CHAPTER THREE
JORDAN
I awoke with a gasp the next morning, drawing deep gulps of air. Seconds before, I’d been drowning. But as soon as my eyes popped open, the nightmare faded into wisps and shadows like it always did.
Until I couldn’t even remember what I’d been fleeing from or fighting.
The familiar setting of my bedroom sank into me. Cars honked in the distance and the undertones of an argument drifted up from the floor below. A plate smashed a moment later. It had to be that old couple in 3C. They only fought around lunchtime. I glanced at my phone: 11:56. Like clockwork.
I yawned and folded myself forward over my legs, opting for some bed yoga. My head pulsed lightly as I bent. Thanks, gin and tonics. I’d drunk more than I meant to—partly because I hadn’t been out with Roxie just the two of us in a while, and partly because I’d been desperate to forget about Seven.
The memory of him shuddered through me, and I melted into my forward bend. Why were his chocolate eyes so unforgettable? His handsome face felt like a deep, cleansing breath. And I couldn’t lie—I’d wondered on a few occasions last night what it would feel like to be wrapped up in those thick, strong arms. The man could probably crank out fifty push-ups as a warm-up.
I groaned into my kneecaps.
Reminiscing about Seven reminded me of the anger simmering beneath the surface.
Why the fuck had my brothers ordered me a stalker?
I didn’t go into it with Roxie last night. She didn’t need to know. In fact, nobody knew about my history. Where I came from, what happened with my family, that I was even related to Axel and Damian Fairchild, even though our last names were different now. It was just easier that way. The most I’d give up was that I came from Kentucky.
But as far as I was concerned, Kentucky was a graveyard for my former self.
I moved my body around, trying to cleanse my thoughts, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what transpired last night. Seven’s good looks were a red flag. Attractive men like that only led to bad outcomes, if our nation’s famous sociopathic history had anything to say about it. Eyelashes and beefy bicep combos like that? Yeah, couldn’t be trusted.
But really, his good looks were just the icing on a red-flag cupcake. I couldn’t believe what Axel and Damian had done. Hire a stalker? Just because they ran into me at the coffee shop? What a bunch of psychos. I deserve to live my own life, without them intruding. It’s been ten years since I last saw them. What right do they have to know anything about my life now? Much less follow me and snoop into every last corner.
My thoughts went from spinning to hurricane. After a few more minutes, I knew relaxation was completely off the table. I hopped out of bed, my heart thudding and cheeks hot.
They couldn’t do this to me.
And I needed to make sure they knew just how inappropriate and outlandish they were being.
I snapped up my cell phone and raced toward the kitchen, pacing back and forth as I struggled to remember where I’d stashed Damian’s number. He’d given it to me on his second visit to the coffee shop, about two days after their first visit with Mercedes. He’d begged me to call him and Axel, to at least put his number somewhere safe. In case I ever needed them or wanted to connect. I’d saved the business card—only after digging it out of my work’s trash.
If I connected with them for anything, it was going to be to ream them new ass holes.
Through my panic and frustration, I remembered I’d tossed the card in a pile of junk mail on my bookcase. I rummaged through the stacks, mail flying to the floor as I hunted the matte black card. Finally I found it, looking worse for wear.
The Fairchilds.
I scowled. They’d been born Haynes, just like me and Kaylee, but completely forgot about us once they changed their names to their foster-turned-adoptive parents’ name.
Was I slightly salty they’d lucked out on the foster front? Of course. Especially when Kaylee and I had lived through nightmares for years on end. And Kaylee hadn’t made it through to the other side alive.
My throat tightened as I looked down at the floor. If Kaylee were here, she probably wouldn’t let me call them. She’d died resenting them. And every last bit of resentment that she wasn’t able to carry on, she passed to me.
I ground my teeth for a moment, mulling my options. Anger won. I swiped my phone on and called Damian.
It rang a few times before he picked up. “Hello?”
“Damian.”
A pause. “Jordan?”
“That’s right.” I tugged at my upper lip with my bottom teeth, suddenly at a loss for words. I was still mad, but I hadn’t planned out my speech. What the fuck was I supposed to say now? I’d blanked.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Furious.” The pieces came crashing back, and I suddenly remembered what I had to say. “You sent a stalker to follow me?”
Damian sighed gently. “He’s not a stalker—”
“What gives you the right to send someone to hunt me down and follow me all over fucking Manhattan like I’m a mouse to be caught? Do you know how fucked up this is?”
“Jordan,” he said more forcefully this time, “he’s a protection expert—”
“I don’t care if he’s an expert in saving babies from treetops. You don’t send a stranger to track me like a serial killer. How do I know if this guy is really on my side or not? How do I know to trust him? I don’t, Damian. That’s the thing.”
“But we trust him. We would never send someone untrustworthy—”
“And do you think I trust you?” I asked, my voice coming out a shriek.
There was the first thump of silence between us. “I would hope so.”
“Well I don’t,” I spat out. “You two might be my brothers, but I don’t even know you. So why would I just welcome this strange man into my life?”
Damian sighed again. Finally he said, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I took a few deep breaths. My chest was practically heaving from getting all those thoughts out of my head and heart. Fuck, I felt lighter now.
“We should have approached you before we went ahead with the plan,” Damian went on. “But you didn’t reach out, and we didn’t want to leave you vulnerable. There’s a lot you don’t know. A lot we want to protect you from. And that’s all this is about—protection. Now that we know you’re alive, we want you to stay that way. Because whether or not you know us, you’re still our family. Our baby sister.”
I scoffed, but my throat clamped before I could say anything.
“We never dreamed this day would come—finding you alive. So now that our wildest dreams have come true, we just…want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be okay?” I asked. “I’ve made it four years in New York on my own, perfectly fine. Not to mention the absolute hell I survived for almost twenty years before that. I think I can handle continuing my daily routine.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about yet. And I’d love to tell you more about it. I’d love to see you. Can we meet sometime?”
The hopefulness in his voice sliced through me. God, it was easy to believe that tone. The words. But I couldn’t. Not after everything Kaylee and I lived through.
“Why do you even care?” I forced the words past dry lips. “Kaylee’s gone. You’re a Fairchild now. You’ve spent the last ten years fine without me. You can keep doing the same, you know.”
“Jordan. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“I care because you’re my little sister.” The hardness in his voice made me grit my teeth. “We’ve been trying to figure out what happened to you for the past ten years. You think now that we found you, we’re just going to walk away? You’re out of your mind.”
“Well you might have to keep on walking,” I told him, drifting toward the front window of my living room. I sniffed hard, peeking past the burgundy curtain to the afternoon activity. Cyclists and cars clogged the street, and pedestrians milled along the sidewalk. A normal Chinatown Sunday. I looked for my trusty buddy, Ranger—a black tabby cat that I’d found mangy and starving a year ago and nursed back to health. He visited me regularly since I’d saved him, and I liked to think that we’d become family in a way. I made sure to leave food and water out for him on the fire escape. “I’m not sure I want to reconnect like you and Axel do.”
Another wallop of silence. This time, I could practically feel how my words had served as a punch to his face. I was glad for the separation of the phone call. When Kaylee and I had found out that Axel and Damian had dropped the Haynes name and become Fairchild, it had felt like a slap in the face. One that I’d never gotten to talk to them about, because they simply…left us behind. Moved to New York after graduating from high school and never spoke to me again.
Until last week.
“Can you at least accept the security assessment?” Damian finally asked. “There isn’t much left to it. All we want is for you to be as safe as possible. That’s it. You won’t have to worry about anything, and we can rest a little easier too.”
“I don’t know.”
“I promise you, this man assessing the risks in your life will only be a benefit to you. Even if you decide not to continue with him.”
“There’s no way in fuck I could afford something like that,” I snapped.
“You’d never have to pay for anything,” Damian said with a smug duh tone. “That’s what your brothers are for. Trust me.”
I didn’t trust him. But I did see the opportunity to get free stuff. And I loved free stuff.
“I’ll think about it,” I told him. “But no guarantees.”
Damian agreed, and we hung up. I sat in the throbbing quiet of my apartment, staring out the window for what felt like an hour. When I spotted Ranger prowling the fire escape stairs, I pushed my living room window open, calling for him.
“Here, sweetie.” I held out the tray of food I always had ready at the window. He leapt my way, slinking inside the apartment. I pulled the window closed and sat back on my heels, starting a quick inspection of his fur as he munched.
“You look pretty clean and happy,” I murmured, stroking his fur once I determined he wasn’t injured or infested. “Have you been having fun since I last saw you?”
He wiggled his butt as he settled in to eat, purring loudly. I took that as a yes.
“Well, what do you think about this? Some real-life human brothers of mine showed up, wanting to reconnect. They want to send a bodyguard to look after me. But we all know your opinion is the only one that matters. What should I do?”
Crunch crunch crunch. Ranger didn’t even look at me as he scarfed the food.
I heaved a sigh, watching my adopted feline family member eat while my thoughts began spinning once more. Then I reached for my phone and texted Damian.
JORDAN: I’ll take his number. But that’s it.
Seven’s phone number was in my contacts list a moment later. My heart raced as I initiated a new text message. Why the hell was his name Seven? There was no way his mother named him that. Unless he was raised in some cult-like enclave. Maybe he had no legal last name. I hated how curious I was about him.
I stared at my empty New Message screen, debating my words. By that point, my stomach was growling. It was after one p.m. and I still hadn’t eaten. I headed into the kitchen to make avocado toast and some coffee. As the bread quickly turned golden in my toaster, I sent the message.
JORDAN: Do you know who this is?
I stared at the phone so intently I accidentally burned my toast. The toaster had been a free find on the side of the road and tended to burn things unless you paid strict attention, but otherwise it worked fine. Once a thick layer of mashed avocado and chipotle sauce had been drizzled on top of the crisp bread, I took a triumphant bite.
Still no response.
I got to work making drip coffee—nothing fancy at home for me—twisting to look at my phone every few seconds.
Nothing.
Once my toast was gone and the coffee brewed and I was ready to never entertain the notion of a security assessment ever again, Seven wrote back.
SEVEN: Of course.
JORDAN: What’s my name?
SEVEN: Jordan Marie Haynes.
JORDAN: Knowing my middle and last name hardly makes you a security expert.
SEVEN: Do you need me to prove that I’m a security expert?
I bit back a grin. It felt a little too easy to snipe and banter with this one. I thought back to his eye-rolling response when I asked him last night why I kept seeing him everywhere—because you have eyes. I’d almost laughed out loud. But I needed to force him out of my life, not engage with him.
But it’s hard not to engage with a man who has such luscious eyelashes…
JORDAN: Kinda stupid that you’re supposed to be assessing my risks but I don’t even get to assess whether you’re qualified or not.
I barely breathed as I waited for a response to that one.
But none came.
I couldn’t tell if I’d poked the bear. Or maybe Seven was just running to Damian to complain that I was uncompliant. Maybe he wouldn’t rise to the occasion whatsoever. After all, the likelihood was that Seven was just a dumb bodyguard with too many muscles and not enough brain. That’s what I decided to believe. It would just make things easier, neater.
Still, though, I peeked out my front window one last time before leaving the living room. Just to see if he was lurking somewhere on the sidewalk.
All clear. Which meant I needed to get on with my day.
I drifted toward the bathroom, humming to myself as I thought about the day ahead of me. No coffee shop today, just a pick-up shift at the club from five until ten. At least I wouldn’t be getting out super late. Monday was my off day across the board and usually served as my recovery day. Doing my routines on the pole—in those heels—for too many nights in a row really took a toll on my hips and calves. If I made enough tonight, I’d treat myself to a luxurious spa day on Monday. But only if I was able to hit my weekly savings goal first.
I took a quick shower, my thoughts stuck on Seven—remembering the way his biceps filled out his silky black button-up. The way he’d shown up at the coffee shop with the cuffs of his shirt rolled up, his forearm veins bulging.
His dark, neatly trimmed hair and olive skin tone did something to me that didn’t really happen anymore. Just looking at him turned me on.
When I felt a tingle of excitement between my legs, I decided that was enough. I was not going to sit here and fantasize about a hired stalker. I had better, more important, things to do with my time. And I would certainly not think about him if I just so happened to find my vibrator in my bedroom.
I huffed as I stepped out of the shower and grabbed my towel.
Jordan, what on earth is wrong with you?
My feet padded softly over the thin rug that ran from the bathroom to my bedroom as I toweled off my hair. I planned on lush curls for tonight’s short shift, so I’d start with a quick blowout in my bedroom. I crossed the threshold into my bedroom and froze.
A tall, shadowy male figure stood tucked near the window, his back to me, peering through a slit in the curtain.
Panic zipped through my veins, icy hot and consuming. I stumbled backward as I fumbled to cover myself with the towel.
“What the fuck?” My voice came out ragged. I bumped into the doorframe, hard.
The man turned toward me slowly. And that’s when I noticed the neatly clipped dark hair. The black stubble along his jaw, the silky black button-up straining at his biceps.
A smirk curled at Seven’s lips as he faced me fully.
“If I were a sexual predator, I’d already be taking what I wanted,” he said, his deep voice coming out like smooth velvet. Excitement prickled across my shoulder blades, and I tried to shut it down immediately. I should not be aroused by this man breaking into my bedroom. Even though it put him in an incredibly useful position for what I’d been thinking about during my shower…
“How the fuck did you get in here?”
“Oh, you mean this time? Or are you asking how I broke in the first time, last week?”
I swallowed hard, trying to school my reaction.
“You need a new apartment. Badly. The first time I got in, I literally walked inside. The front doors were open, and you didn’t completely lock your door. Easy. This time, I claimed I was your boyfriend. The super showed me into your apartment with a smile.”
I opened my mouth, eager to retort with something that might absolve myself.
But I had nothing.
“Everything about this building is a red flag. I conned your super. There are no security checks, no cameras, not even a neighbor looking out for you,” Seven went on. He never moved from his effortlessly cool position, leaning against my window frame, as he picked apart my entire living situation. “It’s my job to identify these weaknesses and improve upon them. But there’s no improving on shoddy, rotting structures. You need to find a new place to live.”
I swallowed again, tightening the towel around my chest. I’d been so proud of moving in here. Did he know how hard it was to afford a place on your own in this fucking city? “It’s the only thing in my price range.”
“What about roommates?”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to live with anyone.”
“What if it would keep you safe? Keep you alive?”
“I’m not living with anyone ever again,” I repeated forcefully. “I’ll just…I don’t know. Find a way to make more money, I guess.” I ground my teeth, pressing a palm to my forehead.
“Why don’t you want to live with anyone?”
“Would you want to live with someone, day in and day out?” I challenged him. “A girl needs her space. I don’t want people up in my business. What more reason do I need than that?” I didn’t want to tell him the truth, because I told no one the truth about what I’d lived through in the foster system. That every night before I went to sleep as a kid, I used to think to myself, Someday I’ll have my own place and nobody will be there to hurt me. That was true, living on my own. I didn’t plan on that changing.
Seven straightened with a curt nod. “That’s fine.”
“Well I’m glad you approve of my rationale,” I muttered. “Am I going to have to prove every last bit of my life to you or what?”
“Just the parts that affect whether or not you’ll make it through the day unscathed.”
“Well here’s a little news flash—sometimes it’s the ones you live with that do the most damage.” I headed back to the bathroom, grabbing the hair product I forgot I’d needed. When I returned, I said, “How long are you going to be around, anyway?”
“Depends on how dangerous your life really is.”
I sighed. “Well, do I have permission to get dressed? Or do you need to assess the risks inherent in that before I move forward?”
That cocky smirk returned. “Get dressed. We can talk more about the details when you’re done.”
He sauntered past me, leaving me feeling more like a stranger in my own bedroom than I liked. I shut the door behind him—locking it for good measure—and let my towel crumple to the floor. What the actual fuck? I’d learned something today—don’t provoke the probable ex-CIA agent to prove his worth. But damn, it was hard not to poke and prod this man. I wanted to learn more as much as I wanted him to disappear and never return.
I took my time getting dressed—sports bra and mesh shorts, my standard attire for getting ready for a shift at the club—and when I opened the door to continue the conversation, I already had my hair prepped for a blowout.
Seven sat on one of my wooden barstools at the small island in my kitchen, looking hulking and comically out of place. I came around to the other side of the island to face him.
“Can I get you an Earl Grey?”
A genuine smile ghosted his lips. “Not now, thanks.” After a beat, he added, “I didn’t bring spare clothes if you decide to spill it again.”
I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms. “So how long is this assessment supposed to last?”
“If you grant me full access, I can have the rest of your risks drawn up and detailed within another couple of days.” He shifted, the stool creaking beneath him. If he was worried it would break under his weight, he didn’t show it.
“And then what happens?”
“Once the assessment is complete, that’s when we talk recommendations.” He rested his elbows on the island, lacing his fingers together past big, bulky knuckles. “Based on what I’ve seen already, there’s a lot you need to improve on. I’ll likely be recommending a daily close protection officer. Among other things.”
“Like a new apartment I can’t afford.”
“That’s right.”
I sighed, drumming my fingers along the countertop. “So what happens once you have your recommendations? It’s not like I’m legally required to follow them, right?”
“It’s all up to you, of course.”
My escape hatch was opening. I could see through to the other side. “So what if we just plan on you finishing this assessment? You can give me the recommendations. I’ll take them into consideration, make improvements where necessary…and…” I shrugged. “And then we go our separate ways. That’s it. You get paid by my brothers, I’ll be slightly wiser, and everyone’s happy.”
He tipped his head to one side and shrugged. “That could work.”
“Great.” I popped on a bright smile. “Now, does the stalker committee approve me getting ready for work? I have a lot I need to get done before I leave for my shift.”
“Approved.”
“Will you be accompanying me there as well?”
“Of course.” His duh tone grated on me. “Go get ready. I’ll be waiting out here and we can leave together.”
“Oh.” My smile dropped. “You’re staying?”
“You have an unsecured building and countless unknown predators within a half-mile radius.” He flashed a humorless smile. “I’m staying.”
I narrowed my eyes at him again but had no retort. Because he’s right…again. Fuck. It bothered me that my brothers had a point. But I might as well bilk them for some free security services while I could. And then in a couple days, Seven would be gone.
And everything would return to normal.
“I guess make yourself at home,” I called over my shoulder as I walked into my bedroom. “If you can even relax with so many predators swirling around.”
Seven said nothing, or if he did, I didn’t hear it before I shut the bedroom door. Working at the club required a certain level of preparation—both physical and mental. I was an introvert by nature, so I needed to transition myself for several hours before stepping into that interaction-driven den. My shifts at the coffee shop usually accomplished this, thanks to all the customers. But if I wasn’t working at the shop beforehand, then I needed to get myself ready the only way I knew how: loud-ass, thumping electronic music.
“Hope you like my music,” I muttered as I cranked the volume on my Bluetooth speaker. Once the rhythmic thumping filled the room, I rolled my shoulders back and reached for my phone. I had one important piece of business before I got to work on my hair.
Asking my super, Michelle, WTF.
JORDAN: Why did you let this random guy into my apartment today? He’s not my boyfriend and he scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that ever again!
MICHELLE: Shit, girl, I’m sorry. He looked like someone you’d date! I thought I’d seen him with you before. My bad.
I frowned at my phone before tossing it aside. An honest mistake—that could have ended very differently if Seven were anybody else. One that I could take the building owner to court over. And I hated the other important piece of what Michelle had said: he did look like somebody I’d date. Which was potentially the most unsettling aspect of all.
Just a couple more days. I turned my blow dryer on high and brushed through my dark blonde tresses. I could last a little longer with this unexpected stalker companion, then take his recommendations and run.
And then life would continue as normal. I wasn’t about to let some prime number manhunk and barely-there brothers disrupt my hard-won stability.
In just a couple more days, Seven and the Fairchilds would be out of my life forever.