Worcester Nights - The Boxed Set by Ophelia Sikes Page B

opened, and Sean strode out, coming over to the bike with a satisfied look on his face. He slipped on his helmet, closed the visor, and my earpiece crackled into life. “And here we go! Ready for a ride?”
    Unable to speak, I tapped him on the leg. He rolled on the throttle, and we eased away from the warehouse, abandoning all those within to their torment.
    As he took us up onto the highway, I brought my phone out of my pocket and, with shaking fingers, queued up Mozart’s “Requiem”. He chuckled as the first notes echoed through our ears.
    “In the mood for some music, are we?”
    I tapped his leg in confirmation.
    I could hear the smile in his voice. “As you wish, my darling.” He revved the bike, bringing up the speed, and the world flew by.
    I barely knew where we went. The music soared and cried. The landscape turned from rolling hills to ocean waves. And yet all I could see were the streaks of tears on the young woman’s face, the hollow shock in her eyes as her robe was stripped from her, as she was exposed to the group. She had not made any move to cover herself. She had seemed trapped, helpless, beyond saving.
    I blinked. We had come to a stop on my street, in front of my house. I had lost complete track of time. The sun was easing below the horizon, in deep crimsons and fiery oranges, and they reminded me of the house in Sean’s studio apartment, burning, burning, burning.
    He turned off the bike’s ignition. His voice was cheery. “And here we are!”
    My throat closed up. I couldn’t think. I didn’t know what to do. The thought of going back to the bar turned my stomach, and I swayed.
    He half turned. “You OK back there?”
    I found my voice. “I’m not feeling well. I think I’m going to call in sick tonight.”
    His voice took on a note of concern. “It wasn’t the pancakes, was it? Could you be allergic to something?”
    I shook my head, forcing my tone to be even. “I think my landlady had the flu last week, and maybe I got it from her. I just want to go in and rest.”
    “I’ll come in and –”
    I shook my head, climbing off the bike. “I appreciate it, but I’d rather just go in and crash for the night. I’ll keep the helmet, and that way when you come get me tomorrow I’ll be all good to go.”
    He drew me into a hug. “If you’re sure, but how can I kiss you goodbye?”
    “I don’t want to get you sick,” I murmured. Truth was, I knew if I lifted my visor, and he got a clear look at my face, that he’d know something was wrong. And I doubted I’d get free of him easily after that.
    He chuckled. “Sick from a kiss? After how close we were last night, that -”
    My voice nearly broke. “Please …”
    He stilled. “You really are worn down, you poor thing. You should have said something.”
    I shrugged, biting my lip. I was afraid I might burst into tears if this went on for any longer.
    At last he gently patted the side of my helmet. “You go on in. You seem exhausted. Get some rest. I’ll come by in the morning and see if you’re feeling better.
    I squeezed his hand, and then I turned and walked to my house. Once in my room, I went to my window and waved at him. He waved back, and then his bike eased smoothly down the street and out of view.
    I took off the helmet, placed it on my dresser, lay face down on my bed, and sobbed.
     

Chapter 10
    I held on as Sean carefully threaded the bike into the back lot behind the bar, drawing to a stop by the shed’s door. I climbed off the back and stood aside as he unlocked the latch. When he pushed in the bike I followed him into the shed, not saying a word. My helmet had been firmly in place when he arrived at my street, and I had barely spoken on our trip over. He had been concerned, but seemed to ascribe my short answers to my flu. More than once he had asked if I wanted to call in sick again, but I had refused.
    I wanted to see Jimmy with my own eyes.
    How could Jimmy and his wife be involved with this? Surely there