“It’s that one,” Wes said, pointing to a house three houses ahead of them. “Get closer.”
But Jordan stepped on the brakes, guiding the car over to the curb. “We don’t want her to see us. I can’t drive right up to the house. Is there room in her garage? Could she have parked there?”
“I’ve never been in her new place,” Wes said. “But she’s obsessively neat, so her garage probably has plenty of space, and she’d keep her car there to keep it from getting pollen or leaves or rain spots on it.”
Hoping that the red Mazda was in the garage, Jordan parked the car and sat back, watching the house carefully. She was listening for sounds within it, but there were so many sounds in the neighborhood around her that it was impossible to distinguish any noise that Alana might be making.
“Can you hear her?” Jordan asked. “Her thoughts?”
“I’m searching,” Wes said, his eyes closed as his mind reached out. “Wow, there are a lot of thoughts flying at me. I never realized how powerful this is. I mean, really, Jordan. I’ve been meaning to tell you—there was this girl at the bar last night. She looked so young and so sad, and I heard her thinking that nobody cared about her. And I realized—oh wait.”
Jordan waited, watching him for any hint of information she could glean from his face or his body language.
Wes squeezed his eyes shut, appearing to strain. Then he sighed and shook his head. “No. It’s all too jumbled. There are too many thoughts. I can’t see her, so I can’t just zero in on her.”
Sagging back against the seat, Jordan sighed. “You got my hopes up.”
“I’m sorry. Get closer. Drive by her house and park on the other side. Maybe I can hear something while we’re driving by.”
Jordan took his suggestion, moving the car again and driving slowly past Alana’s house. She didn’t hear anything from Wes, but as they drove past, the garage door began to slowly open, and in her rearview mirror, Jordan saw the red Mazda.
“Got her,” she said, gripping the wheel tightly. “She’s there, and she’s about to leave.”
Wes nodded, his eyes still closed. “I can hear her. Like a whisper of her. She’s in a hurry.”
Jordan circled the block, driving carefully past Alana’s street as the red Mazda pulled out of the driveway and went left. She had plenty of experience tailing someone, so Jordan sat back, letting her instincts take over as she circled again, watching from afar as the Mazda turned right out of the subdivision.
“It’s a good thing she has such a bright car,” Jordan said, taking her time coming up to the stop sign where the Mazda had turned. “She’ll be easy to keep track of.”
Jordan followed Alana for several miles, hanging far back from her and watching not only for Alana’s next move but also for anyone else who might be tailing her. She didn’t see anyone that looked suspicious, but she knew that whoever had been at the bar last night had to be following Alana. If they were tailing her to the bar both nights, then surely they had to be following her elsewhere as well.
Now that she thought about it, they might have tailed her to Jordan’s apartment.
She couldn’t think about that now. Alana had merged onto the interstate and staying the appropriate distance behind her to both see her the moment she turned on her signal but also keep her from noticing them took all of Jordan’s concentration.
Things were going well, and Jordan was beginning to feel comfortable, when, out of nowhere, Alana pulled off at an exit while Jordan was in the middle lane. She couldn’t get over without sidelining several cars, and the exit was coming up quickly. “Dammit!” Jordan said, slamming on her brakes and almost causing the pickup truck behind her to rear-end her. The truck driver laid on his horn, gesturing wildly at her, as he went around her vehicle, but Jordan didn’t care. She wasn’t about to lose Alana just when she should be getting somewhere.
She sat totally still in the middle lane of the interstate, her blinker on to indicate that she wanted to get over, until someone in the right lane finally let her in. Jordan waved to the person and took the exit, muttering under her breath. “Did she not use a turn signal because she was on to us?”
“Alana doesn’t really care about things like turn signals,” Wes said, gripping the arm of the passenger seat, and Jordan drove somewhat wildly to catch up to the red Mazda up ahead. “Kind of like you don’t believe in the flow of traffic, apparently.”
“I believe in staying on my mark,” Jordan said, nodding up ahead to where the Mazda was turning into a non-descript building. Alana pulled around the building and parked in the back, and Jordan drove right past it at first, doing a U-turn at the next light and slowly making her way back to the building. She passed it again, just in time to see Alana slip through a side door, and then, on her third pass, Jordan finally pulled into the fast food place that was next door to the building and parked the car.
She looked over at Wes, who looked back at her, his hand on his seat belt.
Jordan undid hers, and nodded towards the building. “We have to be careful. All we want to do is hear.”
“I’ll be able to hear their thoughts but not what they’re saying. Sometimes what they’re thinking, and what they’re saying aren’t the same thing.”
Because she had already told him so much, it didn’t seem to matter that she was going to tell him one more thing. “I’ll be able to hear their words.”
Wes was confused for a moment, but then his face cleared. “Heightened senses?”
Jordan nodded.
“Superhero,” Wes said, carefully getting out of the car. “There is no denying it now. You are a real-life superhero.”
Jordan followed him out of the car, smiling to herself. If only he knew.
Chapter 21
Alana
Glancing over her shoulder, Alana slipped down the hallway of the largely abandoned office building and knocked on the third door to the left. At the muffled sound from inside, she twisted the doorknob, opened the door slightly, and slipped inside. She had gone straight home after going to see Wes, only to find the awful woman from the night before waiting there to start accusing her of things. She didn’t know how the woman— [ name was Jordan, wasn’t it?]—had connected all the dots so quickly. Alana was always very careful. After all, she had been in this business for over two years, and Wes, who had lived with her for most of that time, had never realized what she was involved in. Her plan was foolproof. It allowed her a high percentage of the profit with a low percentage of the risk.
But now, thanks to Jordan, that was all in jeopardy.
“What are you doing here?” Sal Amar asked, not looking up from the computer he was typing at. “You’re not supposed to come here.”
“I called you,” Alana said, striding forward into the room.
“And I told you to come,” Sal said, sparing her a glance. “Don’t interpret that as my wanting you here.”
“I have a problem.”
“Well, that seems like an issue for you to deal with, doesn’t it?” Everything about Sal’s face and tone was dismissive. He was uninterested in giving her the time of day, but Alana knew that this was the persona he showed everyone. Sal was the mastermind of their little venture, and it didn’t pay him well to indulge those who struggled to get on board.
But that wasn’t what she was doing.
“Sal, I’m not here because I’m feeling jittery, or because I can’t handle my share of the responsibilities,” Alana said, striding over and sitting down. She crossed her legs, her slim-fit black slacks highlighting her long, slender legs. She was nervous, admittedly, but she had to keep herself from showing it if she expected Sal to help her. “I’m here because someone is trying to murder me.”
To Sal’s credit, he stopped typing and looked up at her with some amount of interest. “Go on.”
“I was at a bar last night,” Alana said, leaving out most of the details, including the fact that she had been semi-stalking Wes because that sounded as pathetic as it made
her feel. “My boyfriend was with me.” It was partially true, anyway, and it sounded better. “Someone took him outside at gunpoint, asked him questions about me, and then shot him. Someone who said that they intended to murder me. And the investigator looking into it knows about our enterprise.”
Sal pushed back from his desk and stood up from his chair. He appeared calm, not reacting in any way to what she said. But when he rounded his desk, moving closer to her, Alana grew nervous.
“What investigator?” Sal asked, without a hint of anxiety in his voice.
Alana watched him, still wary. She had expected a reaction of some sort, but she was getting nothing. “I only know her first name. She’s …a friend of my boyfriend’s.” It rankled her to describe Jordan that way, but she had to make her story plausible. She couldn’t very well say that Wes wanted nothing to do with her, and that he was now involved with some woman who had almost trapped her into admitting that she was a cog in a gem theft industry.
“And what is her first name?” Sal asked.
“Jordan.”
“And your boyfriend’s name is Wes Moretti. Is that right?”
Alana nodded, slowly. “Yes, but my concern is that there is someone who wants to murder me and that this woman, who I do not trust, knows that I’m involved with—.”
“Hush,” Sal said, sharply, his face still passive but his tone hateful. “Do not keep saying it. I think that it was made very clear to you when you started with us that the way to permanently end your association with our organization was to speak about it. That was a red-line rule. Was it not?”
“I admitted to nothing,” Alana said, forcefully. “I denied it all, and I walked out on an offer to help me without causing me legal trouble. That’s a sign of loyalty, I believe. I could have accepted Jordan’s offer of personal protection, but I didn’t. I’m here, telling you what’s happened.”
One of Sal’s eyebrows arched dramatically, as he tilted his head. “Oh, so I should be grateful to you?”
“I followed protocol.”
“And what protocol did you break to draw enough attention that someone is trying to murder you? I’m sure you’re aware of this, but you are a rather insignificant cog in our operation. Anyone looking to take us down would hardly start with you. So, you must have done something that made you a target.”
Alana bristled at Sal’s assessment of her value. She might not be the head of the operation, but she was far from insignificant. She had trained as a gem inspector. When customers purchased high-end pieces and wanted an appraisal, she performed one accurately, then switched out the gems for lesser-value gems before actually handing off the piece of jewelry to the customer. Most people, once they had an expert appraise a piece, never bothered to check it again, and if they did, there were any number of reasonable explanations for the discrepancy. At worst, she could claim to simply be bad at her job. Or, if the person had been in possession of the piece of jewelry for some time, she could insinuate that there were any number of other people who would have had opportunity to switch out the gems.
But she had never had to cover her tracks at all, because most high-end buyers were happy to get a piece of paper that stated the value of their piece. Then they paraded their jewelry around town, bragging about its value to all of their friends without ever bothering to check.
It was almost too easy, really, passing off the high-end gemstones to her contact. And without her careful work and her established reputation, the operation, as Sal called it, would be in a bad position. She knew that they had other suppliers, obviously, but she was a consistent, reliable one.
“I didn’t do anything,” Alana said, unable to keep the tension out of her voice. “I have been going about my job, just as I have for the past two years. I don’t make mistakes. And I don’t talk. What I want to know is how you’re going to protect me from someone who wants to take my life. I think you’re underestimating just how significant my contribution is to your operation.”
“Really?” Sal asked. He smiled, but it was a cold smile. “And here I was thinking that you were utterly disposable.”
For the first time, true fear settled in Alana’s gut. She hadn’t known exactly what to expect when she called a meeting with Sal. She knew he was tough, and she knew that he hadn’t gotten to the head of a criminal enterprise by being understanding and holding people’s hands along the way. But it was clear to her that she had done nothing wrong, that she was a victim, and that she was a powerful asset who needed to be protected. He seemed to view her as a disposable nuisance, and she was suddenly worried that if the person already out to kill her didn’t get to her first, Sal might take care of it himself.
“Sal,” Alana said, turning on her full charm. “Look, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m a loyal person. I work for you. That comes first for me. I will continue to work for you, and I do good work. I just need help here. I need you to help me get whoever is on my back off my back. And then everything will go back to normal. I make you money. That’s my job.”
“It seems to me that you’re more of a liability than an asset currently,” Sal said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at her through watery gray eyes. “I don’t like messes, Alana. And I don’t clean up other people’s messes—ever. If you’re causing me a problem, then you’re out. Consider yourself relieved of your duties. Someone will be in contact with you shortly about taking over your position. And if you were to consider reaching out to Jordan again, allow me to assure you that she cannot protect you from me.”
Alana was astounded. And infuriated. She got to her feet, seeing red. “This is unbelievable,” she said, almost laughing in her disbelief. “I have done everything right, and you’re cutting me loose? You’re going to just throw me out there with no protection at all, and if I find my own protection, you’re also going to try to kill me?”
“I’m not going to try,” Sal said. “I’m going to succeed. I didn’t get this far by allowing anyone to become a burden on my operation, Alana, and that is exactly what you now are. You have someone out to kill you, and you have an investigator who has connected you to a gem theft ring. You’re dead to me. I don’t know you, and neither does anyone else I work with.”
“That’s not fair,” Alana said.
“I didn’t say it was.” Sal rounded behind his desk again, pulling open a drawer. Alana thought that he might at least give her some money to make the news easier—to buy her silence. But he pulled out a gun instead, clicking the safety off and pointing it at her with that same calm expression on his face. “It’s your choice. You can leave, knowing that I’ll be watching for even one toe stepped out of line. Or I can kill you now. I have a very good team who knows how to clean up after me.”
Alana couldn’t look away from the gun. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her palms were sweating. She took a step backward but was so distracted that she didn’t see the chair in her way, and she tripped over it.
All she could think about was getting out of that room as fast as she could. She could think about how she was going to protect herself from the people trying to murder her later—once she got away from the man who currently had a gun on her.
“Sal, calm down,” Alana said, holding her hands up in the air and taking another step backward, this time avoiding the chair. “I’ll go. I’ll go, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Yes,” Sal said. “You will.”
“Just put the gun down.”
“I’m not going to do that,” Sal said with a smile that was almost friendly. “Turn around and walk out of the room. Go on. I won’t shoot you if you walk straight through the door, leave, and never breathe a word about me or my organization.”
Alana didn’t trust him—not a bit. But she didn’t know what else to do. She walked backward for a few steps, but he advanced on her, narrowing his eyes and pointing the gun directly at her head.
“I said turn around and walk out.”
Shaking, Alana spun o
n her heel. It was all she could do not to run for the door, but she forced herself to walk slowly towards it, one step at a time. It was only fifteen feet away from her, but it felt like miles. She felt the gun trained at her back every step of the way. And just as she reached for the doorknob, she heard the sound she had been dreading.
There was a crack of gunfire, muffled by a silencer, and she dropped to the ground, her hands over her head. She began to sob immediately, adrenaline and fear coursing through her and twisting in her stomach. The door was still closed in front of her, but she was now desperate to get out. She grabbed above her for the door handle above her, but before her hand could wrap around it, there was a crash behind her.
It was the sound of a window shattering, and Alana screamed, throwing herself back to the ground and curling up into a ball by the door as her heart hammered out of her chest. She wanted to move—to run—but her body wouldn’t cooperate. She was frozen, and all she could do was sit there, curled over on herself.
A gunshot rang out, echoing in her ears, and she felt the zing of a bullet as it flew so close to her head that her hair moved in response to it. The bullet embedded itself in the wall just above her head. She didn’t know if it was meant to hit her or just to terrify her, but either way, she could hardly move, terror had gripped her so completely. She held herself, rocking back and forth, and she hoped as hard as she could that someone would save her.
Chapter 22
Jordan
Jordan’s plan had been to let Alana walk out of Sal’s office, then apprehend her in the parking lot to explain to her once more that her only chance of survival was to let Jordan help her. Alana would say yes this time, she was sure of it, and then Jordan would have taken Sal on herself.
But when she had heard a gunshot, Jordan had to think fast. She had been standing beside the window, and she used her elbow to smash through it, barely feeling the cuts that the action left on her forearm. In seconds she was in the office, and Sal, weapon still in hand, whirled to face her. She took stock of him quickly. Tall. Lanky. Weak-looking eyes, a beard, thin lips, and a waifish figure that shouldn’t inspire fear in anyone.
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