“On the road?” Jenna asked.
Jordan walked up beside Tom. “Tom is going to drive you into another county and drop you off. You can tell them I kidnapped you and when I fell asleep, you got away.” He motioned to his arm. “It should be common knowledge I was shot, so that story shouldn’t be too hard to sell.”
Jenna eyed Jordan suspiciously. “And what are you going to do? I know you wanted to see your mother, but that’s not possible now. Your father is looking for you; the feds are looking for both of us. If anyone sees you, you’re a dead man.”
Jordan shrugged. “I’ll lay low for a week or so, heal, and let things calm down a little. After that, Tom and I will be looking for that evidence my mother mentioned.”
“Promise me you’ll give me a week. Let me see what I can do. Please. Kamela and the baby need you alive.” Jenna knew immediately she’d made a mistake when Jordan’s brows knitted.
“Kami’s pregnant?”
“I thought she told you. I’m sorry.”
“Does her father know?”
Jenna nodded. “She used it to make him help me get you out.”
“Then we can add Clifford Beaumont to the list of people that would like to take my head off. You need to get ready to go.”
“Jordan?” Jenna leveled a stare at him. “Promise?”
He grinned at her. “You’re a strange bird with your promises, Jenna James, but I like you. And I trust you. I’ll give you one week. After that, I’m not promising anything.”
Jenna stared into the bathroom mirror. The kidnap plan was good except she’d seen kidnap victims, and she clearly didn’t look the part. Well, maybe her hair looked the part, but not the rest of her.
She kicked off her shoes and caressed them for just a moment—her first and only pair of Manolo Blahnik heels. They’d cost her almost a week’s salary but made her feel ten feet tall. Sighing, she banged the shoe against the sink until the heel broke. When this was all over, someone was going to buy her a new pair.
Taking off her jacket and blouse, she wet each of them and rubbed them along the floor until they were semi–grime colored. “Yuck.” She pulled them back on and ripped the fabric of the jacket before turning back to the mirror. So far so good, but her face was still too clean. Jordan was going to have to hit her… and hard.
A knock sounded on the door, and she hobbled on one heel to open it. Jordan stared at the ripped jacket and dirty blouse and shook his head. “Maybe I don’t need to worry about you after all.”
“There’s still one more thing I need,” Jenna said.
“What’s that?” Jordan asked.
“You’re going to have to hit me hard enough to leave a bruise.”
He shook his head. “Not in this lifetime.”
“Then send Tom in here. I’m sure he’s always wanted to knock out a prosecutor.”
“Jenna, I can’t hit you. Besides, Michael and my father would know it wasn’t real. They both know I’d never hit a woman.”
Jenna frowned. She hadn’t thought about that. It would be totally out of character for Jordan to hit her. “Okay, but I need wrist burns.”
Jordan held up the hood and slipped it over her head. “I’ll have Tom tie your wrists together. Sorry about the hood, but what you don’t know you can’t tell.”
The ride seemed to go on forever. In reality, it was probably only a couple of hours long, but being totally encased in darkness made it seem much longer before the car finally slowed and pulled off the road. Tom had tied the ropes tight, and her wrists hurt.
“We’re here.”
She recognized Tom’s voice and waited for him to open her door. His silence became unnerving. “Hey, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would you mind removing this hood so I can see where here is? And untying me.”
She heard the door open, and a few seconds later, her own door opened, and the hood was jerked roughly from her head. He untied her hands, jerking the rope and making extra burn marks. “Figure it’s a couple of miles to the nearest town. You walk fast, and you should be there by morning.”
“Where exactly are we?” Jenna asked.
“Just outside Laredo.”
Jenna had thought they were in Texas, but she hadn’t been sure.
“Thanks.” Jenna climbed out of the car.
Tom seemed to be hesitating, and she looked up just as his jaw clenched and his fist came out, catching her on the left side of her face. Jenna stumbled, and Tom reached out to steady her. She tasted blood, and tears misted behind her eyelashes.
“You tell the old man Drago did that. It might buy you some time—maybe even save your life.”
She watched him drive away and used the sleeve of her jacket to wipe the blood from her mouth and chin. She definitely was beginning to look like a victim. The problem was she was beginning to feel like one too.
She started walking in the direction Tom had pointed earlier, immediately regretting her decision to break the heel. Walking in the dirt and gravel in an up-and-down motion started a deep pain in her lower back. She could take the shoes off, but the rocks would probably cut her feet. Maybe I should just sit down by the side of the road and wait for the next car.
The idea seemed like a good one until the noises from the forest behind her—along with vicious bug bites—became more than she could bear. She picked up her shoes and started walking in the grass.
You’re batting a hundred, Jenna Patience James. You’re going to lose your job, and you’ll be lucky if you don’t spend some time behind bars. You’ve been dating a lunatic for six months, who probably is a woman beater and tried to have you killed, and now you’re trying to take down a former federal judge and the most notoriously famous criminal attorney in the United States. You might as well dive into the woods and find a hole.
A sound in the distance broke her reverie. Car? Truck? Guys from Deliverance? Serial rapist?
A sharp stone digging into her right heel made the decision for her, and she rushed into the middle of the road, waving both hands as a car rounded the bend. “Stop! Please!”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The role of victim was a new one for Jenna as she found herself once again sipping lukewarm coffee in an interrogation room. She sniffled appropriately as she told the story again. “The whole thing was horrible. The bullets flying. People screaming. The federal officers wouldn’t let me call anyone, and when we were being taken out of the airport, he knocked me out. See?” Jenna pulled back her blouse to show the bruise on her neck and shoulder. “I don’t know where he took me. There were three of them. They put a black hood over my head until they dropped me off on that highway. It seemed like hours, but I don’t know how long it was. Please, I just want to go home.”
Captain John Taylor eyed her sympathetically. “Miss James, it’s clear to me you’ve been through some type of, well, psychological trauma. I think it would be best if you allow me to have the medics check you out. Is there a family member I could call?”
“What?” Jenna asked.
“Honey, you weren’t in Atlanta. I called there after you told me the story the first time. There was a shooting there. It’s been sort of hushed up because the young couple were in the witness protection plan. No federal officers died. That case is closed already. Your boss explained what happened with your trial. You were upset, and you must have heard about the shooting, and somehow it got tangled up in your own story.” He reached across the table and patted her hand. “That’s why you need to let me call the medics. Once you’re feeling better, we’ll make a report and see if we can find out what really happened to you.”
Jenna lowered her gaze to the cup of coffee she was holding, her stomach clenching in knots. Elkins didn’t have that kind of power. Neither did Dade or Beaumont, which could only mean one thing: there was another player in this game, one none of them knew about—a very powerful and dangerous player.
A knock on the door interrupted them, and Taylor stepped outside, closing it behind him. In less t
han a minute, he walked back in, his face creased in smiles.
“There’s a limo waiting outside for you. Your family has been looking for you. You’ll be fine now.”
Jenna had a thousand questions. Why hadn’t he taken a report on her kidnapping? Even if her story of being in Atlanta was false, he’d said himself that she’d clearly been through something. The thought of a warm shower and clean clothes overshadowed her need to ask. “Thank you.”
She had expected to see Clifford Beaumont or Kamela in the back seat of the limo.
The steely grey eyes that met hers as the door opened chilled her to the bone, and the smile he pasted on his face when he spoke only deepened the chill. “Judge William Elkins, Miss James. Please get in, we have a lot to talk about.”
Jenna knew if she wanted to survive and help Jordan survive while they uncovered the truth, the next few hours were vitally important. “Judge Elkins, I thought you were in Kentucky?”
Elkins continued to study her face and she tried to make it as soft, womanly, and as vulnerable as she could. “Where’s Michael? I thought he would be here.”
“Michael had a heart attack. We flew back yesterday afternoon. He’s in the hospital at St. Mary.”
“Oh my God. When? Where? I need to go to him.”
The judge waved off her concerns. “Michael is fine. He’s strong and expected to make a full recovery. I’ve been able to stave off the federal authorities for a short time, Miss James, but they will want to talk to you, and before they do, there’s certain things I need to know… and certain things you need to know.”
How did women do this submissive crap? The condescending tone in his voice made her want to gag. And as she’d suspected, he wasn’t behind the shutdown of the Atlanta shooting. He evidently didn’t even know about it. She couldn’t wait to get the bastard on the witness stand and tear him to shreds. Jenna blinked her eyes, allowing a tear to roll down her face. “I don’t know much, but I’ll tell you anything I can. I just want to see Michael.”
“What did my son tell you about me?”
Jenna knew he was asking about Jordan but chose to ignore it. “Michael never really talked about his family. But I knew he was proud of you.”
The judge grabbed her hand and twisted her wrist. “Don’t play games with me, Miss James. I’ve seen them all, heard them all. You’re smart, but you’re not smart enough to play with me.”
“Please, you’re hurting me.”
He let go of her hand. “We’ll try again. What did my son say about me?”
Jenna rubbed her right wrist as real tears flowed down her face. “He said horrible things about you and Michael.” She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. “He said you were a wife beater and Michael was a woman beater too.” She took a deep breath. “He said you killed his mother.”
Judge Elkins grinned. “Good. Did you believe him?”
Jenna stared down at her wrist. Yes, you sadistic bastard, I did.
She shook her head. “Michael had told me that Jordan wasn’t mentally stable. That was apparent from the beginning.”
The judge leaned back and lit a cigar, blowing the smoke in her direction. “Tell me about Atlanta?”
“We got off the plane, and suddenly everyone was screaming, and shots rang out. I jerked Jordan to the floor. We were handcuffed together, and he was my responsibility. I tried to protect him, but he was shot. Airport security shot the man.
“Then we were taken to this room where these officers—I guess they were federal officers—questioned us both. They said they were taking Jordan back to prison. When we walked out of the room and headed for their car, Jordan did something to my neck. The next thing I knew, I was in a van with a black hood over my face.”
“Let me see your neck?”
Jenna pulled aside her blouse, exposing the bruise along her shoulder blade.
“All right, Miss James.” He touched her swollen lip. “And did my son do this?”
Jenna recoiled from his touch. “No. A man named Drago did. I think he would have killed me if Jordan hadn’t stopped him.”
Jenna waited for additional questions, but the judge was suspiciously quiet. She took some satisfaction from the slight paling of his face at the mention of Drago’s name. They traveled in silence for over an hour before her street came into view, the two-story brick a pleasant sight. The limo stopped in front. “Thank you for bringing me home, Judge Elkins. I’ll clean up and go see Michael.”
“Who helped you get my son out of prison?”
“What?”
The judge reached out and grabbed her right wrist again. “Who helped you get my son out of prison?”
Jenna knew, with the type of power the judge wielded, he’d find out the truth anyway. She needed to get away from him before he heard the news about Atlanta.
“Clifford Beaumont.”
“My wife unfortunately fell down the stairs at home this morning, Miss James. She died instantly. The shock of her death, along with your kidnapping, resulted in Michael having a heart attack. Do you understand, Miss James?”
“I understand.”
He grabbed her hand again, and Jenna screamed as he bent her little finger until it popped.
“When you go to the hospital to see Michael, you can get that fixed. I felt you needed a few small reminders of what happens to the people who cross me.”
Jenna stood on the sidewalk, tears streaming down her face as she watched the limo pulled away. Biting her lip, she turned and walked the few short steps to her front door, only to remember she didn’t have a key. The day’s events washed over her, and she sat down on the steps—shoulders hunched, face buried in her hands—and sobbed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“We have a report of a possible burglary in progress at Forty-five Monsanto. Any cars in the area, please respond.”
Jake grabbed the mike. “We’re about a mile from there. We’ll check it out.” Replacing the mike, he took a huge bite of his half-cold hamburger and washed it down with coffee. “Isn’t that your girlfriend’s house?” He grinned maliciously. “Oh, wait a minute, I forgot—she’s got a boyfriend.”
“Shut up, Sherlock.”
Jake laughed. “Hell, Harry, it’s been five years. Don’t you think it’s time you moved on? I could ask Cara to set you up with one of her friends. There’s a few of them. If I wasn’t already taken, well, I’d be on the prowl.”
Harry shot him a glance as they turned the corner onto Monsanto. “If Cara didn’t keep a noose around your neck, you’d be on the prowl anyway.”
Jake turned to stare out the window. “Never going to happen. Cara’s everything I ever wanted or needed.”
Harry drove slowly by the two-story ranch. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and find that some day.”
Jake caught a glimpse of movement in the bushes behind the house. “Pull over, Harry. I think I saw something.”
Harry pulled the cruiser to the side of the road and parked. “Where?”
“In the back.” Jake opened his door and closed it softly, drawing his gun. “You take the left; I’ll take the right.”
Jake heard glass breaking as he approached the back hedge. The perp wasn’t trying to be quiet, which meant one of two things: he was either an amateur and stupid or armed and dangerous. He finished rounding the corner at a sprint, gun held level. “Police! Put your hands on your head!”
“Crap!” Jenna exclaimed, turning toward the sound just as Harry rounded the other corner of the house.
“It’s okay, Jake,” Harry said, holstering his gun. “Miss James, are you all right?”
“Do I look all right? No, damn it. I’m not all right. I’m tired, dirty, locked out of my house, and facing an idiot still holding a gun on me.”
Jake grinned and holstered his gun. “Well now, ma’am, how’d you get locked out of your house?” He walked closer, her face coming into view. “And how the hell did you get that shiner?”
“Mr. Savior, I assume?” Jenna asked.
&nb
sp; Jake nodded. “At your assistance.”
“To make a long story short, my kidnapper kept my purse, my phone, and my keys.” Jenna turned back to the broken window. “And I could use a little assistance here, please.”
Harry walked over and checked the back door. “No top lock?”
Jenna shook her head.
He took a card from his wallet, popped the lock, and opened the door. “Little something I learned in grade school.”
Glancing inside the door, he pulled out his gun again. “Looks like you’ve had company. Jake and I should go in first.”
Guns drawn, Jake and Harry stepped through the back door, stopping just inside to listen. Jake motioned with his gun for Harry to go to the right. They stepped over broken dishes littering the kitchen floor and slowly did a full walk-through.
“All clear,” Jake called from the living room. “Well, I wouldn’t say exactly clear. Looks like somebody went through here with a bulldozer.”
Jenna joined him, her face paling. Her sofa and matching chair had been ripped apart and the stuffing pulled from them. Lamps lay broken around the room as if tossed aside carelessly. “Any idea what they were looking for?” Jake asked.
Jenna picked up the broken frame holding a picture of her mother and father and wiped away a tear. “They weren’t looking for anything. He just wanted to make sure his message hit all buttons—physical and emotional.” She held up her right hand, sporting the broken finger. “Like this one.”
Jake frowned, his jaw tightening. “Let me call this in. Then we’ll get a statement and go hunt this bastard down.”
Jenna sighed. “You can’t call it in.”
Harry joined them in the living room. “Upstairs is pretty much in the same shape. They did leave you a few pieces of clothing.” He glanced from Jake’s angry face to Jenna. “Have you called it in yet?”
Jenna swiped at another tear making its way down her cheek, burning as it reached her cut lip. “If you call it in, I’ll be dead before the paperwork is even in the system.”
She kicked her way through the debris and back to the kitchen as Harry and Jake followed her. “If you really want to help, we still have a coffeepot. Would one of you two do the honors? I need a hot shower, and I really, really need it now.” She turned to them and shrugged. “I could use your help, and if you want to hear the story, I’ll tell it, but it could take a while.”
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