Chapter 9
9
J ordan’s phone screamed from her pocket. She got out of her patrol car and slammed the door shut. She glanced at the fast-food joint she was about to grab a bite to eat at. Her stomach was grumbling. She hadn’t had anything to eat since early this morning before she had left Rhys’s farm. She leaned back against the vehicle and pulled her phone out. Her lawyer’s name flashed across the screen.
Jordan’s heart pounded. Why would she be calling? It had been a while since she’d had to speak with anyone from this office. Maybe it wasn’t the lawyer but an assistant or something.
“Hello?” Jordan answered. Her stomach gave way at the sound of her lawyer’s voice coming onto the line.
“Jordan, hello,” a familiar smooth voice greeted her.
Tamicka Clarke was one of the best damn lawyers in all of Atlanta, and she had represented Jordan. Jordan had been so thankful the woman had been willing to take on her case against her former precinct for the harassment she had endured and even stood by her side during Bravon’s trial. If she were calling now, it couldn’t be good news.
“Miss Clarke. How are you?” Jordan cleared her throat. Not that she didn’t want to speak with her lawyer, but after all of this time she was curious on why the woman was calling.
“I’m well, thank you for asking. I hope all is good in Columbia. Is the new job going all right?”
“Yes, ma’am. It is..” Jordan’s stomach gave another growl to remind her that she needed to fill it. The Southerner in her didn’t want to be rude, but at the moment, her hunger was taking over. “What can I do for you?”
“A woman who is straight to the point. I’ve always liked that about you, Jordan.” Tamicka gave a dry little chuckle. Rustling papers sounded in the distance. “Well, I am afraid I am not calling with good news.”
It figured.
Whatever it was, Jordan would deal with it. She wasn’t afraid of what Miss Clarke was about to say. In the back of her mind she supposed she already knew what it was, but she prayed she was wrong.
“What is it?” Jordan asked.
“My office was just notified that Mr. Bravon Huff was released from prison a week ago.”
“What?”
Jordan was expecting to hear that he might be up for a parole hearing or that they were trying to get him another trial. Not that he had been fully released from prison and a week ago. She was to be notified the day he was released, but they hadn’t expected that for at least another ten to fifteen years.
Jordan’s heart raced. Not in the fear sense, but in the way it normally did before she went out on a SWAT call. Her hand clenched into a balled fist as anger settled in. It was crazy how the system was set up to keep bad guys off the street, but it failed daily. How was a man like Bravon freed early?
“I’m sorry to be calling a week later, but I just got the notification and I immediately called you. Don’t worry. I’m going to investigate this matter on why we were notified so late.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Miss Clarke. I’m sure you will get to the bottom of this. Don’t worry about me, though. I can take care of myself,” Jordan said. Something in her voice must have set off alarms for the lawyer.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ve already filed an order of protection against Mr. Huff on your behalf, and a colleague of mine is already doing it in the state of South Carolina on your behalf?—”
Jordan hung up the phone. There was no order of protection that would keep Bravon from coming after her. And there was no doubt in her mind that he would be. She glanced back up at the restaurant and suddenly didn’t have an appetite any longer.
“Fuck.” Jordan snagged the handle to her vehicle and opened the door and slid back inside. The door slammed behind her. She hit the steering wheel and cursed again. She leaned her head back against the headrest and tried to get control of her breathing and heart.
How the fuck is Bravon a free man? she asked herself again. The ringtone on her phone sounded. This time it was sweet music to her ears.
A SWAT call.
“Knight,” Jordan answered.
“Report in. We’re getting called in,” Dec’s voice came onto the line.
“Roger that,” Jordan replied. She disconnected the call and turned her car back on. She threw it into drive and peeled out. She switched her lights on, and the sirens sliced through the air. Vehicles on the road pulled over and out of her way. She pressed down on the gas, her car picking up speed. She tightened her hands on the steering wheel and navigated her way through the city.
After the news she’d just received, she needed a SWAT mission.
“Knight, dead bodies don’t bother you, do they?” Iker’s voice came through Jordan’s comms.
She paused outside the bathroom she had just searched, her fingers tightening on her handgun. Her gaze swung around the upstairs of the mansion they had been brought in to sweep.
“You better be fucking playing with me, Baldwin,” she replied dryly.
She aimed her gun true and headed down the hallway. The large home had an open concept that allowed her to see down to the first level. She, Iker, and Zain had been instructed to sweep the second level while the others had split up on lower levels.
Jordan didn’t like the idea of them searching a home the size of this one, but they had no choice. Tonight they all had to be on their game and keep their eyes open; lots of hidden areas for someone to ambush them. She didn’t like going into the unknown. There were too many variables to consider when SWAT had to infiltrate somewhere this big.
But SWAT was called in to do what they did best.
And her team was the best fucking SWAT team to ever do it.
Apparently, a high-level-ranking gangster in the Demon Lords’ organization was chased to his home where he lived with his girlfriend. They’d had no contact with him for at least two hours. The hostage negotiator had been unsuccessful at getting him back on the line.
When it came down to hostages, two hours with no communication was two hours too damn long.
“Get your ass in here, Knight,” Iker said.
Her feet flew down the hall. Even though the SWAT team was scouring the home, she wasn’t taking any chances.
She arrived at the master bedroom and walked through the double doors. The suite was larger than the first floor of her home. There was a small sitting area in the suite where Iker and Zain stood staring down at the floor.
Jordan’s heart thundered as she made her way toward them. They should have never separated, but Iker and Zain were stubborn as mules and left her behind so they could continue on.
“I swear if you are fucking with me, I will shoot you,” she muttered.
She arrived at Iker’s side and froze. Two bodies lay on the floor. The woman, her dark hair spread out around her head like a halo. Her clothes dripped money while her feet were encased in high-heeled shoes. A diamond necklace and bracelet rested along her neck and wrists. Her skin was pale while her body was lifeless.
And then there was the blood.
There was so much of it, seeping from underneath her, marring the white marble floor.
Jordan’s eyes cut over to the male whose body was crumpled to the floor. His white button-down shirt had large splotches of blood on the front. It couldn’t have been his.
His injury was a bullet to the head. Blood pooled on the floor below him. Jordan grimaced at the sight of brain matter mixed with the blood. A large handgun lay a few inches away from his left hand.
“Lorenzo Martin,” Jordan murmured. It was the gangster who had evaded police and apparently took his woman hostage.
“Murder-suicide,” Zain announced. He slid his firearm back into the sheath with a shake of his head.
They remained where they were, neither of them willing to risk disturbing the crime scene.
“Mac, come in. We’ve found the suspect and hostage,” Iker announced into the comms.
Static filled Jordan’s ears. She grimaced and rubbed her ear. Iker and Zain frowned at the same time. It must not be just hers malfunctioning. The sound finally disappeared, before Mac’s voice broke through.
“Roger that. Alive?” Mac asked.
“That’s a negative,” Iker replied.
“On the way,” Mac growled.
Jordan took in the grim scene and shook her head. This was the part of her job that she hated. She’d become a police officer to help people. Arrest the bad guys. Save the day. As a SWAT officer, they were meant to preserve life. Tonight, they had failed at their mission.
Why did he have to kill the woman? Lorenzo Martin was wanted on plenty of charges that would have given him jail time.
“Was this worth it?” Jordan asked. She stepped back and spun around, unable to continue to view the fresh dead bodies. She could tell whatever had gone down must have happened before they’d arrived. Hell, some of the blood underneath the woman had congealed. “What would make him kill his girlfriend, then turn the gun on himself?”
Jordan’s hand tightened on her gun. She still didn’t feel safe enough to put it away. Her gut churned as she glanced around the luxury bedroom. Something was still afoot. She didn’t know what it was, but she was going to remain alert.
“Who knows. There’s no telling what drugs he was on. That new street drug that’s out there that they cut with fentanyl takes away their decision-making process. He could have been manic or high as hell,” Zain said.
“Or maybe he wasn’t the killer,” Mac’s gruff voice sailed through the room. He entered with Declan, Myles, Ash, and Brodie trailing in behind him.
Jordan’s head whipped in his direction. What was he talking about?
“Or he and the girlfriend knew something that was worth dying for,” Brodie said. He folded his arms. He obviously knew something.
“Well, it’s not for us to speculate or investigate. CSI is on their way up,” Declan said.
Immediately, the crime scene investigation team swept in.
“Did anyone touch the bodies?” an older man with salt-and-pepper hair asked. Blue medical gloves covered his hands.
Another gentleman and woman got to work securing the scene.
“I checked for pulses when we first entered the room,” Iker admitted.
That was a practical move. Had either of the victims had a pulse, they would have been calling for the EMTs to come into the house to perform life-saving measures.
Iker held up his glove-encased hands. The corner of his mouth tilted up into a smirk. “I’m not a rookie, Milton.”
“Darla, please add to your documentation that Officer Baldwin palpated for a pulse on both bodies.” Milton threw a glare at Iker before turning around to face the scene. The lead CSI tech was very particular about his crime scenes and had read all of them the riot act at least once about his scenes.
Jordan couldn’t be mad at him. It was his team who collected all of the evidence and ensured everything was processed by the book.
But at the same time, they needed to check for proof of life. Had they not checked, then they would have gotten a mouthful about that.
“Got it,” Darla, the female technician, announced.
“Let’s let them do their job. Team, follow me.” Mac was short on his words, but again, that wasn’t unusual. When on the job, the sergeant had a focus like no one Jordan had ever seen.
They all filed out of the room behind Mac. Jordan was curious as to where they were going, but she wouldn’t ask. If Mac said let’s go, then that’s what they did.
They walked through the home that was now crawling with officers, FBI agents, and CSI members combing for clues as to what had happened here. Jordan side-stepped a uniformed officer sweeping something up off the floor into a bag. She didn’t know what it was, nor did she care. She just wanted to make sure she didn’t trip and fall over the man.
Shaking her head, she continued on and followed behind Iker and Zain. She tried to push the phone call with Tamicka from her head, but she had a hard time. She was going to have to start upping her security measures at home. It wouldn’t be hard to find her. Not that she had tried to hide herself.
The team arrived at the door that went to the lower level and into a family room with couches, an insanely large television on the wall, a pool table, and a few arcade video games.
But it wasn’t all of the cool fancy items in the room that drew the attention of every member of the SWAT team.
It was the writing on the wall.
In a dark crimson color.
“Is that blood?” Jordan asked. She moved to stand in front of the team who had gathered around the wall. She hated being the shortest member of the SWAT team. Each of the guys stood over six feet tall while she was five feet five inches.
Ice filled her veins as she took in the writing. This was no suicide note, no deranged ramblings of a man about to kill his girlfriend or himself. Just letters.
Initials.
J.K.K.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Declan folded his arms.
The other sergeant scowled while staring hard at the wall as if expecting it to answer.
“Have no clue,” Mac said. He turned around, his gaze sweeping the team. The steadfast sergeant had a serious glint in his eyes. By the looks of it, he didn’t like it one bit.
And neither did Jordan.
She glanced back at the wall and knew what the initials stood for. She swallowed and closed her eyes briefly.
J.K.K.
Jordan. Kinsey. Knight.
Her initials, and she knew who was behind it.
How the hell did he find me so damn quickly, and why the hell would he do this here?
“Knight. Are you okay?” Mac’s voice cut through her thoughts.
Jordan tore her eyes from the initials and found her team looking at her. A nervous laugh escaped her. Their piercing gazes didn’t waver while they waited for her to respond.
“I’m fine. Why?” She shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. Maybe this was a coincidence, but she was fooling herself to even think this. It was the work of Bravon. He was sending her a message. With the death of the gangster upstairs who was a member of the same gang Bravon belonged to, it was a message she was reading loud and clear.
“You’ve been studying it as if you know what they stand for.” Brodie jerked his chin to the wall.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped a picture. He was the technology genius on the team. If he couldn’t figure out a solution to a problem, then his tech business mogul friend had the technology that would help. Jordan was impressed by his friend’s generosity when it came to the latest technology toys Brodie would receive.
“No, I don’t know what it stands for. Just running possibilities through my head, but I got nothing,” Jordan replied coolly. She erased all emotions from her face.
Her team appeared to believe her and turned their attention away from her. She relaxed slightly, but her mind was racing.
How the hell was she just notified of Bravon’s release from prison and the same day this happened? A chill rippled its way down her spine. Bravon was fucking with her.
She glanced around the room; she’d have to tell her teammates sooner rather than later what had happened back in Atlanta. They needed to know that she had a direct connection with their number one enemy.