Pulling up to the curb, he got out and waved as he smiled. Once more, I wondered if I’d somehow stepped into an alternate reality. As I stepped outside from the warmth of the building and walked down the stairs, I shivered as the cool fall air swirled around my neck. An image of walking the plank with a shark swirling below in the water popped into my head.

“Hey Babe, you look great,” Peter said as I slipped into the car’s passenger side door. He leaned over to kiss me, and I pulled back and stared at him.

“What’s going on? Why are you being so sweet? This is not like you at all.” I looked him over and even sniffed the air to see if maybe he’d been drinking.

“Nothing is wrong, I swear. It’s just that I realized what a jerk I’d been lately, and it’s all because of the stress at work. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you or let it interfere with our relationship. Work shouldn’t come between us, and I’ve been so stressed and embarrassed to say anything.” He smiled and pulled away from the curb. “You know I want to marry you, Kirbs.”

He used the pet name that he’d given me when we first started dating. I hated it. This one-eighty felt as if it were too much for me. You don’t go from thinking that everything your partner does was annoying to being sorry and acting like Mary Fucking Poppins the next. I watched him closely as he began talking about his day and the new deal he’d negotiated all on his own. Being so focused on him, I didn’t pay attention to where we were going, but my red flag soared higher as we pulled into the parking lot of a bar on the outskirts of civilization. This place was a known motorcycle hangout for those passing through and was a complete biker’s haven with strippers and spicy wings. It was also a place you never wanted to step foot in as law enforcement of any kind. I was a damn glowing beacon for the FBI in my outfit.

Peter hated everything about this place, from the pub food to those that hung out there and even the entertainment. If Peter liked strippers, he only ever went in secret because he voiced how dirty and disgusting those places were. He said he wouldn’t be caught dead at a place where low-life scum came to hang out.

“What are we doing here,” I asked as I stared up at the glowing red sign that was mostly burnt out, leaving the sign to read ‘Red Ass’ instead of The Red Assailant. Both were kind of fitting, really.

“What do you mean?”