Chapter 4
Doctor Blakely Smythe-Taylor
Business class back to New York is nowhere near as nice as Grayson’s private jet. I try unsuccessfully to find a place for my arm while sitting next to a man who, by the size of him, should’ve bought two seats.
Just as I’m about to fall asleep, we land in JFK. When I get to the bottom of the escalator, a limo driver’s waiting, holding a tablet with my name on it.
Grayson must’ve sent one of his men because he’s the size of a linebacker. I raise my hand, smile, and shake his hand.
“I’m her.” I point to the name.
“Great. Got any bags?”
“Nope. Just me. Let’s go.”
As he walks me to his car, I check out my missed calls and there’s one from Jack’s mom. When we’re on the road, I call her back.
“Hi Trish. You called?”
“Who is thish?” She doesn’t sound good.
“It’s Blakely. I’m returning your call. Is everything all right?” I should’ve asked Jack if he told her he was in the hospital. With his mom, it’s best to play everything close to the vest.
“I been calling and calling but I went to voicemail.” She says this as an accusation.
Generally, I don’t like to lie but for her, I make an exception. “I’m sorry. He’s probably on the job and can’t pick up.”
“What job?”
“He’s working as a bodyguard in DC.” I’m sure Jack told her that much.
“I know that much.” Her voice takes on an edge. “I want to know who he’s guarding.”
I consider my words carefully as the driver pulls out of the parking lot. “I think you need to ask Jack.”
“I’m asking you.” Her tone gets downright nasty but I smile sweetly.
“I’m sorry, Trish. He doesn’t want you to worry.”
“Well, guess what? I know he was guarding Senator McAlister and got in an accident which is on you. If you hadn’t tricked him into getting married, he wouldn’t take on these high-risk jobs.”
Really? Jack does exactly what Jack wants to do.I take a deep breath and remind myself she’s not mentally stable. I deal with patients like her all the time. However, it’s different when they hurt the people you love.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“Feel? Now you’re the smarty-pants shrink? You almost got him killed in Utah. Stupid, stupid, stupid. That’s what you are and you’re no good for my son.” Then, she hangs up and I sigh because she hit a nerve.
In heavy traffic, I think on last summer. I had waited so long to find my sister’s murderer and finally got the opportunity to visit the cult where I was born. To be fair, I never asked Jack to come along. He invited himself. Still, once he had decided to guard me, I should’ve been more careful.
Is it possible Jack is taking too many risks because of me? I pick up my phone, push one on my speed dial, and glance outside, The Van Wyck is a parking lot. Thank God I don’t have any clients until after lunch.
“Hey Mom. I’m back in New York.”
“Hi honey. How’s Jack?” My foster mother’s warm voice makes me smile.
“He’s doing fine. The bullet barely grazed him but he lost a lot of blood and needed an overnight in the hospital… I was wondering if we could talk.”
“Sure. My office hours start at nine. Want to meet at eight?”
