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That was okay with me. I could owe Indy. I didn’t expect her favor had anything to do with my Smithie’s uniform.
We were on our way back to Fortnum’s, our bag of goodies in Indy’s Beetle, Indy following us. We didn’t have a lot of time before we had to meet Daisy at the Oxford Hotel for a drink and I was getting fidgety. I didn’t want to keep Daisy waiting. She could be scary.
We were stopped at a light on Colfax and I was pressed against Vance, my crotch to his ass, my chest to his back, my chin kind of resting on his shoulder. He drove fast and hard. I tried holding on to his waist and keeping a distance but I nearly went ass over head off the back of the bike when he shot from the curb.
It was a wrap-your-arms-around-and-hold-on-for-dear-life kind of ride.
A car rolled to a stop at the light and I automatically looked to my right.
My eyes widened at what I saw and I think I screamed a little inside my helmet.
Sitting in the driver’s seat was Eddie. He was looking out the window, his mirrored shades directed at me, the rest of his face wearing a murderous expression.
I had on a helmet, but I was also wearing a distinctive scarlet-red T-shirt, my hair was coming out the back of the helmet because I had to take out my ponytail holder, I was with Vance and Indy’s car was right behind us. It wouldn’t take a police detective to figure out it was me, but Eddiewasa police detective and from the expression on Eddie’s face, he’d figured it out.
Damn.
Damn, damn, damn.
There was a toot on the horn behind us, Vance looked in his mirror and I looked behind. Indy was gesturing to her side and to Eddie. I looked at the car pulled up next to her.
Eddie was being trailed by a Crossfire, Lee’s Crossfire, with Lee behind the wheel.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Vance looked right. Not wearing a helmet, he made a hand gesture salute to Eddie, two fingers straight out and a flick of the wrist. Mr. Cool.
We all drove together to Fortnum’s, Vance and I leading the new definition of My Convoy of Doom. The entire time I tried to come up with a plausible explanation—in other words, a believable lie.
Vance pulled in up front. Indy and Lee parked in the back. Eddie parked behind us. I was off the bike and had the helmet off when Eddie arrived.
“What the fuck?” Eddie asked, looking at Vance and using his scary quiet voice.
Vance had come off the bike and was smiling, flat out. I didn’t think this was good. I thought it was kind of in your face. Even though it was not helping the situation, I had to say, I admired Vance for having the balls to pull it off.
I decided to neutralize the situation.
“Eddie, I can explain,” I said.
His eyes turned to me. He had his arms crossed on his chest, his legs planted wide and I wished I’d let him take his anger out on Vance. Vance was a badass too. At least it would be a fair fight.
“Yeah?” Eddie asked, his voice dripping with disbelief.
Okay, I’d used the ride home to try to come up with a believable lie. The problem was I didn’t succeed.
“Well…” I started, drawing out the word to buy time.
All of a sudden, Eddie grabbed my arm, yanked the helmet out of my hand, tossed it to Vance and pulled me away about five feet.
Guess he didn’t feel like giving me time to come up with a believable lie.
When we stopped, he opened his mouth to speak, but I got there first.
“I can see you’re angry, I don’t know why, but—”
He interrupted me.
