The Biker's Heart by Meg Jackson Read Free Book Online Page A

checking out that place in a half hour or so, anyway.”
    “ Thanks, boss. I just want the kid to feel better,” Kevin said, his voice growing nearer. He appeared around the corner of the doorway and nearly jumped a foot into the air when he saw me waiting.
    “ Shall we?” I said, turning on my heel. I don’t know exactly when I went from being a ragdoll who could barely hold her own head to this person who felt like she could climb Mt. Everest if it meant getting her mother back, but I knew I didn’t want that feeling to leave. I wanted to take advantage of it while I could.
    The drive to the Indian Lodge Motel was about ten minutes, mostly spent in silence, listening to the crackle of the radio and the reports coming in from base and from other squad cars. I thought, along the way, about whether or not Boon was there, too. If he knew where his dad was staying and he’d been in this neighborhood when he sent the text…I could only hope. Or, not hope. I didn’t know what I wanted to be true. Well, I knew what I really wanted: I wanted for Boon to have talked his dad into surrender, for my mom to be sipping tea in the lobby by the time we got there.
    But the reality, I knew, was much more complicated. What if Boon had agreed to leave with his father? What if Boon had fought his dad? What if he didn’t really know where his dad was, and we were, in fact, no closer to answers than before? We pulled into the parking lot; it was almost deserted. The motel itself looked like it could be blown over with a single puff from the big bad wolf.
    “ Stay here,” Kevin said, unbuckling and opening his door.
    “ No way,” I said, fairly leaping out of the car and striding towards the door. I could tell Kevin was already regretting the fight he’d put up to take me there. He’d probably imagined he was taking me for a little cruise, that I’d just sit in the car and wait for him to come out empty-handed. Tough luck, Kev.
    The night clerk was a bearded old man with a wheezing way of breathing. He smelled like lozenges. I didn’t care. If he was going to be able to help us, I’d consider him Jesus. Kevin approached behind me, pulling the police sketch from his pocket.
    “ Did you get a fax today looking for this guy?” I asked as he slid it onto the counter. The old man shook his head.
    “ Fax machine is broken,” he said, and I looked back at Kevin pointedly. The old man studied the picture for a few minutes. “Actually, yeah, he looks real familiar. I checked him and his buddies into room 127 a few hours ago. Maybe around 7 or 8.” He smiled, clearly thrilled to have a chance to help.
    I can only explain my actions after that as the actions of someone gone crazy with grief. I mean, looking back, I really can’t tell you why I thought any of the things I did were good ideas. I guess I knew they weren’t, but I wasn’t really thinking of anything. I was like a wire coil, all tensed up, suddenly sprung. I looked at Kevin once, quickly, then bolted.
    “ Wait, Samantha, stop!” he called out, trying to grab me as I raced past him.
    “ No, no, fuck you! That’s my fucking mother in there!” I cried, running out the door. Kevin started after me, but I was already halfway around the motel, room numbers whizzing past. Finally, I arrived at 127; Kevin was hot on my heels as I began to bang on the door, crying out.
    “ Mom! Mom, it’s me! It’s Samantha! Let her go, you motherfucker! You let her fucking go right now!”
    “… requesting backup…suspect in…hostage…backup….now…” Kevin was speaking into his walkie-talkie as he ran towards me; I turned to look at him, body shaking, mind a total wreck. And then he disappeared. Or, more accurately, I disappeared. Into the room. The door inched open and I felt strong hands pulling me inside, then heard the door slam shut. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from one lamp on the table. As my eyes adjusted and my heart raced, I realized I’d made one