20. Reghan
20
REGHAN
“Reghan!” Jordan barked, grabbing my attention as he stormed out of his office. “Get Albert to meet us downstairs.”
“Yes, sir.”
I quickly pulled out my phone and sent Albert a short text. Something happened that I didn’t hear because Jordan had his door closed. My gun was already on me, and I had two knives strapped to my ankle.
Blood started pumping fast. It didn’t matter if I was the one doing the hitting or Jordan was; adrenaline rushed through me when he was ready to move. It had to. I’d been trained to react when Jordan needed me.
“Let’s go,” he said.
I pushed the button for the elevator. It arrived in less than a minute. We stepped inside, leaving Irene, Jordan’s housekeeper and cook, to bustle around the kitchen as she prepared dinner for Jordan and his men. She wasn’t fazed in the least when he started barking orders or talked about killing someone. Originally, I’d thought she was good at tuning him out. The opposite was true. She heard everything and took it with ease.
One time, Jordan was yelling about ripping someone’s limbs off and she walked past, handing him disposable gloves like it was just another day. It was, but Jordan was so stunned he stared after her for a few moments before moving again.
The elevator stopped on the eighth floor, Sheldon breezing in when the doors opened.
“I didn’t ask for you,” Jordan seethed. Whatever happened really got under his skin. This wasn’t going to be a scare the fuck out of someone. No, this had the makings of murder.
“I was bored,” Sheldon replied calmly. I’d been around him long enough where his easygoing demeanor didn’t bother me. I also loved it when he riled Jordan’s son up by doing nothing more than speaking in an even tone.
Jordan growled, “You can drive separately.”
Sheldon looked down at his phone and tapped on the screen. “I’m taking someone with me then.”
There was no response from Jordan. Not when the elevator stopped at the lobby, and Vincent got on. Not when we exited in the parking garage, and Jordan stormed toward the Maserati Quattroporte Albert was standing next to, holding the door open for him.
Once he was inside, I slid into the front passenger seat in time to hear Jordan click his seat belt into place. Before Ava, he wouldn’t have worn one. Albert had been after him for years to put it on. One request from Ava, a girl who lost her mother in a car accident, and Jordan didn’t leave in any vehicle unless he was belted in.
Jordan fired off an address to Albert, who buckled himself in and tore out of the garage. I quickly texted it to Vincent, so they’d know where we were heading in case we got separated in traffic.
I’d learned a long time ago I didn’t ask Jordan where we were going. Wherever it was, I had to be ready for anything and everything. My muscles were drawn tight the closer we got to the far edge of the city, where there were more abandoned warehouses and run-down buildings than residences and thriving businesses.
Albert turned down a side street with overflowing dumpsters on one side, as if they hadn’t been emptied in a year or more. The stone buildings on the other side were worn from weather and lack of care, pieces of the bricks broken off. What remained was discolored, long lost the original vibrance.
When Albert rounded the corner, my breath froze in my lungs. Only for a second though. Any longer, and Jordan would notice. He’d told me when I was with him or his men, they were the priority. My feelings for Barrett had to be pushed to the side.
Scenarios rushed through my mind of who Barrett caught and brought here for Jordan. He wasn’t in his police SUV and didn’t have his badge around his neck. Whoever he had was someone doing bad shit in the wrong city. This kept the blood on Jordan’s hands and the scum off the streets.
Barrett leaned against his car, arms crossed, a smirk on his lips. This could have been any other day for him. His mask was firmly in place, not slipping even once he saw me exit the vehicle, walking just behind Jordan. I hated and loved it in equal measure. His mask protected him in situations like this, protected what we had. For that, I was grateful. I also hated the fucking thing because this wasn’t the real Barrett. This wasn’t the man I was in bed with for hours, who’d mapped my body while I did the same to him. Who made the prettiest sounds against my lips as I touched him.
For that reason, a growl slipped past my lips along with, “Bear.”
“Oh good, the gang’s all here,” Barrett said.
“How many?” Jordan asked, ignoring Barrett’s smart-ass comment.
“One. I was walking down the street when I heard a noise.” His eyes darkened, the smile fading. “Here this asshole was raping a woman. She was half naked, her mouth taped shut. He had her pushed up against the wall. He probably thought no one would see them. They were tucked away behind a big stack of boxes, but I heard them. The closer I got I realized she had blood running down her thigh. The moment she was free, she cried out and ran. It was either go after her or him. The asshole tried to flee too but didn’t get far with his pants around his thighs. Hopefully, she ends up at a hospital. We can deal with him, so he doesn’t do it again. Oh, and I found meth on him. Enough that he had the intention to sell.”
“Where?” Jordan bit out.
“Inside. He’s strung up with his mouth taped and blood running down his thigh.” I could tell by the way Barrett’s hands flexed that he wanted to be the one delivering justice, but he did in his own way. He brought this scum to Jordan to handle. Jordan didn’t like anyone committing crimes in his city, especially when they attacked others and dealt drugs.
Jordan stormed past Barrett toward the building. Albert stayed outside with Vincent while Sheldon followed us in. I fell into step beside Barrett, our arms brushing, nothing more. We were very aware of each other but wouldn’t do a thing about it.
With his knife already open in his hand, Jordan walked right up to the man who hadn’t been able to pull his pants up. There was a gash on the inside of his thigh and a bloody knife on the ground I was sure Barrett found on him and used to deliver a small amount of pain. It was a precursor to what Jordan would do.
The tip of Jordan’s knife pressed beneath the man’s chin. “You…” he seethed and then ripped off the tape. “You were raping a woman and dealing in my fucking city.”
The man started to cry big fucking tears.
Sheldon circled them, coming to a stop by the man. “What’s your name?” he asked calmly.
“What?” the man gasped as he tried to suck in air.
“Your name?”
“Ted.”
“And how long have you been dealing in East Dremest?”
“I wasn’t, I swear. I was going to the other side of the city. I had to meet a friend.” Tears still ran down his cheeks. Snot bubbled at his nose. “Please. Don’t hurt me.”
“Name.”
“What?”
Sheldon walked in front of him, standing beside Jordan. “I want the name of your friend.”
“But… But…”
“Name or Jordan takes his knife and drives it into your skull.” Even if the man gave up his friend, Jordan was going to kill him. “You’re well aware of who he is. I saw it the moment you recognized him when we entered.”
“He hangs around the outskirts where there aren’t many houses. He supplies me, and I was supposed to sell what I had, but I didn’t. He never said his name.”
Nodding, Sheldon asked, “How many lies have you told me? I’m not sure what to believe.” I didn’t know how he stayed even-tempered. I hadn’t said a word and wanted to rip this motherfucker’s head from his shoulders for what he did to that woman. There was no telling who he sold to or how many people had already bought from him. I didn’t want to think about other women he could have raped.
“I’m not lying.”
“Sure, you’re not. Detective North, did you find a phone on him?”
“Still in his pocket. The battery died though.”
“It’s okay. We’ll charge it and inflict pain on whoever he was meeting.”
The man cried harder, begging. There was something about a wife. About how he needed the money for this or that. So many words fell from his tongue there was no way to know what was the truth or not. In the end, it didn’t matter. He had to pay for his crimes. One less piece of shit on the streets, the better.
“How many others?” Jordan asked, the knife digging in, a trickle of blood running down the blade to the hilt. It would seep into his suit. This was why Albert had new clothes ready for him when he was through here. “How many other women have you raped? How many people have you sold drugs to?”
“None, I swear. Please don’t kill me.”
Jordan pulled the knife away and brought it below the man’s ear. “You did things in my city that would have meant you went to prison. But that’s too good a place for you. Once you were free, and we all know you’d eventually get out, especially if the woman never came forward, you’d do this again. You’d hurt people, the people in my city,” he ground out. “You’ll never walk again. You won’t get to prey on anyone. Not while I’m here to be your judge, jury, and executioner.”
Holding the knife steady, Jordan cut from one side of the man’s neck to the other. Then he went to the thigh and stabbed him before roughly dragging the knife across his flesh. The man tried to scream, but all he could do was jerk and thrash where he hung on the steel beam. This warehouse was good for that. It was probably why Barrett brought him here. It was easy for the blood to go down the drain in the floor.
Jordan handed me his bloody knife. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so, and it wouldn’t be the last. Reaching into his pocket, Sheldon pulled out a glove, knowing what Jordan was going to do next. Jordan put it on and picked up the knife on the cement floor. He twirled it between his fingers for a second before stabbing it into the man’s throat and leaving it there.
We stood and watched as life bled from him, and he stopped breathing. Only then did Jordan call for Albert, who came in with new clothes and two gallons of water. Jordan stripped in front of us, leaving his clothes in a pile before he rinsed the blood off. It would have to do for now. Once we were home, he’d use the clean room to remove all evidence of blood. Vincent was at the door, phone to his ear as he called for cleanup. Jordan had people for every requirement. They’d take his clothes and stage the body. This would appear to be a jilted ex-lover or someone out for revenge.
Barrett nodded to us before walking out of the building and getting into his car. He came in and did what Jordan would have wanted, delivered a piece of shit that was hurting the people of his city. Jordan would pay him for it. Now, I knew Barrett would save it for a just-in-case scenario.
The thought of him never coming home was a punch to my chest, but I stayed upright. I kept breathing as I rinsed Jordan’s knife and put it in my pocket to be sanitized when we were home. This was just another day in the office, except the man I was falling for—had been falling for—was one of the people involved, and I watched him leave without a second glance at me.