Read Online Covert Identity by Maria Hammarblad - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maria Hammarblad
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take what he wants. And whatever you do, don't fall.
"Who?"
When said in the giant's voice, the one innocent word sounded like a question of life or death importance. Would saying his name make things better or worse?
"Jimmy, and he's waiting."
It worked. The man took a step back. Thank heavens; she didn't want that sour breath pouring over her face one second longer.
Maybe there was something to all this brotherhood crap after all.
The man rumbled, "I'll walk you there."
Anything leading in the right direction must be a good thing. She shrugged and resisted an urge to tug at her clothes. Touching them would bring attention to their smallness, and to her feeling awkward in them.
She glanced at all the room numbers. They seemed to be on the right doors, in the right order, and he seemed to walk to the right door.
Now who was paranoid? If she survived this walk she'd have to apologize to Jimmy.
Sharon lifted a hand to rap her knuckles against the paint, but her unwanted companion beat her to it. He hammered a fist the size of a ham on the door, banging hard enough to wake half the neighborhood.
Her relief when Jimmy opened was almost tangible and she wanted to collapse by his feet in a shivering pile. He held a half-empty bottle of vodka in one hand, but was definitely sober enough to take in the situation.
"You're late." He pulled her inside and slammed the door in the other man's face. His arms around her were heavenly. "Are you okay? See why I worry?"
"Yes... That's one scary dude." She whispered quietly, she expected the guy outside to hear and storm in.
"He is." Jimmy pushed her away enough to be able to look at her, and lifted an eyebrow.
"What are you wearing?"
She could finally tug at the skirt without being judged.
"You told me to be a hooker. This was the best I could do."
When it came to showing off skin, the super short skirt and tight tank top had been the extent of her risqué wardrobe. Clearly a lapse into bad judgment. Mental note: never go shopping with Mona again .
"Don't make it a habit. I might have to kill people to keep them off you."
"You're joking, right?"
Jimmy stepped backwards, sank down in a chair, and helped himself to a drink. Then, he held the bottle up to her.
"I'm rude. Want some?"
On a night like this, why the hell not? She took a sip and put the bottle on a table. Bending over him, she started to unbutton his shirt.
He put his hands on her shoulders. "What are you doing?"
"I didn't drive all the way here for a drink."
Her hands couldn't find a zipper. Button fly? How quaint .
*****
S haron dreamed of green grass and sunshine when someone banged on the door hard enough to make it rattle.
She opened her eyes but didn't recognize the room. It didn't look right, and it didn't smell right. Jimmy's shoulder under her head was familiar, but everything else was off. It took several seconds before she remembered the previous night.
She was in a motel, surrounded by crazy people with tattooed foreheads.
Jimmy groaned, "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Stop making so much noise."
He sat up on the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands.
"Fuck, we're late. I hoped to get you out of here before everyone woke up."
"What time is it? Feels like the middle of the night."
"I know. Fucking hangover from hell."
He pulled on his clothes, so she crawled out of bed and did the same. Driving the long way home on this little sleep wasn't appealing, but she would have to.
Jimmy paused just inside the door.
"I'm going to walk you to the car. Get in and drive away. Whatever you see, whatever you hear, just drive away. I'll call you, and I should be home tomorrow."
"Okay. Take care of yourself."
The mere thought of meeting Mr. Hate again was a good enough incentive for obedience.
"You, too. I'm so glad you came over."
"I am, too."
She stood on her toes and kissed him. He tasted like old booze, but being close still made her want to drop what little she wore on the floor and offer
"Who?"
When said in the giant's voice, the one innocent word sounded like a question of life or death importance. Would saying his name make things better or worse?
"Jimmy, and he's waiting."
It worked. The man took a step back. Thank heavens; she didn't want that sour breath pouring over her face one second longer.
Maybe there was something to all this brotherhood crap after all.
The man rumbled, "I'll walk you there."
Anything leading in the right direction must be a good thing. She shrugged and resisted an urge to tug at her clothes. Touching them would bring attention to their smallness, and to her feeling awkward in them.
She glanced at all the room numbers. They seemed to be on the right doors, in the right order, and he seemed to walk to the right door.
Now who was paranoid? If she survived this walk she'd have to apologize to Jimmy.
Sharon lifted a hand to rap her knuckles against the paint, but her unwanted companion beat her to it. He hammered a fist the size of a ham on the door, banging hard enough to wake half the neighborhood.
Her relief when Jimmy opened was almost tangible and she wanted to collapse by his feet in a shivering pile. He held a half-empty bottle of vodka in one hand, but was definitely sober enough to take in the situation.
"You're late." He pulled her inside and slammed the door in the other man's face. His arms around her were heavenly. "Are you okay? See why I worry?"
"Yes... That's one scary dude." She whispered quietly, she expected the guy outside to hear and storm in.
"He is." Jimmy pushed her away enough to be able to look at her, and lifted an eyebrow.
"What are you wearing?"
She could finally tug at the skirt without being judged.
"You told me to be a hooker. This was the best I could do."
When it came to showing off skin, the super short skirt and tight tank top had been the extent of her risqué wardrobe. Clearly a lapse into bad judgment. Mental note: never go shopping with Mona again .
"Don't make it a habit. I might have to kill people to keep them off you."
"You're joking, right?"
Jimmy stepped backwards, sank down in a chair, and helped himself to a drink. Then, he held the bottle up to her.
"I'm rude. Want some?"
On a night like this, why the hell not? She took a sip and put the bottle on a table. Bending over him, she started to unbutton his shirt.
He put his hands on her shoulders. "What are you doing?"
"I didn't drive all the way here for a drink."
Her hands couldn't find a zipper. Button fly? How quaint .
*****
S haron dreamed of green grass and sunshine when someone banged on the door hard enough to make it rattle.
She opened her eyes but didn't recognize the room. It didn't look right, and it didn't smell right. Jimmy's shoulder under her head was familiar, but everything else was off. It took several seconds before she remembered the previous night.
She was in a motel, surrounded by crazy people with tattooed foreheads.
Jimmy groaned, "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Stop making so much noise."
He sat up on the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands.
"Fuck, we're late. I hoped to get you out of here before everyone woke up."
"What time is it? Feels like the middle of the night."
"I know. Fucking hangover from hell."
He pulled on his clothes, so she crawled out of bed and did the same. Driving the long way home on this little sleep wasn't appealing, but she would have to.
Jimmy paused just inside the door.
"I'm going to walk you to the car. Get in and drive away. Whatever you see, whatever you hear, just drive away. I'll call you, and I should be home tomorrow."
"Okay. Take care of yourself."
The mere thought of meeting Mr. Hate again was a good enough incentive for obedience.
"You, too. I'm so glad you came over."
"I am, too."
She stood on her toes and kissed him. He tasted like old booze, but being close still made her want to drop what little she wore on the floor and offer
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