to hit you? You really want me to hit you?"
The expression on his face said, "Yes."
She never raised her hand in violence before, not against anyone, and it surprised her how easy it was to slap him. She hit him harder than she intended, and yelled, "Asshole!"
It was well loud enough to carry over to the group by the building, and she heard a man laugh as she jumped into the car and slammed the door so hard she feared the glass would break. She didn't have to pretend being upset, and the tears welling out of her eyes were real. Stomping on the gas pedal made her rear wheels spin and screech, and then the car finally found traction.
In spite of all the dust and smoke she stirred up, she could still see Jimmy in the rear view mirror. He rubbed his cheek and looked after her for a second before heading back to the group with his arms stretched out in a
"Be home tomorrow."
She fluffed up her hair, put on nice clothes and silky underwear, and made a new attempt at cooking a steak.
Jimmy didn't show.
Enough was enough.
Until now she had avoided public databases, but now she searched them all, scouring them for information.
He wasn't arrested, which made her happy at first. A few minutes later, she realized it meant that he either was dead or stayed away for some other reason. He could have been delayed on the way, ran out of battery in the phone, and lost the charger, but it didn't seem likely.
She cursed and took a long walk with the dog to calm herself.
Where was this stupid club anyway?
To her surprise, Siri offered an answer to that. And a map.
Sharon put Tiffy in her crate and headed for the car.
"This is probably the worst idea I've had in my life."
The car offered no answers, and Siri led the way to a ragged industrial area outside the city, yet surprisingly close to her house.
There could be no doubt which of the sordid buildings belonged to the bikers; a long row of big machines glittered in the sunshine. She pulled up close to a warehouse and leaned her chin against the steering wheel as she looked out.
The door opened and a group of people came out. There was no mistaking Jimmy.
He started smoking again. That's bad.
As if that was a problem worthy of attention at the moment. Everyone in the group looked dangerous and biker-ish. Maybe not as much as Mr. Hate, but definitely dangerous.
A brunette dressed in torn jeans and a tank top came out of the building and wrapped her hands around Jimmy's arm, making Sharon feel like throwing up.
No. He doesn't get to do this. If he's dumping me, I should at least get the opportunity to yell at him for it. He can't just disappear.
She got out of the car and put her sunglasses on, trying to decide what to do. As tempted as she was to storm up to the group and make a scene, it probably wasn't a great idea.
The group stirred before she could make up her mind. Someone pointed towards her and the car, and even from a distance she could see an expression of surprise fly over Jimmy's face.
Had someone recognized her from Sebring?
No, it was the car. It had to be the car. These guys knew their vehicles, and if someone had seen her truck there they would know it anywhere.
Jimmy made himself free from the brunette and Sharon took some satisfaction in seeing how brusquely he shook the woman off. He jogged towards her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her towards the car.
She struggled to get free, but it was in vain. He was immeasurably stronger than her.
Is that fear in his eyes? Fear for me, or of me?
"I know how this looks, and it's not like that, I swear it's not like that. You can't be here, it's not safe. Slap me and storm away."
His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him.
"What the hell is going on?"
He stopped by the driver's door and met her gaze for a moment.
"You have to go."
He bent forward, brushing his lips against her cheek.
"I'll try to come by later. Now please, pretty please, hit me and get out of here."
"You want me to hit you? You really want me to hit you?"
The expression on his face said, "Yes."
She never raised her hand in violence before, not against anyone, and it surprised her how easy it was to slap him. She hit him harder than she intended, and yelled, "Asshole!"
It was well loud enough to carry over to the group by the building, and she heard a man laugh as she jumped into the car and slammed the door so hard she feared the glass would break. She didn't have to pretend being upset, and the tears welling out of her eyes were real. Stomping on the gas pedal made her rear wheels spin and screech, and then the car finally found traction.
In spite of all the dust and smoke she stirred up, she could still see Jimmy in the rear view mirror. He rubbed his cheek and looked after her for a second before heading back to the group with his arms stretched out in a
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