Hiding in Plain Sight Read Online Free PDF Page A

on my hip from the emergency brake handle.
    "Fuck," I heard him complain against my place against his chest.  "North by northwest."
    "Is that bad?" I asked, hardly recognizing the small, shaky voice coming from my mouth.  I knew who the decision maker was in this scenario, and it so totally wasn't me.
    "It is moving towards the direction I am heading.   Because it has many miles to travel, it is possible we will see it again, and it may be angrier than when it hit us here," he said, his voice still coolly calm. "Or it could be joined by others.  Storms are unpredictable in this part of the country." Something was weird about the way he used his words and even more so the words that contained a 'r' sound.
    "Will we still be able to use your bike?" I asked, though my voice sounded more like a demand, as I struggled for something to say to disconnect from the feel of him holding me tight and safe.  While I may have needed that illusion of shelter, I definitely didn't want to accept it.  Experience had taught me that depending on other people, especially men, was the wrong thing to do in any situation.
    "What is your name?" He asked after a long length of quiet, ignoring my question.
    "Renee," I said after my own considered length of time.  "Yours?" 
    "Bayco," he said slowly, almost uncomfortably. 
    "Bay-coh," I repeated, trying to sear the syllables into my brain.  He had tried to come to my assistance and it seemed important somehow to get his name right.  But it wasn't a 'normal' name, a good old American name, so I knew there had to some other one he used.  "But what do people actually call you?"
    "Uhm, Brand," he said after a short pause.
    I could feel the sides of my lips tip at his confession.  Okay, he was called 'Brand' but had confessed his real name was 'Bayco' or was it the other way around? 
    I glanced up at the sharp jut of his jaw from my place of safety on his chest.
    "So you call yourself Renee now.  But what is your real name?" he asked and I found my hands were yet again sweaty.  I'd known him all of about ten minutes, and he had already unraveled that I was on the run.  That I was alone and that I was terrified of stuff like loud windshield destroying, cow-country type of storms.  And now, he'd just determined I was lying about my name.  I was hoping he was a hell of a lot smarter than most people in figuring all that out.
    I could hear the pounding on the roof begin to ease and yanked myself back into the passenger seat as I strained to look out of the wet side window as my shaky hands smoothed my skirt.  
    "Can I call you Bayco?" I asked my voice still a bit breathy from my fear of both him and the storm.  Yeah, he'd been a gentleman so far, almost a hero if I was willing to let it go that far.  But he was still male and I knew they could turn on you faster than you could spit.  But then again, there was no telling how I would've handled being in that squall, with that kind of violence, all by my lonesome.  "Or do you want me to call you the other name?  Brand, was it?"
    When he didn't respond, I turned back to look at him over my shoulder.  And got caught up in his eyes.  I'd never seen eyes that color or with such long, thick lashes.  Nor did I recognize the look within them.  It wasn't cold or calculating, trying to determine what benefit I could be to him.  There was, if I read it right, kindness and compassion in his scrutiny.  Along with the promise of his protection.
    I quickly slid my head back towards the window, knowing I couldn't be right in my assessment.  He was the enemy, albeit maybe the best of them, but I didn't want or need neither him or his protection. I needed stick to my original plan. 
    A plan that had gone a little off track, but wasn't unsalvageable.
    "You will need to wear pants and a jacket when we ride," I heard him say from behind me.   "The worst of it has seemed to have passed, but I do not know what we will encounter on the road.  I will