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they ever let any bitch touch their bikes.”
     
    “That doesn’t make any sense.”
     
    “Welcome to MC life, sister,” Viper growled. “You’ll at least have to appear knowledgeable about motorcycles.”
     
    “Right. That makes sense.”
     
    “And you’ll need tattoos.”
     
    I raised my eyebrows in surprise and dismay.
     
    “Tattoos?”
     
    “Yeah. Lots of them.”
     
    “I can’t get temporary ones?”
     
    Viper gave a short, cruel laugh.
     
    “No. If you want to roll with the White Wolves, you need real ink.”
     
    I bit my lip but then scowled. No one was looking at my body these days anyway, so who would care if I had hideous tattoos splayed all over my skin?
     
    “And, of course, Viper will teach you all about the history and traditions of the club. Everything you’ll need to know to blend in and be seen as a real member, a real… er, old lady.”
     
    Doug allowed himself a tiny smile as he repeated the term.
     
    “Of course,” I replied.
     
    “And you’ll need to live with him, to maintain the illusion that you two are in a relationship.”
     
    “What? I need to live with this slob?” I exclaimed.
     
    “Listen, I’m not excited about it either…” Viper grumbled.
     
    “Sorry, am I going to cramp your cool bachelor pad style?”
     
    “Yeah, that’s right. You’re cramping my style already,” Viper spat back. I could tell this was going to be fun.
     
    We went over a few final details: how and when to contact Doug, what kinds of handlers would be keeping an eye on us, and what kinds of evidence I was going to be documenting and how.
     
    Still, in the back of my mind, I was steaming and stewing. I couldn’t believe this—couldn’t believe that I had agreed to this, to living with a former addict and a biker to boot. And we had to pretend to be… To be lovers.
     
    Did that mean we had to have sex?
     
    The thought excited me and made me sick at the same time, and then the fact that it did excite me made me sick all over again. I couldn’t imagine Viper touching me, holding me, making love to me…
     
    In fact, I couldn’t imagine any man doing that. Any man except Fred. No. Don’t think about that.
     
    But it was too late. I was remembering how Fred touched me, the feeling of him inside of me and on top of me, how I felt so full when he was deep inside of my flesh, how I loved the way he sighed and groaned and grunted as we made love… Viper could never replace that.
     
    And he didn’t have to. I didn’t care. There wouldn’t be any feelings here and this was just a job, a mission. What did I care if we had sex? If it made the mission more successful…
     
    But did I just want it? Was I just telling myself that to keep myself from feeling guilty about wanting this jerk of a biker sitting in from of me, this bad boy who looked like a sad, misunderstood punk Adonis?
     
    “That should finish everything up,” Doug said, ending the meeting. “So, unless there’s anything else…”
     
    There wasn’t. He began to pack up his computer and his files. I stood and Viper did too, our eyes meeting awkwardly.
     
    “So, uh, I guess I’m going with you,” I said lamely.
     
    “That’s right,” Viper replied, his voice stiff, his eyes suddenly unable to meet my own.
     
    “I’ll have someone come by and pick up your car, Mercedes,” Doug cut in. I gave him my keys and followed Viper out to his bike.
     
    And goddamn, what a bike.
     
    I’m not a car girl. I’ve never been impressed with fancy sports cars or muscle cars or anything like that. I have, however, always had a soft spot in my heart for motorcycles. Not that I ever had any desire to ride one, but they just seem so sleek, so beautiful and deadly… And the idea of something nice and warm vibrating between my legs always did sound pretty tempting.
     
    But here was a huge metal beast unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It was long and narrow, with a low seat, and thus a low