My Biker Bodyguard by J.R. Turner Read Free Book Online

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.