Jordan's Shadow

by T. R. Cupak

  Sidestepping Hunter, I reach for the handle, but of course I don’t get out of the door. Not even close.

  Chapter Eight

  Jordan

  “Lezleigh, just stop for two seconds and let me explain everything.”

  Shock, disbelief, fear, and anger are only a few emotions I am currently struggling through.

  “What the fuck did you just call me?” The hairs on the back of my neck are prickling at the name Hunter just used. I know what he said. There’s no mistaking my birth name.

  “What?” He looks confused.

  “You heard me. What did you just call me?” I snap out.

  Hunter’s facial expression changes a few times before realization hits him. Yeah, he knows exactly what he said. His eyes close as he takes a couple of long, deep breaths in before his haunted eyes meet mine briefly before they drop back to the floor. He steps out of the way of the door, offering me my freedom. He’s not getting out of this that easy. Hunter has made the last two days a mess. Now he has to explain why.

  “Lezleigh,” he replies, finally answering my question.

  “Where in the fuck did you get that name, because I know for a fact it’s not in the journal you helped yourself to reading?” My hands ball into fists at my sides. I can feel my nails cutting into my palms from how tightly clenched they are. “Tell me, now!” I shout at him.

  “Prec–” he begins, but I immediately cut him off.

  “No—you do not get to call me Precious,” I hiss out.

  “Jordan, there is a lot I need to tell you.” He hasn’t once looked back up at me since stepping away from the door.

  “Well, you definitely have my attention now. Start talking, Hunter.”

  He turns and walks over to the bar grabbing a bottle of scotch and shakily begins pouring each of us a glass.

  “Please, will you have a seat?” Don’t ask me why, but I take pity on him and do as he asked, taking a seat on one of the decorative chairs in the room.

  Hunter hands me a glass with amber liquid filled half way, suggesting I should down my drink before he begins whatever it is he needs to tell me. He immediately refills my glass, and then sits the bottle down on the coffee table that separates us before taking a seat on the couch across from me.

  “What I have to say is a whole mess of fucked up, but it led me to you, and for that I am grateful.” His sad eyes finally meet mine, indicating that I am going to need more than two drinks to hear what he has been desperately trying to tell me since yesterday. I’m not ready for this.

  “Where’s the restroom?” I ask before Hunter begins whatever story it is he’s about to tell me.

  “Through the double doors.”

  “I’ll be right back,” I say, excusing myself. Hunter nods, acknowledging what I said.

  Hunter

  What the fuck did I do? How is it that I fucked up now; of all goddamn times? I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that I have slipped up and called Jordan by her given name? I’m starting to think that these last couple of days have been my subconscious fucking with me. With my mind preoccupied with the decision to finally come clean and confess all of my secrets to Jordan, on top of trying to figure out how to keep her after she loses her shit; well it’s highly possible it caught up with me. Reckless stupidity.

  From the moment her blindfold was removed and our eyes locked onto each other’s for the very first time, a shockwave of every pent up, hidden feeling or emotion I’ve had for Jordan rushed through me all at once. She fucking owns me in ways I didn’t think would be possible. No one in my life can tell me what to do, but Jordan, she can. She could literally tell me to jump off a bridge and I would. I’m not saying it would be a bridge that would break all of my bones or kill me, but I would find one that adrenaline junkies would jump from for sport, and then jump, just because my she told me to. Now, if she asked me to do something I didn’t want to do, like leave her alone and give her space, well we know how that goes. I will throw a childlike tantrum, but eventually I will give in. Pleasing her in every imaginable way is what I am I meant to do, whether she likes it or not.

  Thankfully she excused herself to use the restroom. Anticipating how this conversation is going to go, this brief interlude has given me the opportunity to grab the syringes from my suit pocket. There’s no doubt that Jordan has her meds in her purse and that is why she excused herself, taking her drink and bag with her. This day is going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better; if it gets better.

  Settling back on the couch, I carefully place the syringes behind one of the throw pillows, and pour myself another drink. My nerves have left the building, but there’s no turning back now. I’m going to fight like hell to keep this woman in my life because I won’t have it any other way, but her flighty, whacked out disposition may put a wrinkle in my plans––briefly.

  My cell phone chimes from over on the bar, so I go grab it and return back to my seat on the couch. Jordan’s bathroom stints always take time. She’s undoubtedly in there arguing with herself, but she’s here, that’s all that matters. Glancing at the name I cringe. Arthur Wellington. What the fuck could he possibly want now?

  Arthur: Mate- change of plans.

  Me: What now?

  Arthur: My NY partner is joining us in Sin City. Need to push the date out.

  This day just keeps getting better.

  Me: Which partner and how long?

  Arthur: Christian, you met him. Only a week. His wife just popped out a kid.

  That disgusting monster procreated? Fan-fucking-tastic.

  Me: Only a week?

  Arthur: Yeah, mate.

  Me: Fine. I’ll have my assistant make the changes.

  Arthur: Cheers

  Well, one good thing came from that text; we will get to kill two birds with one stone. Things just got a little more interesting, and easier.

  “Hunter?” Jordan’s soft voice pulls my attention from the phone over to her, where she’s taken her seat across from me once again.

  “You good?”

  “No. Just get on with whatever it is you need to tell me. I have someplace to be.” Her eyes have lost their sparkle and she looks like she can barely focus. What in the hell did she take while she was in there?

  There’s no time to beat around the bush so I begin, “Jordan, I’ve known who you were since before our first encounter.”

  “Did they send you to find me?” her voice is hoarse, and she looks frightened to hear the answer.

  “What do you mean ‘did they send me?’? Who’s they?” Just as the words left my mouth it dawns on me who “they” are and why she looks so scared. This is going bad and I don’t know how to rectify it.

  “You read my journal, you should know,” she admonishes.

  “No, they didn’t send me.” I see that she’s listening, but the struggle to keep her focus on me is apparent. And to top it off, Jordan doesn’t look good; she’s extremely pale, so I offer her water which she declines.

  Against my better judgement I continue, “My father was Henry Knight. He was one of the bastards that raped you eight years ago.” I don’t say anything more, allowing her time to let this new information sink in. While I watch her carefully, waiting for the flip out, I slyly slide my hand behind the throw pillow, grabbing one of the syringes; just in case.

  “Was? You said he was your father?” her breathing has escalated slightly, but so far she’s holding it together.

  “He died of a heart attack a little over seven years ago. It was during a confrontation we were having about you,” Jordan takes in a sharp breath, and then nods for me to go on, “I found out about you when I overheard a conversation he was having with one of your other attackers. Jordan, I wanted to kill them both right then and there, but I had to think about what I heard. A few months later, my father and I were arguing over what I had heard and he spoke your name just before his heart began to fail. I stood over his body, watching as he struggled to breathe; listening to him beg fo
r help, and I enjoyed every second of pain he was in. My father didn’t deserve to live, not after what he had done to you and our family. It was unforgivable.” Her eyes widen with disbelief. Jordan’s knuckles are white from the grip she has on the armrests of the chair she occupies.

  “You’ve known all about me this whole fucking time and you said NOTHING?” she yells. Her previously pale skin is now red and blotchy from angry adrenaline.

  “I’ve wanted to tell you so many times, just none of them seemed to be the right time,” I explain in effort to defend myself.

  “Yeah, I guess when your dick is shoved down my throat or buried in my pussy, there isn’t exactly a right time to spit that out.” Jordan stands and I follow her actions, keeping the syringe hidden behind my back. “I can’t believe that you’ve been paying to fuck me this whole goddamn time knowing what I’ve gone through in my past. You’re just as bad as those bastards were,” her voice cracks as sadness clouds her anger. “No, you’re worse than them.”

  “Jordan, please let me finish,” I plead.

  “You’ve said and done plenty, Hunter. I don’t ever want to see or hear from you again—ever. Do you understand me?”

  “Precious, no. This began as a need to right a wrong doing, but you became my obsession. Your captivating smile that is reserved only for me holds me prisoner. Jordan, you are the reason I take each and every breath I take, and you will be the reason I stop breathing.”

  “Fuck you,” she seethes while heading towards the door.

  I’m already going to hell so I do something I know damn well I shouldn’t. Just as Jordan turns the knob to leave the room I poke her in the neck with the syringe and dispense the tranquilizer into her body. She immediately begins to sway and before she could hit the floor I pick her up and lie her down on the couch.

  “Fuck. What am doing?”

  Knowing I won’t be able to think straight cooped up in this hotel room, I text Monte to bring the Range Rover around to the side of the hotel by the emergency exit and tell him I need his help upstairs. This was never the plan, but this also didn’t go exactly how I thought it would, so, I’m taking Jordan to my central coast estate.

  Chapter Nine

  Hunter

  After leaving the hotel we went to Jordan’s apartment and grabbed everything that wasn’t furniture, food, or kitchen stuff. I paid out the remainder of her lease and once we were on the road to a private airport, I filled Monte in on everything that transpired since Jordan arrived at the hotel. He never questioned my actions or tried to talk sense into me. It appears to me that he believes what we are doing is the right thing even though I went about it all wrong. Needless to say, I’m glad he and I were able to get everything out in the open before this new situation with Jordan came about. It makes this part; the technically kidnapping part, less awkward.

  “Boss, what do you plan to do when she wakes? She’s going to go ape shit.”

  “I have no fucking clue, so if you have any suggestions, let’s hear them.”

  The flight is only an hour which during that time Monte and I sat in silence while we both watched Jordan sleep. Her breathing was shallow; shallow enough that there were a few times we used a mirror to make sure she was in fact still breathing. I gambled with her life by injecting her with the tranquilizer. I didn’t know what she took when she went to the bathroom, and that was incredibly reckless of me to inject her, but it’s done and she’s still alive.

  Monte arranged for a local house call doctor to come out and check on Jordan once we were home and had her settled. We concocted an elaborate lie and told the doctor that she was out partying with friends and we picked her up after one of her friends called saying Jordan passed out. In both of our minds it sounded like a viable story. Who knows; the doctor doesn’t seem to give a fuck since he’s being paid in cash.

  The doctor informed us that Jordan’s vitals were on the weaker side but she should be fine after a couple of saline IV’s. He set her up on the IV drip, showed us how to change the bag, and instructed us to call him to remove the needle once the last bag had a quarter of the liquid left. Monte explained he was a trained medic while he was in the military, which was total bullshit, and that he had the removal of the needle handled. The doctor didn’t even bat an eye. He just said to watch Jordan’s complexion and breathing and to call if either of those things change. I’m glad he’s not our real doctor, but at the same time I am glad he doesn’t care enough to ask questions we don’t want to answer.

  We had been home for a couple of hours with no change in Jordan’s medical state. She slept peacefully while Monte made he and I dinner. After eating we still had no solid plan of what to do when Jordan woke up. He thinks we’ll have clearer heads in the morning, so he retired to the room across the hall, in case I needed him quickly. I crawled into bed next to my sleeping beauty and entwined my fingers with hers while I continued to watch her sleep.

  There’s no unsettling movements or any signs of bad dreams, which gives me a sense of relief that she’s okay trapped in her mind. I only hope that she’s getting the rest that she has desperately needed.

  Thirty minutes has gone by and Jordan begins to make quiet sounds, which instantly has me sitting up, watching her face more closely, but she soon settles back into her deep slumber. Even though she won’t hear me, I take this time to tell her everything. I divulge the rest of the story I had started back in the hotel room adding in a few important details such as my two best friends are her other two clients that she’s been sleeping with; I’ve controlled her other clientele since day one; Monte has been my eyes and ears when I couldn’t be in California; and lastly our plans of revenge. I explained that we would do this together. That we would give her closure and peace. And after confessing everything to her, I kiss Jordan’s temple, and then wrap my body around hers, relishing in the way she feels sleeping soundly next to me.

  My eyes get heavier once I stop talking and only focus on Jordan’s breathing. Every breath she takes, I take one too. I want to be in sync with her in every way possible.

  “I love you, Precious,” I whisper, just before nodding off.

  “I love you, too,” whispers through the air.

  Hunter

  My heart skipped a beat at the words Jordan said back to me for two reasons; one, I’m not ready to handle a meltdown when she learns what I’ve done in addition to tranquilizing her, as well as where she is now residing, all without her consent; two, because as much as I want to believe she loves me, I can’t take her words as a genuine response since she appears to still be unconscious. She hasn’t opened her eyes or said any more than the three words I’ve longed to hear from her.

  Being as I will be in the “dog house” when Jordan comes to, I have an idea that will probably cause her to hate me, but it’s for her well-being; always for her.

  Leaving her to sleep, I go across the hall and knock on Monte’s door. I want his opinion on my crazy idea.

  “What’s wrong?” he says right when he opens the door.

  “Nothing is wrong, but I have an idea. It’s going to be rough to watch, but I think it needs to be done,” I tell him.

  “What are you thinking, Boss?”

  “What if we have the private physician, who gave me the tranquilizers, come out and keep Jordan in a medically induced coma so she can detox while she’s out? I don’t know if it’s safe or even if it’s something that can be done, but it doesn’t hurt to see what the doctor says. What do you think?”

  What I’m proposing might be farfetched, maybe even dangerous, but I want to help Jordan in more ways than just revenge. She’s been punishing her body for years with pills and alcohol and I’m not sure how her body will react to the shock of withdrawals. I’ve heard that detoxing or withdrawing can be pure hell; uncontrollable shaking, vomiting, high blood pressure, unusual heart rate, cold sweats, fever, and abdominal pain; to me it seems like it would be borderline torture to go through while conscious, and that could be why people relapse.
It’s easier to keep using instead of pushing your body to a healthy mental and physical state. Still, it doesn’t hurt to ask the doctor. His professional insight is necessary. If I can ease the withdrawal process safely for Jordan, I will.

  “Are you sure you want to involve another party into our so-called kidnapping?” Monte asks.

  “He won’t know that. He will think she’s here on her free will.”

  “What if she wakes while he’s here? Then what? Think about this carefully, Boss.” I see the worry on Monte’s face, but we have to at least see if it’s even possible. Surprisingly, I never really thought about rehab for Jordan. I was being honest when I accepted everything about her, but I also want her to be around for as long as she will keep me in her life. If she continues down this self-destructive path, she won’t be.

  “Call the doctor, Monte.” My mind was made up.

  Chapter Ten

  Hunter

  It didn’t take long for my private physician to arrive. After pitching my plan for Jordan’s rehabilitation, he advised that it would be dangerous to let someone with her excessive drug and alcohol consumption to detox while in a medically induced coma, but he said it can be done as long as there was twenty-four-seven care. He offered to be here every day for twelve hours and on call the other twelve until Jordan’s vitals stabilize. Once he feels she’s ready to wake, he said he would gradually bring her out of her comatose state.

  “Can we proceed now?” I ask.

  “I don’t have the proper equipment or medication with me. I can return in a couple of hours,” he replies.

  Fuck. We don’t have a couple of hours. Jordan could wake up at any moment and then everything will go to hell.

  “Is there something we can give her to keep her resting comfortably until you return?”