by Lynn Landes
Jordan butters her biscuit and frowns as she thinks. “Do you think he’d buy it?”
“I think he might, and we would draw up a contract giving you a percentage of future income.”
Jordan grins and looks at him. “You have an amazing mind,” she says.
“I know, it’s a curse and a gift,” he teases causing her to laugh. He watches her throw her head back in laughter and his eyes darken. “You have a wonderful laugh,” he replies.
“Ryder,” she sighs and glances down.
“Ten percent of the proceeds should be a good starting point,” he ignores her.
“Fifteen percent sounds better. Though I will probably start at twenty and let him talk me down,” she bites her biscuit while he laughs.
“I like the way your mind works,” he finishes his biscuit as the first course is brought in.
Nick is grinning as he sets a silver tray in front of Jordan and another one in front of Ryder. Both plates are covered in a silver dome, meant to tantalize them.
“Jordan be prepared to have your mind blown,” Ryder teases. The moment the tray is lifted she gasps.
“Oh,” a lush piece of darkened meat sits in the center of a plate of rice and vegetables. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, causing Ryder to almost groan out loud. “Heaven,” she whispers and Ryder nods as he watches her eyes fly open. “Do I smell notes of cumin?” she asks Nick excitedly.
“I like her,” Nick declares, covering his heart with his hand. “Yes,” and he waits for her to take a bite. Jordan doesn’t disappoint.
“I may weep,” she declares, “you are a master chef, Nick. Ryder’s bragging didn’t do you justice.”
Nick grins at his friend and nods, “It never does. Enjoy your meal,” he turns to Ryder and points. “Keep this one.”
Jordan watches him leave and cocks an eyebrow at him, “This one?”
“He’s just picking, Jordan,” her soft laughter stops him.
“I know, relax and enjoy your meal,” she takes a second bite, and he sits back to watch her.
“I’m sure we can leave the kids with my parents. We may have to stay one night before we return. How do you feel about that?” he asks, watching her slowly put her fork down.
She doesn’t answer as she sips on her water. “I think it would be easier on the children, but I need to see if they are okay with it.”
“I’m glad we agree because I had Robert send a telegram to U.S. Steel requesting a meeting. If they are in agreement, he will buy the train tickets.” Jordan glares at him.
Ryder chuckles, “They are exchangeable if the children grow distraught.” His smile disappears when he remembers the night Erin had. “I don’t want to upset them, I assure you.”
“Thank you,” she pushes her plate away. “We should get back to them.”
“Of course,” Ryder tries to pay for the meal, but Clara refuses. Jordan thanks them, and Ryder grips her elbow to guide her through the packed restaurant.
“Mr. Foster,” a familiar voice calls out. Ryder tenses and Jordan’s eyes jump to his in surprise when his hand drops to from her elbow to her waist. Heat flickers through her body when he grips her tighter.
“Mrs. Miller, lovely to see you,” Ryder says, barely glancing at Ava beside her mother.
“Who is your guest?” Mrs. Miller demands with narrowed eyes at the familiar way he’s touching Jordan.
“Jordan Regent is Erin’s sister.” Ryder explains softly.
“Oh!” her eyes show her confusion, “I thought the child was an orphan?”
“There was a mix-up, but I’m here now,” Jordan answers for him and she smiles at Ava. “I didn’t catch your name?”
“Ava Miller,” she says, daring to look up at the tall woman.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Jordan says.
“Jordan, Mrs. Miller and her husband, Pastor Miller brought clothes donated by the church for Erin.” Ryder explains to her ear. The restaurant has grown louder with the lunch crowd.
“That was very kind of you, I’ll make sure to send a donation to the church, as soon as Erin and I are settled,” Jordan replies with a sincere smile.
“We should go Mrs. Miller, we have a long drive back to the ranch. Have a nice day,” he quickly guides Jordan from the restaurant, ignoring the look of anger on her face.
“He’s very forward with her, isn’t he?” Kathryn Miller sniffs.
“They look lovely together,” Ava replies and lifts a hand to gesture for a table.
“Ava! How will you make a good match if you don’t fight for what you want?” her mother asks. Ava grins.
“That’s exactly what I plan to do, Mother.” She thinks of Thomas and says, “Now, let’s eat.”
Ryder doesn’t remove his hand from her waist after they step into the street, and he guides her back to his law office. “Hopefully, we have a response from U.S. Steel.”
Jordan is quiet as they walk into the office. He releases his hold on her and hurries to speak to Robert. They talk for a few minutes while Jordan thinks.
“Perfect! Thank you,” Ryder says goodbye, and glances at Jordan.
“We have a two o’clock appointment tomorrow, with Mr. William Albert Franklin, owner of U.S. Steel.”
“How did you manage that so quickly?” she asks.
“I told him we have a limited time offer, dangled the bait, you might say,” Ryder teases.
“I see,” she frowns, wondering if she should tell him the rest. Biting her lip, she decides to wait. It looks like he’s in for a surprise tomorrow. She smiles and lets him take her back to the house.
Chapter 33
Erin is quiet as she watches Jordan leave with Ryder. She sits on the front porch and Tony stays by her side and watches her. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“I promise, she’ll be back,” Tony promises.
“I’ve heard that before,” Erin’s watery eyes that have seen too much tell him she doesn’t believe him.
“Ryder will keep her safe,” Donovan promises and walks over to sit on the steps beside the children.
They both watch him with matching wounded eyes, and he grins. “Did you know that Ryder was a soldier in the war and a member of the Pennsylvania Militia?”
“What’s a militia?” Tony asks while Erin snuggles into Saint's large body.
“A group of armed citizens who help protect and defend their State,” Donovan explains.
“Are you a member of the Militia?” Tony asks.
“Yep,” he grins at them. “I promise to protect and defend you both. You are safe.”
“Thank you,” Erin sighs in relief. “I’m going to ask Mrs. Loren for an apple,” she hurries inside, leaving them sitting on the porch.
“You shouldn’t make promises like that,” Tony snaps. “Erin has to learn to take care of herself.”
Donovan glances at him, surprised by the anger in his tone. “I can understand why you think that, Son, but…”
“I’m not your son! I’m no one’s son,” Tony jumps to his feet and runs to the barn leaving Donovan watching in shock.
Erin watches from the doorway and bites the apple. Chewing, she sits next to Donovan and pats his hand. “Don’t be mad at him. He’s been alone since he was two,” she chews and stares at the barn.
“Two!” Donovan lowers his head and shakes it in disgust. “Poor kid.”
“Tony took care of me, Mr. Donovan,” she says as if that explains everything.
“How?” Erin tells him how he stores food in a pillowcase under his bed, in case they have to run. “He used to trap animals to use as distraction in crowded areas.”
Donovan laughs, “I’ve seen that somewhere before.”
“Tony’s the best. He taught me.”
“It takes a smart boy to live on the streets like that.” He frowns at her. “You don’t have to steal to survive, Erin.”
“I don’t, but Tony is the only one that took care of Tony,” she
bites her apple and offers him a second one. “Can you give this to him?” she asks, watching him carefully.
“Yes, I can.” He grins and nudges her, “Thanks, kiddo.”
Tony is digging a hole at the center of the barn inside the smallest stall. Donovan watches the child dig and dump the dirt, dig and dump, over and over, sweating. He doesn’t say a word, he just works.
Donovan picks up a shovel and steps over, “Take a break, let me help,” he holds up an apple with a grin.
Narrowed eyes watch him cautiously, but hunger wins. “Thank you,” he climbs out of the hole and dusts his hands.
“Wash your hands, first,” Donovan points at the well and smiles when he grumbles but does as told. Sitting down, he eats the apple and watches as Donovan digs with no questions asked.
“Ain’t you gonna ask why I’m digging?” Dark, angry eyes dare him.
“No. I trust you. If you need a hole, we’re digging a hole,” he keeps digging and shoveling until Tony finishes his apple and tosses the core into the slop bucket for the pigs later.
“Thank you,” he sniffs. “Sometimes to catch an animal you have to think like one, Mr. Donovan. The man coming for Erin and Jordan, he’s the worst kind of animal.”
Donovan dumps a shovel of dirt and glances up at him. “What kind is that?”
“The kind who likes to hurt people for fun,” he says softly.
“How do you know that?”
“Erin said, he liked to squeeze her burn just to hear her scream.” Tony wipes at a tear streaking down his dirt stained cheek. “He’s never gonna touch her again,” Tony declares with fury in his eyes.
“No, he’s not.” Donovan is sickened by this new piece of news, and he whistles, calling for his stable hands. Three men respond, and he climbs out of the hole. “How deep, son?” Donovan asks.
“He’s tall, so six feet should do it,” he glances at them and waits for them to argue.
“Eight-feet by six-feet,” Donovan gives the order and they all get to work. It’s dirty, sweaty work, but no one questions him. He thinks about all this child has seen and faced in such a short time. What’s amazing is that his thought is to protect Erin, he’s not worried about himself. He knows how to take care of himself but protecting a friend without questioning his own safety shows the depth of his character.
“Tell me how this works,” Donovan asks him while they watch the workers.
“I made a trap like this for the rats,” Tony explains. “I used bait to draw them in and once they catch the scent, something changes in their eyes. The moment where they spot the prey, it’s all they can think about. It’s easy from there. I just wait and the trap does the rest.”
“What did you do with them?” Sawyer asks.
“I don’t kill animals, not even rats,” he sniffs and looks over at Donovan surprised to see pride shining in his eyes.
“Good boy,” he replies.
“I, I kept them in a box and fed them, releasing them when I need a distraction.”
All three men stop shoveling and laugh. “Smart kid.”
“You’ve no idea,” Donovan drops a hand to his shoulder. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
Chapter 34
“Let me do the talking, Jordan. We’ll be done quickly and, on the way, home soon,” Ryder promises.
“Yes, Ryder,” Jordan replies softly and smooths down the front of her navy-blue dress.
He frowns down at her, not quite trusting the spark in her eyes and softness of her tone. “I’m serious, I know what these kinds of men are like. They require a firm hand.”
“You’ve no idea,” she quips and straightens. “I have the design, let’s go inside before we’re late.”
Ryder nods and guides her inside the large lobby of the fifteen-story building. “It’s exquisite,” she gasps. Vaulted coffered ceilings with large chandeliers illuminating the cherry wood floors and walls. Massive windows light the lobby, and Jordan is struck with panic.
“This is a bad idea,” she stops walking and Ryder smiles down at her and tucks his arm through hers.
“It’s going to be okay,” he guides her towards one of the windows and out of the flow of people moving around. “Look at me,” he commands, and she obeys.
“I can burn it,” she whimpers and grips his jacket with two fists. His hands covers hers and he smiles down at her.
“We’re just going to have a discussion, that’s all. If you choose to walk out, then we walk,” he insists.
“Okay, I can do that,” she releases his jacket and rubs out the wrinkles. “I’m sorry, Ryder. I should be braver than this,” she groans.
“Your perfect the way you are,” he replies instantly and laughs at her glance of surprise.
“A perfect mess,” she quips and his smile fades.
“No, Jordan, just perfect. You’ve been neglected for far too long,” he slips an arm through hers and pulls her towards the elevator.
“No one’s perfect, Ryder,” she teases as they wait for the elevator.
“Name one thing that isn’t perfect about you,” he demands.
“I can name at least five,” she laughs.
He stares at her and lifts one eyebrow in challenge.
“My hair is constantly falling out of its clip,” she whispers so only he can hear it.
“A symphony of silk,” he replies instantly.
“Ryder,” she gapes at him in shock as the elevator opens.
“Eighth floor,” he tells the porter.
‘He’s your lawyer, Jordan. He’s just trying to put you at ease by teasing you,’ she tells herself.
“Number two?” he asks as they wait for the elevator to rise.
Jordan shakes her head and covers a smile as the next group leaves.
“I won’t stop until you tell me,” he teases.
“I throw things when I’m angry,” she sniffs.
“Impossible,” he laughs softly, but she nudges him.
“I’m serious,” she whispers.
“Remind me not to make you angry,” he says. “How many times?”
“Once,” her eyes take on a dark look and he nudges her to draw her back to him.
“Three?”
“That’s enough,” she hisses.
“Three?” He lifts her chin to see her eyes and she has to stifle a giggle. “I sneeze when I’m nervous,” she whispers.
Ryder laughs out loud at that one, “Seriously?” he ignores the strange looks from the five people left on the elevator.
Her blush has him laughing harder. “Undignified,” one man murmurs as he leaves the elevator.
“Sneeze on him,” Ryder whispers, causing Jordan to hide her face in his neck. His arm goes around her shoulder pulling her close and they both freeze when they realize how close they are.
“Three?” he says huskily, and she backs away with a shake of her head.
“Level eight,” the porter says and opens the door.
Ryder steps out and waits for Jordan to join him. The office of William Franklin is decadent, with lush carpet and dark paneled wood walls. Jordan walks behind Ryder and waits for him to finish speaking with the secretary. She pulls out a handkerchief and sneezes softly into it and finds him staring at her in astonishment.
“That was the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” he laughs softly at her look of outrage.
“Don’t tempt me to get a new lawyer,” she quips.
“I’m irreplaceable, Ms. Regent,” he steps closer and his smile fades. All he can think about is kissing her. Luckily for them, someone calls their name.
“Mr. Foster?”
Jordan watches him turn and greet the secretary. They follow her inside a large office. A wall of windows greets them, overlooking the bustling streets of New York. “It’s magnificent,” she gasps.
“I think so,” a deep male voice says from behind them. They turn and greet the older gentlemen, and Jordan is enchanted. He has snow white hair and a matching beard and moustache, and he’s elegan
tly dressed in a black suit, vest and tie. He walks with a cane and when he stops in front of them, Jordan is forced to look down.
“Mr. Franklin, at your service,” the man says. “You must be Mr. Foster?”
“Yes, Sir, and this lovely young woman is Ms. Jordan Regent,” Ryder says.
“Regent? Of Regent Steel?” he asks.
“Yes, Sir. My late husband was Johan Regent,” she replies.
“My condolences, Ms. Regent. Please have a seat and tell me what I can do for you? Your message was intriguing.” He gestures to a pair of club chairs near the fireplace and across from a setae.
“Thank you,” Jordan sits next to Ryder and drops her bag on the floor beside her feet.
“Mr. Franklin, I’m here as Ms. Regent’s lawyer and we’d like to discuss a new design and process for creating lighter, stronger steel, at a cheaper cost.”
“I see,” he glances at his clock on the wall. “I’ve heard this before. Everyone thinks they can make lighter and stronger.”
“No, Sir, we have a design for a…,” Ryder insists and Jordan interrupts him.
“Mr. Franklin, do you have a knife I could borrow?”
Mr. Franklin grins at the look of shock on Ryder’s face.
“A knife? Why on earth would you need a knife?” Ryder asks.
“It just so happens that I do have a knife.” Mr. Franklin reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a gentlemen’s folding knife. “Be careful it’s sharp,” he suggests.
“Forgive me, Ryder, but some things are best shown rather than explained.” Jordan bends over and lifts the hem of her navy skirt and flips it over, slicing the seams. When she’s satisfied, she slips out a bar of steel, roughly two inches by six inches, and lifts it triumphantly.
“My late husband was working on way to create steel using ore from the United States instead of imported ore. He designed a new process and used it to make this.” She offers Mr. Franklin the steel.
He accepts it and slips on his glasses and looks it over. “It’s light,” he frowns and tries to bend it.
“And stronger and cheaper to make and as I said using ore from the United States. They killed him for his design. I’m here to offer to sell it to you.”
