My Biker Bodyguard (4 page)

Using the foul cloud as cover, Mitch started toward the
sedan, eager to drag them out by their necks and wring answers
from them. Footsteps on broken glass crunched behind him,
audible as the driver switched gears again. He swung around,
prepared to fire.
Jess stood on the sidewalk, her face white, her eyes wide.
Mitch dove forward, forcing her down beside the door of her
Mustang. He lifted the latch, and cursed when it wouldn't
open.
"Unlock the door." He kept his tone calm, but acid
washed his innards.
Why the hell is she out here?
A bullet zinged past his ear, punching the door beside his
head. "Get in the damned car, now!"
He stood, blocking Jess with his body, and opened fire on
the driver. Behind him, the door opened and Jess leapt inside.
He kicked the door shut without turning.
The sedan's driver started to get out. Mitch fired three
quick shots, coaxing the fool back into his mangled vehicle.
Desperate to get Jess to safety, Mitch hollered over his
shoulder, "Drive away."
She didn't answer and he couldn't risk a look. Pasty-face
crawled into the back seat, staying low enough Mitch couldn't
get a good shot. He crouched forward and pressed his back to
the telephone pole, fishing out the spare Glock from his ankle
holster as he stood.
In the quiet after the volley of bullets, Mitch heard both
the driver and Pasty open their doors, then the snick of both
doors closing. The silence didn't last long. They shouted
threats and curses–a typical intimidation tactic. Mitch wasn't
impressed.
His back to the telephone pole, he could see Jess moving
inside the Mustang.
For chrissake, why doesn't she go?
"We're comin' for you!" Pasty yelled.
Mitch turned back. He'd have to whip around and shoot
fast with both of them in the open. Guns ready, prepared for
the double targets, he shifted his weight for the pounce, but
stopped. In the glass window of the shop beside the diner,
Pasty's reflection was perfect in the dazzling sunlight. Using
the mirror image to gauge his aim, he fired.
The goon dropped to his knees, as if praying for his very
bad day to end.
Request granted, bastard
. He fell face
forward, nose hitting the sidewalk with a solid thwack.
Mitch sidestepped, keeping the pole between him and the
remaining gunman. The driver wasn't aiming at him, wasn't
even looking at him. He was after Jess. Mitch raised the
muzzle of the Glock, but before he could shoot, a gun fired,
loud, definitely not silenced.
He flinched back behind the pole. Confused, he watched
the driver's image in the window fall out of sight behind the
sedan. Mitch twisted back.
Jess stood on the curb, a Magnum in her shaking hand, her
face tinted green with fear. "Oh, God."
Where the
hell
did she get that hand-cannon?
Mitch
jerked away from the pole, shoved her back to the Mustang and
into the passenger seat.
Get her out of here, away from the
threat. Get her the hell out of Dodge
.
Hand open, he shouted, "Keys!"
She flung the keys into his hand. Mitch gunned the engine
and released the clutch, scorching the blacktop with a stripe of
burnt rubber as the Mustang leapt onto the road. A car swerved
around them, horn honking. The putrid, burnt smell of rubber,
recently ignited gun powder, and the breakfast smeared on his
T-shirt was cloying in the small car.
"Oh my god, I shot that man." Jess, her unbound hair
hiding her face, trembled visibly.
"You didn't kill him. He's only wounded." Mitch hoped
that was true. Pasty likely wouldn't be answering any
questions, but the driver might. The cops would be on the
scene soon, and when Jess was safe, he'd find out where the
police had taken the two men. If all went well, he could be
back in California by tomorrow morning with enough evidence
to nail the man who'd hired these goons.
Jess stared blankly ahead, hands holding her hair high on
either side of her face. "I shot him."
Mitch squeezed her knee. "He would have shot you, if
you hadn't got him first."
And you'd be dead
.
She pushed his hand off her leg and turned on him, words
spewing in a torrent. "What the hell have you gotten me into?
Who were those guys? Why were they after you? Did I just
shoot a cop? Are they bounty hunters?"
"They weren't…."
"Don't lie to me!" Tears shown in her pink-rimmed eyes,
her lips trembled, twin spots of red bloomed on her pale
cheeks. "No more secrets. I know you're up to no good. I
know you want my dad to get involved with whatever scam
you're into. Pull the car over. Pull over right now!"
Mitch didn't want to slow down, let alone stop. But in her
state, she might do something crazy. Like jump from a
speeding car. He found a nearly full parking lot that abutted
Lake Michigan and pulled in. Engine running, he faced her.
"Listen."
"No! I won't listen." She slapped at his hand as he
reached for her. "I've just shot a man–a complete stranger.
Who the hell were they?"
"They weren't cops, Jess." Mitch heaved a breath. They
were wasting time. "Cops don't fire into crowded restaurants."
The panic faded from her eyes, but the haunted darkness
remained. "All right. I believe that. But I want you out of my
car. Get out. I don't want you anywhere near me or my
family!"
"They weren't after me. They were after you." Mitch
managed to keep from shouting, but it was a close thing. He
didn't have time for this. She had to understand that there was
no telling what kind of backup those creeps had and if he didn't
report what had happened immediately they'd lose all
credibility.
"I don't believe you." She fell silent, glaring at him.
"You have to." Mitch mentally apologized to Dan. "Your
dad was supposed to talk to you, tell you what's going on."
Mitch had a feeling Dan would have put it off for as long
as he could, but time was definitely up. Jess crossed her arms
and stared at a pair of seagulls fighting over a scrap of trash on
the water's edge.
"There's a lot happening just now. You need to hear me."
He touched her chin and tilted her gaze toward him. She jerked
out of his fingers and glared.
At least she's listening.
"Your
mother, Beth, sent me here, for you."
Her reaction was immediate and terrible. Her face
crumpled and she opened the car door. "No. No way. This is
crazy. No."
Mitch grabbed her arm. "Stay. There might be more men
out there, waiting to take you out."
"Me?" She looked so broken he wished she'd welcome his
comfort. "Why me? What have I ever done?"
"It's not what you've done, it's who you are." He inhaled a
deep breath. "You're next in line to inherit a hundred and fifty
million dollars."

"You're joking, right?" Jess wondered where Rod Serling
was, where Allen Funt was, this had to be a lunatic's mix of the
Twilight Zone and Candid Camera. Her stomach clenched on a
sea of coffee. "You came into my life, into my home, and now
you want me to buy that line of crap? You want me to believe
that somehow all this was my fault?"

"You know that's not what I meant, Jess," Mitch said. "I
only…want you safe."
Why did he have to sound so sincere?
She slumped back in her seat and slammed the door. The
view from here was strange. She didn't think she'd ever ridden
in the passenger seat before. It only added to the surreal
quality of the whole day. "Take me home. I want to talk to my
dad."
"I don't think we should." Mitch put her Mustang in
reverse. "That's the first place they'll look for you."
Startled, her heart double-thumping, she turned to him.
"What do you mean? My dad's in danger? Right now?"
He grimaced.
"Then why the hell are we sitting here?"
Oh God, what
next? Armageddon?
"We have to warn him. Get going!"
"Jess." He sighed, hands tight on the steering wheel. "It's
not a good idea. If you want," he paused, reached into his coat
and for just a moment, she thought he was going to pull his gun
out, instead, he brought out a cell phone. "Call him, tell him to
meet us at the police station."
She didn't take the cell phone. "The police station? Are
you out of your ever-lovin' mind? They'll have me in
handcuffs before I get in the front door. Do you have any idea
how hard they'll come down on someone like me? I'll never
walk out of there."
"I won't let that happen." Mitch pushed the phone toward
her. "Call your dad. We're goin' to the nearest station now."
The fear, the tears, evaporated in the fire of her anger.
"You prick! You–"
Mitch shoved the phone in her face. "We ain't got time for
this. Call your dad."
Jess sputtered, her head pounding from the knot on her
forehead, the scent of the syrup and coffee smeared on his tshirt sickly sweet. Her universe had leapt galaxies, crossed
through some psychotic wormhole, and dumped her into
another reality. In this dimension, she had no control. No
power.
This can't be happening
.
She snatched the phone from his hand and called home.
The phone rang and rang, no answer. Mitch steered to the exit,
the wheels bouncing over speed bumps. She misdialed the
number for the shop and had to try twice more. Nothing. The
spit in her mouth turned to paste. Where was he? Was he
hurt? She tried the house again. "There's no answer."
Mitch pulled into traffic. "Try again."
"I did." She dialed one more time, certain the line would
go dead in mid ring, the killers cutting the wires and her
father's last hope. She tried the parlor one last time. "Pick up
the phone…pick up the phone, Dad."
The ringing stopped. Someone lifted the receiver, but no
greeting, no hello from the dead zone. She swallowed to
speak. "Hello?"
"Who is this?"
That was not her dad. She pressed Mitch's phone tighter
to her ear, afraid the sudden shiver up her spine would make
her drop it. "Who is this?"
"Jess?"
Relief flooded through her. She should have recognized
his voice right away. "Jack! Is my dad with you? Is he okay?"
"He's fine, but you're not. They've got an APB out on you
and your Mustang. Came over the radio five minutes ago. I
got here as fast as I could."
Jack, the cop she'd dated last fall, was with her father. She
breathed shakily. "It's not what it looks like, Jack. I shot in
self-defense."
"You shot? Who's this guy you're with? Never mind.
Just get here, pronto, before someone else picks you up." He
hung up the phone, leaving her no room to argue, and forcibly
reminding her why she had broken up with him.
She turned to Mitch. "We have to go back to my house."
"I already told you–"
"I know what you said, but the police are looking for us.
Jack–a friend, a cop–he's with my dad. We can turn ourselves
in to him."
Turn herself in. She cringed. It felt as though she hovered
over a great, black gaping hole that led straight to Hell and she
didn't have anything to grab on to. This morning, heck, an
hour ago, if someone had said she'd be turning herself in for
murder, she would have laughed in their face.
I'm not laughing now.
She blamed Mitch. He caused all this. A hundred and
fifty million dollars? It had to be a joke, a hideous prank. And
her mother…no, she wouldn't think about that faceless woman
who'd never bothered to write, to call or remember a birthday,
a holiday. There would be time enough to figure this out later.
All she cared about was getting to her father and finding a way
to avoid life in prison.
"Breathe, Jess, it'll be all right." Mitch changed direction,
to her relief, and started back toward the house. "The police
know I'm here. A friend at the LAPD called in for me."
"The LAPD? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Beth hired me to…protect her. I have a detective friend
back home who alerted the Milwaukee P.D. Once we get to
this guy you know, he can run my name and everything will be
fine. You'll see."
"Everything will not be fine," she muttered. He just didn't
get it. People like her, people who made an honest living in
professions the law thought lawless–tattooists, motorcycle
mechanics, bar tenders, club owners, bouncers–never got a fair
shake.
She didn't argue with Mitch though, what would be the
point? There was no going back, no reversing the past. She
had to live with what she had done. Even so, she wanted to lift
the Magnum from between her feet, point it at Mitch, and
demand that they hightail it to Canada, leave the country, avoid
her fate.
Two things kept her from taking just that course of action.
She could never leave her father–especially if there was a
chance he might be…hurt. Never killed, she couldn't imagine
that, it would rip her in two. And the other; she couldn't touch
the Magnum right now. If she did, the coffee sloshing in her
belly would make a second appearance.
Shooting at the gun range was a hell of a lot different than
shooting a man, regardless of how dangerous that man was.
She couldn't get his face out of her head. Palms pressed to her
eyes, she tried to obliterate that cold, brown stare, the surprised
pain, the ugly eagerness to kill her. She'd done the right thing,
but she felt all wrong about it.
Mitch took the alley so fast, they fishtailed for a moment
before he straightened out.
She couldn't help herself. "Careful."
He didn't reply, but came to a jarring halt in front of a
black-and-white cruiser, its lights mounted to the hood
revolving, the siren silent.
Jack stepped from the parking lot and into the alley, her
father right behind him. As soon as Jess saw the pair, her
insides lurched. Her dad's face matched the grey in his beard,
his blue eyes were wide and more frightened than she'd ever
seen them.
He's safe
.
She was out of the car before Mitch had gotten his door
open. Her father wrapped his strong arms around her and the
dam burst. She was eleven again, returning from foster care.
"Jesus, Jess," his voice cracked, "what the hell happened?"
"I don't know, Dad." Jess stepped back, acutely aware of
their audience. She wiped the wet off her face and inhaled
deeply, pressing down pain and shame. A moment, that's all
she could afford, a single moment to wallow in her shock and
fear. She couldn't be weak now, not in front of Mitch and Jack.
"Mitch said this is because of…my mother?"
He looked over her shoulder at the big man behind her.
"You told her?"
She turned and caught Mitch's nod. "Some, not
everything."
Jack eyed Mitch with that steel-gray lie detector look she
had come to know all too well. He rested his hands on his hips
above the police-issue holster, sandy blonde hair shimmering in
the sun, his brow furrowed deeply. "I need your weapons.
Don't," he said, stopping Mitch from reaching beneath his coat.
"Place your hands on your head and turn around."
Jess waited for Mitch to argue, but he simply laced his
fingers together over his scalp. The action parted his coat,
revealing the shoulder holster and the breakfast mess on his
shirt. The dripping stain pointed like an accusatory finger to
the butt of the Glock he had only had time to shove in the front
of his pants.
Jess recalled his hand emerging over her head, gripping
the pistol. How brutal he'd looked stalking through the door.
She struggled to understand what it all meant. The depth of his
dark, brown gaze, the resonating low thrum of his voice as he
said,
"Your mother sent me."
Jack took the guns. "Are there more?"
Mitch shook his head. "I'm on file with your department.
You can check it out. I'm in from L.A. on the Kramer case.
Ring any bells?"
"No. But I've got the call in now. We'll wait and see."
Jack turned to Jess. "Where's your Magnum?"
"In the car." How she wished they had a few more
minutes. Who were the Kramers and what did they have to do
with her? Was that her mother's name now? All her life she'd
secretly dreamed of having a mother who loved her, protected
her, and didn't leave. But the truth was, she didn't even know
her mother's last name. Of course it wouldn't be Owen
anymore, not after the divorce, not after all these years. Not if
she had remarried.
Jack forced Mitch against the hood of the cruiser, palms
flat against the glaring, white metal. "What's your name? You
got any I.D. on you?"
"Mitch Conner. Wallet's in my back pocket."
"Don't move." Jack pulled the wallet out, but didn't open
it. "Stay here. I mean it. Don't move."
"No problem." Mitch said. "There's no reason for me to
run."
Jack got her pistol and locked all three weapons in the
trunk of his cruiser. Mitch twisted to gaze at her, his
expression unfathomable.
What did he expect her to do? Come to his rescue? Talk
Jack out of arresting him? She shook her head, a big mistake.
The pounding there intensified. The sun burned, her skin
prickled. Her father's strong arm anchored her to reality and
kept her from floating into insanity.
God, how had all this
happened?
"Okay folks. This is how it's goin' down." Jack returned,
the radio on his hip squawking incoherently. "I gotta take him
downtown. Jess, you gotta come too. I've got a female officer
on the way to transport you."
Her father's stare turned hard. "She'll do whatever she can
to help, Jack."
Jess's spine tightened. Here it was, the end of her life, and
she'd never really started living. In one day she'd faced death,
and now she faced prison. A completely different future than
she'd imagined for herself this morning, and certainly, its own
kind of death.
"It's not going to be as easy as that, Dan." Jack said.
Mitch glanced over his shoulder at them. "This isn't
necessary."
He grasped Mitch's elbow. "Turn around."
Mitch did, silently, his face rigid with anger.
Does he believe me now? People like us are guilty until
proven innocent, even by Jack
. She had no doubt she'd be face
down on the hood of his cruiser if they hadn't dated.
I warned
him. Does Mitch really believe any cop will buy his story?
She
couldn't fully bring herself to believe him.
Jesus, what if he's played all of us? What if this is all some
con job?
Jack grabbed Mitch's wrist with one hand and pulled the
cuffs from his belt with the other. This was it, the moment of
truth. Jess held her breath. If Mitch tried to fight, if he ran,
then she would know they had been fooled. The men on the
street were drug dealers, or wise guys. They'd come after her
next, and there would be no future for anyone in her
hodgepodge family.
"You have the right to remain silent." Jack hooked the
cuffs over Mitch's wrist, then grabbed the remaining hand.
"Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.
You have the right to have an attorney present now and during
any future questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one
will be appointed for you." He finished cuffing Mitch and spun
him around. "Do you understand these rights?"
Mitch nodded, his gaze hard. Those familiar words, and
Jack's flat tone, killed any lingering hope Jess had held. No
miracle would be granted. They couldn't begin the day over. It
was done. Jack opened the cruiser's back door and Mitch slid
inside without a fight. Jess exhaled. At least it wasn't a con
and maybe she didn't have hope, but she had relief.
Yet the truth was so crazy.
All these years she'd pictured her mother living in cheap
motels, riding on the back of different Harleys into different
sunsets, a biker groupie with tracks running down her needlesore arms. It just didn't jive with the idea of California, of a
fortune, or even an entire family that she didn't know about.
No birds sang, no dogs barked, no traffic rumbled by on
the main street. The quiet got under her skin, alerted the hair
on the nape of her neck the way a coming storm charges the air
with electricity.
Sunday, for Pete's sake, it's a Sunday. This
stuff doesn't happen on a Sunday.
"Jess," Jack said, apology in his tone. "You have to come
downtown."
Her father stepped between them, an arm out to hold her
back and the other hand palm up to keep Jack away. "No, she
ain't goin' down like that. She's my girl, Jack. You know she
only did what she had to."
Jack nodded. "I know, but I have to do my job."
"No. Just wait, just hold on a minute. You ain't touchin'
my baby." His voice rose. "I let you date her, Jack, I ain't
goin' to let you take her like this."
"Don't make this harder than it has to be."
"Dad," Jess said, pulling on the back of his shirt. His
defensive stance said he wanted to belt Jack a good one and tell
her to run. She couldn't let him do that. They both couldn't go
to jail. Someone had to get her out.
Or run the business if I
don't come home
. "Don't, Dad."
He turned, his face red with anger and fear. "No, Jess."
"It'll be all right. Jack will take care of me." That might
be a lie, but it was all the comfort she could offer.
"I told you no good would come from dating a cop." His
mouth trembled within the bushy hairs of his beard.
She wanted to hug his waist and refuse to be taken in.
Instead, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "If I
hadn't dated him, they would never listen to me. It's all going
to work out, you'll see."