by S. M. Butler
“Don’t milady me. I’m not one of your little groupies that goes apeshit over your Irish accent.”
No, Bea definitely was not one of those ladies, even if he ever wanted to do anything with her. He liked the easy, non-sexual nature of their relationship, surprisingly. She was one of the team and probably the only real friend he’d made since he’d joined the damn team.
“It’s going to be okay,” Bea continued. “Nathan said there probably won’t be any major missions for a while. Hardy’s going down to Galveston to visit Abigail and Jack’s… well, who the fuck knows what he’s doing. Fucker’s on his own program.”
“Aren’t we all?” he quipped as he swung his legs off the bed. The change in blood flow forced a sharp pain to pulse through his leg, but he ignored it. Bea held out a crutch for him. He glared at it. “I’m not using that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not sexy enough,” he replied. “I need something with flair.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“I’d like to be,” he said, grinning though he didn’t mean it.
“Don’t let Axel hear you say that,” she said, only half-laughing.
“Trouble in paradise, love?” he asked.
“Nah,” she replied. “Just getting used to shit. Never had a boyfriend before. It’s weird.”
“When’s the wedding?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not…I mean, we’re not…”
Jordan cracked up laughing as she stumbled over the words. “Haven’t talked about it yet?” He sighed and slid his good foot to the floor. The cold tile bit into the balls of his feet as he adjusted his balance. Thank god he had boxers on. Even so… he glanced at Bea. “Do I have trousers or something?”
She grabbed a pair of shorts from the counter and tossed them at him. He hadn’t even seen those sitting there. He caught it one handed and then debated the logistics of putting them on without falling on his face.
“It’s only been a few months. We’re taking it slow,” she said after a few moments of silence.
“Because you have intimacy issues?”
“I do not,” she said, frowning at him. “I just never been this close to someone.”
“Because you have intimacy issues.”
“Are you a broken record?”
“Sometimes,” he said. He managed to get his bandaged leg through one of the holes. As he pulled it up, he realized he’d have to sit down to get the other side on. Bea didn’t offer to help either, but he didn’t expect her to. She knew him as well as anyone else. He was going to do this himself. “Well, if you ask me, you guys are just delaying the inevitable. No one else would have either of you. Might as well be with each other.”
“You’re an asshole,” she replied. “And no one asked you.”
He felt like a contortionist as he leaned against the bed to get the weight off his bad leg while he shoved his foot through the other leg. He pulled it up over his hips and zipped them up. He smoothed his shirt tail over the shorts and grinned at her. “Perfect.”
Her eye roll made the whole effort worth it.
He glanced around but didn’t see anything besides the crutch he could use. Maybe he could go buy a cane or something. Something fancy and up to his standards.
~*~*~
Jordan hobbled along the sidewalk, every step that put weight on his damned leg more painful than the previous. His anger seethed more now that he was outside the lair. The town was so damn small, closing in on him like the walls of the infirmary had. How could he survive six weeks in this place?
How could they ground him after he’d done what they’d asked of him? After he’d effectively destroyed Penny’s life, once they traced the access logs. He needed distractions. He needed to do something so he didn’t have to sit around and think about what he’d done to his little mouse.
Not his, he reminded himself.
He was stuck here in this stupid little town now, with a bum leg that wouldn’t help him avoid the stalking old bitties. He shuddered to think of the last time he’d discovered Mrs. Carter in the bushes outside his house. She pretended to be pruning them, like it was perfectly normal for an eighty-year-old woman to be cutting random bushes that weren’t even on her property.
He growled and turned the corner toward the general store. But paused as he spotted a small dog trotting down the sidewalk. It stopped as it saw him, eyes wary. Then it crouched low, like it was prepared to run away. Those dark little orbs tracked Jordan as he moved closer, then jumped back as Jordan reached the door to the store.
“That’s right, little pup,” he said. “Keep on moving away from the scary bum-legged man.”
But instead of heeding him, the little thing lifted his body and put his front legs on Jordan’s good leg, his tail wagging.
“You’re not very bright, are ya?” he asked the dog. He brushed his hand over the dog’s head. He glanced at the door to the general store. “I’m going to go in there. I’d suggest clearing this rot of a town as soon as ya can, mate.” The dog looked confused as Jordan stepped forward. Jordan winced as he shifted his weight to open the door. He’d expected the thing to run inside, but the dog stayed where it was as Jordan walked through the door.
The general store was owned by the Hernandez family. The father, Miguel, stood behind the counter, a newspaper up to his face. Jordan assessed the place as he always did when he came in, out of pure habit. Front door, main exit. Another door went into a storage area and Miguel’s office. And a third door let out on Second Street but wasn’t used much because it tended to stick shut. The aisles were set up parallel to each other, the ends facing each exit.
Not a good place to hide if one were getting ambushed.
Not that he’d ever gotten ambushed. His senses were impeccable. No one ever got the drop on him. It was how he hadn’t died before now.
Well, no one except the Overzealous Security Guard, that was. That whole damn night was a fucking blur.
Miguel put his paper down and assessed Jordan with discerning dark eyes. “Your luck finally run out?”
Jordan smiled as he hobbled to the counter and leaned his forearms on the finished wood. “You could say that. They gave me this stupid crutch to use, but it’s not working for me.”
“That thing is an eye sore,” Miguel said. “You need a man’s cane.”
Man’s cane? What did that even mean?
“I’d just rather have something a little less conspicuous.”
Miguel nodded and stood, walking over to a bin near the register. He rummaged through the umbrellas and canes and things and came out with a stylish wooden cane with an owl on the head of it. “Yes?”
“No way, mate,” Jordan replied. “I was thinking something a touch minimal. Clean, but classy.”
“Ah,” Miguel said. He grabbed another one and pulled it out.
This one was a dark mahogany wood, with slivers of red tones in it. It didn’t have any detailed carvings in it or have a weird shape to it. It simply existed. The color of the wood reminded him of Penny’s hair, how silky it had felt in his fingers, against his chest when she’d leaned down to kiss him as she rode him.
“Perfect,” he breathed. He wasn’t sure if he was talking about the cane or Penny.
He’d never see that beautiful, vibrant woman again. His little mouse who was more like a crouched tiger, ready to pounce. He paid for the cane, asked Miguel to toss his crutch out, and left the store, surprised to see the dog still waiting for him outside.
“What are you still doing here?” he asked the thing.
The dog responded with a tail wag.
“You know people around here use little dogs for target practice, right?” he told it.
Blink. Blink. Wag.
He sighed. “Maybe Dr. Betty can do something with ya,” he said. He bent his good leg to awkwardly scoop up the animal. He held it with one hand, exposing its belly. “Ah, you’re a boy. All right, lad, let�
�s go see Dr. Betty.”
He tucked the animal against his chest, cradling him in his arm. The dog stank of sweat and dog, which was understandable considering the heat of the day. It was unseasonably warm for December, but that was Texas for you. One day, a billion degrees, and the next freezing rain. It was the only place he’d ever been that could have all four seasons in one day.
12
Sam Alcott played the video again for his boss, each time it stopped on that face. He knew it did because that was how he’d cut it, so that his boss could see exactly who had desecrated his place of business.
As Senator Reilly’s eyes narrowed, Sam knew he was thinking the same thing he was. Nathan Hawk had made his move. It was amateurish, at best. Not his style at all. But Sam was glad of it. Watching that damn small hole-in-the-ground town all the time, watching Nathan’s minions moving through that town like nothing in the world was wrong… it chafed him.
Inside his chest, that dull ache began again. He pressed his hand against his chest.
“Did you get an image of the other guy? You said there were two.”
Sam shook his head, both to push away the ache and to answer his boss. “No, he stayed clear of the cameras. I’ve run the facial recognition program on this one. He doesn’t turn up anywhere in the databases.” But they both knew that face. They’d seen it before. When Sam had worked for Lewis, it had been in the files the turncoat had given them.
He’d taken as many of Lewis’s files with him as he could when those fuckers had attacked the senator’s house, as well as the codes to the surveillance system that team had installed in the main town. They could see the entire town, and so could he. It unfortunately did not give him access to their main systems, which was what he really wanted.
Reilly’s thin lips twitched upward for a short second. “No, he wouldn’t, would he.” His boss leaned in toward the screen. “Do we still have eyes on Jubilee?”
Sam nodded. “Of course.” He never took his eyes off that fucking place. He watched every day, hoping to see Nathan Hawk grace the town with his presence. He saw the entire team walking those streets, but never fucking Hawk.
“The issue I’m more concerned with is how he got into the building without anyone seeing in the first place. Why didn’t the alarms sound when he breached the vault? I paid good money for that security system.”
“I pulled the access records, sir,” he began and paused. He’d never liked having an outsider working for Reilly. Someone who didn’t know what Reilly’s real purpose was had no business on his staff as far as he was concerned. But Reilly kept the girl on for whatever reason. “Your assistant’s codes were used just before the break-in.”
Reilly nodded and leaned back in his chair. “I see.” Sam couldn’t see if the man was upset or if he was just processing the information. Reilly had a hot temper, one that smoldered before it exploded.
“I could bring her in,” Sam offered. He’d like to, if he were honest with himself. He was pissed as fuck over this break-in. It reflected badly on him as head of security, after all. He’d take the price of the break-in out on her as neatly as he had on that fucking security guard. He’d thought having outside security take care of the top floor would keep things above board and clean, but when it came down to it, the guy had nearly screwed the whole thing up and exposed them.
No. From now on, he staffed the upstairs with his guys as well. No more outside help.
“No, I’ll take care of that. No reason to scare her.”
But he wanted to scare the bitch. Because of her, they had a breach of epic proportions and they weren’t even sure what was taken. There was nothing missing, no trace of them being in the computer systems. But they’d been in the network room. He needed to know who the other guy was, so he could figure out how bad this breach was.
“I want the thief, though. Bring him to me. I think we can get a little bit more use out of him.”
“To turn him?” Sam asked, though it was risky asking the senator any questions of plans he made.
“If we can. If not?” Reilly shrugged, which was close to permission to off the guy as it ever got. Sam smiled and rubbed his sternum, like he could soothe the ache inside. He wanted Levi to struggle, to fight him. He wanted the guy to not turn, because then the real fun began.
“Just bring him to me,” Reilly said as he stood. He grabbed a briefcase and headed for the door.
“Yes, sir.” Sam nodded as Reilly left, his best men trailing the senator. He turned the laptop toward him and stared at the man on the camera. He’d come into his house. He’d broken into his vault. Maybe Reilly wanted the guy alive for now, but pretty soon, Sam would get the chance to rid the world of the filth.
His chest ached for blood. The screams of that security guard had been quite satisfying and yet, it hadn’t curbed that sharp craving in his chest, the one that surfaced when he needed to spill blood. If he were honest with himself, he didn’t want to let Reilly handle the girl. He wanted to. He wanted to punish her. It didn’t matter that she probably didn’t know her access codes had been stolen. That only made it worse. Reilly usually suffered no fools and he was sure that would extend to her. Though Reilly wanted to take care of her himself, he knew without a doubt that he would turn her over to Sam when he was done with her.
He always did. Sometimes, he liked to watch Sam work.
His lower lip trembled as the ache in his chest sharpened. He needed that kill. Nothing would satisfy the ache but that kill. Not that girl. Not the two men that broke in. No. Only one kill would satisfy the urge, the craving inside his chest. All the rest did was mute it for a bit.
Which was why he was with Reilly. Being here had gotten him closer to finding Nathan Hawk than ever before. The senator had his own beef with Hawk, which was fine, but that bastard was Sam’s kill. Then and only then, would the ache be alleviated. Only then would it leave him. Only then could he relax.
13
Penny stepped into Betty Tanner’s clinic and glanced around. Like Tessa’s salon, a little bell dinged, announcing her arrival. The older woman was at the counter, laugh lines crinkling as she cooed at the gorgeous little white poodle in her arms. The dog noticed Penny first, yapping and growling like it was the biggest dog in the world.
Betty glanced up and smiled widely. “Penny! I didn’t know you were coming home!”
Tessa apparently hadn’t told anyone she’d be coming home for Christmas. Was that because she was ashamed of Penny? Or that she didn’t care? Or was it because she wasn’t entirely sure that Penny would actually show up?
“I just came in today,” Penny replied out loud, pushing away the shame of her thoughts. “Home for Christmas and all that.”
“It’s good to see ya,” Betty said as she set the dog back on the ground behind the counter. “How are you?”
“Good,” Penny said, letting out a somewhat relaxed breath. “Staying busy as always.”
Betty grinned. “Girl like you should take some time for herself, you know.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Penny said, hoping Betty wouldn’t press the issue.
“So, what brings you in here?” Betty eyed her. “I don’t see an animal with you.”
“Well,” Penny paused. “I thought maybe you might like some help for a few days?” She rushed the next words. “Tessa’s going to be busy at the salon until the Christmas shutdown and I figured I needed something to pass the time.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Actually, there was enough truth in it that she almost didn’t feel guilty for it.
Betty frowned at her. “You’re trying to work through your own vacation?”
“It’s not really work if you love doing it,” Penny offered.
She looked like she was about to reply—probably to pry further into Penny’s intentions—but the bell dinged behind her, announcing another visitor. The poodle yapped at Betty’s feet, running her little heart out in circles around Betty’s feet.
As she turned, the blood drained out of her head, turning her chee
ks icy and boiling at the same time. If possible, Jordan was taller than the last time she’d seen him. A little mutt of a dog—probably a border terrier mix—wriggled in his arm. In his other hand, he carried a dark wooden cane, leaning on it for support.
Stubble coated his jawline, like he’d forgotten to shave. The shirt he wore was a dark blue, with little white and yellow birds scattered across the fabric. Unlike the dark slacks he’d worn the night they’d met, he had khaki cargo shorts on now, revealing muscular calves. Or rather, one muscular calf and a boot on the other leg, obscuring it.
He stared at her for a long moment, but the wriggling pup in his arms stole his attention away before she knew for sure he recognized her.
“Jordan!” Betty exclaimed, coming out from behind the counter. “Who is that little mud ball?”
The counter door banged shut as she walked right up to the man and cooed quietly to the dog. The dog responded, flicking out its tongue wildly to her hand as she pet its head. Its tail was crushed against Jordan’s chest, but it still strained to wag it.
“Found him down the street. Not sure if he belongs to anyone in town.” Jordan’s voice vibrated right down Penny’s spine.
“He’s adorable,” Betty cooed.
As Betty bent down to lavish attention on the dog, Jordan’s gaze flicked to Penny. She couldn’t read the expression on his face. Those tropical blue orbs focused back on the vet. “I figured if anyone would know who it belongs to, the town’s best vet would.”
Did he remember her? Would he care to remember her? Or had she just been that night’s conquest?
“I’m not sure I recognize this guy, but this close to the highway, we always get a few strays in. People abandoning their pets and such.” She gave a sound of disapproval then reached for him. “Let me give this little guy a quick bath for you. He’s filthy. Then we can see about trying to identify him.”
As she took the little guy in her arms, her gaze fell to Penny, like she’d just remembered that Penny was there. “Oh, Jordan, have you met Penny yet?”
Well, shit.