JORDEN: (Justice Brothers #3)

by Taylor Lee

  Mac knew it was irresponsible for them to forget their phones. But they’d been under such stress since Francine won the custody battle that it wasn’t surprising that they had both wanted to shut out the world. But they couldn’t have done so at a worse time. What should have been one of the most blissful afternoons of her life would now be remembered as one of the worst. No, Mac reminded herself, that wasn’t correct. What they had shared had been wonderful in every way. What happened simply underscored the challenge that they and their relationship were facing. In a word, it was Francine. Whether she was present or miles away, like the most noxious pollution clouding the air of major cities everywhere, whatever she touched was poisoned. Had they been able to don gas masks that could filter her malevolence, they may have been to escape her evil. Unfortunately, she’d seeped into their lives, darkening every corner, and there didn’t seem to be a way to stop her.

  At the precinct, Mac had seen Jorden’s angst and understood his need to focus on the girls. She even understood his putting distance between the two of them. There was only so much he could focus on. But Mac didn’t fool herself. Guilt was rolling off him in waves. Knowing Jorden, he would never forgive himself for not being available when his daughters needed him most. She also knew that it wasn’t a reach that he might blame their erotic tryst for his absence. She quaffed the remaining potent alcohol, draining her glass, and acknowledged the obvious. Given the current situation, it wouldn’t do any good to point out that Francine, not their passionate afternoon, was responsible for the crisis.

  Chapter 28

  A situation that couldn’t possibly have gotten worse went off the rails the next morning. If Jake hadn’t been with him in court, Jorden didn’t know how he could have kept from physically attacking Sylvia Mortenson. He was certain that if Francine had been present, he would not have been able to hold back. However, according to her attorney, the former Mrs. Justice’s physician had placed her on strict bed rest. As it was, Jorden was forced to sit at the witness table, his body quaking with suppressed fury while Jake and Paul Ojakangas took on the judge.

  Judge Mortenson glared at Jorden, her eyes lit with ill-disguised hatred. She appeared to make an effort to make her damning words sound ironic. “Really, Jorden, are you ever going to accept that your daughters’ mother has joint custody of the girls?” She sneered and pointed at the papers in front of her. “But even for you, this latest complaint is over-the-top. My understanding is that, yes, there was an unfortunate incident at Mrs. Justice’s home on Friday night, but she was not present. Given that, it seems suspicious to this court that such dramatic action as the ‘raid’ that ensued was necessary.”

  Before Jorden could respond, Jake rose to his feet and addressed the court directly. His voice was riddled with disbelief and rising anger. If Sylvia Mortenson had known him better, she would have known that the last thing you wanted to do was anger the DPD Commander. Jake was known as the most even-tempered of the Justice brothers. Whether they were members of his department or the criminals he captured, those who’d earned his fury conceded they’d deeply misjudged the man. A misguided perpetrator quickly learned that the seemingly imperturbable Commander Justice was the last man a miscreant wanted to get in the ring with. Sylvia Mortenson learned her lesson the hard way.

  His eyes narrowed, his jaw rigid, Jake’s clipped words were coated in ice. “If I heard you correctly, Judge Mortenson, you just accused the Duluth Police Department of staging a raid to interfere with the ongoing Justice versus Justice custody suit, is that correct?”

  Judge Mortenson snorted and waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t be so dramatic, Jake. I merely said I wouldn’t put it past your brother—”

  “Excuse me, Judge Mortenson. If you are referring to the Assistant US Attorney for the Ninth District, please refer to him by his correct title. And on that point, my title is Commander Justice. To the disgraceful charge you made, let me be very clear. Insinuating during a legal proceeding that the Duluth Police Department is guilty of manufacturing a raid is the basis for an injunction against the court. An injunction that I will be filing this morning.”

  Taking several steps toward the bench, Jake captured the surprised jurist with his scathing glare. Nodding to the court stenographer, he made his case. “For the record, Friday night at 9:06 p.m., I received a call from my ten-year-old niece, Emma Justice. She indicated that men were fighting at her mother’s condo and she was afraid. Within minutes, my department received no fewer than four calls from neighbors indicating that there was fighting and loud partying at Francine Justice’s condominium. We arrived to find my niece hiding in a bedroom closet. We arrested six adults, four of them men who were actively engaged in a violent fight when we arrived. It took five of my officers to break up the fight and get the perpetrators in handcuffs. In addition, we arrested two women who were participating in the fight. We also took into custody three inebriated, underage girls, one of whom was my niece, Chloe Justice. In addition to the mayhem we encountered, we confiscated five different kinds of illegal drugs spread throughout the condominium. What we did not find was the owner of the condominium, Francine Justice. According to all the attendees, she had been hosting the party, but left before we arrived.”

  Judge Mortenson did not respond to Jake’s damning recital of the facts. Rather, she studied the papers in front of her as if looking for the answer to the whereabouts of the Holy Grail.

  At her silence, Paul rose to his feet and stood beside a solemn Jake. “Given that Mrs. Justice is indisposed and apparently unable to participate in this hearing, I request that the court prevent Emma and Chloe from returning to their mother’s condominium until we are able to confirm her ability to care for them.”

  Judge Mortenson glanced to Mary Ellen Lundgren, who rose to her feet and spoke carefully. “I agree, that at this moment, Mrs. Justice’s health prevents her from properly caring for the girls. Given that, I concede that for the time being they should be with their father. However, it’s critical that the court not take this one instance as evidence for changing its joint custody ruling. It is essential that as soon as Mrs. Justice’s physician indicates she’s well, the custody arrangement ordered by this court be restored.”

  Before Paul, Jake, or Jorden could speak, the judge slammed down her gavel and was on her feet heading for the door, saying over her shoulder, “So ordered.” Seconds later the door to her private quarters slammed shut.

  Jorden rose shakily to his feet, grasping the edge of the witness table for support. Fighting to see through the red haze clouding his vision, he reached for Mary Ellen Lundgren’s arm as she attempted to scurry by. Jerking her up next to him, he tightened his grip and pinned her with a hard glare. His voice was cool. The undercurrent of danger coating his words was apparent to them both. “So help me, God, Mary Ellen, if anything happens to my daughters should they be forced to return to that sick woman’s degenerate household, I will personally see that you never again practice law in any state of the Union.”

  Puffing up like an arboreal toad, Mary Ellen made an obvious effort to appear in control. As it was, her breaking voice belied her assumed detachment. “Are you threatening me, Jorden?” Glancing at the wide-eyed court reporter and frowning bailiff, she added, “In front of witnesses, no less?”

  “You bet your sweet ass I am. And Mary Ellen, I don’t make idle threats where my daughters’ safety is concerned.” He studied her for a long moment. “But don’t worry. You won’t be exiled to solitary shame. Judge Mortenson will be keeping you company in that benighted hell the two of you have chosen. One driven by hatred and jealousy, and completely devoid of judicial ethics. Which is the only way that I can describe your willingness to put two young girls in danger.”

  ****

  “I’m going to take her down, Jorden. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to get that hateful woman disbarred. She’s a disgrace to the legal profession.”

  Pausing mid-stride in his relentless pacing across the gazebo, Jord
en met his grandfather’s flushed countenance. Running his hands through his tousled hair, his jaw grew even more rigid.

  Mac wondered if at some point it might crack. She longed to reach out to him, connect with him in some way. But he’d barely glanced at her since she arrived for the family strategy session. Skylar had called to tell her what happened in the courtroom. She said that they were meeting at the mansion and Jorden wanted her to come. After greeting her with a distracted kiss, Jorden turned back to pacing the ground he had been trampling for the last hour.

  He stopped momentarily to answer the Judge. “It’s worse than that, Judge. Not only is she a danger to the profession, but she seems hell-bent on endangering Emma and Chloe. All to prove that she can take down the Justice brothers. Specifically me. She doesn’t give a flying fuck if Emma and Chloe are hurt in the process.”

  Jake sucked in an audible breath and blew it out. “Jorden is absolutely right. The only way I can explain how bad it was is that Judge Mortenson actually suggested that the Duluth Police Department engineered an unnecessary ‘raid’ on Francine’s condo to affect the custody case.”

  Jude added to the indictment, his expression darkening dangerously. “Right, Jake. How dare she? Jesus, I keep thinking about that call you got from Emma when she couldn’t reach Jorden. Christ, I’ll never forget her scared little voice begging you to come. ‘Hurry, Uncle Jake. Bad men are fighting over Chloe.’ ”

  Seeing Jorden visibly flinch at Jude’s impassioned remark, Mac silently groaned. She knew Jude didn’t intend to hurt either her or Jorden, but the implications of their absence were clear to both of them.

  Skylar shot her a concerned frown, confirming that the intuitive woman understood how Jude’s remark had hit Jorden, and likely Mac too. She shrugged to let Skylar know that she appreciated her understanding.

  After they had gone over their strategy for what seemed like the thirtieth time and Jorden had finally stopped pacing, Jude signaled for Gregory to bring them refreshments. At that moment, almost as if seeing her for the first time, Jorden came to her and gave her a bleak half-smile.

  Sinking down on the settee beside her, he put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her next to him. Shaking his head, he said, “Jesus, Mac, and we thought it couldn’t get any worse than the custody hearing.”

  She leaned into his strength and hoped that he could feel hers. His smile looked almost genuine as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. Needing to voice her concerns about Chloe, she ventured into uncharted territory. “How is Chloe, Jorden? I’m presuming she’s here at the mansion.”

  Jorden immediately tensed. “Hell, yes. She’s in the princess palace Gramps outfitted for the girls. In addition to their private bedrooms, the main room has every computer game and techie gizmo either of them could ever want. I decided there wasn’t any use in trying to restrict her privileges. Kids today know more ways to exploit our orders than we have orders.” He gave a hard sigh and scrubbed at his chin, a defeated gesture. “I’ve learned in the past weeks that the shy, ‘good’ little girl that used to be Chloe is long gone. As are the days when I can tell Chloe what she can and can’t do. The best I can do is keep pointing out the consequences of her destructive behavior. But even that I do cautiously. She’s like a two hundred fifty volt fuse, ready to explode at any minute. I made it clear that she’s grounded this weekend, and she can’t go anywhere unless I’m with her. At least the drug cocktail she imbibed along with a hell of a lot of alcohol has made her so sick that she hasn’t taken issue with that restriction.”

  Seeing the deep creases on Jorden’s brow and his clenched shoulders, Mac longed to reach out and attempt to soothe him. What she wouldn’t give to smother him with a deep tissue, several hour-long massage. She knew exactly how to reach every tense pressure point on his stressed body and bring him relief. Remembering the last time she’d massaged him and how completely he’d let down, giving into her loving ministrations, Mac had to choke back a sob. God, forget massaging him. Now, she was lucky to be sitting beside him. Comforting him was a long shot at best. Understandably, he was completely wrapped up in the hideousness of the issues they were facing. It was obvious that their conversations were going to be hurried ones, perhaps texts and the occasional phone call. Mac completely understood the necessary restrictions they faced. His priority had to be Chloe, and to a lesser extent, Emma. Knowing well how the juvenile criminal justice system worked, Mac understood that the last thing Jorden could think about was her. Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t make her ache any less for his arms around her.

  Mac hadn’t thought the day could get any worse, but Jorden’s sudden diatribe proved her wrong. Slamming back the remaining Scotch in his glass, he banged the empty glass on the sidebar and rose to his feet. Striding back and forth in front of the startled group, he shouted, “Goddammit! Look at what she’s doing! Do you all realize that we have spent the last five weeks doing nothing but trying to head off the damage Francine is wreaking? Jesus Fucking Christ. I told Mac she’s an insidious plague that is ever-evolving. We think we’ve stopped her, or at least found an antidote to her insidious poison, she just mutates to an even more virulent form.”

  His pacing grew more intense. His stress was rolling off him in waves. He came to an abrupt stop and whirled on his brothers. “Dammit! You all know her as well as I do! She’s a vicious woman. Everything she touches turns to shit. And, Holy Christ, ours is hardly the only family she’s destroyed. She has torn apart more marriages then we can count. Look at the other guys she married! She sucked every one of them dry, then discarded them. Tossed them onto her own personal landfill that by now has reached epic heights. The devious thing about her well-honed repertoire is that she isn’t content to just hurt the men she marries or the ones she fucks. No, she likes to spread the destruction. She hurts the wives and the children just as much. Ask her former husbands how much damage cheating on your wife can cause.”

  He glanced at each of his brothers then shook his head with a weary sigh. “It’s part of the well-rehearsed game she plays. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Fuck, you’d think at least a couple of her prey would be smart enough to figure that out. She cheats on the guy she’s with, destroying his marriage and everyone involved in it, then wrecks the marriage of the new sucker. Christ, Francine has engineered the ‘other woman’ shtick to a whole new level. Especially since in her vernacular, being the other woman and home wrecker are synonymous. She has an unblemished record of destruction and she never looks back. Just moves on to the next chump leaving widespread devastation in her wake. Talk about a black widow! Only she doesn’t kill them, she just leaves them knowing what a fool they had been.”

  ****

  That night, in what was clearly becoming her nocturnal ritual, Mac sat on her patio long after she should have gone to bed. But, hell, why lay in bed staring sleeplessly at the ceiling? It was so much easier to give into her paranoia sitting by herself on the dark patio nursing yet another glass of Chardonnay. She hadn’t heard from Jorden. Not that she’d expected too. He had to be as strung out as they all were. But it was the first time since they’d become lovers that he hadn’t called to say good night.

  Which made it more possible for her to dwell on Jorden’s caustic conclusions about the “other woman”. His diatribe had been painful to hear. Particularly his self-righteous conclusions about “once a cheater always a cheater”. Apparently in Jorden’s worldview, it was the other woman, not the cheating husband, who was the home wrecker. His blatantly chauvinistic, one-dimensional conclusion made Mac do something she didn’t know she was capable of. She empathized with Francine.

  Chapter 29

  Mac frowned, then responded to her secretary’s surprising message. “Hmm, really? Please send her in.”

  Maggie Staples stood in the doorway and hesitated for a long moment. If Mac didn’t know the normally sullen girl as well as she did, she might think that Maggie was afraid to come in. Given that Maggie had summarily dismissed Mac’s previous
attempts to get to the bottom of her bad behavior, she was surprised at the fearful expression on Maggie’s face. Rising to her feet, she walked over to the doorway and motioned for Maggie to enter. After another moment of hesitation, the young woman squared her shoulders and stepped into Mac’s office. Pointing to the chair in front of her desk, Mac said, “Have a seat, Maggie.”

  Mac sat down at her desk across from Maggie. Like Chloe, Maggie had been suspended for five days, the required punishment for any student involved in a criminal case, which was how underage drinking and drug use was defined at Wildwood.

  Seeing Maggie staring at her hands in her lap, studiously avoiding looking at her, Mac took the initiative. “How can I help you, Maggie?”

  When Maggie didn’t answer, just nervously picked at her bright purple fingernails, Mac pressed. “Frankly, I’m surprised to see you. Principal Daniels didn’t tell me that you were coming to see me. I presume it’s part of your reentry to Wildwood, correct?”

  Maggie shook her head. “No, Principal Daniels doesn’t know I’m here. Uh…no one does. I can’t come back to school until next Monday, and only after my parents and I meet with Principal Daniels and she gives me permission to come back.”

  “I see. So how can I help you?”

  When Maggie looked up at her, Mac barely recognized her. The normally sullen, disagreeable girl was staring at Mac, a fountain of unshed tears filling her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and Mac confirmed that it was fear that she had seen on Maggie’s face at the door.

  “I…I’m in trouble, Dr. Durant. Big trouble.” At that surprising declaration, Maggie burst into tears. For several long moments, the young girl cried, hard sobs tearing at her slender body.

  Moved by Maggie’s clear distress, Mac rounded the desk and pulled the sobbing girl to her feet. “Here, honey, how about we go over to the sofa. That way I can sit next to you.”