Chapter 13
13
“ I ’ll be back, girl. Stay with Nova,” Rhys ordered.
Honor sat on the couch with her ears pointed in the air. She tilted her head to the side as she watched him with a confused look.
“Is everything all right?” Nova asked. She sat up higher on the couch and eyed him. It was amazing how she and the dog both could sense something was wrong.
“Of course it is,” Rhys lied.
Hell, he wasn’t sure what was wrong but he could feel it in his gut that something was. He had always been one to follow his gut, and it had never led him wrong. Jordan was late, and she wasn’t picking up her damn phone. This wasn’t like her. He’d called her multiple times, and not once had she answered or texted back. He had come close to calling the station to find out if SWAT had been sent out on a call. It would explain why she wasn’t responding, but he hadn’t.
“I thought Jordan was coming here after work,” Nova said.
“Plans changed. I’m going to meet her at her house,” he replied. He hated not telling Nova the truth, but there was no sense in worrying her as well. He was sure there was a good reason why Jordan had gone dark. He spun on his heel and left the family room and stalked through the house. With the uneasy feeling that plagued him, he needed to take a few things with him.
Rhys was never a man who went into a situation unprepared.
Especially when it came to the safety of his loved ones.
He silently went into his little closet room where he kept a few of his guns locked up. He had to admit he might have a slight addiction problem when it came to guns, but he’d think about that another day. He flipped the light on, basking him in brightness. He immediately went over to the wall where he kept a few of his handguns. He took a Glock 19 off the wall then reached for the drawer where he kept his loaded clips. He grabbed a couple and slid them into his pockets before slipping one into the gun. That familiar click sound sent a chill down his spine. The cold, hard steel felt comforting to him. It was one of his favorites to utilize.
He just prayed he was being overdramatic showing up to Jordan’s home with loaded weapons.
“She’d better be sleep or something,” he muttered.
If she was, then he couldn’t be angry at her. The woman was a workaholic, and if sleep had claimed her then he would do nothing but join her in bed.
But with the way the hairs on the back of his neck were raised, he knew deep down something was wrong. He snagged a smaller pistol and strapped it to his ankle before he felt he’d be prepared. He turned to leave and caught sight of one of his blades.
What the hell? He might as well go extremely prepared. He lifted it from where it was perched on a shelf on display and the ankle sheath for it. He bent down and strapped it to his other ankle. His jeans would hide both weapons. Rhys stood then headed out of the room. He carried his Glock in his hand, prepared to place it in the glove box of his vehicle.
He slipped from the house without Nova or Honor coming to find him. He definitely didn’t want to have to explain why he was taking guns with him to Jordan’s house. He jogged over to where his oversized pickup truck was parked. He slipped inside and hit the button, the engine flaring to life.
Rhys reached over and placed his gun in the glove box. He caught sight of his extra badge that was on a chain. He drew it out and tossed it over his head. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to use it.
Putting the truck into drive, he guided the vehicle around the dirt track in the back of the house and drove toward the front. Once on the actual driveway that led to the main road, he pushed the gas pedal a bit harder. Gravel flew up in the air behind the truck as he sped along.
A sense of urgency filled him. He had to get to Jordan’s house. He sent up a prayer that he was overreacting.
But had they been in the same shoes, Jordan would come with guns blazing.
Rhys gripped the steering wheel tight when he arrived at the turn onto the main road. He slowed just enough to not put his truck on two wheels. Once he was on the road, he punched it. If he got pulled over by a squad car, he’d show his badge to get out of a ticket. Tonight was one night he wouldn’t mind using his status as a cop to get out of a traffic stop.
His heart pounded. He drove toward town. This was one time he wished he lived closer to town. His farm was a nice distance from city life. He loved being out in the rural areas. Life away from major cities or towns was different, and he loved it. Even the air seemed fresher.
Rhys hit the hands-free button on the steering wheel. An alert came through the speakers.
“Call Jordan Knight,” he commanded. He held his breath waiting to hear her voice, but he wasn’t lucky. The call went immediately to voicemail. The default voicemail message played. He hit the button to kill the call.
Rhys glanced down at the speedometer and allowed his foot to go down a little more on the gas. His truck responded with the engine roaring, and he flew down the highway. He scanned the roads to keep an eye out for any patrol cars, but his mind and heart were on Jordan.
Where the hell was she?
Rhys slowed down and turned onto Jordan’s street. His knuckles were white from how tight he was holding on to the steering wheel. His heart pounded again, and he coasted up to her home. No sign of her car.
“Fuck.”
He doubted she would have put her car in the garage if she was only planning to be home for a short time before meeting him. He drew his car to a halt and parked in front of her home on the street. Rhys took in her house, an eerie feeling overcoming him. There were no lights on. She always had a few lights on at night. He surveyed her neighborhood and didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.
But something still didn’t sit right with him.
He reached over and opened the glove box. His hand wrapped around the familiar Glock. He took it out and slid it in the back of his jeans. He didn’t want any of her neighbors to be alarmed by a man walking up to her house with a loaded gun. If they were good neighbors they would call the police.
Blowing out a deep breath, he opened the door and slipped out. He quietly closed the door and casually strolled up the driveway to her home. The street was clear from what he could see. No neighbors on their porches and no kids outside playing.
Weird, but nowadays he knew that kids didn’t play outside as much as they had when he was growing up. Shrugging it off, he continued up the driveway and headed toward the back of the house.
Jordan kept a spare key hidden in the backyard. Rhys studied the yard and didn’t see anything out of place. He stooped down over where a large rock was near the fence that divided her yard with the neighbors’. He lifted it and found the key slightly buried in the dirt. Rhys brushed it off and made his way to Jordan’s back door. He slid the key into the lock and paused.
Reaching behind him, he pulled his gun out of his jeans and flipped the safety off. He gripped the handle tight while unlocking the door. He paused and listened.
No sounds came from the house.
He gently pushed the door open and tiptoed silently inside. Jordan definitely wasn’t home. The woman always had music playing or the television on or even a candle burning when she was relaxing in her domain. The quietness was telling.
Rhys raised his gun while he crept through the kitchen. The hairs on the back of his neck and his arms were raised at attention. His gut screamed that something was off, and he was following it. He paused in the doorway that led to living room and dining room, and again, didn’t notice anything out of place. He glanced toward the stairs and cursed, wishing he had remembered to bring a flashlight with him.
Rhys didn’t want to turn on any lights. Doing so might as well announce to any bad guys that may be hiding in the shadows where he was.
Shoving the thoughts of anyone hiding in the dark, he moved to the stairs. He took them quietly and arrived at the landing. He checked every room and found them empty. It wasn’t until he got to Jordan’s bedroom that he saw his premonition had been correct.
“Fuck.” Even in the dark he could see her room was in shambles. He tightened his hand on the gun and went over to one of the overturned lamps and turned it on. For all he knew she could be lying on the floor bleeding out and he couldn’t see her. He placed it upright on the floor and allowed his gaze to take in the room.
Relief filled him that he didn’t see any signs of her injured or even worse—dead.
Whoever had come in here had definitely wanted to send a message. Rhys raised his gun and went to her bathroom. It too was empty. Now filled with anger, he stormed out of the room.
Who the fuck had done this, and where was Jordan?
Was she taken?
He glanced once more around her room, and it was then he saw the knife sticking out of the wall. He moved over to it and didn’t see anything else. That knife had held something in place, but it was no longer there. There were small pieces of paper still embedded into the wall around the knife.
Rhys already knew what had happened.
Jordan had come home. Found her room in a mess, saw the note, took it, and went wherever the person had instructed.
“Son of a bitch,” he cursed.
Rhys knew Jordan like the back of his hand. He was sure wherever she had gone off to, she hadn’t taken backup. He spun on his heel and took his phone from his pocket. He dialed her number. Again, it went straight to voicemail. He stalked his way out of her room and took the stairs.
Who the hell did he call?
Did he phone her sister?
No, if she were in trouble, she wouldn’t tell Omara.
He went into the living room and didn’t care about the lights now. Whoever had been in the house was long gone, even before Jordan had got home. He turned on lamp in the corner and stood in the middle of the room. His gaze landed on the shelves of her television stand and took in photos of Jordan with her family and her team members. He spotted a photo of Jordan standing next to Mac. They were decked out in their SWAT gear and looked as if they had just come back from a mission. They were sweaty and covered in filth. Jordan had a wide grin while Mac had his infamous scowl present as if he were being made to take the picture against his will.
Rhys’s attention landed on Mac.
His woman was as stubborn as they got. Would she turn to Mac if she were in trouble? It was a hard pill to swallow to think she would contact another man before him.
But then he thought again.
Jordan’s stubborn ass wouldn’t call anyone. She would try to handle whatever problem there was on her own. Rhys brought up Mac’s number and hovered over it. Should he speak to him? Would he know anything?
The sound of a car engine appeared off in the distance and grew closer. Lights flashed from the car entering the driveway. Rhys slid his phone back in his pocket and stalked to the front door. The air outside grew silent again once the engine was turned off. The slam of a door echoed through the air.
Rhys cursed and unlocked the front door and threw it open.
Jordan stood on the other side of the screen door with her drawn gun pointed at him. He stared at her, and she appeared unharmed.
“Rhys?” Her voice squeaked. She lowered the weapon and stared at him. She recovered quickly and blinked before sliding her gun into her purse. “I could have shot you.”
He ignored her and opened the screen door and grabbed her by her wrist. He pulled her inside and slammed the door shut. He had to feel her for himself to make sure she wasn’t injured in any way.
“Where the hell have you been?” He grunted. He used his free hand to assess her body. He still carried his gun in his other one. Rhys didn’t find any cuts or bruises on her smooth skin. He grasped her chin and turned her head from side to side, looking for any blemishes.
“What are you doing?” Jordan batted his hand away.
His hand fell, but his heart was still lodged in his throat. Her hand went to his chest, and she tried to push him back, but he maintained his position.
“Rhys, what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” He growled. He slid his gun in the back of his jeans. Was she serious? She was supposed to have been at his house hours ago. She’d come home after being MIA and she’d questioned why he was at her house?
His temper boiled over.
“Did you forget telling me that you weren’t going to be long? We had dinner reservations! You haven’t answered your phone, and then I come here to find your bedroom ransacked and a fucking knife embedded in your wall!” Rhys shouted.
Jordan leaned back against the door, her eyes wide. He was never one to lose his cool, but this was warranted. For all he knew, she could have been dead somewhere, and here she was, strolling home like nothing was wrong.
“And you have the fucking balls to question why I’m here?”
“Rhys, calm down?—”
“Calm down? Let’s go upstairs so you can see what the fuck I saw!” Rhys snatched Jordan by her arm and turned to lead her upstairs.
Her sharp gasp and wince caused him to pause. He glanced down at her arm and released it. Her hand automatically went to the area and rubbed it. Rhys focused on the skin and saw the darkening area. He hadn’t grabbed her that hard—so some other fucker had hurt her…
He ran a shaky hand over his mouth before meeting her eyes. “What happened to you?”
“It’s nothing,” she muttered.
She tried to brush past him. He allowed her to have some leeway before he took her by her hand and stopped her. She spun around and faced him but didn’t try to shake his hand off hers.
“Don’t do this,” he said, a deadly calm taking over him. Even though there was a new war raging inside him. On one hand he wanted to take care of her and soothe her aches. The other side was ready to bust out of the house and go after whoever had dared put their hand on her.
Badge be damned.
“Do what?” she said softly. Her big brown eyes grew wide. She bit her lip and looked away from him. It wasn’t often that Jordan completely let her guard down, and right now, she was completely vulnerable.
He pulled her toward him and slid his hand along her jawline and cupped her cheek. She leaned into his palm while her eyes fluttered closed.
“Shut me out. Don’t do that, Jordan. You mean so much to me,” he murmured. He closed the gap between them and brushed his fingers along the bruise on her bicep. A shudder rippled through her. Whoever had laid a finger on her was going to pay for it. He made a promise right then and there. “Who did this?”
She shook her head and inhaled a shaky breath. “I can’t?—”
“Tell. Me,” he growled. He forced her head back so he could look her in the eye.
She blinked and met his gaze. He didn’t like what he saw there.
Fear.
“Rhys, I know you want to help me, but you can’t. You need to stay?—”
“Don’t say it,” he rasped. He reached up and cupped both of her cheeks to hold her in place. The words he knew she was about to say he couldn’t hear. It was as if someone had hit him in the solar plexus just to think about it. “Whatever—whoever—it is, we will deal with them together. You got me, Jordan. You. Are. Not. Alone.”
Jordan grew still and, in that moment, he didn’t feel her chest rise or fall from breathing. She studied him, and he hoped she saw that he meant every word. She was not alone. He didn’t care what they would be up against. He would be there for her.
Tears formed in her eyes. Her hands came to rest on his. She blinked, and the liquid fell onto her skin and rolled onto his hands. Jordan was a woman who never allowed anyone to see her deepest emotions. It worried him something fierce that whatever it was made her cry. For that alone, he was ready to go to war for her. Right whatever wrongs was done against her, her family, or even her damn dog that had died when she was nine.
“Rhys, I love you so much.” She exhaled. Her fingers stroked his skin slowly.
Not wanting her to finish any thoughts, he leaned own and captured her lips. He gathered her to him, not allowing her to draw away. Not that she tried. Jordan pushed closer to him, her lips falling open to allow him to command the kiss. He poured all of his emotions into it. He didn’t want there to be any doubt in her mind about how he felt for her.
Jordan’s arms came up and wrapped around his neck. His hands slid down her sides and rested on her bottom, trapping her to him. He slowly pulled back away from her and rested his forehead on hers.
“Tell me everything.” Rhys met Jordan’s eyes.
She bit her plump lips before she jerked her head in a nod. She released him and took him by the hand and led him to the living room. He sat on the couch, his heart rate slowly decreasing. Jordan moved to sit next to him, but he tugged her onto his lap. She didn’t belong anywhere but there. She settled down on him and wrapped an arm around his neck. She angled her body to where she could look him in the eyes.
“It’s Bravon. He’s out of prison.”
Rhys tried to stay calm while he listened to Jordan recap the telephone call from her attorney, her initials painted in blood at the dead gangster’s house, to her coming home and finding her bedroom destroyed.
“You should have called me immediately,” Rhys snapped when she got to the part about the note on the wall. The level of his anger was rising. His left hand balled into a fist. He wanted to hit something or someone. Preferably Bravon Huff.
“I can handle myself, Rhys,” Jordan said. She lowered her head and sighed after watching him roll his eyes. “At least I thought I could. When I got to the park, I knew I was in over my head and I should have called someone. I should have called you.”
Rhys relaxed slightly at her words. He understood what had happened back in Atlanta, but one of these days Jordan was going to realize that she was no longer in Atlanta. Her team here in Columbia would have her back. Why didn’t she realize it? Even Rhys knew how close their team was and how they would go to the ends of the earth for each other.
She continued on with her story. Just by listening to what had happened, Rhys had never hated anyone before, but he was going to make an exception for Bravon. That man had made his way to the top of Rhys’s shit list.
“What does he want?” Rhys asked. A chill had taken over him just thinking of Jordan standing in front of the man she had sent to prison. He should have been right at her side. Hell, he would have pushed her behind him. There were quite a few things he’d like to discuss with Bravon.
Jordan blinked and looked away. Rhys didn’t like it. He reached out and gripped her chin so she met his eyes.
“What does he want?” Rhys asked again.
“Mac and the guys. He wants me to give them up to pay for everything they’ve done wrong in his eyes. Everything they’ve done to ruin the Demon Lords.” She sniffed.
There was no way in hell Jordan would turn her team over to the gangster. She loved her teammates as if they were brothers. Her loyalty to those men ran deep.
She had a hard time meeting his gaze. She glanced away from him. There was something else she wasn’t telling him. She tried to turn her face, but he forced her to remain facing him.
“And,” he prompted her to continue.
Her eyes flicked to his. She didn’t say anything for a moment. The silence was deafening. He knew her entirely all too well. Her teeth snagged her bottom lip as she contemplated whatever she was thinking. He would sit here all fucking night if he had to. She wasn’t getting up until she’d finished telling him everything that Bravon wanted.
“Me. He wants me back,” she breathed.
Rhys narrowed his gaze on her. He couldn’t have heard her right. Not only did the son of a bitch want her to hand her teammates over to him, but he wanted her back?
The woman who put him in prison.
“That is not fucking happening,” he growled. His hands flew to her waist. He wrapped his arms around her as if Bravon was in the room attempting to snatch her from his lap. Jordan was his woman, and he’d be damned what that fucker wanted. He suddenly stood from the couch and grabbed her by the hand. He led her toward the hallway.
“Where are you going?” She tugged on his hand, forcing him to stop at the bottom of the stairs.
He turned toward her and watched her take a step back.
“Get your stuff. You are going to stay at my house.” This place was no longer safe for her. If Bravon’s goons knew where she lived and boldly entered her home to destroy it, then she had to leave. Rhys was not going to take no for an answer. The farm would be safer for her where he and Honor could protect her.
“I am not uprooting from here and running away. He doesn’t get to scare me into leaving. This is my home.” A stubborn glint appeared in Jordan’s eyes. She tilted her head back and this time had no issues meeting his gaze. She pulled her hand away from his and rested both on her waist.
This was the Jordan he had come to know and love. Fierce. Strong and stubborn as hell.
He closed the gap between them. Apparently, his woman had forgotten who he was.
“Your home is with me on the damn farm. Now get your shit and let’s go,” he growled.
Jordan stared at him for a brief moment before she brushed past him and went up the stairs without a word.