Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Something was going to happen tonight. Despite all his reassurances to Joel, Jordan could feel it crawling under his skin. He’d double-checked every security measure, every exit, every face on the guest list. Still, the unease coiled through his gut like a warning.
As he made his way back to The Link’s gym after doing his fourth walk-through of the premises, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming tonight that he hadn’t prepared for.
He tried to calm himself by running through the protocol, the men he’d stationed at all the access points of the building, the restricted areas, and the places that would have the highest traffic. He’d arranged for cameras, digital security, even fucking law enforcement.
So what was he missing? What had he not prepared for?
As guests started arriving, he kept watch like a hawk. The weight of the Glock at his side was both familiar and distant—like an echo from a life he’d sworn he’d buried. Almost a decade had passed since he’d worn a weapon, and he never expected to again.
But protecting Vanessa had changed everything. With only one non-violent felony on his record, and Joel’s connections fast-tracking the paperwork, Jordan’s right to carry had been quietly and legally restored for private protection work.
The new life he imagined for himself was quiet and inconspicuous.
Straight and narrow for once in his goddamn life.
But Vanessa had blindsided him in every single way possible, dragging him back to a version of himself he thought he’d left behind.
The version that could shoot to kill. The version that never missed.
And if keeping her safe meant becoming that man again, he’d face every ghost that came with him. He’d do it a thousand times over, because this time, he had something worth fighting for.
Heading down the hallway to the gym, he took a mental note of anyone who appeared remotely out of place. He filed away minute details like outfits, approximate height and weight, and snippets of conversations happening around him. One never knew when the tiniest detail became relevant.
As he entered the gym, he took a moment to marvel at how Vanessa had transformed The Link for the evening. The entire place radiated a swagger that hadn’t existed forty-eight hours ago.
The gritty, tired feel was gone, replaced by an elegance that was entirely a reflection of her.
Each chair was covered in deep red fabric, arranged in a perfect U-shape around the long, sleek runway, which was trimmed in black silk that complemented the seating.
Behind the runway, a dramatic black silk wall hid the roughed-up gym while also creating a backstage area. Jordan knew that’s where Vanessa was right now, orchestrating the final touches, making sure the models were ready and everything from clothing to makeup and hair was flawless.
He was so damn proud of her. This entire evening had been planned and brought to life in the span of three weeks. Hours of her time and even her own funds had gone into it.
The lights flickered, signaling it was time for people to take their seats. He rolled his shoulders back, the weapon at his side shifting at the movement, reminding him that he was here to do one job. Keep her safe.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple of players from the Portland Trail Blazers and their partners take their seats.
Across the room, the mayor was being escorted to his seat next to a beaming Chantal, who was seated beside Luciano, Maria, and the rest of the Barone contingent, Hope and Gabe included.
The lights went out, music started, and a spotlight dropped onto the back of the stage.
Vanessa appeared from behind the curtain, her body draped in a white sheath dress that hugged every contour.
Cutting high across her collarbone and stretching over her arms, the fabric fell down her long, toned legs until it pooled at her feet, hiding her shoes.
If she was wearing a stitch of underwear under that dress, he couldn’t see it. Heat rolled through him at the sight of her.
As if they were the only two people in the room, she instantly homed in on him.
Holding his gaze, she strutted the catwalk, hips flowing side to side, head high, and lips pouted.
The spotlight followed her, and with the glow illuminating her, she looked like she was walking down an aisle. Toward him.
Fuck.
She consumed everything. Every cell in his body, every ounce of his attention, every corner of his soul. If she kept walking along the runway like that, looking at him the way she was, she’d swallow him whole.
With a shake of his head, he broke eye contact. The last thing he needed was his growing feelings for her distracting him from the goal of protecting her.
As he patrolled the gym, he listened to her opening remarks.
She spoke like she did everything else, with confidence and grace.
She spoke of the kids who’d worked their asses off for tonight’s show, about their dedication and resilience, about how close she’d gotten to them.
Mostly, she emphasized how important The Link was not only to young people in the community, but to the well-being of the community itself, because strong youth meant a strong generation of adults in the future.
By the time he finished his first pass of the gym, he spotted several teary faces in the crowd. By the time the lights dimmed again, and the show started, he knew that The Link was getting a hell of a lot more out of tonight than one-off donations.
He checked in with the rest of his team, walked the perimeter, and inspected the backstage, which was a flurry of outfit changes, hair and makeup touch-ups, and a cacophony of giggles and excitement.
Whenever he looked at the stage, the kids beamed as they strutted down the catwalk.
He caught himself smiling as well when Beck or Murray took their turns.
They nailed the swagger Vanessa had drilled into them, and with their shoulders thrown back and heads high, they looked more confident than he’d ever seen them.
When the show was over, the applause was deafening. The models lined up along the stage as Vanessa walked out to take a final bow, and the crowd rose to their feet. Cameras flashed. With all the movement, he’d lost his clear line of sight.
“I need more guys on the floor,” he demanded, pressing the earpiece closer to hear over the noise. He pushed through the crowd toward the stage. His heart hammered in his chest. Why did every fucking person suddenly look like a threat?
Everything was loud and flashing. People spilled from their seats, clogging the aisles. The chaos moved both too fast and in painfully slow motion.
One of the giants from the Trailblazers obstructed his view of Vanessa, and Jordan almost knocked him to the ground. When he caught sight of her again, she was hugging the girls with tears slipping freely down her cheeks.
He wanted her off that damn stage and safely back in her apartment, but hell, he also would never steal this moment from her.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the guards filter through the side doors, positioning themselves at the exits.
The kids on stage surrounded Vanessa in a group hug, so she was almost invisible.
He got to the base of the stage and scanned the crowd. A small group hovered close to the stage with their phones out. A couple of people who were media, judging by the lanyards around their necks, and the professional cameras in their hands, stood at the end of the stage taking photos.
Most people moved toward the exits, heading to the cocktail bars in the foyer.
Those who lingered were media reps, family, or friends. He caught Luciano’s eye. A single lift of the man’s eyebrows asked if Jordan had everything under control. Jordan nodded, reassuring him that he did.
He did. He knew he did. He’d spent a cool six figures of Joel’s funds on security for the night. She was safe.
So why, even as he nodded his reassurance to her father again, did he feel a gnawing uncertainty in his gut?