CAPTURED INNOCENCE (7 page)

             
He’d spread the story that Alex was premature and had set strict guidelines in place of the baby’s role in the home, acting the part of a doting father only when there were people around to witness the masquerade.

             
Jo had struggled to be the perfect trophy wife. She hadn’t wanted to give Blake any reason to harm her baby. When his temper started to flare toward the little boy, she’d fled. Leaving no trace of her whereabouts until she’d sent that postcard.

             
She pounded her thigh. Stupid! She’d put Alex in danger because she’d felt guilty about running off without letting her parents know she was okay. She threw her hands in the air and grabbed Conley’s waist again when she felt herself slide to the side.

             
As he weaved the bike in and out of traffic on the freeway, Jo’s mind wandered, this time bringing Alex’s face into focus. Tears welled again as she saw the curly brown hair and big, dark eyes. In her mind, he smiled, melting her heart, and she laid her head against Conley’s back, allowing the tears to flow unchecked.

###

              Conley shifted, shrugging his shoulders as Jo’s helmet bit between his shoulder blades. He straightened his back, trying to ease the uncomfortable pressure of her helmet. She turned her head, digging it in farther.

             
He exhaled sharply and resigned himself to two more hours of a fiberglass helmet digging into his spine. The stinging wind as they whipped down the interstate blurred his vision. and he blinked rapidly.

He had
to get another helmet once they reached Vegas. Who would have thought he’d be getting married? Jo was a sweet little thing, but she did try his patience sometimes. How did she manage to stay hidden for five years? Although it took a lot of courage to run off like she’d done, she didn’t strike him as a very strong type of woman.  He’d be finding out soon enough.

The sign welcoming them to Vegas loomed ahead.

              “Mother? It’s me.”

             
“Jocelyn? Where are you? Your father and I have been so worried.”

             
Jo leaned forward until her forehead laid flush against the plexi-glass panel of the phone booth. The grit accumulating there made her flesh crawl, and she stepped back, grimacing. The stench of urine and vomit flooded over her. Her stomach heaved, and she breathed through her mouth.

             
The door to the booth opened and Conley squeezed into the small space behind her. Her face heated.  She tried moving into the corner away from him. There wasn’t enough room. She sighed. “What, Mother? I didn’t hear you.”

             
Conley brushed against her. A tingling sensation rose in the pit of her stomach. Her body tensed. She wanted to kick herself for the range of emotions welling in her. She tossed him a look. “Get back.”

             
Shaking his head, he gave her a slow, lazy smile. “I’m protecting you.” He leaned his head closer to the handset.

             
“Jocelyn!”

             
“I’m sorry.” She turned away and forced herself to focus on her mother’s voice.

             
“Who’s there with you?” Her mother’s voice was loud, apprehensive.

             
“The man you hired to shadow me.” She fought back her anger. Her knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on the phone.

             
“Oh, good. He found you. Now come home.”

             
“I
am
coming home. But only to get my son.” Jo closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall of the old fashioned phone booth, ignoring the dirty graffiti and rust. “Blake stole him.”

             
“It’s not stealing when it’s your own son.” Her mother’s sigh floated across the air waves.

             
“I told you Alex isn’t Blake’s son.”

             
“Blake’s marrying you was that boy’s salvation, Jocelyn. He’s the devil’s own spawn. Blake should be rewarded for giving that boy his name.”

             
“That
boy’s
name is Alex, and he’s your grandson.” Related to you in more ways than one, Jo added mentally.

             
“Blake is a good husband, Jocelyn. A good provider. He’s an upstanding…”

             
Jo sighed and opened her eyes. “I’m through talking to you. If you see Blake, tell him…”

             
“Let me speak to that man with you.”

             
She handed the phone to Conley and tried to squeeze past him. With his free arm, he reached out and pulled her close. Although she found herself growing more conscious of his virile appeal, and the feelings caused her to grow increasingly uncomfortable, she felt very safe in the shelter of his arm. Almost as if she’d been created just for that reason. To be sheltered under Conley’s wing. Her anxiety from speaking with her mother began to dissipate.

             
“Yes, ma’am,” Conley drawled. “I’ll be sure to…that is what you’re paying me for.” He smiled down at Jo and rolled his eyes. “With my life.”

             
“What?” Jo met his gaze.

             
He smiled again. That lazy smile which made her heart flip-flop. “I’m to bring you home where you belong--and to protect you. Oh, yeah. Your father sends his love.”

             
Jo slammed open the phone booth door. It banged into Conley’s elbow.

             
“Ow!” He rubbed his elbow and cast an irritated glance her way.

             
“Sorry.” She rushed over to the waiting Harley.

             
“I’ve got to get a helmet. I’m tired of bugs in my teeth.”

             
Jo folded her arms across her chest. “She makes me so angry.”

             
“Your mother?”

             
She nodded. “She doesn’t listen. She can’t see past his suave exterior. My mother thrills over the fact I lived in a two million dollar house and drove a BMW.  I wore designer clothes and had a live-in nanny.” She kicked at a can on the sidewalk. It clattered into the gutter.

             
Conley stepped closer to her and she shrugged him off. “Don’t touch me. You’re always touching me.” She regretted the words the instant she saw his face fall. She reached out to him. “I’m sorry.”

             
He held his hands up and stepped back. “I’m fine with it. I’ve always been a little too personal with people. Getting into their space.” He handed her the helmet. “We need to go. It’ll be dark soon, and we’ve got a lot to do.”

             
“Conley, I…” she stopped as he held up his hand.

             
“Don’t, Jo. I’m fine. Really.” He mounted the bike. “Let’s go.”

             
“Conley, there’s something you should know. Something that would explain why…”

             
“Later.” He looked around them, motioning to the throngs of people milling around the sidewalk. “This isn’t the place for personal revelations.”

             
She nodded and placed the helmet on her head. Sighing, she slung her leg over the bike and scooted into place behind him.

###

             
Ouch
. Conley’s heart plummeted to his stomach.
I touched a raw nerve there. A bit surprised that it bothers me so much.
He revved the bike into gear and squinted against the sun’s painful glare off the asphalt. He slowed and pulled alongside the sidewalk next to a motorcycle apparel store.  “Stay here.”

             
Jo nodded and kept her head down.

             
He returned ten minutes later and handed Jo a fluorescent pink helmet with an amber-colored face plate. “No hard feelings?”

             
The smile on her face when she removed the black helmet lit up his world.

             
“This is the gaudiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Jo laughed.

             
“Yeah, but isn’t it fun?”

             
“Glorious.” She donned the new helmet and pulled down the face plate. “How do I look?”

             
“Like a true biker chick. Now for some indecently short shorts and a halter-top and you’d really look the part. Not to mention the coronary you’d give your parents.”

             
She laughed again, low and throaty. His heart pounded against his ribs.

             
He donned the black helmet and popped the motorcycle in gear. He drove down the street toward an inexpensive hotel he’d stayed in on a previous trip to Las Vegas. He steered the bike beneath the overhang of the pink salmon colored Spanish style building. After securing the motorcycle, he loosely held Jo’s elbow and steered her inside.

             
“One room,” Conley told the desk clerk. “We’re getting married.”

             
The clerk looked up impassively and handed them a room key. “Everybody does. Do you want the room by the hour or for the night?”

             
Jo’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak. Conley put a finger to her lips. “For the night.”

             
He took the key from the clerk and led Jo outside. The hotel was one story and laid out in an L shape. A white railing separated the rooms from the parking lot. The wind picked up, blasting them with heat and dust. They passed a cracked and drained swimming pool which sported mildew stains in its plaster.

Their room, number
seven, lay at the end of the corridor. “A good number,” Conley said.

             
Jo snorted and folded her arms across her chest. Once the door opened, she pushed past Conley and halted so quickly inside the room that he ran into her.

             
“Ow!” Jo grabbed her foot and hopped. “You stepped on my heel.”

             
Reaching behind him, he closed the door. “Sorry. You shouldn’t stop like that. Why did you?”

             
“The shock of the room, I guess.”

             
He looked at the orange and purple paisley bedspread, the green shag carpet, and cheap reproduction art prints of desert scenes on the wall. “I don’t remember it looking this bad.”

             
“Came here a lot did you? By the hour?” Jo perched on the edge of the bed.

             
Conley tossed their bags on the bed and walked toward the bathroom. “Never brought anyone here.” He knocked the door open. It banged against the wall with a thud. “I was never with the same person long enough to take them anywhere.” He peeked around the corner. “Shower?”

             
Jo waved him off. “You can go first.”

             
He waited what seemed eons before the water from the shower grew hot. He left his clothes in a huddle on the floor and stepped behind the vinyl curtain.

             
Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as the hot water washed over his face and down his shoulders. Although it was in name only, the thought of getting married scared him. His heart raced like an out of control thoroughbred. What if they couldn’t get an annulment? Maybe he didn’t understand the law. What if Jo, classy Jocelyn, were stuck with him?

             
He rested his forehead against the fiberglass wall and allowed the water to flow over his shoulders and cascade down the sore muscles of his back. Thoughts zipped through his brain, one after another, gathering speed as fast as a tornado. He banged his head softly against the shower wall.

             
Jo’s face rose to the forefront of his mind. The dark auburn curls, shot through with threads of gold. The chocolate brown eyes with flecks as bright as the stars in the sky threatened to drown him in their sorrow. The mouth with a bottom lip fuller than the top. This line of thought would get him nowhere and accomplish nothing but fill him with frustration.

             
He turned off the water and stepped from the shower. He wrapped the largest of the threadbare bath towels around his waist. He stepped over the pile of his discarded clothing and opened the door.

###

              Jo sat on the edge of the queen-size bed and stared at the carpet between her feet. An interesting stain spread across the cheap fibers. Its shape reminded her of the state of Texas. She giggled and took a deep breath, willing her racing heart to slow.

             
She sat and listened to the water run in the shower.
I should just get up and leave. Find my own way to Prestige. Rescue Alex and disappear again.
She sighed.
But I’m tired of fighting this on my own, and Conley seems so capable.