Keith ran with him. “Jordan, who is in the hospital?”
“Amy. They planted a bomb in her house. Lexee took her to the hospital. Jed stayed behind to work the scene.” For fuck’s sake, his girlfriend’s house was now a crime scene for a known domestic terrorist organization.
“I’ll ride with you.” Keith slid into the passenger seat and began making calls. By the time they arrived at the emergency room more than forty miles away, the bomb squad had cleared the scene and the forensics crew was combing through the rubble for evidence.
Jordan flashed his badge at the front desk, and they led him to Amy’s private room where Lexee stood guard. With her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun and her tailored suit, Lexee exuded the air of someone that wouldn’t take shit from anyone. She moved to let Jordan pass.
Amy sat on the edge of her bed, and she looked like she was trying to stand up. He rushed the four steps across the room and stopped her. “Little one, stay in bed.” He searched her body for signs of injury, while she glared.
Her clothes were dirty and singed in some places. She had a tear in her shirt at the shoulder, and her hair was a mess. Clean patches on her skin marked the places where she had small cuts. Overall, she didn’t look too bad, all things considered.
“Are you hurt?”
She continued to glare. Then she huffed. “I can’t hear anything you’re saying, but I know you can hear me. I’m pissed at you, Jordan. How could you have FBI agents following me and not tell me? You knew I was in danger, and you said not one word.”
He attributed her loud volume to the fact that she couldn’t hear. “Lexee!”
Agent Hardy came into the room. “Yes?”
“Has a doctor seen her yet?”
Lexee pursed her lips. “Just the medic in the ambulance. Her injuries were less severe than some of the others. She arrived home at seventeen hundred hours and fifty-seven minutes where she threw three shopping bags and her purse inside the front door. Her neighbor, Peggy Johansen, asked her to help find her dog. Four neighbors joined the search: Sandra and Joe Slingerland, and April and Melvin Desjardin. Mrs. Johansen went into her home at eighteen hundred hours and fourteen minutes. Amy and the four neighbors continued talking outside, at which time the explosion occurred. Amy, April, and Melvin sustained mild cuts and contusions and temporary hearing loss. April and Melvin were treated on site and released home. Sandra required seventeen stitches on her back and arm, and Joe is in surgery where they’re trying to relieve the swelling on his brain. I brought Amy here to get her away from the scene. I would have told you that outside, but you were in a hurry.”
While Lexee spoke, Amy again tried to get up. Jordan grabbed her arm, and she pushed him away. “I have to go to the bathroom. I can walk fine. I just can’t hear.”
Jordan narrowed his eyes at her tone and the lack of enthusiasm in her greeting. “Maybe if you shouted louder?”
She swiped a pad and paper from the tray and shoved it at him. “I. Can’t. Hear. You. Asshole.” With that, she left the room.
“I’ll tail her. The restroom is across the hall.” Lexee went after her.
Keith smirked. “She’s pissed, all right. You didn’t tell her about the threat?”
“No. We didn’t know if it was credible. Why would I needlessly worry her?” Jordan scribbled words on the pad.
“She needs a spanking.”
“She does not.” Jordan growled. If he spanked her for the first time as discipline, it would damage their relationship. She wasn’t cut out for that kind of treatment. “She just went through a traumatic experience.”
“Littles are hard to keep in line. They need a firm hand.”
Jordan looked up to see the merriment sparkling in Keith’s eyes. Trina had forbidden physical discipline. She insisted they talk through their differences, and Keith was learning a different kind of dominance. “You son of a bitch. You’re enjoying this.”
“Oh, yes. For years subs have held you up as the epitome of the perfect Dom. So loving and gentle, indulgent and understanding, and now you have to learn to administer tough love.” Keith laughed so hard he had to sit on the bed. “This is priceless.”
Jordan added more to his note. “I need to be patient and understanding. She’s feeling betrayed. I kept something from her, and she was caught unaware. She lost her home. You can’t understate the significance of what she’s going through.”
Keith stopped laughing and regarded him somberly. “Buddy, going soft is the wrong tactic. More than anything, right now she needs your strength. Once that anger wears off, she’s going to fall apart, and if she’s still mad at you, she’s not going to let you put her back together. You’ll lose her.”
While he agreed that Amy would shut him out if he didn’t handle this right, he didn’t think that being harsh was the right course of action. Amy needed him to protect her from the big, bad world, and he’d failed miserably. He glanced at what he’d written, tore off the top sheet, and threw it in the trash.
Amy returned as he scribbled something else on the pad. Jordan eyed Lexee and Keith. “Can you wait outside?”
“Okay,” Keith said, “but just so you know, we’ll be able to hear her replies.”
Lexee rolled her eyes. “We’ll be right outside, and yes, we’ll frisk anybody before letting them inside—even the doctor.”
Amy avoided eye contact as she trudged toward the bed. Jordan planted himself in her way, and when she tried to go around him, he took her in his arms. Though she held herself stiffly, she didn’t push him away. “I’m so sorry, little one.” He whispered even though she couldn’t hear. “I’m going to catch the bastard that did this. I promise.”
He helped her onto the bed, and then he conducted his own inspection. He cleaned away the smudges of grime from her skin to check her arms and legs. On the paper, he wrote two things: I’m sorry and Where are you hurt?
She read them both, and when she met his gaze, her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I’m not hurt. I just can’t hear, but I think it’s starting to come back.”
Since she wasn’t speaking as loudly as before, he figured she was right. He wrote: I will explain what I can later.
She nodded and looked away. He began writing more, but she spoke, her voice small and tremulous. “I bought the headband with the daisies, and I got a really great outfit for tonight.” Leaning back on the pillows, she closed her eyes. Tears leaked out to trail down her temples. “Maybe this is a sign. I made a mistake.”
He shook her, forcing her to open her eyes and face him. “No.” He shook his head. “This isn’t a sign, and you didn’t make a mistake.”
Even if she could hear him, he didn’t know if his denial would have penetrated. Her gaze sidled away once again. “I hope Peggy found Chicklet. That dog getting out saved my life. I would have been in there, getting ready to come see you, and I would be dead now.”
He gave silent thanks for the dog that ran away. He perched on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his. Because she couldn’t hear—and words would ring hollow anyway—he kissed her fingers, and then he peppered her forehead and cheeks with more kisses and caresses. She needed affection and reassurance, and he had so much of that to give her.
The door opened, and he turned to find Brandy Lockmeyer with her lips pressed together. He could count the number of times he’d seen her feathers ruffled on one hand. She was cool under pressure, and this display of temper put him on edge. “I received an email an hour ago. The Eye takes responsibility for the bombing. Hardy, Brandt, Rossetti, get in here and close the door.”
She conducted a visual sweep of the room, something Jordan had been too distraught to think to do.
“I swept three times, Chief.” Lexee stood at attention, her hands clasped in front of her in ready position. “It’s clean.”
“Fine.” Brandy finished her inspection. “According to Agent Adair, the email originated on our secure server. Either we have a mole, or The Eye has hacked our system. I
will not countenance sabotage and terrorism in my state and in my FBI. This ends now. We’re taking down The Eye. Listen carefully. This is how we’re going to play this. The Eye thinks they achieved their goal. Therefore Amy Markevich died in that bombing. She’ll go into protective custody and remain hidden until we have acquired our target. Judge Caldwell is already at a safe house. That leaves Jordan as the only witness they have left to erase, and therefore Agent Monaghan is the bait.”
Jordan moved between Brandy and Amy, blocking her with his body just in case she could read lips. “Brandy, they killed a man in our custody. If they’ve infiltrated the FBI, it’s just a matter of time before they figure out Amy is alive.” Even putting her in a safe house wasn’t enough. They’d find her eventually.
“I know. That’s why I’m trusting just the people in this room.” She took a deep breath. “The email said they’d clean house, kill anybody who got in their way. They threatened me and referenced a covert operation I took part in years ago. It’s someone from inside with access to classified documents. They knew things they shouldn’t know.”
He knew what covert operation they’d referenced. Brandy hadn’t spent a lot of time in Special Forces, and the look she gave him communicated what her words didn’t. Venezuela had been a mess. Though Jordan had saved Brandy’s ass that night, he still didn’t have the clearance to know exactly what had happened. Their survival had been a combination of luck and skill, heavy on the luck part.
“I have a cabin up north.” Dustin rubbed his hands together. “I can take Amy there. Malcolm is due in two days. We can make it seem like he’s extended his vacation, and put him on babysitting duty.”
Keith nodded, liking the plan. “He’ll want to bring Darcy, which Amy will appreciate, and his parents can keep Colin for a little longer. It’s not ideal, but it’ll work.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Jordan crossed his arms and let the sarcasm loose. “Darcy’s reaction to her sister’s death is definitely going to be an extension of her honeymoon. These guys are morons, but I don’t think they’re stupid.”
Brandy scowled. “You have a better idea?”
Fuck, yeah, he had a better idea. He’d underestimated these motherfucking terrorists before, and Amy had paid the price. “They weren’t watching Amy’s house to make sure their plan was successful. They scoped her out beforehand, probably broke into her house and saw the schedule she keeps on the fridge. Maybe I was there with her when it blew up. That was the original plan. Put out a press release saying I died in the bombing with her. Write a fucking amazing obituary. I’ll take Amy into hiding at Dustin’s cottage. The person who did this will come to our funerals. Watch the crowd. I’ll disguise myself and come as one of my brothers. We’ll set them up and take them out.”
Brandy exhaled hard and rubbed her chin as she thought.
Keith shook his head. “It’s good except for the part where you disguise yourself and come to your funeral. That’s not going to fly. If they identify you, then the whole op is blown. Stay with Amy and keep her safe.”
“I agree with Keith,” Lexee said. “I know it’s hard to sit back and let us do the heavy work, but you’re going to have to.”
Dustin eyed him silently. They’d been partners for years, and they’d come through more than a few close calls together. Dustin knew Jordan better than most people did. “If we plan this op without Jordan, he’ll show up and throw a wrench into our plan. This is personal. He needs to take down this guy.”
“It’s true.” Jordan spread his hands wide. “Jed and Lexee can watch Amy when we run the op.”
Lexee glared at him. “I can’t miss your funeral. I’m already mourning your loss.”
Brandy lifted a hand to silence them. “I’ll take care of Amy. I have some friends in private security who owe me.”
As Jordan had worked alongside some of those friends of Brandy’s, he knew Amy would be in good hands. “Then it’s settled. I’ll take Amy into hiding until Saturday.” Jordan felt behind him for Amy’s hand to hold. She had to be feeling left out, and he wanted to reassure her that she wasn’t alone.
“Saturday?” Keith scratched his chin. “I’m thinking it’ll take a little longer to close the investigation and release your remains. Let’s say Amy’s funeral is Monday, and yours is Tuesday. We’re not shipping your ass back to Wisconsin, either.”
That worked for Jordan. Amy needed him now, and this way he’d be able to take care of her and have a hand in rectifying the situation. “I’ll need supplies and a vehicle. Get us out of here ASAP.”
Brandy handed out orders. “Brandt, see to transportation and supplies. Have it ready in an hour. Hardy, coordinate the paperwork for a death certificate and a press release with Adair, and then arrange an exit for these two. Rossetti, head back to Markevich’s residence and make sure that crime scene is wrapped up the way we need it to be for this to work. I’ll run interference so the hospital staff doesn’t know what the hell’s going on.”
Amy watched their lips move, and she judged from their expressions that her fate was being decided. While she couldn’t make out what they were saying, she was beginning to catch garbled sounds. When Jordan sought to hold her hand, she figured that things weren’t going the way he wanted. So many thoughts and emotions zinged through her brain, and she desperately wanted to curl up on her sofa under a blanket and lose herself in a movie—one where Hollywood guaranteed everything would turn out all right.
Because right now her life didn’t look like it was heading toward a happily ever after. One day of bliss with Jordan, and everything had been ripped from her. And she’d called him an asshole. There was no way he was going to let that pass. He might not be saying anything right now, but that was because she couldn’t hear. She was sure she’d hear about it later, once things calmed down. He’d mentioned punishing her by making her stand in a corner. Though she wasn’t looking forward to the punishment, she could do with some absolution.
The doctor came in, all business and frowns. She examined Amy’s cuts and bruises, and she looked in her ears. Jordan remained in the room for the exam, and so the doctor’s questions were all directed to him. Discharge instructions were given to him as well, and Amy found this highly irregular. He wasn’t even a relative.
She cooperated when Agent Hardy smuggled them out of the delivery entrance and into a strange car with darkly tinted windows. It was late, and when Jordan got on the freeway, she surmised that he was taking her to his house. At least she had a place to crash. If Darcy had been home, she probably would have asked to stay in the guest room. Though Darcy and Malcolm probably wouldn’t mind if she wanted to stay in their house now. She had a key. Well, she used to have a key. Who knew if it survived the fire? It hadn’t been on the key ring she’d tucked into her bra.
Glancing at Jordan, she realized he wouldn’t let her stay alone, and that was okay. She didn’t want to be alone. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the force of the blast knocking her to the ground and saw the flames billowing from her living room. Miles disappeared beneath the tires, and she realized they were heading too far north and not at all east. They weren’t going to Jordan’s apartment either.
“Jordan, where are we going?” She tried to modulate her volume because she suspected she’d been shouting earlier.
He looked over, flashed a brief smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and squeezed her knee reassuringly. She waited for a response, but he said nothing, and she wondered if it was because she hadn’t used his title.
“Daddy?”
This time, he took her hand in his. “Try to get some sleep. We’ll be on the road a while.”
She stared at him blankly. Her hearing had improved remarkably, but he hadn’t exactly answered her question. After a minute, she realized he wasn’t going to say more. Yes, she was exhausted, but she couldn’t sleep. She stared out the window and watched shadows of trees in the moonlight. Jordan turned the radio on and flipped through stations.
The next thing she k
new, Jordan was talking to her. “I’m so sorry this happened, little one. I promise I’ll catch the bastards who did this. We have a plan in place, but until then, you and I need to disappear for a little while.”
She opened her eyes to find that he’d reclined her seat. Fatigue must have combined with the monotony of the ride to lull her to sleep. Though it was still dark, the sky was lighter, a hint at the coming dawn. Jordan sat in the driver’s seat of the sedan, his left hand resting at the top of the steering wheel, but the car wasn’t moving. She sat up and looked around. They were parked near a cottage in the middle of a clearing. Beyond that was a heavily treed area.
“Where are we?”
“Dustin’s cabin. I helped him remodel it. We’re going to stay here for a few days while we’re laying low.”
There was nothing wrong with her hearing. It had all come back. “Why are we laying low?”
“Because the people who planted a bomb in your house want us both dead. The FBI is going to act as if we were both killed in the blast in the hope of drawing out the suspects. We’re thinking they’ll come to either your funeral or mine to make sure they achieved their objective.” He rubbed his eye. “How is your hearing? Are your ears still ringing?”
“A little, but I can hear you.” She blinked away the sleepy disconnectedness that made everything seem unreal. “Why didn’t they just stick around to make sure the bomb went off and killed me? Can you even be sure they think I’m dead?”
“They sent an email to Brandy bragging about it. As for why they didn’t stick around, they probably knew the FBI was following you. If they’d hung around, Lexee and Jed would have spotted them. We’ve run background on all your neighbors and know their schedules. Anybody new would have stood out.” He yawned and rested his head back.
ReDefined Page 19