My Biker Bodyguard (7 page)

C'mon, Jess, you did that all on your own. You wanted
her to be dead, because that meant you never had to ask her
why she left, or find out she didn't love you
.
She glanced at her father. His blue eyes studied the fake
grain in the table top.
Why couldn't you just trust me with the
truth?
She rubbed her face, held her bangs out of her eyes and
said to no one in particular. "Okay, fine, how do we get out of
this then?"
"That's just what we'd like to discuss with you."
Reanimated, Mordstrom's bound-up look faded. "We'd like for
you to go into protective custody."
"In Los Angeles." Mitch straightened, as if he'd waited
for this moment.
Davis sent him a glare. "We'd prefer you to remain in
Milwaukee, Ms. Owen."
"It's better if we go to LA," Mitch told her. "You'll have
people who are actively working on the case looking out for
you."
"Mr. Conner, let me assure you, the FBI works wherever
they are." Mordstrom was back to looking like cheeseboy
again.
"If it's really up to me, I'd rather stay in Milwaukee." Jess
wouldn't count on having a say in anything anymore. It was
too disappointing. But if they did give her the choice, she
wouldn't leave her family. Leave them? "What about my dad,
and the guys? What exactly does protective custody mean?"
"It means locking you up for your own good." Her father
shot the agents a disgruntled look. Jess hoped he didn't mean
that literally. How strange would it be to fear prison all day,
only to volunteer for it that evening?
"Not at all, Mr. Owen." Davis tried to smile reassuringly,
but the attempt faltered under her father's hard glare. "She'll be
well looked after in our safe house."
Jess frowned. "That means my family will be left to fend
for themselves?"
Mitch's jaw hardened. "It's not a priority for them."
"Conner." Mordstrom sounded offended. "That's entirely
inaccurate."
"Is it?" Jess couldn't explain why she wanted to back
Mitch up. Maybe the day's events, the kind where true colors
really shone, the fact he'd saved her life, made her feel closer to
him than she would have. "Will my father be placed in
protective custody?"
"No, no he didn't mean that." Davis corrected. "Your
father will not be a target if you're removed from the home."
"You can't guarantee me that." Jess crossed her arms. "I
won't go without my father."
* * *
You tell him, Jess, Mitch thought, and leaned back in his
chair. God, he could kiss her right now. She was back to the
Jess he'd met the day before; strong, self-assured, and ready for
anything. She held up extremely well for all she'd gone
through.
"Jess," Her father sighed heavily and Mitch wondered if
the big biker could appear any more dejected. What a
difference between father and daughter. Dan nodded to the
agents. "They're right. You can't stay home and wait for
someone else to come after you. You might not be so lucky
next time."
Jess narrowed her eyes. "I don't think luck had much to
do with it, Dad. They'll show up if I'm there or not. We can't
be sure they'll even know I'm gone."
Mitch rested his elbows on the table. Now it got good.
The agents had argued fiercely against Jess going to L.A., but
he'd gained their agreement, at least, to consider the idea when
he'd offered to let Jess decide for herself. Now, he had just the
trump card he needed. "I'm sure the FBI would be interested to
find out if you're being watched. They could arrange
surveillance on your home, see if anyone shows up. Your dad
will be protected, and if they find out you went to L.A. you'll
draw them away from your family."
She studied him, dragging a hand across the back of her
neck, considering. Her gaze fell on her father and her obvious
reluctance to leave him registered in the darkening of her eyes.
"Ma'am," Davis said. "I have to advise you against
traveling at this time. There's no guarantee that you'll be safe
during transport."
She stiffened slightly. Mitch held his breath. If the agents
managed to play on her family loyalty, he'd lose. But if they
pushed her too hard, she might rebel.
Jess nodded at him, but her gaze remained on the agents.
"Mitch is right. They'll send someone else after me and if I'm
here, then my whole family is at risk. Unless you agree to do
that surveillance thing Mitch suggested."
"We ain't afraid of no one." Dirty Dan thrust out his
beard. "You don't worry about us, girl. You do what you think
is right. Listen to them. You ain't gonna be safe travelin'
either. To me, one's just as bad as the other."
"I'm sure the FBI will provide an escort to L.A. for Jess."
Mitch grinned in triumph, he couldn't help it. He had no doubt
she would agree. To the agents, he asked, "How about it?"
Dread rolled off Jess in waves. The agents scowled at
each other, then Davis looked down the table, glaring a
moment harder at Mitch, before giving his full attention to her.
"I'm sure we could arrange that. But a safe house, here in
Milwaukee, is your only real option, Ms. Owen."
Jess smacked the table with both her palms and jumped, as
if she'd done it with more force than intended. "Fine, L.A. it is.
Now, why don't you guys go do whatever it is you do. Go
make arrangements or something. I want to talk to my dad.
Alone."
Mitch wanted to chuckle, but managed to suppress it. The
agents had pushed too hard. Instead, he stood, pushed his chair
in. He waited for the G-men to gather their files. They
finished their grumbling, and left. He'd hound them and make
sure everything went down the way it should. Never again
would he leave the details to others, even if it meant he'd be a
thorn in their side. He could be thorny when the situation
called for it.
Before he left, he put a hand on Jess's shoulder and bent to
whisper in her ear. "Don't worry, Cupcake, it's going to be
okay, you'll see."
He patted her, intending to leave, but she grabbed his hand
and gazed at him, her ire a mere shimmer over the amusement
in her eyes. "Don't call me cupcake."
She released him and looked away quickly, as if she'd
embarrassed herself. Mitch smiled as he stepped out the door.
She'd been through a hell of a lot in one day, but she hadn't lost
her sense of humor. Maybe everything would turn out okay.
He spied the agents nearing the end of the long corridor and
hurried to catch up. Things wouldn't get okay on their own.
He had work to do.
* * *
"We don't have much time Dad. If you love me at all,
don't drag this out. Just tell me the truth, and quickly, before
they come back." Jess folded her arms on the table and waited,
feeling the uncomfortable emptiness in the room.
"I didn't want to do it this way, but okay, here goes." He
heaved a deep breath, stood, and dragged Mitch's chair closer
to her. He sat like a man ready to give testimony. "Maybe I
should start with how I met your ma."
Jess held her breath, anticipating every word, every detail.
All her life she'd wondered, but had never said much, afraid to
send her father moping about for days, as he did whenever the
subject of her mother came up.
"We met at a bar. She'd just dropped out of college and
was all broke up about how her dad had cut her off." He
tugged on his beard and stared at the table. "I never believed
they were really rich, just kinda well off, y'know? Her dad
only came once, after you were born, and he showed up in a
limo. By then though, your ma was gettin' pretty heavy into
the junk and I was doin' the fencin' to help pay the bills."
He stopped abruptly and adjusted the bandana on his head.
"Nope, I gotta be honest with you. I was doin' the fencin'
because she and I were in deep. She got into meth, and I got
into everything. Maybe that was the difference–never met a
drug I didn't like, but I never met one I liked more than beer.
With your ma, though, that stuff ate her up. Took her over. By
the time I went to prison, she'd started runnin' with whoever
had the goods."
He studied the floor, swallowing hard. "If I'd known she'd
leave you alone like that, I woulda done something."
Jess touched his hand. How could she stay mad at him
now? She'd been ready rip him up one side and down the other
for lying to her, but he'd only been avoiding this pain. "It's
okay Dad, it wasn't your fault. You may have messed up, but
you did the right thing. If it weren't for you, I'd have had no
family at all."
He shook his head, but his fingers tightened around her
hand. "You don't remember, though. I thanked God you'd
forgotten, and now I gotta tell you, so you'll understand."
His gaze was filled with so much regret, so much
heartache, she wanted to tell him to be quiet, not to speak any
painful words. She didn't want to hear, or feel them.
"You were only six. She left on a Friday, as far as they
could tell. Monday, you didn't show up for school, and then
Tuesday, and Wednesday, too. The school called the cops, said
your ma was in violation of some truancy thing, that she'd been
warned before. So they found you. Alone, at home." His
beard bobbed as he scraped his lower lip between his teeth.
"After five days. Then they put you in that hell-hole of a foster
home. I had to do visits there at first, and I ain't never seen a
harder woman in all my life."
Jess tried to force a memory of all this. Only shadows of
the past rewarded her efforts. They danced away before fully
revealing themselves, taunting her with half-memories and
glimpses of odd, meaningless images. A stuffed bear with a
missing ear, a scrawny cat with a crooked tail, a child with
brown pigtails and an orange dress–but nothing of this woman
he talked about, and nothing about being alone.
She shuddered, shoulders shaking as if a chill wind had
tickled the base of her spine.
Alone
. The word resonated in
her, made her stomach clamp tightly down, made her heart
thud once, very hard, against her rib cage. Maybe she
remembered more than she could admit even to herself. "I
don't remember this. Bells are ringing, but nothing concrete."
He frowned. "You remember enough. You're shaking."
She shrugged, and her shoulder jittered. He was right.
"I'm fine, don't stop. Tell me how this is all part of what's
happening now."
"Okay," he said slowly, drawing the word out as if he
hadn't yet made up his mind. Then, as if deciding he wanted to
get it over with quickly, his words came in a rush. "Your ma
started writing about five years ago. She said she'd gotten into
NA, cleaned up, and had to make amends for what she'd done.
I was still pretty pissed at her and just tore up the letters."
"My mother wrote to you? All this time?" She let go of
his hand and pressed back into her chair. "Did she write to
me?"
He took so long to answer, she ran out of breath and had
to exhale. He nodded. "She wrote to you, in the beginning,
asking me to pass along the letters. But I called her up and told
her not to contact you."
"Why did you do that?" Jess tried to keep her voice below
a shout. "Why wouldn't you let me decide?"
"Because you didn't remember, Jess, and I never wanted
you to. Besides, you and I both have seen how easy it is to fall
off the wagon. She did a number on you and I wouldn't give
her a chance to do it again."
"And when were you going to tell me about this? When
was I going to find out that my mother didn't just forget me,
that she wanted to know me too?"
He didn't answer her.
Eyes blurry with unshed tears, Jess threw her hands up in
frustration, and spun her chair away from him. Her throat felt
thick. "Dad, I'm not a kid anymore, all right? You don't need
to protect me from the truth all the time. I'm not some naive
hick, either. I know the score."
For chrissakes, I shot a man
today
.
"Maybe I shoulda told you," he said. "But you were still
in school when the first one came and after all that time passed,
I didn't know what to say, or how to tell you."
Jess couldn't decide to scream, cry, or find a nice cozy bed
to nest in for a month. The never-ending day didn't show signs
of getting any shorter. She glanced at her dad. His gaze
pleaded for her understanding–and her forgiveness.
Who am I fooling, of course I'm going to forgive him
. The
choice was a foregone conclusion and why she bucked at the
idea didn't matter in the long run. It would be a waste of
worry.
Worst yet, she needed him to love her, to get a hug and be
told everything would be okay. They'd been through tougher
times.
His eyes glistened. "I'm so sorry, Jess."
Pain flowed through her, old scars ached. She turned
abruptly in her seat and flung herself at him. He'd been ready
and caught her in a bear hug. He patted the back of her head as
she sobbed against his shirt.
They might have stayed like that for eons if the door
hadn't opened behind her. She straightened quickly and wiped
her eyes. They burned, were puffy and raw. She was done,
over, finished, kaput. She had nothing left.
Jess focused on who'd come in and found Mitch staring at
her with apology in his brown eyes.
"Everything's arranged and we can get going whenever
you're ready."
She looked away and stood, drying the last of the damp
from her face. "I'm ready."
Her father rose and put an arm around her shoulder. She
realized that very shortly she'd be leaving for California. The
first real time she had ever spent away from him.
A zillion worries and fears raced through her mind as they
followed Mitch down to the first floor.
This might be the last
time I see my father
. They stepped out of the building.
Although the sun hadn't fully set yet, the world suddenly
seemed a much darker place.

Mitch looked at himself in the mirror. The hotel had been
his idea, but now he wished he'd suggested a convent. Of
course it was his fault. He'd demanded to stay close, to be in
the same room with her when at all possible.

After Jess had packed a suitcase and he'd grabbed his gear,
they'd driven south, followed by the FBI, and found a motel
near the freeway. He'd secured the room and headed straight
for the shower, pausing only to strip off his coat and holster.