ReDefined

by Michele Zurlo

  Amy frowned. Maybe she hadn’t made complete sense, but a body didn’t just get up and walk away. “I’m not wrong. I know what I saw. I know who Judge Caldwell is. Herman Caldwell was on the guest list. I seated him and his wife at table five with a lawyer and another judge. They’re from Malcolm’s guest list.” The fog was beginning to clear, and her tears dried up. “He wasn’t there. The guy on the ground was a stranger. He was wearing a light dress shirt, not white, and pants, but not a tux. Judge Caldwell was wearing a tuxedo with a clip-on bow tie.”

  Lockmeyer’s frown lines eased. “That’s true, and we did find trace amounts of what could be blood on the cement. We’ll need forensics to confirm that it doesn’t belong to Caldwell. Okay, we have a missing body on the loose.” She got back on the phone and ordered a BOLO for area emergency rooms.

  The guests who had lingered to find out about the drama cleared out quickly. Amy wanted to leave as well, but she knew she couldn’t go until she’d been officially dismissed. They’d want a statement. Someone turned on the brighter lights in the reception hall, and people with FBI jackets swarmed the place.

  Trina stayed by her side through the process. “A judge is involved, so it’s automatically a Federal case. We’re going to be here a while.”

  “You can leave.” Amy turned to Trina. “You didn’t see anything, and I’m sure Keith will understand if you want to go home.”

  “He will,” Trina agreed. “But I’m not leaving you alone. You’ve had one hell of a night.” She stood. “You know what? I’m going to take you home. They know where you live, and they can get your statement tomorrow.”

  Before Amy could say anything, Trina went off to find Lockmeyer.

  Amy rested her head on the table. Exhaustion was close to winning out. She barely opened her eyes when she felt a hand on her arm. Jordan’s large form bent over her and blotted out most of the light. “Babe? Come on. I’m going to take you home. Tomorrow I’ll take you downtown to give your official statement.”

  She sat up. “Trina’s going to take me home.”

  The lines around his mouth tightened ever so slightly. “Keith is taking her home. I’m taking you home. Let’s get your purse and whatever bags you’ve brought with you.”

  “My car is in the lot. I can drive myself home.” She stood and extracted her arm from his hold. Her purse was across the room, and the two bags full of backup plans she’d brought in case something went wrong were in the coat check room. The room was empty, and so her things were easily acquired.

  Jordan followed her, though she did her best to ignore him. He snagged her bags and held out his hand, palm up. “This is not open for discussion. Hand over your car keys. I’m driving.”

  When he used that tone, she knew better than to disobey. Gracelessly she dumped her keys in his hand. She didn’t say a word on the way home.

  “Amy, we need to talk.”

  Streetlights cast stripes over her body as he navigated the side streets that led to her place. “I’m tired. I just want to go to sleep.” She closed her eyes to block out the recurring sense of humiliation that came back when she looked at him. He was younger and sexy and so incredibly handsome. What had she been thinking? Of course he wasn’t interested in her. He’d been clear that training her was a friend thing, something he was doing because he was a nice guy who wanted to help her navigate her way through a world with which he was intimately familiar. The whole idea of it possibly turning into something more had been something Jordan had consistently pushed aside.

  He rested his hand over hers, but she pulled away. “Amy—”

  “Don’t, Jordan. I’m exhausted, and I’ve had one hell of a day.”

  Though he didn’t respond and she didn’t look over at him, she knew he was scowling. He hated not being in complete control of a situation.

  He said nothing as he walked her to the door and unlocked it. He came inside without being invited and set her bags on the floor behind the sofa. “Thanks,” she said. “Did you want to borrow my car to get home? I won’t need it tomorrow. My parents are coming over with Colin. We planned to spend the day together.”

  How pathetic was it that she preferred to spend the day with her parents in order to avoid Jordan?

  “You’ll have to give your statement tomorrow.”

  “You don’t need it first thing in the morning.” She washed her hand over her face and stared at the black streaks of makeup on her fingers. “Bring my car back in the afternoon, and I’ll drive you to Detroit so I can give my statement. It shouldn’t take long because you were there too, and your statement probably carries more weight than mine would. And then I’m sure one of your buddies can give you a ride home.”

  He closed her front door and twisted the deadbolt. “I’m not leaving you alone tonight. As you said, you’ve been through a lot.”

  Too tired to argue, she nodded. “I’ll make up the sofa for you. There’s no bed in the guest room anymore.” She’d converted it to storage space for her business.

  In the last twenty-four hours, everything had gone sideways. Jordan lay on the sofa, thinking about the fact that last night, he’d been there too. Only she’d been with him, her warm, curvy body molded to his harder planes. She’d been relaxed and content, willingly submitting to his embrace. Even a few hours ago, she’d been giggling from the effect of too much alcohol and laughing at him as he danced with her and sang along badly with the song. He lived to make her happy. Her genuine smile was a gift for which he’d do just about anything.

  Right now the house was silent. He’d conducted a perimeter check, making sure the windows and doors were secure. Since he’d run down the gunman, overpowered him with little effort, and arrested the bastard—who had also assaulted a Federal judge—he knew she was safe.

  She was asleep in her bed, a place he desperately wanted to be. He’d planned the reveal perfectly, only he’d thrown caution to the wind. She was in an excellent mood and attuned to him even though she was unaware of it. He’d meant to talk to her, to explain about his unusual kink. He’d been hoping for immediate acceptance. Why wait until the next morning to tell her the secret he’d been keeping?

  The way she’d looked at him—soft and vulnerable, and utterly trusting—had combined with the headiness of the night to rob him of his better sense. He’d jumped the gun. He’d been about to kiss her. He knew she would welcome it, and she had. Only he’d remembered the promise he’d made to himself to be completely candid so she could make an informed, unemotional decision. He’d spent a lot of time finding out who he was, and she was just beginning her journey. If he’d told her about his Daddy side from the beginning, she would have spent the last month trying to mold herself to fit what he wanted instead of trying to figure out what she wanted.

  He’d halted the kiss a second too late, and she’d been severely hurt. The image of her face then, and again when the gunman held a gun to her head, haunted him. He wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

  A sound from her room had him on his feet. It had been a tiny, distressed noise. He crept down the hall, listening to see if it happened again. It did, but louder this time. He paused outside her closed door. “Amy? Are you okay?”

  She didn’t answer. Pushing open the door, he tiptoed into her room. It was dark, but his eyes had adjusted, and he had no problem making out her form in the middle of the bed. She shifted, flinging her arm above her head and mumbling. “No. Let me go.”

  It was a nightmare. He slid into bed and took her in his arms. “Shhh, little one. I’m here. You’re safe.”

  She curled into him without waking, her fingers grasping desperately at his chest. He shifted them both until she was comfortable enough to calm down. A lump of covers under him pressed uncomfortably into his lower back. Lifting up, he grabbed the wad to smooth it out, and he found a stuffed animal. He set it carefully on the chair next to her bed. Before long, he fell asleep with the woman of his dreams snuggled peacefully in his arms.

  In the morning, he woke f
irst. Amy was still curled against his side. Though he was tempted to remain in her bed, he reasoned that she wouldn’t want him there just yet. He gently eased his arm out from under her and shifted her head to a pillow. She frowned briefly, and then her face smoothed out as she fell back into a deeper sleep.

  His stomach growled, so he headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. His little one was going to need her strength today. Before long, he heard the bathroom door close. She entered the kitchen just as he finished browning the French toast.

  “Good morning, babe. I hope you’re hungry because I made a lot. I used up the last of the strawberries to make a strawberry topping.” He glanced over his shoulder in time to catch her frown.

  “Why are you still here? I said you could borrow my car.”

  “Thanks. I will.” He plated two pieces of French toast, added the topping, and put a whipped cream smiley face on each of them. Then he added two sausage links. “Sit. You need to eat.”

  “I’m fine.” She sat anyway.

  “You’re grouchy. You’ll feel better with some warm food in your tummy.” He joined her at the table, and they ate in silence. He hoped to improve her mood, but she seemed to go from irritated to sad. He squeezed her hand. “It’s normal to feel out of sorts after an experience like that.”

  She stared at his hand. “I’m fine. It’s over. You caught the guy, and he’s in jail. You don’t need to be here.” She slid her hand out from under his and set it in her lap.

  They seriously needed to talk, and she needed to be reined in. “Amy, you’ve had a decent night’s sleep, and now you’ve eaten a proper breakfast. I can only overlook brattiness for so long. You’re coming very close to earning a punishment.”

  That got her attention. She blinked at him in shock. “We—We haven’t discussed punishment.”

  “Not really, which is why I gave you a warning.”

  She pushed her plate away with her food only half-eaten. “I’m full.”

  “No you’re not. Finish breakfast, or I’ll tie you up and feed you.”

  Her bottom lip quivered. “My parents are coming over in a half hour. I need to shower.”

  He slid her plate back to her. “Then you’d better eat. I’m sure you’re not ready for your parents to see you tied to a chair while I feed you breakfast.” The image of her in that state made his cock stir. He half hoped she’d disobey. The doors were locked, and he could have her untied quickly enough to avoid a situation she’d find humiliating.

  Though she continued to pout, she finished her food and drank her orange juice. If he wasn’t mistaken, his display of dominance had also helped her find some inner peace. When she was finished, she turned to him. “I don’t want my parents to know about last night. They have enough to worry about, so please don’t mention it.”

  For a second, he thought she meant the almost-kiss, but then he got his head back in the game. “Do you really think you should keep something like that from them?”

  “They’ll find a way to blame me for what happened. I know it’s my fault, but I don’t need them to rub my nose in it. I feel bad enough already.” She rubbed her hands together under the table. Her shoulders hunched under the weight of the blame she assumed.

  Jordan frowned. “How is any of that your fault?”

  She shrugged, and he knew she was thinking of the way she’d run away after he’d stopped the kiss.

  Lifting her chin with one finger, he forced her to look at him. Her bright blue eyes shone with unshed tears. “Babe, that guy assaulted a Federal judge and shot another man. You are not at fault for any of that. In fact, if you hadn’t stumbled upon the crime, I wouldn’t have caught the bad guy. You saved a life, perhaps two. I give you permission to take the blame for that, but nothing else. Got it?”

  Though she nodded, he wasn’t sure his message penetrated. “I need to get in the shower and get dressed.”

  They seriously needed to have the talk he’d been putting off until the wedding was over. He’d wanted to talk to her today, when her schedule was clear and she had nothing weighty on her mind. That was before he’d known that she’d promised her free time to her parents. He couldn’t intrude on her family time, and so he would wait until after she made her statement to force the issue. He exhaled. “Go. I need to check in with Brandy. I’ll see what time someone can take your statement.”

  She all but fled from the room, and he stared after her until he heard water running in the shower. Who would have thought she’d turn out to be a runner? The sage advice she often gave was full of stories of when she’d faced her problems, not examples of when she’d run from conflict. Once she felt comfortable enough to let her inner little run free, he’d finally get to know the complex woman for whom he’d fallen. With a sigh, he rinsed their plates and put them in the dishwasher. At least she hadn’t broken off their D/s relationship and thrown him out of her house. So far her running was physical, not emotional.

  A knock sounded at the front door as he finished cleaning up from breakfast, so he answered it. The look on Fran Markevich’s face reminded him that he wore only a pair of sweats. She looked him up and down disapprovingly while Paul scowled.

  “Good morning, Fran. Paul.” He shook Paul’s hand, and although Amy’s father reciprocated with obvious reluctance, his grip was firm and steady, communicating a silent warning to the strange, half-naked man in his daughter’s house. Jordan pasted on his friendliest smile. “Amy’s in the shower. Come on in and make yourself at home.”

  “Well, you certainly have.” Fran brushed past him with Colin in her arms. The five-month-old pumped his legs and squealed at Jordan. Since he looked like he was about to leap out of Fran’s hold, Jordan took his buddy’s son from his grandmother.

  “Hey there, big guy. You’ve grown a lot in a week.”

  Paul grabbed four bags full of baby stuff from the porch and came inside. “He’s grown since last night. I swear, when he woke us up at the crack of dawn, he was bigger.” He dropped the bags next to the sofa and sat down heavily. “I don’t remember kids being so much work.”

  “That’s because you went to work, and I took care of the kids. Now you don’t have an excuse to get out of it.” Fran took Colin back. She’d spread a blanket on the floor where she set Colin on his stomach with an array of toys to keep him occupied. Fran settled on the sofa next to her husband. “Jordan, would you mind telling Amy that we’re here?”

  He glanced down the hall uncertainly. “I’m sure she can hear you. She knew you were coming over.”

  “And she decided to have her half-dressed lover answer the door?” She turned to Paul. “She’s throwing this in our faces, you know. This is your fault.”

  Jordan held up a hand. “Whoa. Hold on. Amy hasn’t thrown anything at anyone. I needed a place to crash last night, and she graciously offered her couch. I’m not wearing a shirt because I could only find a pair of sweats to sleep in. Once she’s out of the bathroom, I’ll get dressed. I have to be at work soon.”

  Fran and Paul seemed to accept his explanation. Colin squealed loudly and flapped his limbs so hard that he turned over. He’d spied his favorite aunt before the adults had.

  “There’s my handsome man!” Amy sat cross-legged on the floor and picked up her nephew. In his excitement, Colin grabbed her hair, yanked hard, and pitched forward to bite her nose. Amy giggled. “I missed you too.” She kissed every inch of his face before setting him down and distracting him with a colorful toy. “Hi, Mom and Dad. How is babysitting duty going so far?”

  Jordan left them as they chattered about the baby. He washed his face and donned his shirt and pants from the night before. In his truck were a pair of jeans and a clean shirt. He missed his truck. In deference to his usual look, he left off the bow tie and cummerbund, and he didn’t button the shirt up all the way. Was it wrong that he could only think about the fact that she didn’t mind having her hair pulled?

  On the way out, he pulled Amy aside. “I’ll be back at around two or three to pic
k you up. Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Her answer was too quick. She wanted to get rid of him.

  “Thanks for letting me borrow your car.” He kissed her forehead and left, reasoning it was his turn to flee the scene.

  Chapter Eleven

  Herman Caldwell had been a judge longer than Jordan had been alive. The venerable man was known for running a tight ship, and he had an unflagging sense of justice. Just now, he felt he’d been gravely wronged, and he had.

  Jordan arrived at his floor of the McNamara building to find the thin, wrinkled man with his fist raised and his voice thundering through the reception area. His red face highlighted the whiteness of his wispy hair, and he wore the same tuxedo he’d worn at the wedding. “That son of a bitch grabbed me when I went to get my car. Why wasn’t there a valet service?”

  “Because agents are paid a crap salary.” Keith Rossetti, well-rested and impeccably attired, leaned against the receptionist’s desk with his arms crossed. “Pay us better, and I’ll have valet service at my wedding.”

  Jordan lifted a brow. “Did Trina finally say she’d marry you?”

  Keith scowled. “She hasn’t said she wouldn’t, just that she wants a more romantic proposal.”

  “That’s not the point, young man.” Caldwell threw a quelling glare at them both. “The point is that I was accosted, knocked out, and tied up. They argued about whether to kidnap or kill me.”

  Keith clapped a hand on the judge’s shoulder and steered him down the hall. “Judge Caldwell, let’s discuss this in my office.”

  Though Caldwell allowed Keith to lead him away from the public area, he huffed. “I gave my statement already. Unlike the two of you, I was here first thing in the morning.”

  Over the judge’s head, Keith shot Jordan a sardonic grin. They’d been out late taking care of the arrest, and they’d both made it to the office before ten. Jordan opened the door to Keith’s office and went inside. “Sorry about that. We don’t like to get in too early on our day off.”