Stacy’s, and pulled us, non-too gently, toward the door, ducking under arms and weaving through bodies. As we passed the register, Chad tossed our bill and a hundred onto the counter.
“Keep the change!” We barreled out onto the street and stood. We all looked at each other.
Chad shook his head.
“Damn, can’t take you two anywhere.”
Chapter Six
We found a t-shirt shop, not hard on Main Street, and changed in the back. I handed a plastic bag to Chad.
“Stash this on the bike.”
“Didn’t you just chuck those? No point hauling around wet t-shirts.”
“No point at all. These are our bras . Both of ‘em are Vicky’s Secret bras. We’re not tossin’ fifty dollar bras, boy, you crazy or something? Besides, mine’s the red and black one you like so much.”
“And mine’s my best black lace.”
“Thanks for sharing,” Spike said. That pink highway running between him and my little sister darkened even more. Now it was hot pink.
“Oka aaay, then let’s stop and stash this on the Intimidator. Then how ‘bout that place over there? Live jazz, the action’s a little less— overt —in there. Bikes’ll still be in sight, too.”
“Works for us.”
We started off toward the live jazz club. Spike stumbled and almost fell.
“What the—”
A black cat shot out from under his feet and wove his way through the stands of bikes.
“Oh, shit,” I said.
“C’mon, Ari! You’ve never been superstitious about black cats,” Stacy said.
“I’m still not. But that wasn’t just any black cat.”
“Then what is it?”
“Honey, that’s not your cat. I promise. That’s not Micah.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said in Savannah,” I reminded him.
Spike raised his eyebrows.
“Wait a minute! You think that’s your black cat? From Pine Whisper?”
“I don’t think. I know.”
“ No offense, sweetheart, but that’s just nuts!”
“No, it’s not. It’s trouble. Big time.”
“One little cat can’t cause that much trouble. Even if it is yours, which it can’t be.”
“He doesn’t cause trouble. He gets me out of trouble. Which means it’s coming. Big time.”
* * *
I didn’t really notice the action was any less overt over at the jazz club. What I did notice was a group of bikers and their female companions at a far table. Bikers wearing 1% patches. Staring at Chad. The colors identified them as the “Dark Rulers”. I pulled his arm and maneuvered us toward the edge of the body-to-body dance floor.
“What’s the matter, baby girl? Getting tired?”
“Don’t look, but see that group over there at the table under the crystal light thingy?”
“Well, since I’m not supposed to look , not really.”
“Smart-ass. Edge around and look. But not like you’re lookin’. You’re the damn professional, not me.”
He laughed. “I knew what you meant, just couldn’t resist. Okay, let me turn you around here. Okay, got ‘em.”
“They’re staring at you. Hard. Especially one of the women.”
“Jealous? I don’t get upset when guys stare at you hard. Unless they try to touch, of course.”
“Will you be serious? It’s like they recognize you. Especially her. You told me nobody’d recognize you.”
“ You mean from my checkered past?” He shrugged. “Nobody ever has.”
“ Which doesn’t mean nobody ever will. Do you recognize them? Especially her? And don’t you dare ask me if I’m jealous!”
“No, I don’t recognize ‘em. You’re getting tired, aren’t you, and don’t lie about it.”
“A little, sure, but I’m all right. ” And for damn sure I wasn’t so tired I didn’t notice the psychic shield he’d just thrown up.
“Nope. Main Street’ll be here tomorrow. Let’s collect the crew and head back. Think they’re getting along with each other?”
Which meant he sure as hell had recognized the woman staring at him and wanted to get the hell out of there. Without it seeming like he did.
I glanced around,