Chapter Eighteen

Later that afternoon, when Alice heard the front door to her apartment open, she flew over to meet Hugo. Her apartment had seemed too quiet without him. Dull. Lifeless. “Did you learn anything? Was the policeman helpful?”

He bent and kissed her full on the lips. Despite being apprehensive about her mother, her body still tingled with the feel of his lips on hers. “I have footage of the incident. A passerby handed it in to the police,” he said.

A flash of anger made her stomach clench. “No one told me that. I knew there were witness statements taken. When I call the cops, I get zilch.”

“Settle down, sweetheart. A kid handed the footage in yesterday afternoon. Refused to give his name. Just passed a memory stick to the receptionist and walked out. The cop gave me a copy.” He pulled the memory stick from his pocket and showed her.

“Why wouldn’t they give a name? That’s odd,” she said, frowning.

“Not if the real person who took the footage wanted to remain anonymous. The cop told me folks lose their memories fast when they learn they’re dealing with bikers.”

“Can I have a look?”

He walked into the bedroom, came out with his laptop, and set it up on the dining room table.

She sat next to him. He turned to her and put his hand under her chin, his expression troubled. “This is going to show your momma’s hit-and-run. It’s going to distress you. You sure you want to see this?”

Agitation made her temper flare, and she jerked her chin away. “Oh for goodness’s sake, I worked in emergency when I trained. I saw everything. Of course it’s going to upset me, but I have to understand exactly what happened to Momma. Maybe I’ll see something you won’t.”

Instead of being angry with her attitude, he put his big arm around her shoulder and gave her an understanding squeeze. “I’ll play it through for you. If it’s too much you tell me to stop.”

“Okay.” She swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry I snapped.”

“You pulled me back from the edge when you jumped on my back. No other woman would have done that for me. I needed you then,” he said, his voice low and gentle. “You need me now.”

“Yeah, I do. I like your hugs, too.” She nuzzled his neck. And the fantastic sex. And the company.

“Behave, sweetheart, I have to focus. You’re making me hard.” He took his arm from around her and opened his laptop.

“Everything makes you hard.”

“Only you,” he said.

She leaned forward on her seat while Hugo inserted the memory stick into the side of his laptop and clicked the play icon. The video looked like it was taken in front of the hospital where she and her mother worked, facing the street. A slightly built woman came into focus, dressed in nurse’s scrubs. She crossed the road and walked toward the camera, the face too grainy to identify, but Alice knew who it was from the nurse’s purposeful stride. “Momma.”

Hugo put his arm around her again and pulled her into him. “You okay?”

“I have to be.” Unconsciously, she bit down on her knuckles as she watched. Just as the woman reached the curb, a white sedan sped along the street, veered toward the woman, and clipped her. Her momma rolled over the hood of the bonnet, landing hard, headfirst, onto the pavement. The car sped off and out of the frame.

She hunched over, her eyes hot with tears.

The video went blank.

“I was wrong to show you,” he said, pulling her into his chest.

She looked up into his eyes. “No. I had to see this. You were right, though. It was hard to watch.” He was always right about her.

“It wasn’t an accident,” he said, watching her carefully.

“It sure wasn’t.” Shocked tears rolled down her face, and she wiped them with the back of her hands.

He pushed the laptop lid down with one hand and drew her close. He was a wall of comforting muscle, and he smelled divine, like the citrus wash she kept in the bathroom and his own special scent.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She snuffled against his chest, craving his warmth and protection. It didn’t matter that the weather was regular New Orleans steamy, she was chilled to her marrow.

He reached into his jean pocket, pulled out a man’s handkerchief, and wiped the tears from her face.

“Didn’t think you’d be the clean hanky-carrying type,” she said, taking it from him and dabbing at her eyes. “Do they teach that in soldier school?”

“I’m trained to think ahead. You care a lot about others, but you should have some caring, too.”

She swallowed, her throat dry. “Sometimes, I think I can’t take anymore pain, but it keeps on coming anyway.”

His face softened. He used his thumb to wipe a tear from her cheek and put it to his mouth, licking the tear. “I’m here now.”

She pulled out of his arms and went into the kitchen and filled two glasses with water, putting one down for him before sliding back into the seat next to him. “Three days ago, the police didn’t know if it was an accident or not. I guess I was hoping it was.” She hiccupped. “I didn’t want to think the worst. That someone would do this just to get at Daddy. But what other explanation could there be?”

“Your father was right to get you a bodyguard. Unless you are inside this apartment or at the hospital, I don’t want you to leave my side.”

“You think I’m next?” She grabbed her glass and gulped down her water.

He turned back to his computer. “I need to enhance this,” he said, not answering her question. “Why don’t you do something else for a bit? I can’t work if you’re crying.”

“You’ve got a soft side, soldier.”

“Only where you’re concerned. I don’t like it when you’re hurting.” He clicked on the image and got to work.

She took the hint. She figured she might as well cook some deep-fried chicken and Creole mash potatoes. Comfort food. Not that she had the stomach for eating, but Hugo had been out all day.

Some time later, he called her over. “Alice? I want you to look at something.”

She washed her hands, dried them, and went back to sit with him.

“Your mother had an early start for work. There aren’t many people around.” He pointed to the screen. “These people here are the two witnesses who came forward with a statement, according to the cop. See this man on the edge of the frame leaning against the shop wall? He’s standing well out of the initial view shot. In fact, we only see him because the person who took the film focused his camera on the approaching car.” He pressed ENTER so that the image enlarged further. “There’s not much of him there, just the side of his face and stomach, but you can just get an idea of his build. Watch while I enhance him. He’s looking in the direction of your mother before the car hits her.”

She squinted while he enlarged the image of what could be a tall, heavyset man dressed in black. It was difficult to make out the face, but he had a long beard that reached his waist. Heart in her throat, she pointed to the image, too. “That’s Mad Dog.”

He caught her gaze. “I thought so, too, though we’re really only getting build and beard.”

Disgust filled her stomach, and she wanted to be sick. “Most bikers have facial hair, but Mad Dog’s beard is to his waist.”

“Our thoughts align, honey. Now watch while I focus on the driver of the vehicle.” He clicked on some keys, and the face of the driver came into view.

She peered at the image. “It’s too blurry, and it looks like he’s wearing a hat.”

“It’s hiding his face, but look at the hand on the wheel.” He kept pressing the keys until the hand filled the screen.

She squinted again, trying to make out the image. “It looks like a tattoo of a serpent.”

“Anyone you know have that tattoo?” he asked her.

Alice grabbed her cell phone off the table. “They’re all inked. I can’t think. Let me call Daddy.”

It took her father a moment to pick up. “Later, Alice. Something’s going down here,” her daddy said. His voice sounded clipped and tense.

“Daddy, you have to come here. Nothing’s more important than Momma.”

“Not now, Alice.”

“But Hugo has footage of Momma’s hit-and-run. Mad Dog was standing on the street watching. Hello, Daddy? Hello? Hello?” She pulled the phone back and looked at it. Her mouth dropped open. “He hung up on me.”

Hugo’s eyes narrowed. “That normal behavior?”

“No. Nothing is more important to Daddy than Momma. Why would he hang up on me? He never hangs up on me.”

“Let your father be. He’ll call back when he can,” he said. “It’s not like we can question Mad Dog. I figure after last night, he’s alligator bait.”

“To hell with Mad Dog.” Her temper flared. “How could Daddy hang up on me? Momma and I need him. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.” She redialed her father’s number, but it went to message bank. “Damn,” she said, slapping the phone down on the table.

Hugo stood and stretched. He strode into the kitchen and took the lid off the frypan. “That sure looks tasty. How about we eat early and spend the evening in bed?”

“I can’t eat. I’m crazy damn mad.”

“Come on, honey, you need to eat. I don’t get off on skinny girls. Did I ever tell you how much I love your curves?” He held out his hand to her. “I need you fed before I distract you. You can take your anger out on me, any way you want, though my balls are off limits.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she smiled.

“It’s not you I’m angry at. I’m not even angry with Daddy. I just wish I didn’t have to live like this. Always worrying about my daddy, terrified that I’ll be called down to the morgue to identify his body.” She stood, walked into the kitchen, and threw herself into his arms, hugging him.

“You have me.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

Hugo pulled her close, with a great man-sized bear hug. “When I get to the bottom of who hurt your mother, my job is done here, and I need to leave.”

She pulled back, despite how much she loved being in his arms. “I know,” she said softly. “That was the deal. You were honest. It means everything to me.”

“It was the deal, except I’m not ready for this to end.”