ReDefined

by Michele Zurlo

She regarded the cloth uncertainly. “In that?”

  “That’s what it’s for.”

  Her first inclination was to protest, but the look he gave her quelled that impulse. She made use of it, but then she refused to give it back. Jordan got that Dom look, and his lips parted to give an order.

  “Amy, it was a lovely wedding. You did a fantastic job putting this together on such short notice.” The voice arrested the command Jordan had been preparing to issue.

  She turned to find Aunt Stephanie and Uncle Darren standing nearby. Uncle Darren was her mother’s brother. She preened under her aunt’s praise. Aunt Stephanie had always been Amy’s favorite. She and Uncle Darren were those people who were always positive and upbeat. Too bad they’d moved to Madison, Wisconsin two decades ago for better jobs. “Thank you. It was nothing.”

  Stephanie snorted. She leaned in for a hug. “Honey, I know what it takes to pull off a wedding. I have four daughters with two recent weddings under my belt. It’s hell, and you pulled off a miracle.” Stephanie turned to Jordan. “Hello there, young man. I’m the aunt of the bride. I’m Stephanie, and this is my husband, Darren.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Amy blushed anew. “This is Jordan Monaghan. He’s Malcolm’s friend.”

  Jordan shook hands and initiated a short, polite conversation until the photographer shouted for the wedding party to assemble on the steps for posed photographs.

  “I won’t fall,” she assured him as he slung an arm around her shoulders to help her into position.

  “I know you won’t.” He didn’t let go, but he did manage to wrest the used handkerchief away from her and stuff it in his pocket.

  At the reception, Amy greeted her parents. “Dad, you look so handsome, and Mom, you’re just gorgeous. I love that dress.”

  Her mother, Francine, looked her up and down as if seeing her for the first time that day. “Thank you, Amy. You look amazing as well. Are you wearing Spanx?”

  Amy exhaled slowly. She’d struggled with her weight all her life. Though she wasn’t all that large, she was carrying about thirty extra pounds according to medical charts and indexes. It was just like her mother to bring that up now, when she’d been feeling pretty good about herself. She was, in fact, wearing undergarments that supplied extra support. Rather than respond, she said, “I didn’t see you at Darcy’s this morning. Is everything okay?”

  “We had some trouble parking the RV in her neighborhood. It appears there is an ordinance against having one around for more than three days. And then your sister’s house was a wreck, so there was no point in staying there anyway. We ended up going to Uncle Darren’s hotel room and getting ready. It was far more civilized, and the hotel welcomes campers. But we did stop by.”

  Oh, but Amy had not missed her parents or the emotional complications they brought. Darcy had rejoiced when they’d moved away, but she had never been forced to bear the brunt of their mother’s constant disapproval. Blessed with a fuck-off attitude Amy envied, Darcy had literally flipped off their parents when they’d come out against Scott, telling them all—Amy included—that they could either accept the relationship she had with him or get out of their lives. Amy, on the other hand, had thirsted for her parents’ approval. Without bothering to listen to Darcy’s explanations, she’d sided with their parents in labeling him an abuser.

  Of all the things she’d done in her life, that filled her with the most shame and regret. Scott had been a good man who’d loved Darcy with his whole heart. His sudden and violent death had broken Darcy. But now she had Malcolm, and she was once again happy and in love. At least Amy hadn’t made the same mistake with him that she had with Scott.

  She managed a weak, polite smile at her mother’s disapproval of the pre-wedding turmoil. “I didn’t know you stopped by.”

  “Darcy said you were on the phone dealing with the caterer.” Her mother arched a brow, challenging her to reveal Darcy’s lie.

  Amy nodded, thankful for Darcy’s quick thinking. It had been nice to not see her parents until now. “Several last-minute things cropped up.” Across the room, she saw Jordan laugh at something Keith was saying. His whole face lit up, and she was transfixed.

  “Your behavior during the ceremony was deplorable,” her father, Paul, said. He’d followed her line of sight to Jordan. “Flirting with a groomsman where everybody can see.”

  “He’s out of your league,” her mother continued. “Not your type at all—far too young and fit to be interested in you. Now, Jason Hammond is here. He’s the son of your father’s former business partner. He runs a successful investment company, and he’s single. I’ll introduce you.”

  “We’ve met.” Years ago, but it would suffice. Neither of them had been overly impressed with the other. “And I’m not looking to be set up right now. Jordan is a good friend of mine, and we were not flirting. I stumbled coming down the aisle. He’s a nice guy, and he was merely concerned for my wellbeing.”

  Darcy floated up to them. She hugged her parents and kissed Amy on each cheek. “Amy, I need you. Maid-of-honor stuff.”

  Their mother looked affronted. “She’s done enough for you today. Let her be.”

  Unaffected, Darcy merely smiled blandly. Once again, Amy envied her sister’s aplomb. “Mom, I have to go to the bathroom, and I need Amy to help get my train out of the way, unless you want to do it for her?”

  Francine drew back. “I’ll excuse the two of you. Your father and I are going to visit with family we haven’t seen in a while. We’ll see you later.”

  They hurried off.

  Darcy slung her arm around Amy and hugged her close as they headed in the direction of the restrooms. “What were they saying?”

  “Mom said I looked good, so I must be wearing Spanx, and Dad said I flirted inappropriately with Jordan during the ceremony. Apparently I’m a fat slut.”

  “Ignore them. They don’t know what the hell they’re talking about. You’re beautiful, and I would hope you’d flirt with Jordan, but when I looked over at you, you were crying and watching the ceremony.”

  Amy sighed. “I wish I had your armor.”

  “Having Malcolm to support and guide me gives me the strength to deal with anything life might throw at me.”

  “You’ve always been immune.”

  “Not immune, but I’ve learned to find their disapproval funny instead of letting it skewer me through the heart. Mom told me I looked pretty considering I hadn’t lost all the baby weight. Dad frowned at the mention of me having a baby before I got married. I smiled and assured them that there was no point in losing the weight just to gain it back. Malcolm chimed in and said he wanted another one before the year was out.”

  Amy knew for a fact that Darcy had been working out every day to slim down, and that she and Malcolm wanted to wait a few years before having another child. In the past six months, Darcy had managed to lose all the weight and then some. She looked incredible.

  “He’s going to request Baby Got Back later tonight, and he’s been pinching the welts on my ass at regular intervals. He’s so wonderful.”

  After dinner the DJ called for the bride and groom to kick off the dancing. Amy had arranged a dance solo to a salsa number that Malcolm had selected. He’d said it was the first song to which they’d danced on their first date. Watching from the sidelines, Amy’s heart melted at the way Darcy gazed softly into Malcolm’s eyes.

  Jordan pressed a handkerchief into her hand. “It’s fresh.”

  She dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

  “Because love that strong and pure is a beautiful thing, and you’re the kind of woman who cries when she sees beauty.”

  It had annoyed more than one former boyfriend. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s one of the things that makes you who you are. Never apologize for that.” The DJ called for other dancers to join the bride and groom, which was the cue for the bridesmaids and groomsmen to get out there. Jordan swept Amy into his arms and led her in one of
those slow dances designed for people who don’t know how to dance. Amy didn’t mind because Jordan held her close and gazed meaningfully into her eyes.

  The night seemed steeped in magic. After the dance, she spun around the floor with various friends and relatives. Malcolm and Darcy left at nine to catch their plane, and the party began to wind down. She had many glasses of bubbly, giggling every time it tickled her nose. Through most of the night, Jordan remained by her side.

  “Those in law enforcement will be the last to leave,” Jordan said. “We take advantage of every opportunity to blow off steam.”

  Amy smiled indulgently. “The bar closed fifteen minutes ago. This shindig will be a ghost town in a half hour, and then I’ll be able to go home.”

  Jordan looked around the room with that critical air he often affected. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  Responding to his serious tone, she gave her undivided attention. “Okay.”

  “Alone.” He led her to a deserted hall. They passed the bustling kitchen where servers worked to clean up after the feast. He paused where it was quiet and there was some semblance of privacy. When he gazed at her with those heavy-lidded bedroom eyes and began to lean down, she knew the moment she’d waited for had come. She sprang to her toes to meet him halfway. Their lips met, a brief brush, and he jerked away, his eyes wide with the oh-shit expression

  The dreamlike quality created by the music and the mood shattered, shards on the floor that would cut her soles. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. He’d been leaning in to make sure they weren’t overheard. Her parents had been right, and she’d made a huge mistake. “Damn. I’m such an idiot.”

  She fled, running down the hall toward the service entrance. Out there, hidden in the shadows the streetlights didn’t reach, nobody would witness her shame.

  Chapter Ten

  Amy burst out the service entrance and onto a concrete landing surrounded by an iron railing. Hesitating only a second, she bounced down the stairs. Jordan would come after her out a sense of duty. Though she wasn’t even close to being his girlfriend, they were friends, and he was her Not-Master. He took those last two roles seriously. Well, she didn’t want him to follow. She wanted to be left alone to lick her wounds and deal with the humiliation. Then she’d return to the reception with her head held high and pretend it had never happened. Denial would work wonders to solve this problem.

  She rounded the side of the building, and that’s when she heard firecrackers. They were loud, echoing up and down the deserted street before dying away. Normally the sound would startle her, but she was too preoccupied with her emotional plight to do more than note the noise. She glanced behind her to make sure Jordan hadn’t been able to track her, and that’s when she tripped.

  For the second time that evening, her inattention due to Jordan caused her pain. She landed hard, catching herself on her hands and knees. Rocks and other debris dug into her palms, and strong arms lifted her from the ground. She kicked out. “Let go of me!”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Immediately she stilled. That voice didn’t belong to Jordan—he would never speak to her like that—and the arms holding her immobile were unfamiliar. Fear spiked through her, and she finally became aware of her surroundings. A man’s inert form lay prone on the ground at her feet. In the dim light, she recognized the dark stain spreading over his shirt on his right side.

  She’d tripped over a body.

  That noise hadn’t come from a firecracker.

  And that was the barrel of a gun pressed against her temple.

  “Please,” she breathed. “Let me go. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t even notice you until you picked me up.” She tried to get a look at him by moving only her eyes and not her head. On second thought, the man wasn’t much bigger than her. He had a medium build, and his wire-rimmed glasses and receding hairline made him look like someone’s dad.

  “FBI, motherfucker. Hands in the air.”

  She tore her gaze from the body to see Jordan standing a few feet away with his gun trained on the man using her as a shield. Now the way he’d grabbed her made more sense. He’d seen Jordan before she had.

  “I don’t want trouble,” the guy said. He backed up two steps, dragging Amy with him. They were near the side of the building. Perhaps the man meant to run.

  “Let her go.” Jordan followed them, stepping carefully over the body that had tripped her up. “Get on your knees. Put the gun down and your hands in the air.”

  Suddenly, the man pushed her hard. She stumbled, and Jordan caught her as she knocked into him. He steadied her. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine.” She knew he needed to give chase. “Go. I’ll get whoever is left inside.”

  He ran off, and she hurried into the hall. Brandy Lockmeyer, the special agent in charge who she’d met only once, was the first person she ran into. She had gathered her things to leave, and her date whispered something in her ear. She laughed, a husky sound that rustled through the air.

  “Chief Lockmeyer, Jordan ran off after a guy with a gun who shot another guy out back.”

  The Chief’s demeanor changed, immediately transforming into the formidable woman who effectively managed a large group of agents. She turned and called across the room. “Rossetti! Adair!”

  They responded to their boss’s tone and hurried across the room. Keith made it first, and Liam came up behind. “Brandy? What’s wrong?”

  “Monaghan is in pursuit of an armed man believed to have already killed.” She turned to Amy. “Do you have a description?”

  “My height, probably around my weight, wire-rimmed glasses, maybe in his forties. He has a gun, and there’s a dead guy out back.” She rubbed her hands together, which reminded her of the rocks sticking into her palms. Gesturing to the southeast, she said, “They went that way.”

  Chief Lockmeyer nodded at Keith and Liam, and they took off. Brandy whipped out her phone and started talking in FBI jargon to the person on the other end. She walked toward the back of the building, and Amy watched, feeling scared and alone. Though she knew this was Jordan’s job, he mostly talked about research and desk work. Even with the stories her sister and Layla had related, she hadn’t imagined him ever actually being in danger.

  Warm hands on her shoulders pushed her onto a chair. Amy looked up to find Trina leaning over her. “Honey, you’re white as a sheet. Talk to me.”

  Amy had first met Trina a year ago, and the pair had become friendly, though they really only saw one another when they were at Darcy’s. She was a sweet woman, warm-hearted and caring. Suddenly aware she hadn’t been breathing, she inhaled sharply. “I tripped over a body. Jordan went after the shooter, and then Chief Lockmeyer had Keith and Liam go after them.” She held up her hands to see places where the gravel had cut into her skin.

  Trina examined them with a frown. “Let’s get you washed up.”

  Her first attempt at standing didn’t go so well. Amy crashed back onto the chair. “My knees feel like jelly.”

  “Okay.” Trina flagged down a server. “Can I get a clean wet cloth? She’s cut herself.”

  “Sure thing.” The server, a girl Amy had worked with many times but whose name she couldn’t quite recall, rushed off. She returned quickly. “Ms. Markevich, are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she assured the girl. Veronica—her name was Veronica. “Thanks, Veronica. I fell down outside, but I’m fine now.”

  Trina cleaned up her hands, and the blood turned out not to be Amy’s. “They’ll get him, and they’ll be back soon.”

  “He held a gun to my head.” The tears started then, big fat ones rolling down her cheeks. Unlike her earlier waterworks, these were full of terror and relief, and then more terror at the thought of Jordan, Keith, and Liam out there facing off against an armed murderer.

  Trina wrapped her arms around Amy and pushed Amy’s head onto her shoulder. “Go ahead and let it all out. You’re safe now.”

  “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have
gone out there.”

  A short, ironic laugh escaped from Trina. “Honey, we all saw him drag you out of here. Jordan’s going to be kicking himself for putting you in danger even though nobody could have predicted you’d stumble onto a shooting.”

  Amy shook her head and sobbed harder. “I ran away from him. It was my fault. He didn’t take me outside.”

  “Amy? I’m going to need to ask you some questions.” Chief Lockmeyer had returned.

  Trina let Amy sit up, but she kept her arm around Amy’s shoulders. “Brandy, can’t those wait until tomorrow?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Lockmeyer’s expression managed to be both firm and bland. “Walk me through what happened.”

  The last thing she wanted to share with anybody was the humiliation she’d endured. Her mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to think of a way to gloss over her stupidity. “I—I got upset with Jordan and ran out the service entrance. I didn’t want him to find me, so I ran around the corner, and that’s when I tripped. I didn’t realize it was a body until I got up. I mean, I didn’t get up. The shooter guy picked me up and put his gun against my head. He used me as a shield because Jordan was there, and he was pointing his gun at the guy who was holding onto me. Then the guy shoved me at Jordan and ran off. Jordan went after him, and I came inside to tell you what was going on.”

  Trina watched Lockmeyer closely, and she frowned at the lack of apparent reaction. “It seems pretty straightforward. What’s not adding up?”

  “You said a man had been shot?”

  “Yes.” Amy sniffled. She indicated her back on the lower right side. “His shirt was bloody. Trina washed blood off my hands that wasn’t mine.”

  Chief Lockmeyer’s mouth turned down and a line crinkled between her eyebrows. “There’s no body that’s been shot. We found Judge Caldwell out there, but he hasn’t been shot, and his wound isn’t where Amy is indicating.”

  Amy blinked. “I don’t understand.”

  “She might be in shock.” Trina spoke gently. “Is Jordan back? He can probably give you a clearer picture of what happened.”