CAPTURED INNOCENCE by Cynthia Hickey

around her, sending the cool evening air up her back.
                  She sighed, her shoulders relaxing when Conley slowed the bike and drove into an alley. When Jo removed her helmet, she realized he was still laughing and slung the helmet at his back.
                  “Hey! I’m injured.” He removed his own helmet and remained seated and grinned. “As much as I enjoyed the view, and I’m sure others did, I think you’d be more comfortable in pants.”
                  “And you’re still bleeding.”
                  He looked down at the spreading stain through the pillow case. “We’ll stop at a drugstore, you can go in, grab supplies, and when we stop again I’ll sit patiently while you nurse me, okay?”
                  “Nurse yourself.” Jo pulled a pair of pants from the saddlebags. As she bent over to step into them a gust of wind blew the dress over her head. Exasperated, she straightened and glared at Conley, daring him to laugh.
                  It didn’t work. By this time, Conley laughed so hard, he snorted.
                  Jo straightened, eyes narrowed. She pulled the pants up and zipped them. “If you’re finished laughing at my demise, we can continue on our way.”
                  “Sure.” He snorted again, replacing his helmet. “Shame to hide that view, though.”
                  She glanced at the stain on his shirt and lifted her chin.
                  “You wouldn’t.”
                  “Wouldn’t I?”
                  “You’re not that mean.”
                  “Aren’t I?” She swung her helmet at him.
                  Conley deflected it with his uninjured arm. “You win,” he said, lowering his face plate. “You have me at a distinct disadvantage.”
                  “And don’t forget it.” She swung her leg over the bike and took her seat behind him.
    ###
                  Conley maneuvered them back into the Vegas traffic and headed toward the freeway. His mind retrieved the image of her barely covered bottom, pale in the gloom of the alley, and he chuckled, catching himself before Jo could pound on his back. That sight was worth taking a bullet for. He grinned.
                  They stopped at a small drugstore where Jo ran in and returned moments later with a plastic bag. Soon, they pulled into a smaller, more ramshackle motel than they’d been in previously. Conley sent Jo inside the manager’s office.
                  “I got a room with two beds,” she said, sliding on behind him. “It’s on the other side of the hotel.”
                  He nodded. His limbs trembled with fatigue. When he pulled into the empty space before their room, Jo slid off the bike first and scooted under his uninjured arm. “Let me help you.”
                  She propped him against the wall of the building while she inserted the key into the lock and swung the door open. Once again taking his weight upon her shoulders, she helped him into the room and onto the closest bed, stepping back. “This is the ugliest room I’ve ever seen. I thought the last one was bad.”
                  Two beds with flat gold bedspreads took up most of the space in the small room. One end table sat between the two beds with a wall-mounted lamp hanging over it. Faded, green flowered wallpaper covered the walls, one corner pulling free. A musky smell wafted up from the bedclothes. Conley wrinkled his nose.
                  “Sit up for a minute.” She removed his helmet and tossed it onto the other bed. “Do you need help getting your shirt off?”
                  He shook his head and, arms shaking, pulled the shirt off. He lay back against the pillows as Jo lay out the supplies on the nightstand. The rough fabric of the