CHAPTER SIX
SEVEN
I heard the scream when I was a block away.
I wasn’t a fucking idiot. I didn’t plan on leaving the area until I had a visual on her, safe inside the apartment. But I humored her need for the illusion of aloneness. So I waited until she was a half block away before tailing her.
My footsteps hit the pavement in marathon strides as I hauled ass to her front door. Under the streetlamps right outside her building, nothing looked amiss. But once I got closer to the shadows under that front overhang, I saw him. An unidentified assailant, gripping the front door, and Jordan resisting his attempts to push her inside.
All that registered with me about his appearance was the shock of red hair on his head. Once my hands connected with his shoulders, the cold neutrality of the job slid over me. I knew how to handle these situations. With precision. With force. I had this fucker slammed against the brick wall in less than ten seconds. He shivered like a kitten, bewilderment in his eyes.
“Hands off,” I growled.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I guess you can decide that for yourself.” When he struggled to get away, I punched him across the face. There were no cameras here. No evidence. My knuckles smarted, wanting more, as blood trickled from his nose. “A teacher? A warning? A nightmare? You pick.”
He wrestled against my grip even harder, but it just egged me on. I punched him so hard both his lip and nose started gushing at the same time. A twofer.
“You have two options,” I told him. “Wait until the cops show up so you can get arrested, or get the fuck out of here and never show your face anywhere near Jordan again.”
“I’ll go,” he whispered, his front teeth bloodied.
“I don’t believe you,” I hissed, tightening my grip on his jacket until we were nearly touching foreheads. The man reeked, but he was a wimp. This was too easy. He wouldn’t show up again. And while he would have a case against me at this point, he had no information or evidence to come after me with.
“I’ll leave!” He held up his palms. “Just don’t punch me again, please. I’ll leave. I’ll leave.”
I loosened my grip slowly, watching him like a hawk to see what he’d do. He walked sideways against the brick wall, palms up. The second I stepped toward him, he broke into a sprint.
Gone.
I turned, ready for damage control. Jordan watched me with big, watery eyes, blinked once, and then bolted up the stairs. I followed her, taking the steps two at a time. She had her front door open in record time. I shut it behind me as I stepped inside, reinforcing it with the nearest chair. I didn’t think that douchebag would show up again, but Jordan needed peace of mind first and foremost.
The sight of her nearly crippled me. She sat on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, face buried in her knees. Her body shook with sobs. I joined her, moving slowly. I didn’t know what had happened yet, and I didn’t want to make things worse. The weight of my body next to her indented the couch, causing her to fall against me slightly. I wrapped my arm around her back, wanting to comfort her—if that was what she wanted. I couldn’t tell yet.
And then Jordan melted into me. She released and unfolded into my arms like an opening blossom. Even though she was at my side, I felt like I was catching her falling from some great height. She buried her face in my chest and cried. I wasn’t sure what to do—pat her back, shush her like a baby, offer encouragement?—so I said nothing and held her. Until she was ready.
She must have been there for at least ten minutes. Long enough for me to get used to the weight of her against me. Her warmth. Then she sniffled hard, recoiled slightly, and said, “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”
The entire front of my shirt was damp from her tears. But it had been made damp by worse things. “For what?”
“I’m sorry.” She scooted to the far end of the couch, tucking her loose hair behind her ear repeatedly. She reached for a tissue, dabbing at her eyes, and the room grew colder from her distance. “I didn’t mean to…I don’t know.”
“You were just attacked. There’s no rulebook.”
Her chin trembled at that, her eyes filling up again. Her body shook with a silent sob but she seemed to force it downward before more could join. “You’d think I’d have one by now.”
“I can promise you that whenever you’re with me, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
This seemed to calm her a little.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
She nodded, folding her tissue so she could dab it at her eyes again. “His name is Dustin.”
“Has he tried this before?”
“No.” She drew a shaky breath.
“Are you friends with him?”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Hardly. I just know him from playing Pokémon Go. He never had any of my personal information. But he showed up at the club tonight.”
She played Pokémon and was a stripper—she was a living wet dream for an untold portion of gamer guys. Not to mention the rest of the population of American men who didn’t game. “So he…found you. Somehow.”
“Yeah.” She sniffed hard, examining her nails. “I thought he was harmless. A bit dense. Overbearing. But when he showed up tonight, I started to realize there might be something more to the picture.”
“But you still wanted to walk home alone.”
She sent me a sharp look.
“I’m not blaming. But we can’t stay here. Not even for one more night.”
Her throat bobbed, but after a few moments, she nodded.
“Let’s pack your things. Just necessities. We’ll find someplace to stay for tonight and then come back to collect the rest. You thought he was harmless, but he’s proven otherwise. I don’t want to bet on his next moves. I want you to be gone. He could show up when you’re asleep and try to finish whatever the fuck it was he tried to start. We can plan your next moves from safety.”
Jordan nodded gently, seeming to mull over the plan. Then she took a deep breath, straightening her back. “That makes sense.”
“You pack. I’ll find a place.”
She headed for her bedroom while I took a few moments to collect myself. I was no stranger to crisis intervention. During my earlier years, when I was intent on doing the highest profile gigs possible, I’d experienced almost everything. I’d talked down the Princess of Monaco after an unruly crowd had gotten the best of multiple security guards. I’d arrived on site after an intruder broke into a certain A-lister’s Malibu home and helped himself to countless diamonds—and on that afternoon, dried far more tears than Jordan shed tonight. The list of what I’d lived through—and put my fist through—was too long to recount. Which made my reaction tonight strange.
Jordan was different. When I held her, I wanted to continue holding her.
And that was absolutely not going to fucking happen.
It had to be the hour. I checked my watch—2:01 a.m. Yes, it was the hour, and the fact that I hadn’t gotten laid in weeks. That, and I’d seen far too much of Jordan’s ass that evening to be considered of sound mind. What I needed was a cold shower and a good night’s sleep.
And to get laid. By someone who was not Jordan. But that would come later, once we figured out her safety.
I stared dumbly at my phone for a moment before I realized the simplest plan would be to hole up at one of her brothers’ properties. They only had about a hundred houses between the three Fairchilds. She wouldn’t like it—but it would be simple. Elegant, even. I pushed to my feet and went to her bedroom, rapping on the doorframe.
“You know, we could just head straight to one of Axel or Damian’s propert—”
“Absolutely not.”
I deflated slightly. Part of me wanted to probe into the why again, but it was neither the time nor my place. “I’ll find a hotel.”
While Jordan skittered between bedroom and bathroom packing her things, I found the best hideout hotel for a cool 5k per night. Luxury and comfort that would provide something of a reset, which I thought she might appreciate.
I called for the car while she finished up. Legs didn’t work this time of night, so the other driver, Harry, was on call. I released the chair from underneath her doorknob before we shuffled out and locked up. She didn’t seem sad about leaving; instead, she remained expressionless as she slid into the waiting sedan.
I’d booked us a premier suite at the Ritz Carlton, overlooking Central Park. Plenty of space to hole up for awhile. I knew that her brothers would have insisted on getting the penthouse for their little sister, but I suspected that would just upset Jordan further. The goal was to keep her calm to figure out next steps. So hopefully this satisfied both parties.
The lobby of the Ritz was quiet at this time of night, echoing with opulence. We checked in quickly, almost wordlessly, taking the elevator to our twentieth-floor room. As we pushed our way into the suite, it was hard not to marvel over the marble countertops and gold-accented decorations. The place was spotless, neatly arranged, breathtakingly situated.
“Is there only one bed?” Jordan flicked on the bedroom lights and looked back at me, brows furrowed.
“Uh…” I reached for my phone, intending to check the reservation. “I thought I’d gotten two.”
“This looks like one king. Unless there’s another room I’m missing.”
I scrolled through my phone until I found the reservation confirmation for 1 King Bed Suite. Fuck. “No, this is right. I fucked it up. We’ll go back down and get a different room.”
She sighed, sinking into an armchair. “Do we have to? I’m ready to pass out.”
I looked around the living area, jerking my chin toward the sofa. “This probably pulls out into a bed. I’ll sleep here.”
She tipped her head as she studied the sofa. “You think you’ll fit on that thing?”
“I’ve slept in worse places.”
“You’re like, seven feet tall. Which must be how you got your name.”
“Keep guessing. I’ll let you know if you ever hit it on the nose.”
She grinned. “You take the bed. I can sleep on the couch.”
“You’re not sleeping on the couch. Your brothers would kill me.”
She glowered, but it was brief. “I’m not sleeping on that bed if it means you have to scrunch into a ball out here. You saved my ass tonight. The least I can do is let you stretch yours out.”
I scratched at my head. She had a point. And I really didn’t want to sleep on that loveseat of a couch.
“We can both sleep in the king,” she finally said. “It’s big enough for, like, four adult humans.”
“As opposed to…a different number of adult non-humans?” I couldn’t help the question, nor the fact that it came out with a smile. The grin that erupted on her face made it worth it.
“What I’m saying is…there’s room. So get your ass in bed.”
“Fine. Just…don’t tell your brothers.”
“No worries there.”
“I’m going to shower,” I told her, moving to the empty side of the bed. “And then we need to sleep.” I untucked my shirt and reached for the Glock I kept concealed beneath my waistband in a holster. I ejected the magazine, pushed the slide back and set the empty gun on the nightstand. Jordan watched with wide eyes.
“Have you had that the whole time?”
“Every day. All day long.”
“Why didn’t you use it tonight?”
“I’m not trying to go to jail.” I bent down and released the pistol that I kept in my ankle holster. I took that and the Glock’s magazine with me as I headed to the bathroom. I trusted Jordan—but I didn’t leave a loaded gun anywhere, with anyone. “These are for emergencies. I don’t shoot unless absolutely necessary.”
“Well it’s good to know we have options,” Jordan said as I walked into the bathroom.
“None that involve gunfire.” I shut the door behind me, setting the magazine and the pistol on the bathroom countertop.
The silence that settled around me wasn’t the kind I was used to at the end of a day. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to settle down long enough to sleep with Jordan at my side. My days as a Marine had taught me how to handle sleepless nights on duty. I wasn’t afraid of that.
No, I was afraid of something much simpler. Much softer. Much more alluring.
Something I forbade from entering my life ever again.
Tragedy shaped a life, forced it into unknown, contorted forms. Mine had created the man that Jordan saw. I knew a little about the tragedy that shaped Jordan’s and her brothers’ lives. But they didn’t know about the one that shaped mine—the tragedy that had stalked into my fiancée’s bedroom one night while I was on patrol in the California desert and ruined the future we’d planned together. Reshaped my future into a barren husk, leaving me too heartbroken to ever consider opening myself up to that pain again.
They never found the gunman. It was an unidentified serial killer, the police had concluded, ultimately linking it to two other homicides in the area around that time. A random act of violence that crushed my heart.
One I could have prevented, if I’d been home.
One that refused to make sense, no matter how many years I spent mulling over the events.
After a certain amount of time, tragedy needed to be dealt with. Somehow. I could never properly seek revenge for my fiancée’s murder. All that was left was to bury it. Become the unfeeling monster.
I had no elasticity left in me to be reshaped by any force other than focus.
Love, and all things soft and alluring, just didn’t fit alongside the coffin of my buried tragedy.