ReDefined

by Michele Zurlo

  “Not so great. We can’t get warrants for the New Day Church, but we’ve stepped up surveillance, and we’ve arrested some of the people using it as a home. Brandt and I questioned three of them, and we didn’t get much. They’re all addicts, and none of them will admit to ever seeing the man Gartrell referred to as ‘Joe.’ Also, no emergency rooms reported a GSW. Our guy is MIA.”

  Jordan moved a chair in the living room so that he could see down the hall. Amy didn’t need to overhear any of this. “He probably has private access to medical care. Look for medics or doctors with a history of drug use, especially those who’ve lost their license.”

  “Dare is already on it. Brandt is working surveillance on the church, and I need you to come in. You and I are going to question Gartrell’s ex-wife. I’ve located her, and she’s expecting us in an hour.”

  Running a hand through his hair, Jordan exhaled. “I can’t leave Amy alone. She doesn’t know about Gartrell’s threat. Or that he’s dead.”

  Keith made a sympathetic noise. “There’s a lot you can’t tell her, but it’s your call whether to tell her that she has agents watching her. I sent Kinsley and Hardy to tail her, and I gave them the itinerary you sent.”

  Jed Kinsley and Lexee Hardy were good agents, more than capable of keeping an eye on Amy without her knowing. Besides, this light level of protection was probably overkill. ‘Joe’ didn’t know Amy’s name or location, and he was probably laid up somewhere recovering from his injury. It was a long shot to think he’d actually go after her. If she weren’t the sister-in-law of an agent, then she wouldn’t have rated even this much protection. “Fine,” Jordan said gracelessly. “Text me the address. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

  Amy looked up when he came back. Though she was on her knees, she didn’t lean back to rest her ass on her heels. “You have to go to work?”

  Surprised she’d be so perceptive, he asked, “How did you know?”

  “You’ve been off four of the last five days. Agents never get that much time off unless they prearrange it, which you haven’t. I know you’re good friends with Chief Lockmeyer, but she’s not a pushover. If you don’t do your job, she will hunt you down and taser your balls. Or at least that’s the threat she uses with Mal.” She set her clipboard on the floor and slowly got to her feet. “I guess that means you’re going to take this thing out of my butt now.” She bent over a stack of plastic storage bins and hiked her skirt to her waist.

  Jordan stared at the smooth expanse of flesh facing him and noted that her pussy was very moist. He stood behind her, crowding her with his presence, and caressed her ass. “Does wearing this make you horny, babe?”

  She cleared her throat. “Pretty much everything you do makes me horny—the way you look at me, the way you stand in the doorway like you own the room and everything in it, that tone or that look you get that warns me not to argue with you. Wearing this thing is a constant reminder that I’m yours, and I really, really like the way that makes me feel.”

  He planted a kiss on her right butt cheek. “I wish I had time to make you come, but I had to leave about ten minutes ago. Exhale, babe.” He extracted the plug. “Go wash up, and then meet me in the living room in five minutes so you can properly say goodbye.”

  Five minutes later, she threw her arms around his neck. “I’m going to miss you, but I’m working today anyway, and that’s not the kind of quality time I want to spend with you. Go catch a bad guy and make the world a safer place.”

  “Anything for you.” He kissed her, drowning in her flavor and the softness of her lips against his. She melted into him, and he was in heaven. Kissing Amy was pure bliss. He could do this for hours.

  She broke away suddenly. “Daddy, you said you had to go. As much as I want you to stay, I’m not going to be one of those greedy, manipulative littles who use their wiles to get their way.”

  “I like how you’re getting more comfortable with those titles.”

  A hint of color rose in her cheeks. “It’s still odd, but I’m trying. The hard part is thinking of you when I say it. I’m not going to lie—I still find it unfamiliar that you want me to call you Daddy. However, if we keep this up, I may eventually forget your given name. Won’t that be funny if we have dinner with my parents? For once, it’ll be me who shocks them instead of it always being Darcy’s job to give them fake heart attacks.” She smoothed her hands over his shirt.

  “If it helps, I can reward you when you use my title, and then it’ll have a positive association.” He planted another kiss on her lips.

  “Mmmm. I like that idea. Can I pick the reward? Because I’ve always wondered what you’d look like with a braid and ribbons in your hair.”

  With a laugh, he shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.” He loved her sense of humor, and that she sent him off with bright, happy thoughts. When he met Keith outside of Deanna Gartrell’s apartment, he was still smiling.

  Wearing a dark suit and dark sunglasses, Keith exuded the aura of a badass FBI agent. Most new recruits were afraid of him. Even years later, they treaded lightly around Agent Rossetti. Jordan had been wary of Agent Rossetti when they’d first met, but as he got to know Keith as an agent and a Dom, his opinion had changed. He’d felt sorry for the man who didn’t let anybody get emotionally close to him. Since he’d been with Katrina, all that had changed. He’d even begun smiling and laughing regularly.

  “What the hell are you staring at?” The corner of Keith’s mouth turned up in a sneer.

  Jordan hadn’t shaved. He was wearing the same jeans as the day before, and the black cotton shirt he’d chosen was a twin to the other twenty he owned. They were a mismatched pair of agents. He kind of wished Dustin was there instead. Somehow Dustin’s good looks and magnetic personality put people at ease. Once their guard was down, Jordan could slide in with a few innocuous questions. They tended to get what they needed from a witness relatively quickly.

  Jordan folded his sunglasses and hung them from the collar of his shirt in front. “You, hot stuff. It’s ninety degrees out, and here you are looking sharp in your designer suit.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Monaghan. At least buy me a drink first.” A year ago, Keith wouldn’t have responded to Jordan’s joke. He would have ignored it and issued procedural instructions. The pair shook hands and pounded each other on the back. “Congratulations, by the way. Malcolm called a few minutes ago. He was asking about you and Amy. Darcy wants to know.”

  “Amy wants to wait until they get back. She doesn’t want to interrupt their honeymoon.”

  Keith nodded. “I didn’t say anything about Gartrell’s threat-slash-warning.”

  “I’d rather figure out if it’s baseless first. No sense in worrying everybody for nothing.” Jordan clenched his jaw. He didn’t like that Amy was involved at all, but realistically, the chance that anybody was gunning for her was basically nil. However, he’d feel better when they confirmed that fact.

  Keith motioned to the apartment building. “Deanna Gartrell filed for divorce about six months ago. It was never finalized, so she’s a widow, not an ex-wife.”

  Jordan pressed the buzzer, and a woman in her mid-forties answered the door. With her short hair dyed blonde and nondescript clothing, she looked like anybody’s mother. Her eyes were red from crying. He flashed his badge. “Mrs. Gartrell, I’m Agent Monaghan from the Detroit Bureau, and this is Agent Rossetti. You spoke to him on the phone earlier today.”

  She looked from Jordan to Keith and back again, and she wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “Yes, I remember. I lost my husband, not my mind. Come on in.” The door opened into the living room. She indicated the sofa. “Please, sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Water, if you don’t mind.” Keith removed his sunglasses and smiled, showcasing the one asset he owned—an unexpected charm. Whether or not he was thirsty, her absence would give them a chance to sweep for bugs and get a general feel for the kind of person she was.

  “Nothing for me.
” Jordan flashed a friendly grin calculated to put her at ease. “Thanks.”

  The room was full of knickknacks and other places someone could squirrel a listening device, and so they didn’t get to do a thorough sweep before she returned. Deanna sat on a chair opposite the sofa where she expected them to sit, which meant she wasn’t all that comfortable in their presence. “You have questions for me?”

  “Yes, if you don’t mind.” Keith sipped the water. “Your late husband was in trouble with some people. Do you know anything about them?”

  Deanna shook her head. “I wanted nothing to do with that side of his life. He was clean when we met, and he fell off the wagon about ten years ago. I threatened to divorce him if he didn’t get his act together. He got help, saw a counselor, and things had been going well for almost seven years. Then he lost his job and immediately went out to score some crack. I told him we were through, and I didn’t let him see our daughter when he was high. When he did, it was always in a public place, and I was nearby. She’s only fifteen.”

  Gartrell had mentioned that Joe knew about his wife and daughter. Jordan brought up an image on his phone. It was a surveillance photo of the man they suspected as being Joe. He handed the phone to Deanna. “Does this man look familiar?”

  She studied the picture for a few moments, a frown marring her chin. “No. I’m sorry. Was Brian mixed up with drug dealers? Usually he just used. He wasn’t a criminal. He wasn’t the kind of man who would rob a bank or do something that would hurt someone else. When he was sober, he was a great father and a loving husband.”

  Drug addicts were ruled by their addiction, not their sober morality, but Jordan didn’t say that to the grieving widow. He wasn’t there to shatter her illusion or educate her on the evils in the world. She’d been through enough.

  Keith pressed his fingertips together. “What makes you think this man is a drug dealer?”

  She shrugged. “Why else would the FBI be showing me a picture? Did Brian die of an overdose? They won’t release a death certificate. I can’t collect his life insurance without it.”

  Life insurance? Dare had conducted a thorough background check, and Brian Gartrell didn’t have a policy. “Mrs. Gartrell, we might be able to help. Do you have a copy of the policy?”

  “Yes. I got it in the mail a few months ago, which I thought was weird. I mean, his only thought is about scoring more crack, and he takes the time to buy a prepaid policy? But then, Brian was a good man. He always said he wanted to take care of us.” Her filing cabinet was in a desk in the far corner of the room. She found the policy quickly. “As you can see, it’s for almost fifty thousand dollars. That would really help us out.”

  Keith perused the policy because she handed it to him, so Jordan kept the conversation going. “We believe the man in the photo I showed you might have caused Brian’s death. Your husband was murdered.”

  Color drained from her face. She pressed her hands to her chest. “Is that guy an addict too? Brian knew better than to bring his druggie friends around us. He knew I would cut off all contact with our daughter.” She broke off, sniffling. “The last time I saw him was over six weeks ago. We’re supposed to meet every Wednesday evening at a fast food restaurant, but I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t show. The last time I saw him, he looked like shit. Not just like he was using, but like he was being hunted. He was paranoid. I thought maybe he’d started using other drugs. He said an eye was watching him. He kept repeating that I wasn’t to trust an eye. He freaked us out, and we left early. Do you think this guy killed him for crack?”

  “It’s possible.” Keith set the policy on the table and took out his phone. “Do you mind if I take pictures of this? It might be useful in tracing Brian’s steps. If we can find where he’s been, then we’ll have a better idea of what he’s been doing.”

  “Go ahead.” Deanna Gartrell’s eyes remained wide with shock. “I never thought anybody would want to kill Brian. Even high, he wasn’t the kind of person who rubbed people the wrong way.”

  He’d held Amy at gunpoint, and that rubbed Jordan the wrong way. Squelching that thought, he focused on Deanna. “Did he say anything else about eyes, being watched, or The Eye?”

  She shook her head. “Mostly he talked about missing us, missing being home. He said he didn’t like living the way he was. I thought maybe he’d hit bottom again and was going to sober up. Our marriage was over, but it would have been nice if he could have been part of Caitlyn’s life.”

  Keith handed his card to Mrs. Gartrell. “If you think of anything else Brian said or did that was out of character or suspicious, please let us know.”

  She walked them to the door. “Do you know when the death certificate will be released? I can’t collect until it is.”

  “Probably not until we close the investigation.” Jordan affected a sympathetic tone. “It could be a few weeks.”

  She sighed. “I’m never going to see that money.”

  Amy arrived home much later than expected. The party, a corporate event, had gone very well, and they’d wanted to negotiate six more dates for themed parties. When she’d texted Jordan the reason she’d be late, he’d been very supportive. He’d merely instructed her to be at his house by eight. That gave her an hour to freshen up. She’d stopped by the mall and purchased a bustier top that accented her boobs and made her midsection look sexy. The matching skirt was so short that her butt cheeks showed. And she’d bought the headband with the oversized daisies that she’d loved. Hopefully Jordan would like her in that as well, though she didn’t plan to wear it with the sexy lingerie.

  As she opened her front door, her neighbor ran up, waving frantically and calling Amy’s name. Peggy Johansen’s only concession to turning eighty was to start wearing lighter highlights in her deep brown hair. She had an immaculate flower garden, the best on the street, and she regularly helped Amy improve hers.

  Amy threw her purse and bags into the house and went toward her neighbor. “Peg, is everything okay?”

  “Yes and no. I saw the young man you’ve had over a lot recently, and I meant to say congratulations. You bagged yourself a handsome devil. My first husband rode a motorcycle. It was very exciting.” She took a breath. “But Chicklet has gotten out of the house and run away. Can you help me find him?” Peggy’s hound dog mix was a fan of hide-and-seek, and he did not come when called.

  “Of course.” Amy tucked her keys into her bra—she’d waited until she changed for the party to put one on—and scanned the yards along the street. “Which direction did he go?”

  Peggy pointed, and the two of them started out, calling for Chicklet. Within five minutes, two more neighbors, the Slingerlands, joined the search, and Sandra suggested luring him with food. They waited on the sidewalk in front of Peggy’s house while she retrieved Chicklet’s favorite treats.

  April and Melvin, their neighbors from across the street, joined the hunting party, bringing their total to six. “Hi, Amy,” Melvin called. “How was your sister’s wedding?”

  “Fabulous. Beautiful. She’s on her honeymoon now.” Amy beamed as she remembered the ceremony. When Darcy got back in four days, they were going to both have a lot of great stories to share. After they found Chicklet, she’d send Darcy a quick text to let her know that she’d hooked up with Jordan. The rest could wait.

  “Do you have pictures?” April grabbed her wrist. The college student had stars in her eyes. “I love weddings. When I get married, I’m going to have you as my planner.”

  Melvin rolled his eyes. He’d probably heard quite a bit about her love of weddings already, and his four older daughters were already married. “Not for at least ten years. Maybe thirty. I’m not ready for my baby girl to even think about getting married.”

  April opened her mouth to deliver a cute or scathing retort, but a boom sounded. The world stuttered and tipped sideways. Amy found herself laying on the grassy expanse between the sidewalk and the street. Mouth opened as if she was shouting, Peggy rushed toward her, b
ut Amy heard only a ringing. She lifted her head to look around, and saw her four neighbors who had been standing with her also on the ground. Debris rained from the sky. She sat up, and looked toward her house to see smoke and flames billowing from the windows.

  Pieces of glass glittered everywhere. The huge picture window that faced front was broken. Her front door wavered drunkenly from the lower hinges. Chunks of items that resembled furniture littered the lawn. A lamp had skewered her car through the front windshield. A single daisy from her brand new headband floated down to land on the grass next to her.

  My house blew up.

  Two people knelt over her, their mouths moving as they said things Amy couldn’t hear. A moment passed before Amy recognized them, but even then, she didn’t respond. Lexee Hardy and Jed Kinsley were FBI agents. Giving up, Lexee helped Amy to her feet. Jed was on the phone, hopefully calling the fire department. Flames billowed from the gaping hole where her living room window had once been.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Blood left Jordan’s extremities. The familiar office took on a garish glow. Keith peered at him from across the table, alarm replacing the normally stoic expression. “What’s wrong?”

  Jordan shook his head because everything seemed surreal. The words coming through his phone from Jed Kinsley couldn’t be real. “What hospital?” He forced himself to focus on Jed’s words, but they came through a long tunnel.

  “U of M. We’ll meet you in the ER.”

  “Thanks.” Jordan shoved his cell in his pocket and ran for the parking garage. After interviewing Mrs. Gartrell, the pair had returned to the McNamara building in Detroit and holed up in Keith’s office to plan their next move. They suspected that Brian Gartrell’s fear of eyes was connected to The Eye, and that meant this case was connected to the string of robberies. The escalation to assassination—they’d meant to kill Judge Cantrell—meant this case had become priority one. And Amy was on the assassination list.