“The stringy-haired bitch lying in front of me doesn't look too healthy, either.” Her voice sounded as petulant as a four-year-old's. Jordan's husky chuckle soothed her. She closed her eyes.
“Eden, you still there?”
Eden jerked awake. “Of course I'm still here. Where do you think I'm going?”
“Knowing you, there's no telling.”
“You don't know me, Jordan. Don't you know that?” Her voice sounded slurred to her own ears and some kind of unconscious self-preservation molecule was telling her to shut up, but she couldn't figure out why. She ignored it as she mumbled on, “If you really knew me … you wouldn't like me.”
“Now, why do you say that?”
Eyes closed again, she listened to the rumble of his deep baritone voice. No one had ever touched her with his voice alone.
“Why, thank you, sweetheart, I like your voice, too.”
“Huh?”
“You said you like my voice.”
“Really? Who said?”
“Hey, you're not about to conk out on me, are you?”
“Don't … conk … don't know how.”
“Okay, babe, I'm here.”
The front door smashed opened, slamming against the wall—the man didn't know how to turn a knob? A tall, dark silhouette loomed in front of her and she breathed a sigh of deep thankfulness. “I'm over here.”
Jordan whirled at the whispered sound, his heart turning over. Rushing to the crumpled figure, he touched her face first … just wanting to feel the heat of life. God, she was ice-cold.
“Eden, I'm going to lay you on your back and then take a look at your arm.”
“Germs … everywhere.”
Her whispered protest didn't stop him from lowering her body to the floor. He checked her pulse. It was a little thready. Pulling her bloodied hand away, he looked with approval at the makeshift bandage, but blood continued to stream down her arm. He took his knife and sliced the material. She had a good-sized hole and jagged cut in her upper arm.
“What caused this, sweetheart?”
“Fell on a nail.”
He grunted in sympathy, knowing that had to hurt. Pulling his T-shirt off, he wrapped it around her arm. “Come on, let's get you out of here.”
“Mrs. Larue …”
“Gabe's team is coming. They'll take care of Mrs. Larue. I need to get you to Dr. Arnot.”
Jordan scooped her into his arms. Adrenaline surging through him like an erupting volcano, he ran from the Boathouse to the front of the estate. Gabe and his team were just getting out of their cars.
Jordan stalked to the closest vehicle and pulled the back door open. He deposited Eden in the backseat and covered her with a blanket.
“How bad is she?” Gabe stood behind him, peering in at Eden.
“Upper arm's messed up. Call Dr. Arnot's office and let him know I'm coming.” He jerked his head at the mansion. “Mr. Larue's tied to a chair in the kitchen. His wife's in the Boathouse. Bennett escaped on wheels, Ethan went after him.”
Gabe nodded and turned toward his people to give directions.
Jordan jumped into the driver's seat. He blew out a ragged breath as he spun out of the driveway. Things had gotten out of control fast.
As he'd set out after Alfred Larue, Jordan seen Eden go after the wife. That hadn't worried him since the real danger would most likely come from Alfred or Bennett. Turned out, once he caught up with Mr. Larue, the breathless, out-of-shape man had gone down with no resistance. As he'd pushed the wheezing man back to the house, Bennett had sped past them in a truck, barely glancing at his cousin-in-law and business partner. Seconds later, Ethan Bishop zoomed past in pursuit.
Worry set in on his way back to the mansion with Mr. Larue. Why hadn't he heard from Eden? As soon as he heard her voice, he'd known something was wrong. Pain had throbbed in her every word. Pure panic bubbled inside him. He'd tied Larue up and ran toward the boathouse—the longest run of his life.
Twisting his head, Jordan glanced back at Eden. She hadn't moved since she'd lost consciousness in the boat-house. That concerned him as much as her injury. Was it blood loss and shock or some other problem he hadn't detected?
He checked the navigation screen. He should be coming up on … there it was. Dr. Arnot's house was a medium-sized older home miles from any others. Since the man often treated LCR operatives, living far away from nosy neighbors was a must. Jordan drove up behind Arnot's house. A young man wearing a white lab coat stood at the back door.
“Dr. Arnot?”
“No, I'm his assistant. He's inside, waiting for Eden. Do you need any help getting her out?”
Jordan shook his head and opened the car door. He lifted Eden, wincing as he noticed the shirt he'd wrapped around her arm was soaked with blood. He stalked into the house, the young man behind him.
“Go through the door there.”
Jordan carried Eden into a room that looked just like an operating room in a well-equipped hospital. A gray-haired man wearing wire-rimmed glasses entered from another door. He gave Jordan a kind smile and a wink. “What's our Eden gotten herself into now?” With a wave of his hand, he indicated Jordan should place Eden on the examination table in the middle of the room
“She fell on a rusted nail. It's her upper left arm.”
Jordan watched the doctor and his assistant remove the bloody shirt. Dr. Arnot made a tsking noise in the back of his throat. “Not sure she'd want a scar from this one … hate to think of her having to go through more surgery, though.”
As if just realizing Jordan still stood beside the table, he smiled again and pointed to the door. “Go on out and pour yourself a cup of tea, young man. This young lady will be right as rain in just a jiffy.”
Despite his worry, Jordan couldn't help but be amused at the doctor's homespun words and mannerisms. He felt as if he'd walked into a doctor's office in small-town middle America.
Jordan didn't want to leave her, but figured since his legs felt like jelly, he'd better find a place to light. He walked into another room, this time a cozy living room, filled with books. A steaming pot of tea sat on a high table beside a chair. Jordan poured himself a cup, laced it liberally with sugar, and then slumped down into the chair.
He took a long swallow of the hot, sweet concoction. He wasn't fond of tea but found the warm sugary liquid surprisingly soothing.
As he waited for word on Eden, he examined the unsettling feelings that had erupted over the last hour. If he'd doubted he was in deep with Eden, he doubted no more. When he'd known she was hurt … hell, he never wanted to go through anything like that again.
But how was he going to prevent it? This was Eden's job. He'd seen her file. She had one of the highest rates of recoveries for LCR. The events today, getting hurt, had been a fluke, but what if one day another fluke happened and it was more than a slice in her arm? How would he deal with that?
An answer still hadn't come to him when an hour later Dr. Arnot stood at the door, his wrinkled face beaming. Jordan pushed to his feet.
“She's going to be fine, son. I cleaned out the wound, fixed her up right as rain. Gave her a couple of shots, tetanus and an antibiotic. The nail nicked a vein, but we got the bleeding stopped. Missed most of the muscle, too.” He winked. “Tell her it went through the fatty part of her arm. That'll get her riled.”
Jordan chuckled as the doctor meant for him to.
“Don't think it'll leave much of a scar, either. If she wakes and is in pain”—he took a small pill bottle out of the pocket of his lab coat—“give her one of these.” He shook his head. “Doubt she'll take them, though. Eden's not much for taking pills.”
“You've treated her before?”
Something flickered in the doctor's eyes, but only briefly. Then he smiled and continued as if Jordan had never asked a question. “I'll come by in the late morning to check on her.”
“It's a couple hours' drive home. She okay to travel?”
“Bundle her up in the backse
at. Knowing Eden, she'd prefer to wake up in her own bed. She woke up when we were cleaning the wound, so I gave her a sedative. She's out cold. Probably will be till morning.”
Jordan followed the doctor back to the treatment room. Eden lay on the table, her face still pale. She looked small and vulnerable, so different from the smart-mouthed, spirited woman he'd come to know the last few weeks.
Jordan gingerly picked her up, being careful not to jostle her left arm. With a nod of thanks to the doctor and his assistant, he carried her to the car. Easing her into the backseat, he pressed a light kiss to her forehead, then covered her with the blanket he'd used earlier.
Fortunately, traffic was light as he drove back to Paris, the unconscious woman in the back oblivious of the man driving her home and grappling with incredibly powerful emotions. He'd protected people all of his adult life, but he'd never felt so strongly about one person. Now he was bound and determined to protect this one small individual and he had a feeling she was going to be as difficult as all the other people he'd protected put together.
nineteen
“What do you mean I can't go back to work for a week?”
Eden knew she was being rude and grumpy. Dr. Arnot, one of the sweetest people she'd ever known, didn't deserve her sour attitude. But not work for an entire week? What was she supposed to do?
“Now, Eden, when's the last time you took off to rest?”
“I'm twenty-eight, Dr. Arnot, not eighty. I don't need to rest.”
“She's quite stubborn, isn't she?”
Eden turned her head quickly, then winced at the pull on her sore arm. She hadn't even known Jordan was in the room. Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe she did need a rest. It was becoming more and more apparent that her instincts and reflexes were way off.
Dr. Arnot smiled at the man at the door. “Do you have any control over this young woman?”
Jordan chuckled. “A loaded question I dare not answer.”
The doctor stood, patted her head as if she were a toddler, and then pointed a finger at her. “Get some rest. That's an order. You're at least ten pounds lighter than you were this time last year.”
Since the last thing she wanted was to have him ask, in front of Jordan, if she was under more stress than usual, Eden managed a somewhat sincere smile. “I'll do better … I promise.”
Dr. Arnot gave her his “I mean business” frown. Eden bit her lip to keep from grinning at him. He was going for his most intimidating expression, but it was like trying to make Santa Claus look mean. It couldn't be done.
“You see that you do.” He looked toward Jordan. “Young man, I'm holding you personally responsible if this girl's cheeks aren't rosier and her weight's not up by at least three pounds by the end of the month.”
Jordan nodded solemnly, but Eden could tell he was fighting a smile, too.
As the doctor walked out of her bedroom, Jordan turned back to her and pointed a finger. Now this man could teach a class on intimidating looks. “Don't move a muscle till I get back.”
Deciding she'd already acted childish enough, Eden resisted the urge to stick out her tongue and just smiled innocently.
Jordan's eyebrows rose at such an unusual submissive look.
When the door closed behind him, Eden sank into her pillows and allowed herself a groan. She'd forgotten how painful it was to be cut and how weak it made her. Though this wasn't anything nearly as serious as other injuries she'd had since working for LCR—and didn't even compare to what happened seven years ago—she still hated the vulnerable and weak feeling. Battling vulnerability came much easier to her than accepting it as part of being human.
Jordan came back into the room. One look at him told her he didn't plan to discuss whether she would be returning to work soon. Since she didn't think she'd win an argument with a mouse at this point, Eden blinked up at him and smiled.
There went his brows again, and she struggled not to laugh. She was really throwing him off with those looks.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like someone backhanded me all the way to Spain.”
Jordan gave a sympathetic grimace and sat down gingerly on her bed. Taking her hand, he kissed it gently. “Feel like eating something?”
Now it was Eden's turn to raise a brow. “I just finished breakfast less than an hour ago. Are you trying to get me to gain all three pounds today?”
Instead of smiling at her teasing, Jordan swept his eyes over her body. “I hadn't realized until he pointed it out that you have lost weight in the last few weeks.”
Great, just what she needed. “My weight fluctuates. I'm just one of those people who have trouble keeping weight on. I'll eat a few more meals and I'll be fine.”
“You're sure that's all?”
“What else would it be?”
“You're not worried, perhaps about Noah?”
Eden swallowed a relieved sigh. When he'd begun probing, she'd been concerned he suspected something, even though she was reasonably certain he didn't. But to think he thought she wasn't eating because of her worry for Noah … That never crossed her mind.
“Why would I be worried about Noah?”
“It's just when he first announced he was going after Bennett, you didn't seem to think he could handle it. Now that Bennett's disappeared again, I just wondered …” He broke off with a questioning look.
If she told Jordan the truth about why she'd been concerned for Noah he would be surprised. She also knew he would never tell a soul, nor would he judge him. However, she and Noah made a pact, years before, and it wasn't something she was willing to break, not even for Jordan.
Noah's secrets were his own and if he wanted Jordan to know, he'd tell him. Eden had more than enough secrets of her own; she didn't want or need to be responsible for anyone else's.
“Noah's a trained professional. He trained me and countless others. He knows how to take care of himself.”
Jordan's jaw twitched as if he were holding back words. Eden brought his hand to her mouth. “I promise you, I'm not worrying about Noah. Okay?”
Evidently seeing he would get nothing further from her, he released her hand and rose to his feet. “Since you're not going to be able to work for at least a week, why don't we take a short trip. Before he left, Noah told me if anything came up, Gabe could handle things for a few days. Since Bennett's disappeared off his radar again, it looks like he won't be back anytime soon, we can take—”
Eden held up her hand. “Wait … wait … wait. Who said I wasn't going to work for a week?”
“The doctor just said—”
“Dr. Arnot has been telling me to take time off since I started working for LCR. He does that to everybody. I'll be up and about tomorrow. I may not be able to do any fieldwork, but I can at least—”
“Eden, I don't think you understood me. Not only did the doctor make that recommendation, I'm ordering you to take a week off.”
“You can't order me.”
“Oh yes I can. As interim director of LCR, I'm in charge of you. You either do it willingly or …”
“Or what?”
Jordan leaned over her, inches from her face. “Or you'll pay the consequences.”
Snuggling deeper into her pillow, Eden couldn't resist a sensuous groan. “Oh yeah? That sounds interesting. What kind of consequences?”
“Get that sexy little smile off your face. Those kinds of consequences will have to wait until you're better.”
Shifting on the pillow, she hid a grimace. She hated feeling like an invalid and hated being treated like one even more. Before she could utter the sex-filled innuendo she planned, a giant yawn came on. After she recovered, she eyed him from half-closed lids. “Let me take a little rest and I'll show you just how well I am.”
“We'll see.” Jordan kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep. I'll be in the living room if you need me.”
“You don't have to stay. I'll be fine.”
“I know I don't … and I won't be able to stay long.
But I'll stay till you wake up. Okay?”
Jordan watched her nod sleepily and close her eyes. She was asleep within seconds. He slipped quietly from the room. Rubbing his gritty eyes, he slumped onto the sofa in the living room. He'd sat in the chair beside Eden's bed all night, watching her sleep and trying to figure out how he was going to deal with the fact that a woman he was becoming very fond of put herself in harm's way on a daily basis.
The decision to get involved with Samara had been an easy one. Though she sometimes dealt with dangerous people as a social worker, she rarely put herself into a position where her life might be endangered.
With Eden, it was what she was all about. The thrill of it … the intricacies of going undercover, the constant danger … the rush of adrenaline … It was a game to her.
Jordan well understood that mentality. He'd lived and thrived on it for years. But he'd made a decision last year to leave all that behind and settle down with a nice, normal woman. Eden didn't come close to fitting that description.
Was she a good person? Absolutely. She saved lives, rescued innocents, and often brought justice to people who might not get it otherwise. She had a good heart and a strong spirit. He admired her immensely. But she was far from normal. She'd much rather be up to her neck in kicking some bad guy's ass than she would, well … doing normal things. What ever normal things were.
Jordan knew he was far from normal himself. He'd lived too long in the shadows and undercover to be completely at ease in a cozy, comfortable relationship.
Eden knew what he'd been through, because she'd been there herself. She saw him as he was … not what he appeared to be. She knew what a dangerous, sometimes cruel person he could be and it didn't bother her in the least. In fact, he'd bet it attracted her to him even more.
They were so alike, they just made sense.
But how was he going to learn to live with the danger she put herself in? Because two things were becoming apparent. Eden needed the danger she faced every day to thrive and Jordan greatly feared he needed Eden simply to survive.
twenty
Rescue Me: A Novel Page 25