Rockwell Agency: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  But her life was over. It might be minutes or it might be within hours. She didn’t know how long she had to wait. She only knew that her fate was sealed.

  Chapter 30

  Wes

  Wes couldn’t believe that Jordan had just walked out of the hotel room and left him behind. He couldn’t believe that she had referred to him as a client. That she had pushed him out when she had just let him in. He couldn’t believe any of it, and it hurt.

  It hurt more than he would have thought.

  After the afternoon they had spent together, risking their lives together, sharing secrets, making love, and committing to following through on this case together, the idea that she should go on alone, without him, because she usually never worked alongside clients, was enough to make him wonder if he had imagined it all.

  Maybe she wasn’t a dragon shifter at all. Maybe he had been shot in the shoulder, and this was one giant, long dream. A dream where someone he was growing to care about so deeply could just walk out on him with a kiss and a wave and wish for him to feel better soon.

  He had thought they were partners, and lovers, and friends, but apparently he was just her client.

  Wes answered the door when the food arrived, allowing the hotel staff person to bring it in and set it up on the small table that was in the sitting area. It smelled delicious, all of it, but his appetite was gone. All he could think about was Jordan out there, working on their case, probably not thinking about him at all, and the fact that he was stuck in this room.

  Well, maybe he didn’t have to be stuck in this room. Yes, he had a bullet wound in his shoulder, but thanks to Jordan’s healing powers, he was much, much better than he should be. And it wasn’t as though he didn’t know how to call a cab for himself and meet her at the bar. There was nothing keeping him in this room except her instruction that he stay there, and what she didn’t seem to understand was that she wasn’t in charge. They were partners, whether she wanted to see it that way or not.

  With this decided, Wes walked away from the spread of food that had been laid out and began to get himself ready. He only had the clothes that he had borrowed from Jordan’s stash that morning, and he couldn’t do anything about the fact that they were looking rather rumpled by that point. He would be far from the roughest-looking person in the bar, based on his previous experiences. He used his cell phone to call a car to come pick him up and was told that one would be there in fifteen minutes.

  Wes was energized now. When Jordan had walked out, he’d felt flat and momentarily defeated, but his energy was back, and he was ready to go track her down and remind her just what kind of relationship they had. He knew from reading Jordan’s thoughts that she was fiercely independent and that one of the reasons she had been so worried about starting something with him was that she never wanted a relationship. Relationships, in her mind, only tied her down and made her beholden to someone else.

  Well, it was too late. They had a relationship whether she liked it or not, and he knew that, despite her walking out, she did have feelings for him. She couldn’t have been with him the way she had that afternoon if she didn’t feel what he was feeling. So, it was time to go show her that being partners with someone wasn’t a burden—it was a benefit.

  Wes was in the bathroom, doing what he could to splash water on his face, when he heard a sound at the hotel room door. He immediately thought of the ride he was expecting before realizing that the driver would text him rather than come up to the room. The driver didn’t even have the room number.

  It must have been Jordan, coming back to say that she’d realized that leaving him behind had been a mistake. When he heard the door open and footsteps enter the room, he smiled. It was definitely Jordan.

  Shit, look at all the food. God, that smells good. Definitely taking this with me. Bathroom light is on—bet he’s in there.

  Wes froze, hearing the male voice in his head and knowing that his elation over Jordan’s return was for nothing. There was a stranger in his hotel room, and he was looking for him.

  A different voice played in his head. Wonder what a room like this costs. Little shit. I’m glad we’re taking him in. It’s bullshit that some people get to live like this. Where the fuck is he—in some kind of bubble bath with champagne flutes? I hope Sal kills him slowly.

  The footsteps were moving towards the bathroom. Wes looked at the door, which wasn’t closed all the way, much less locked. There was no real barrier between him and the two different men who were about to walk in and, apparently, take him to Sal. And even if he was trained in combat—which he wasn’t—he was at a severe disadvantage because of his shoulder.

  He was trapped.

  Looking behind him, Wes saw that there was a small window above the toilet, but there was no way he could fit through it even if he got it open, and even if he could, he’d be on the fourth floor. He only had one option, and he took it without stopping to think about the repercussions. If he stayed still, he was getting taken in, and if he ran and got caught, he was getting taken in. He might as well try to get away.

  Boss’ phone—sweet. He’ll love getting that back.

  One of them had found Sal’s phone, which meant that they were looking around and approaching the bathroom door with some caution. After all, he could be armed. God, he wished he was armed.

  His heart was pounding in his chest, as he positioned himself right behind the bathroom door. They would assume he didn’t know they were there, because they didn’t know that he could hear thoughts. If he could get the element of surprise over them, he might stand a chance.

  Wes stood there behind the door for only a few seconds, but it felt like hours before someone shoved the door open and stepped inside.

  “Hands up!” the intruder shouted, just as Wes shoved the door back against him hard, using all the force he could muster with one hand.

  It was enough force to take the intruder by surprise, and he stumbled backward, giving Wes room to slip by him. He did, running as fast as he could for the hotel door. He got there and curled his hand around the doorknob as footsteps bore down on him from behind. Throwing the door open, he shouted as loud as he could and started to take off down the hall. He had only gone a few steps when someone grabbed his shoulder from behind—his injured shoulder.

  Wes yelled again, but this time in pain as he sank to the floor, his whole body protesting the assault. He was on his knees before he knew it, right there in the middle of the hallway. A man was on either side of him, and one was speaking low.

  “Stay quiet and don’t cause any more of a scene,” the man said. “I have two guns and a knife, and I’ll make sure that you don’t walk away from here alive if you draw any more attention.”

  “You can’t do that,” Wes said, turning his head to look directly into the man’s eyes, fury and pain in his own. “Sal wants to see me, doesn’t he?”

  His captor didn’t have a chance to answer. A hotel room door opened in front of them, and a woman wearing a robe stepped out, looking incensed. “What is going on here?” she demanded, looking down at Wes on the floor and the two men standing above him.

  “Help,” Wes managed to say, before the man who was on his left silenced him by pressing down on his injured shoulder. Wes gasped in pain, his vision going black for a moment, as he sagged down against the carpet.

  “Ma’am, please return to your room,” the other man said, speaking firmly. “It’s for your own safety. This man is wanted for several crimes, and we’re taking him in. Please—get back inside.”

  Through his pain, Wes fought to try to save himself. “Not true,” he managed to gasp. “Call the police. Call them!”

  He didn’t get any further before one of his captors—he couldn’t tell which one—grabbed his shoulder again, causing him to see stars. There were voices around him, talking back and forth, but he couldn’t tell where they were or what they were saying. Fingers were digging directly into his wound, pressing harder and harder and completely eradicating h
is ability to fight back. He was vaguely aware of hands on him, pulling him to his feet, and then he felt a sharp stab at the inside of his left elbow. A fluid flowed into his veins, and Wes sagged almost immediately.

  As his consciousness faded, he heard one last whisper of a thought.

  Hope the other one was as easy to grab as he was. She put up a real fight earlier today. Vince and Vaughn better be ready for a fight.

  Wes felt his heart sink as his eyes slid closed, and his mind began to go. They were after Jordan, too.

  “She’s a dragon,” he said, out of his mind. “You’ll never catch her. She’s a dragon.”

  And then he passed out from the pain and the drugs.

  Chapter 31

  Jordan

  It was a long shot, thinking that she would find Natalie at the bar again, waiting. Then again, that’s what she had said the night before, and Natalie had been there. Of course, Natalie had been following Alana those two nights, and now Alana was with Sal and his organization. So, it didn’t make any sense that Natalie would show up here tonight. In fact, she might know that Alana had been taken. She might have been called in to do the job she’d been assigned. There were infinite possibilities, and very few of them suggested that Natalie would in fact be at the bar where Jordan now sat in a back-corner booth, an untouched beer in front of her.

  But Jordan had a gut instinct, and she had learned a long time ago to listen to those. As she sat there, looking around and waiting, she also realized that she’d had a little bit of a panic moment that she hadn’t even realized at the time. She’d rushed out of that hotel room and insisted that Wes stay behind. Yes, he had been shot in the shoulder—and yes, he needed to rest. There was no doubt. But in the back of her mind, it had been more than that. After an emotional afternoon in the woods with him, making love—because that’s what it had been—and letting all of her walls down, she’d needed some space. It was so much with Wes. So much, so fast. So much that she had never thought that she would want with anyone.

  She did want it with Wes, though. But part of her had been glad to rush out on her own and have a few moments where she didn’t have to worry about anyone else. She didn’t have to worry if Wes was hearing what she was thinking or worry about making sure that he was keeping up with her or worry about whether he was safe and protected. Maybe there was a part of her that was always going to want independence over everything else.

  And if so, what did that mean for the future between her and Wes? There was no doubt that she liked him more than she had ever liked anyone, and for the first time in her entire life, she was willing to entertain the possibility of having a real relationship.

  That was huge for her.

  But was it ever going to be enough to overcome her instincts?

  She toyed with the idea of calling Wes, just to check in. Maybe, if he was feeling up to it, he could call a car and come join her at the bar. Or, if he really did need the rest, at least she could have made the time to call and talk to him.

  But she was on the job, and this was the kind of thing she wasn’t supposed to be worrying about. She needed to focus. If Natalie wasn’t here in the next little while, she probably wasn’t coming. And if she wasn’t coming, then Jordan needed to figure out her next move.

  The front door of the bar opened and Jordan glanced toward it, scanning briefly for a slight frame, perhaps in a hoodie. The person walking in was large though—much too large to be Natalie. Jordan looked away, but then jerked her head back, taking a second look.

  Her pulse quickened and her muscles tensed, her whole body on alert. She was positive that the man who had just walked in was the one who had shot Wes in the shoulder. The man who had shown up after Jordan had Natalie under control. The man that she and Wes had theorized was Natalie’s keeper, assigned by her father to make sure that his daughter did the job that, for whatever reason, he had assigned her.

  The man didn’t see her. He walked over to the bar and ordered a drink, lowering his massive frame onto a barstool and taking out his phone. As he waited for his drink, he started tapping at the screen.

  Jordan watched him like a hawk, her heightened hearing trained fully on him. Everything else in the bar and every other thought faded away. She watched him accept his beer, watched him take a sip of it, watched him scroll through something on his phone, watched him look around the bar. As he did look around, she shrank back, making sure that she stayed out of sight.

  But he didn’t appear to be on the job. He wasn’t being alert, or cautious, or thorough. He was, it appeared, just there for a drink.

  But why here?

  Jordan slipped out of her booth, abandoning her drink. She brushed off a guy that came towards her, intent on asking her to dance, and moved around the bar so that she was positioned behind the man. He still was unaware of her presence, and she kept a good distance. But she was able to see his phone screen now, and she hoped to be able to see what he was looking at.

  Inching closer and closer, she came to an abrupt stop when his phone rang. He swiped to answer the call and put the phone up to his ear.

  “Yeah?”

  Jordan focused in, shutting out all of the other sounds in the bar.

  “Not right now, no. I’m waiting for her.”

  Jordan inched closer. Natalie? He was waiting for Natalie?

  The man’s forehead wrinkled. “Uh …yeah. Well, yeah. I didn’t report into you because I haven’t been able to talk to her about it. Yeah—she kind of lost it last night. No, there were two people. Look, I can’t really talk about it now, but I’m taking care of it. It had nothing to do with the mark. She thought she heard some guy talking to her about her job. I don’t know why. The guy and some girl he was with got one over on her, out in the back alley, but I took care of it. They can’t identify me.”

  Jordan knew she was holding her breath, but she didn’t want to risk even taking one breath in case the sound of it caused her to miss what was being said. The bar was so loud, and even with her heightened hearing she was struggling to follow the conversation. All she could tell was that the guy was telling someone—probably Sal—what had happened last night, and he hadn’t reported it beforehand. But Sal was asking about it now.

  “I don’t know where she is right this minute, no.”

  There was a long pause. Jordan could hear sounds of something talking on the other end of the line, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “You have her?” the man asked, sounding surprised. “Natalie’s mark? You have her there?”

  Alana was still alive. Jordan felt relief, not because she had any kind of affection for Alana but because she had promised to try to help the woman, and she did take that seriously.

  “What is going on?” the man asked, his voice hardly above a low whisper now. He opened his wallet and threw some money on the bar to cover his drink, then began making his way towards the door. “Is Natalie in trouble? No—I know I’ve been out of touch. I’ve been doing my job, which is to help Natalie get through this job you gave her. I was the one who said she wasn’t ready, didn’t I? So, don’t fucking take that tone with me, Sal. I tell you what you need to know. Now tell me what the hell is going on.”

  Jordan walked behind the man as he talked on the phone, headed for the door. She kept a good distance, wracking her brain as she listened for a way to stick close to him after he got out of there. She would hardly be able to escape his notice in the parking lot.

  “I’m not coming in until you tell me,” the man said. “And I’m not bringing Natalie. She has to deal with this in her own way, Sal. I don’t give a fuck if she does take down your whole operation. I’m pretty sure that whatever screw up has happened isn’t her fault anyway. You’re the one who threw her into this. Yes—I know you love her daughter, dammit. But you have a strange way of showing it sometimes, Sal. And I love her, too. I’m not going to let you undo whatever progress she has made just because you need someone to blame for whatever shit show your operation has
turned into over the last twenty-four hours.”

  The man stepped out of the bar, headed for the parking lot. Jordan still followed him, forming her plan on the fly as she gathered more information. Everything was clicking together in her mind. Natalie was Sal’s daughter. She had been through something and was struggling to get back in the game. Her father was trying to protect her, and so was this large man who clearly was in love with Natalie.

  That changed things. He hadn’t reported to Sal that Natalie had made a mistake the night before by shooting at and then allowing two unknowns to escape. Now Natalie was being called in, but it seemed like this man’s priority was Natalie herself—not Sal and his agenda.

  “Fine,” the man snapped, after listening for a long time as he walked to his car. Jordan had stayed near the bar, listening from afar. “I’ll come in and we’ll figure it out. But you’re making a mistake with Natalie, Sal. I’m telling you—she’s not ready, and you can’t lay the blame for this on her. I’ll take care of your mark myself. This stays between me and you. And, frankly, I think Natalie needs to be out of the whole business. You might love her, but you’re not doing right by her. I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

  The man hung up the phone and started to unlock the door to his black SUV.

  There was no time to think through her plan. She had to trust her instincts, like she always did.

  “Hey!” Jordan shouted, striding over to the man with all of her five feet and zero inches, her hair swept over her forehead and curling around her ears, and her eyes lit up with purpose. “You. It’s you.”

  The man glanced at her dismissively, then turned his gaze back to her, his eyes narrowing. “It’s you.”