Frankie nodded. “The parking garage is under the building, so that makes it easier to smuggle you both out.”
“We’ve set up a safe house not far away.” Jesse turned to put the plan in motion, but Jordan stopped him.
“No. Let’s not react like we’re in a horror movie. We’re not getting in a car, running up the stairs, splitting up, or diving through plate glass windows.” Jordan handed Amy a gun, and she set it on the table. “I’m sure the car will start, we have great cell reception, we’re armed, and none of us are idiots.”
Amy stared at the weapon. She wasn’t adverse to using it, but she was sure there was more to it than point-and-shoot. “I’ve never fired a gun.”
Frankie showed her a pin with orange on one side. “This is the safety. Make sure it’s off before you shoot the bad guy. Only shoot the bad guy. Aim anywhere, though the chest is the largest target and the most effective spot for neutralizing a threat.”
“Should I warn him first? Like how you say, ‘FBI. Drop the gun’?” Her stomach grumbled at the interruption of breakfast, but she didn’t feel like eating anymore.
“We never tell someone to drop a weapon. It’s likely to go off. We tell them to move slowly, set it on the ground, and kick it away.” Jordan opened his laptop and punched up a live feed of his building. “And no, you have no obligation to warn him. He’s tried to murder you twice. You have every reason to shoot first and ask questions never.”
He called Avery Forsythe next. She and Dustin were coming on duty to hang out in the area. Amy managed to take a few bites of cereal while he coordinated coverage.
Frankie took the seat across the small table. “Honey, I know you’re afraid. It’s okay to be frightened.”
Amy frowned. “I’m not afraid. Jordan is here, and so are you and Jesse. Dustin and Avery are outside, and I’m assuming half the FBI will be patrolling this area soon. In addition, I’m sure the local police from every city in southeastern Michigan are out looking for this bastard. He used to be the director of the FBI in Detroit. Cops are going to be upset that one of their own is a villain. They’re not going to let him win.”
The speech made her feel better on a couple of levels. She had the sense that Frankie thought she was somehow lacking in intelligence. Her naiveté, a thing Jordan loved about her, was real, but that didn’t mean her faith in law enforcement was misplaced or that she didn’t understand the clear and present danger Lawrence presented. Her sister might hate all cops, but Amy harbored no ill will. She’d witnessed the good things that cops and agents did every day.
Frankie studied her as if reassessing her earlier opinion. Amy continued before Frankie could say anything. “Besides, Brandy told me that you never lose and that Jesse is one of the ten best sharpshooters in the world. I’m sure taking down Lawrence is a point of pride for you two.” She gestured to the gun. “I probably won’t even need to pick that thing up.”
Yep, the more she shared her views, the less nervous she felt. She grinned at Frankie and finished breakfast.
Nothing happened for a long time. Jordan, Frankie, and Jesse moved around the apartment, looked out windows, and talked with FBI agents on secure lines. Abandoning the gun on the kitchen table, Amy wandered the apartment and found Jordan’s stash of books, most of which she hadn’t read, on a shelf in his office. It looked like he had a geek bent. He had the entire collection of the Dresden files in hardcover. She grabbed the first one and stretched out on the sofa. Maybe this would keep her occupied while they did a whole lot of observing.
The book didn’t hold her interest all that well. It was good, but thoughts kept intruding. She wished she had some of her things because this would be a great time to catch up on her party planning. As she thought about her business, color drained from her face.
“Babe? What’s wrong?” Jordan plunked onto the sofa next to her, concern wrinkling the space between his eyebrows.
“It hit me again that everything from my business is gone. All the materials I’ve spent years collecting. My sample books, the flyers that I spent hours Photoshopping, all the tablecloths and banners I’d picked up on sale.” She rubbed her eyes to stave off the tears. “My clients think I’m dead. I missed three events in the past week, parties I’ve spent weeks planning—parties that should have been a perfect commemoration of important life milestones.” She sniffled, and he pulled her onto his lap.
“Babe, it’ll take time and patience, but you can rebuild everything. I’m sure your clients will understand when you tell them what happened. And insurance should replace most of your stuff.”
“Not my business stuff.” She sat up to face him. “I never amended my policy to cover the business.”
He shrugged it off. “You’re a survivor, and you have me to support you ever step of the way. I have faith that you’ll bounce back. Hey, didn’t you save all your electronic stuff on a cloud?”
“Yes.” Excitement raced through her arms, and she could already feel her fingers tapping passwords on a keyboard. “Can I use your laptop?”
“No. It’s hooked up to the FBI feed. We’re using it to watch the situation develop.” He picked up the book she’d abandoned. “This is a good one, but it takes a few chapters to get into it. The second book is better, and by the third, it’s a great series.”
“I didn’t know you liked paranormal stories.”
“I’ll read anything, especially if it doesn’t make me think too hard.” He flashed a boyish smile. “That makes me sound lazy.”
“Not at all. You think hard all day, analyzing information for clues and motives. It makes sense that you’d want your reading material to be relaxing.” She should get off his lap, but she really didn’t want to. She wiggled so that he could hold her like a child, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “Will you read it to me?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Jesse came in as she showed Jordan where she’d left off. “Hey, they got him. Two blocks away—he set the van on fire rather than be captured.”
Relief washed over Amy. She smiled brightly. “See? I didn’t have to use the gun.” Jesse ducked out of the room, and Amy moved so that she straddled Jordan’s lap. “Daddy, can we have really loud sex tonight?”
Cupping her face, he kissed her so deeply she thought they might have really loud sex right now. Jesse and Frankie had better say their goodbyes quickly.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Candles—check.
Lasagna—check.
Sheet, folded and converted into a tablecloth—check.
One glass of wine each—check.
Sexy pink teddy that showed off her cleavage—check.
Put the guns away in a drawer—check.
Had she forgotten anything on his list? Nope. Okay, maybe the gun thing wasn’t on the list, but she didn’t think guns should be left out where a child could get to them. Jordan had a gun safe, but she didn’t know the combination yet, otherwise she’d put it in there. Instead, she tucked them away in an empty drawer in the TV stand. Jordan didn’t have a collection of movies. He preferred a subscription to a streaming service.
She knelt in a modified pose on the pillow in the center of the living room to wait for him. The day had been inordinately long, and this late meal felt like a fresh start to the day. She was energized, invigorated by the way things had played out. Six hours ago, a man had been running around bent on ending her life. Due to the coordinated efforts of local police and the FBI team that Dustin had been running, Miguel Lawrence was no longer a threat.
Malcolm had stopped by to tell her personally, and when he’d hugged her, she’d felt the relief in his entire being.
The front door opened, and she resisted looking up, though from her peripheral vision, she recognized him. Those long, muscular, jean-clad legs stopped right next to her, teasing with their proximity. He ran his fingers through her hair. “Were you good?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“I’m so proud of you, babe. You’ve handled this like a cha
mpion. I know there’s a lot of work ahead of you, but I’ll be here to support you. I’m confident that you can achieve all your dreams. Stand up.” Careful to make sure she didn’t put weight on her hurt ankle, he helped her follow his order. He smiled, and the love shining from his eyes stole her breath. Of course, she was very curious about the hand behind his back.
She wanted to throw her arms around him and never let go. “I love you so much, Daddy.”
“I love you too, my little one. I brought you a present.” He brought the object he’d been hiding out slowly, uncertainty showing up in the way his expression froze. It was a plush clown fish, orange with black bands.
Tears blurred her vision as she hugged the stuffed animal. “I was so nervous when you said you wanted to watch that movie with me. I was afraid you’d think not nice things about me.”
With a gentle nudge, he tilted her face to his. “Never. I love this part of you. I promise to always take care of you—to love you, cherish you, nurture you.” With a desperate passion, his lips claimed hers. He devoured her, demonstrating how completely she belonged to him, and how completely he belonged to her.
When he broke the kiss, she was breathing hard. “Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I redecorate? Not completely, maybe just add some pizzazz here and there?”
He laughed, a joy that went deep. “Absolutely. According to my mom, my sisters, Darcy, and you, this place could use a woman’s touch. You’re that woman, babe.”
She bounced up to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, but her ankle protested, and she fell against him. He caught her, and lifted her in his arms.
“If this isn’t the most touching sight I’ve ever seen, then I don’t know what is.”
Jordan froze, and Amy’s heart raced as she recognized that voice. He put her down and turned slowly, shielding her with his body. “Miguel Lawrence, get on your knees and put your weapon down. You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.”
Lawrence, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, laughed. “You’re Mirandizing me? Seriously?” He waved the gun at Jordan. “Completely unnecessary. I’m going to kill you both, plant information that makes it look like you were setting me up, and then leave. I’ll be free, and you’ll be remembered as a domestic terrorist. A fitting end to this story.”
He came around the sofa so that he had a clear path to both of them. His nose was bandaged, and dark circles ringed his eyes, a testament to the fact that it had been broken, perhaps repeatedly. Amy liked to think her kicks had done as much—or more—damage as Jordan’s fists. He winced as he walked, but she couldn’t tell what injury caused a pain that would lead to labored breathing.
“You’re dead,” Amy said. “They said you blew up the van while you were inside it.”
Lawrence chuckled, though it was a strained laugh. “I found someone with the same build. I knew the body would be charred beyond recognition. They’d run tests eventually, but with you dead and me back in place as the head of the Detroit Bureau, the results would show that you staged the whole thing to try to kill me.”
Part of that plan didn’t make sense to Amy, but she wasn’t looking for Lawrence to be successful. She put her palm on Jordan’s back to draw strength from him.
Lawrence gestured with the arm in a cast. “Amy, I toyed with the idea of keeping you around for a little while. You’re so obedient, eager to please, and compliant. I like that in a woman. My wife is that way, only she’s not so kinky between the sheets. And her body lacks your very lush curves.”
Amy had forgotten she was wearing a negligee. Suddenly she felt naked in the sheer material. She clutched the stuffed clown fish to her chest. Jordan moved so that he was a little more in front of her, but not enough to anger the man with the gun.
“How did you get in?” Amy was amazed. Jordan’s apartment was on the fourth floor, and there was no entrance from the kitchen.
Lawrence rolled his eyes. “Fire escape. Duh.”
“Why?” Jordan spat the question at Lawrence. “Why did you dishonor the badge? Why did you betray the principles we’ve sworn to uphold?”
Miguel seemed to consider this for a moment. He tilted his head as he thought. “Probably because the job isn’t about honor. Being a successful agent is about power, as is having a fruitful career. When the leader of The Eye approached me, oh, ten or so years ago, I leaped at the chance. I’ve worked hard. I have more money and power than you’ve ever dreamed, and once I kill you, our presence here will be cemented. We own powerful people—business owners, politicians, judges—and they work to consolidate our power.”
“Caldwell wouldn’t do what you wanted?” Amy gasped the question. “So you hired that man to kill him at my sister’s wedding. I see what you’ve done.” Her ankle buckled, and she fell to the side. Jordan tried to catch her, but Lawrence wouldn’t let him.
“Leave her where she is. Give me the access codes to your computer, and I’ll kill her quickly. If not, I’ll take my time, maybe tie her up and have some fun beforehand.”
“You fucking touch her, and I’ll kill you.” Jordan took one dangerous step toward Lawrence, and Amy scooted closer to the TV stand. Using her hands to scramble back, she channeled a frightened scream queen. Lawrence paid her no mind. Jordan was the larger threat.
Lawrence fired his gun. Because it had a silencer, it didn’t make much of a sound. With experience honed in black ops, Jordan jumped clear. Amy brought up the gun she’d fished from the drawer in the TV stand and squeezed the trigger. Somehow, her eyes closed as well because she missed seeing if she hit the target. She opened her eyes in time to see Jordan catapult himself at Lawrence’s midsection, grabbing the wrist of the hand that held the gun.
The scuffle was brief, and in seconds, Jordan had Lawrence pinned, and he held the bad man’s gun to his head. “Amy, my handcuffs are on the dresser. Grab those and my cell.”
“You can’t arrest me! I own the criminal justice system. I have judges in place all over. The Eye is nationwide. I will triumph, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Ignoring the pain in her ankle, Amy skittered through the door to the bedroom and grabbed the things Jordan had requested. When she heard the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, she decided to take her time returning. While she understood that Jordan was pissed at this guy, she abhorred violence.
When she arrived, she handed the handcuffs to Jordan, and he secured an unconscious Lawrence. The man bled from multiple wounds, and she wondered where she’d shot him. “I can’t believe that someone who used to be so dedicated to upholding the law turned into a rotten murderer.”
“It pisses me off, that’s for sure.” He flipped open his phone and called for reinforcements.
That’s when she noticed his calf was bleeding. “Oh, Daddy! You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.” He brushed her hands away when she tried to roll up his pant leg to take a look. “I’ll be fine.”
“You got shot. That bastard shot your leg.”
“Yeah,” he said. “That bastard. Don’t worry about him. He’s not going anywhere. You, however, need to get dressed. This place will be swarming with agents in three-and-a-half minutes.”
He was a little off. They came in just as she finished sliding into the yoga pants Dustin had bought for her. By her count, that was closer to the two minute mark. And, speak of the devil, Dustin was one of the officers who responded.
Keith was as well. He surveyed the candles and lasagna, sympathy emanating from him even though his face remained stoic.
“It’s still warm.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. “If you’re hungry.”
“Looks like you two were having a romantic evening.” He put his arm around her waist and helped her to the sofa. “You shouldn’t be on your feet.”
“That jerk shot Jordan. Make sure you charge him with attempted murder. And please make him go to the hospital. What if he has the bullet still in his leg? He won’t let me look a
t it.”
“Hush, babe.” Jordan paused in giving his statement. “I’ll take care of it later.”
Keith and Dustin worked together to wrestle Jordan to the ground. They held him down while a medic looked at the injury. The crime scene videographer filmed the wound.
“You’re going to have to go to the hospital. I don’t have the equipment or the authorization to dig out the shell and stitch you up. You’re lucky, though. It didn’t hit bone or a major artery.”
“It’s fine,” Jordan said.
“Wait, you said Lawrence fired once?” Dustin released his hold on Jordan, who promptly shook off Keith. Dustin crossed the room and pointed out a bullet lodged in the wall. “Did you miscount?”
“No. I didn’t miscount.” He sneered at Dustin. “This bullet came from my gun. I was talking him into a frenzy so I could get close enough to dive at him, and Amy went for my gun. She shot at Lawrence, but she missed. The bullet ricocheted from somewhere, I think the sofa leg, and hit me. It was friendly fire.”
Dustin and Keith both had to sit down, they were laughing so hard. Heat traveled up Amy’s chest, and she suddenly felt nauseous. Horrified, she scooted off the sofa and crawled to Jordan. “I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean it. I’ve never shot a gun before, and my eyes closed when it went off, so I didn’t see where it went. Please don’t hate me.”
He petted her hair and kissed her forehead. “I’m not mad, little one. It was an accident, a fortunate one. It could have been so much worse. Now we’ll have matching limps.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Amy stared at the metal and wood frame standing where her house used to be. In the past six weeks, the charred remnants of her old house had been removed, and these new beams marked the completion of the rough frame for the new house. Since it was Saturday, nobody was there working, and Amy had dropped by to see the progress.
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