My Biker Bodyguard (13 page)

"They think we're guilty. Those guys we took down,"
Mitch began, "were well-connected. They think my time in
New York is coming back to haunt me, that I'm using you to
pay them off."
She started to defend him, but he held up a hand. "They
got it all wrong. I'm not on the take and I don't jeopardize
innocent people for my own gain."
She studied him, though she didn't really need to. She
trusted him, already knew that, she just hadn't taken the time to
realize it fully. He'd saved her life. "I believe you."
"Good." He smiled. "That saves us both a lot of trouble.
What about you? Got something you want to tell me?"
"You mean like, did I mastermind everything while
tattooing J.D. and fixing Tiny's Harley?" She couldn't help her
grin, the idea was so ridiculous.
Mitch chuckled. "I take it that's a no."
"You take it rightly so." She chimed back. Maybe she
should march over to the agents and give them a good
scolding–but she didn't want to give them any reason to believe
she was the sort of psycho who would attempt to kill off her
own mother for money.
Mitch smiled, tilting his head as if happily surprised she
wasn't going to fly off the handle. She liked this friendship
developing between them. It turned the unfamiliar into the
familiar, made the strange endurable. Except every time he
smiled at her, her heart stuttered. Hands off, she'd been
ordered. Following orders wasn't her strong suit.
"What are you grinning at?" he asked.
She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her pants.
"Non'ya business."
He looked back at the door, then glanced back at her, arms
crossed against his massive chest. "You see why we gotta keep
it cool between us? We can't give them anything to get
suspicious about."
Not only did Mitch say he wanted to wait, but now the
FBI added a second obstacle. She didn't like obstacles, liked
the people who put them there even less. Just the idea that
Mitch was suddenly off-limits made him all the more
attractive. Just like Jack. Dating him, if she wanted to admit
the truth, had been in defiance of her father's interference in her
love life. Her dad had lain off after that, but not by much.
Was getting involved with Mitch something that came
from true attraction? Or was it a mixture of being alone and
rebelling against the forces that wanted to keep them apart?
Was she pursuing him simply to get back at those who implied
it wasn't a good idea?
"You do understand, don't you, Jess?"
She nodded. "I get it."
"Good." He looked relieved. "Now, let's go see Beth."
Guilt flooded her. Her thoughts hadn't been on her mother
at all. Mitch was right, nothing could happen between them,
they should just be friends until this whole mess could be
cleared up.
Maybe I don't have any self-control at all.
"Yeah,
let's get it over with. Maybe it'll take my mind off…things."
They joined Mordstrom and Davis and started for the
waiting limo. As they walked behind the agents, it hit her
again. The FBI thought she wanted her mother dead, was
risking everything for Mitch. If she let on that she was
romantically interested in him, they're suspicions would only
be confirmed.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked as held the
door open for her, worry in his eyes. "We can still go back to
the estate if you want."
"No, that's okay." She lifted her chin to show she had no
reservations about seeing the woman who'd abandoned,
neglected, and left her alone for not just five days, but her
entire life. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
* * *
Mitch watched her fingers knot and unknot in her lap and
had to resist the need to hold her hand. The silence became
more uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by. He searched for
something to say. "I'm going out on a limb here, but Jared says
her docs think Beth will come through just fine. I'm hoping, if
she knows you're there, she might be snapped out of it."
Jess kept her gaze out the window as the limo turned
toward the road, following Mordstrom and Davis in their car.
"I don't think anyone just snaps out of a coma. Remember, my
mother wouldn't recognize my voice if she heard it. You could
hire one of the nurses to pretend to be me and get the same
result."
Mitch grimaced. He hadn't thought of it that way. The
idea seemed absolutely ridiculous the way she put it. On the
other hand, when you didn't have much to go on, ridiculous
was as good as anything. "Still, I'd like you try."
"Why?" She looked at him now, her blue eyes as deep
and dark as twin whirlpools. "Why are you in such a hurry for
her to wake up?"
"We never got her version of what went down. She went
into the coma before we could."
"What do you think she might know that you don't?"
He shrugged. "It's hard to say. I'm hoping she saw the
sniper's face. I heard three shots that night. He likely used the
first one to blow through the glass. We found one bullet
lodged in the wall, and then the one that hit Beth. The point is,
we only have evidence of two shots. I'm hoping she can tell
me something other than what Jared's already said."
"What did he say?"
"He said I heard right. Beth took the third shot, Jared
nearly got hit by the one we found in the wall, and the other,
which broke the window, just disappeared."
In the absence of Jess's answer, he watched her, trying to
figure out what was going through her mind. She splayed her
hands on the tops of her thighs, knuckles white. He decided to
change the subject. "Don't worry about all this. We'll figure it
out when we get there."
After a while, asked, "Jared, he's very in love with my
mother, isn't he?"
Mitch nodded. "Yeah, they're fairly inseparable. Except
for now of course."
She glanced at him, a frown marring her smooth brow. "I
didn't see him this morning. Is he visiting at the hospital?"
"He went to his office downtown. Might meet us at the
hospital if he gets out of his meeting early enough." Mitch
thought Jared probably needed the time at the office to destress from the troubles at home. In the months he'd been with
the family, Jared only went to the office on golfing day.
Jess plucked at the edge of her t-shirt and cast a shy gaze
his way. "Do you think…do you think he likes me? Or is he
that friendly with everyone?"
Mitch smiled. "What's not to like?"
"That's not an answer."
"He likes you just fine."
She exhaled and let her head rest on the back of the seat,
her gaze returning to the view. "I never knew L.A. would look
so much like Milwaukee, and at the same time so different. If I
don't look up and see that mountain over there, I could be on
Lake Drive back home. I feel like I'm in a movie. It makes
everything so unreal."
He peered out the window, nodding. "I know what you
mean. It is hard to get used to."
Jess fell silent again. He waited patiently for the next
question, giving her time to prepare herself. "Will my mother
look…bad?"
"No," he said, remembering how Beth had looked as
though she were simply sleeping the day he'd overseen her
transfer to the private hospital, how he'd expected her to wake
up.
"That's good."
Seeing her mother had to be something she'd imagined for
most of her life. This couldn't be what she'd dreamed of all
these years. "You'll do just fine. We'll be there shortly. Don't
worry."

Jess got out of the limo, surrounded by Mitch and the
agents, and followed them through the glass doors. The
presence of the agents directly behind her was something she
found hard to get used to. At home, she rarely did things in
more than pairs–she and her father, she and J.D., she and
Trash, When you ran a business, someone had to stay behind
and man the post. Now, however, she rarely stepped foot
outside without three big guys surrounding her.

The sun fell away to fluorescent lighting as they entered a
silent hall. It stretched forward to the opposite side of the
building. Halfway down, a large circular motif glowed in the
multi-colored light cast from a stained glass window high
above. They paused five feet away, Mitch turning to a small
open area where a nurse sat, but Jess didn't pay them much
attention.

The hospital was beautiful, like a cathedral. She couldn't
imagine the kind of money it took to recover in a place like
this. The only time she'd ever seen anything so classic, so rich
with wood and design, was when she'd stayed up eating
popcorn too late and watched reruns of Lifestyles of the Rich
and Famous.

The nurse nodded to Mitch, "Go ahead."
Her heart picked up the pace with every step forward. By
the time she stood at the door, with Mitch holding it open for
her, she couldn't breathe. A uniformed police officer sat on a
chair to her left, but she didn't acknowledge him. Mitch called
him by name as he said hello. It barely registered. Her feet
were rooted to the glorious tiles laid in the floor. Her gaze
wouldn't unlock from Mitch's hand.
"Jess," Mitch whispered.
She broke her gaze from his hand with an effort. Step
one. Next she needed to breathe easier or she'd never get the
chance to take the last step–which would be her first step to see
her mother.
Lord, that doesn't make sense. I'm rambling in my
own skull
.
Mitch waited. When she gave him her full attention, he
said, "This isn't a good idea. We should leave."
She reacted as if he'd poked her with a cattle prod. "No,
we can't. It has to be now."
His mouth quirked, not fully forming the smile in his eyes.
"Okay."
She took a step forward, paused at the threshold, not quite
ready to look in the room, and glanced up at Mitch. He was so
smart. He'd done that on purpose–telling her no so she'd say
yes. Telling her to leave, so she'd stay. "You're good."
He only smiled and tilted his head toward the room.
"Your mother's waiting."
Jess nodded and exhaled, squaring herself mentally to
turn. When she did, she could only see the bottom end of the
bed, the rest was further in the room, behind the door.
Those are my mother's feet under that blanket.
She began to shake, the way she'd shaken when her father
told her about being alone for all those days by herself. She'd
always known her mother had left, but never that it had been
five days before anyone had found out. Now, the woman
who'd done that to her, a woman who'd fallen into drug
addiction and crime, who'd cleaned up her act and gotten sober,
had written to her daughter, hoping they could see each other,
know each other, was just a few feet away.
Somehow, she made it around the door. Her feet
continued to carry her to the edge of the bed, but her mind only
knew what her eyes were seeing. She floated in a strange,
disconnected state, away from herself, as if her body operated
automatically, without direction or guidance from her.
Her mother's hair, where it wasn't grey, was darker than
her own. The face, soft and lax in deep sleep, looked slightly
surprised. Her mother's eyebrows arched more. But otherwise,
Jess saw her nose, her mouth, and her own chin on the face of
the sleeping woman.
Did you ever wonder what I looked like?
Aside from a small patch of white bandage in the hollow
between her collarbones, the I.V. and two small monitors, one
of which showed three lines, the top one her mother's heartbeat,
this could have been a hotel room, a place where she could
wake her mother and relax as if on vacation.
Instead, her mother slept at a depth that Jess couldn't
reach. She touched the edge of the guardrail, the cold metal a
reality anchor in her ocean of confusion. How was she
supposed to behave? She felt like she was at a funeral and
expected to say something about the person in the coffin,
something kind and full of insight, but she had no idea what to
say about a mother she'd never spoken to in living memory.
Part of her wanted to shake the woman, demand she wake
up so she could hear everything she ought to know about what
had happened to her growing up without a mother. A child's
voice resonated within her.
Momma, don't go!
All the times she'd been nervous–her first period, her first
date, her first school dance, all the firsts where a mother is not
just wanted, but needed desperately.
Come back, I'm sorry, I'll be good.
All the sleepovers she couldn't have because her dad was
raising her, and a tattooed, long-bearded man wasn't the sort of
guy other kids' parents wanted watching their young daughters.
Oh God, I remember it all
. Staring out the window,
watching her disappear with the bag over her shoulder, waiting
there while the sun went down, while the cars stopped passing
on the street. Getting hungry, eating from a box of cereal that
was near empty.
All the times when girls bragged about their mothers
taking them shopping, about how much their mothers interfered
with their lives, and all Jess could think of was how wonderful
it would be to have anyone notice she was low on underwear.
Where were you? Did you have fun? Did you even care?
Most of all, she wanted Beth Kramer to know that she'd
once been Beth Owen, the mother of a little girl, a daughter
who'd needed and loved her no matter what. Jess wanted Beth
Owen back, she wanted that love, and she didn't know if this
person with a new name, trapped under white blankets and
captured by a coma, would ever even want to be that woman
again.
She cleared her throat and glanced at Mitch, surprised by
her reaction, too heartsick, too angry, to attempt speaking
directly to her mother.
"Go ahead, Jess." Mitch nodded toward Beth. When she
didn't reply, he leaned close to Beth and said, "It's Mitch, Beth.
Jessica, you're daughter, she goes by Jess now, she's here too."
His dark eyes returned to Jess, so warm compared to the
stark white of the blanket. "Say hello."
Inching forward, she half bent over the bed. "Hello."
He straightened. "Go on. Keep talking."
She exhaled and nodded. "I-I got here yesterday. I'm
staying in your house." She trailed off, not knowing if that was
a good thing or not. "I hope it's all right. I met your husband,
Jared. He is very nice."
God, could she sound anymore inane? Her face burned.
This was too hard, she couldn't keep up this false good nature.
"Mitch, this is crazy. I want to go now. I don't want to do
this."
I don't want to see her this way
. That might be selfish, she
thought, but there was no making this feel right. "Let's go
back. Okay?"
"Are you sure? I could give you a few minutes alone with
her."
Jess glanced back at her mother who'd not so much as
breathed differently. There wasn't any indication she knew
they were in the room. They had trespassed on her mother's
privacy, while she was most vulnerable. Jess wouldn't want to
have a bunch of people staring and talking at her if she were in
a coma. "Yes, I'm sure, let's go."
She turned away from her mother and the shaking
intensified. Her legs felt weak and her vision went dim.
Holy
cow, am I really going to faint?
She stopped, gulped a deep breath, and waited for the
room to stabilize. Mitch placed an arm around her back to
support her. She was shocked. She'd thought everything had
been going so well, she'd even felt kind of numb. Why,
suddenly, couldn't she stand on her own two feet?
"You just turned as white as ghost. Are you going to
faint?"
She shook her head gently, afraid too much would make it
worse. "Don't be silly."
She didn't shrug off his arm as they started forward.
Again the world wobbled and she grabbed his shirt in a fist
until the last of the dizziness faded. She smiled. "Sorry, I
guess maybe I was a little…thrown for a loop there."
"No need to apologize."
She released his shirt, her hand visibly see-sawing in the
air. A current of nerves continued to race through her system,
but she felt better, a little stronger and even as she straightened,
the vibrations decreased.
As she opened the door, an alarm rang, pulsing in
conjunction with an amber light above her head. She shrieked
and jumped back. What did she do? She snatched her hand
away and noticed the sound came from everywhere, not just in
her mother's room. Heart thudding hard, she asked, "What the
hell is that?"
"Fire alarm," Mitch said over the buzzing rhythmic bray.
He pushed her away from the door and pulled his gun. "Stay
here."
He opened the door, pistol lowered at his side, and stuck
his head out. Dimly, she heard him ask the officer, "What's
happening?"
Beyond him, nurses and patients rushed up and down the
corridor. The amount of noise and people scared her more than
the alarm itself. The silent church-like hospital looked like
Armageddon.
"Don't know. Someone's pulled the fire alarm." The
officer stood in the door and shook his head. "I'll check it out."
Mitch nodded and stepped back into the room, shutting the
door closed behind him. "We'll wait here. I don't want to risk
losing you in the confusion."
She nodded, silent with tension. Her thoughts twisted
down a passage of what if's that only added to the growing
anxiety inside her. She yanked herself back, repeating the
mantra in her head,
"This will end, this will end, this WILL
end."
What would she do when it was over?
I wish they'd shut
off the alarm.
When this was over, she would spend the rest of
the summer laying the sun.
If I live that long.
She'd lie there
and think of nothing but her next daiquiri.
Please, won't
someone stop that damned alarm?
Jess covered her ears. Each
pounding bleat forced her pulse into a too-fast rhythm.
Agent Davis burst into the room. "C'mon, we have to
clear out. Now."
Jess dropped her hands as Davis went to her mother.
"What's going on?" Mitch asked, following the agent to
the bed.
Davis started piling all the devices Beth was hooked up to
along the inside of the guardrails. "There's a bomb threat,
we've got to go. Now."
"A bomb threat?" Mitch paused, holding the I.V. bag of
clear liquid in midair. "At this very minute? While we're
here?"
"Doesn't matter, we can't stay in here." Davis pulled the
bed away from the wall and unplugged the monitor. Jess
jerked back from deep inside herself as the lines on the monitor
went black. If her mother quit breathing, or if her heart
stopped, no one would know.
Jess lurched forward, moving before her feet could. She
had to do something, keep watch, anything to help. She
couldn't stand feeling useless anymore. She wanted the Glock.
Hell, the sniper could be out there, ready to pounce, and with
the only guns available tied to the men occupied by her
mother's bed, her sense of security completely disappeared.
"Wait, wait!" She stopped the bed from rolling out the
door. "Let's think about this. Do we know that this isn't about
my mother?"
"Why?" Davis asked, but Mitch remained silent, staring at
her.
"Is there someone else in this hospital under protective
guard?" Jess wanted to run for the exit and had to force herself
not to dash willy nilly out the door. A bombing wasn't an event
she wished to attend, thank you very much. But if the real
threat was outside?
Davis shook his head and straightened. "No, there's no
one else on guard here. But there are a lot of wealthy people,
people with families waiting to inherit. The threat could be
meant for anyone, or any number of reasons."
Before she could respond, Mitch said, "Or, it could be
false and the sniper is waiting outside for us to bring both Jess
and her mother into the open."
Jess nodded. "Exactly."
Davis froze. "We can't risk it. We've got to assume there
is a bomb."
"We can't just trot Beth and Jess out the front door."
Mordstrom dashed into the room, half his hair sticking
out. "What's taking you so long? C'mon."
"Wait," Davis said. "They think this might be a setup, a
way to get the women into the open."
Jess didn't like the idea of being blown to smithereens, but
she didn't want to walk outside, into the open, where they could
get picked off like ants under a magnifying glass. Out seemed
better than banking on the bomb being far enough from the
room. "Is there another way out of here? Or a saferoom, like
back at the estate? Somewhere else we can go?"
The men all looked at each other. Mitch answered, "I
don't know. But let's not sit here talking about it. If there is a
bomb, we should get moving now."
Through the open door, people raced in both directions.
Jess watched a woman in a suit, purse in one hand, keys
jingling in the other, credentials bouncing from a cord around
her neck as she jogged away from the front door. "Let's follow
her."
"Good, now move." Mitch dropped the I.V. on the bed as
he grabbed the guardrail and pushed Beth into the hall.
Jess slipped into the stream of people and kept her eyes on
the woman in the grey suit. She couldn't keep up with her as
she tried to help the men force the bed through the crowd.
People shouted, an elderly woman waved scrawny arms in
the air, her mouth agape in terror, as an orderly pushed her in
the opposite direction. A door opened where the hall turned to
the left and a stream of people erupted outward from the
stairwell beyond. Some wore hospital gowns, others were
dressed in ties and coats. They all looked frightened.
A voice cut over the sound of the alarm, directing all
personal to evacuate their patients in an orderly fashion and
reassemble outside at their designated areas. An elderly man
whipped down the hall on a motorized wheelchair. He came
too close and glided over her toe. She only had a moment to
think about the pain before the lady in grey dodged through a
set of double doors. No one else followed her.
She pushed through, saw the woman disappear to the
right.
"Wait, Jess," Mitch called behind her as the doors flapped
closed. She'd gotten too far ahead.
Jess spun around and held open the closest door. Davis
propped it open as he went through and nodded her forward.
They all moved in a silence, made more intense by the
alarm's monotonous tone. Jess skirted a cart full of cleaning
supplies. When they reached the end of the hall, she saw
where the woman had gone.
Bright sunshine streamed in from a delivery bay. She
paused, afraid of stepping into the sunshine, afraid it would act
as a spotlight for anyone watching the exit.
"Wait here," Mitch said, his gun in front of him as he
stepped around the door. The agents joined him, adding their
guns to the defensive front line. All three disappeared from
view.