Nick nodded. He helped her up, being careful with her wrist. He led her toward the door, stopping to address the younger FBI agent. “Did you call for an ambulance?”
“It’s on the way,” the agent said.
Nick looked at Xander, whose face was strained with the pain of the gunshot wound. “Get another one for him. Tell them to take their time.”
As he led Jordan out of the store, she bumped her wrist against her chest and sucked in a breath at the flash of pain. “I think it’s getting worse.”
“It’s the adrenaline wearing off,” Nick said tersely. He led her over to his car and opened the door to the backseat. “You should sit here while we wait for the ambulance.”
“Just a heads up: I might throw up in your car from the pain.”
His eyes flashed, yet still there was no quip or sarcastic comment. He was acting very un-Nick-like.
“I can handle it,” he said. After he’d gotten her settled, he stood up and did the weirdest thing.
He began to pace next to the car.
Jordan watched him go back and forth, all intense strides and furious turns. At one point, he ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath. Then he stopped abruptly and knelt down next to the car.
“Still think you’re going to throw up?” he asked.
Jordan shook her head, baffled. “No.”
“Good.” Nick grabbed her by the back of the neck and kissed her.
Well, then
.
She forgot all about the pain in her wrist.
Nick pulled back and looked her over, his face filled with worry. “One more second and he would’ve hit you with the gun. And who knows what else. When I think about what could’ve happened . . .” He gripped her shoulders determinedly. “I should’ve told you this earlier, Jordan. Now that I’ve got my chance, you’re going to hear it whether you like it or not. You came into my life and messed the whole thing up and now I’m screwed. Because I’m in love with you. As in balls-out, head-over-heels, watching-
Dancing-with-the-Stars
-on-Monday-nights
,
wine-and-bubble-bath kind of love. Hell, I think I’d even wear a scarf indoors for you.”
Jordan smiled, her eyes misty, as she touched his cheek. “That’s the best kind of love.”
She took a deep breath. “I have a few things to say myself. Mainly just one, actually. Don’t take this next undercover assignment. Stay with me instead.”
Nick’s eyes pierced hers, refusing to let her off that easily. “Tell me why.”
“Because . . . I love you.” She exhaled.
No take-backs.
The words were out there forever.
And it felt great.
He pulled her against his bulletproof vest. “About time you said it,” he said gruffly. “It’s been three damn weeks.” He kissed her, and just as his hand curled around the nape of her neck, someone behind them cleared his throat.
Jordan pulled back and saw a gray-haired man wearing a no-nonsense, FBI-type suit standing next to the car. She also saw that the once-quiet scene outside her wine store was swarmed with FBI agents and police officers.
Oops.
“First Pallas and now you,” the gray-haired man said, shaking his head at Nick. “It’s like I’m running a goddamn dating service around here.” He spun around. “Wilkins! Huxley!” he barked. “Next case that involves a single woman—you’re up.”
Standing at the sidewalk, Agent Wilkins pumped his fist excitedly. “
Yes.
”
Huxley adjusted his glasses with a grin, looking decidedly pleased.
“That was supposed to be sarcastic. I’m getting too old for this shit,” the gray-haired man mumbled under his breath. He turned to Jordan with a smile. “Ms. Rhodes—I’m Mike Davis, the special agent in charge. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see that you’re safe.” He nodded approvingly at Nick before walking away. “Good work, McCall. As always.”
Jordan thought of something. “Wait—how did you know I was in trouble?” she asked Nick. “The panic button calls the police, not the FBI.”
“The day after Xander’s party, I put taps on both your home and store phone lines,” he said.
“I don’t recall us having any discussion about you doing that.”
Nick grinned cheekily, looking like his old self again. “I told you I was keeping an eye on you, Rhodes.”
She heard the sound of an approaching ambulance. Her cue. “Not to play the needy girlfriend card or anything, but do you think you can come with me to the hospital? Because any minute, I’m going to freak out over the fact that I had a
gun
pointed at my head, and it’s not going to be pretty.”
She had no clue what she’d said, but from the sudden look of tenderness on Nick’s face, it seemed to strike a chord with him.
He reached up and stroked her uninjured cheek. “If you need me, I won’t leave your side. I promise.”
Thirty-two
THEY MADE HIM
leave her side.
Due to so-called hospital “policy” and “safety regulations” —aka a load of bullshit—they wouldn’t let Nick accompany Jordan into the X-ray room. He was debating whether to pull out his gun or his FBI badge—figuring one of them ought to do the trick—when Jordan squeezed his hand.
“I’ll be fine. Maybe you could try to round me up a Vicodin or something for my wrist?” she suggested.
He threw her a knowing look. “You’re trying to distract me.”
“Yes. Because I see you making the don’t-fuck-with-me face. And if you start shooting people, they’ll get bumped ahead of me in the X-ray line, and then I’ll really be screwed.”
With a glare at the hospital staff, Nick reluctantly headed out to the waiting room. To distract himself, he called Davis. “Any idea yet how Eckhart knew we were on to him?”
“He’s not saying a word,” Davis said. “Except that he wants to talk to a lawyer, of course. How’s Jordan?”
“She’s getting some X-rays taken. Her wrist is definitely broken; I don’t know yet about her cheekbone. You can tell the U.S. attorney that I better see charges for assault, battery, and false imprisonment added to Eckhart’s indictment.” Nick paused. “And when I get back to the office, I want to speak with you privately. About the kind of work I’m going to be doing going forward.”
Davis was quiet for a moment. “All right, McCall. Whenever you’re ready.”
Nick spotted two men he would’ve recognized anywhere enter the radiology department and hurry toward the checkin counter. “I’ve got to go, Mike. We’ll have that talk soon.” He disconnected his phone and watched as the younger of the two men gestured angrily at the clerk behind the desk.
Apparently, Kyle Rhodes didn’t like being told he couldn’t see Jordan, either.
Nick walked over.
Nice way to meet the family
. He’d seen the camera crews pulling up at DeVine Cellars as the ambulance had pulled away—someone had obviously alerted the media.
“Mr. Rhodes—if I could have a word with you, please. It’s about Jordan.”
Both Grey and Kyle turned around. Jordan’s father looked the same as he did in
Time
,
Newsweek
, and the
Wall Street Journal
, with his distinguished silver and blond hair and tailored suit. Kyle, who was dressed in cargo pants and a dark gray sweater, looked ready to brawl with anyone who got in his way. An interesting contrast to Jordan, Nick mused. Sure, she was sarcastic, but she seemed far more cool and levelheaded than her twin brother.
Grey looked Nick over questioningly. His eyes held on the gun harness Nick wore over his shirt. “And you are . . . ?”
He held out his hand. “Special Agent Nick McCall. First off, you should know that your daughter is going to be fine.” He saw both Kyle and Grey exhale in relief. “Jordan’s been through an ordeal, but she is . . .”
Incredible. Strong. Smart. Gorgeous. Hot as a firecracker in bed.
Probably better to keep that part to himself.
“. . . quite tough,” he finished.
Grey Rhodes shook his hand cautiously. “Thank you, Agent McCall. Yes, she is.”
Nick gestured to an alcove where they could speak without everyone’s eyes on them. “Why don’t we talk over there, where it’s more private?”
The two men followed him. “They’re saying on the news that my sister was attacked in her store,” Kyle said once they were alone. His concern for Jordan was etched in his face. “Does this mean the FBI is investigating the case?”
“It’s more complicated than that. Jordan was attacked by a man named Xander Eckhart, a local businessman. You may know of him. There was a struggle, and she suffered a broken wrist and a bruised cheekbone. Eckhart had a gun, but Jordan was able to stall him until we arrived at the scene.”
Kyle and Grey exchanged shocked looks.
“But Xander and Jordan are friends,” Grey said. “Or certainly close acquaintances. She attends his charity fund-raiser every year.”
“This was a jealousy thing, wasn’t it? I’ll fucking kill Eckhart,” Kyle said. “I’ve been to his clubs a few times, and he always asks me about her.” He turned to his father. “I bet it’s because he saw her at his party with this new guy—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Smoldering or whatever. The jerk-off who isn’t talking to her.”
It took all of the jerk-off’s undercover skills not to react to that. “It wasn’t because of jealousy,” Nick said. “Not directly, anyway. Eckhart attacked Jordan because she was cooperating with the FBI in an undercover investigation in which he was the target. Eckhart somehow learned of Jordan’s involvement in the investigation and wanted revenge.”
“An undercover
FBI
investigation?” Grey repeated. “How could my daughter help you with something like that?”
“We needed access to an office that Eckhart keeps in the lower level of Bordeaux. The party was our only opportunity, so Jordan agreed to bring along an undercover agent as her date.”
Grey’s eyes were steely cold. “That sounds very dangerous, Agent McCall.”
“It sure does.” Kyle took a step closer to Nick. “Five months ago, I got a nice taste of the courtesies the FBI extends to the Rhodes family. So let’s cut the bullshit. What kind of threats did you bully my sister with to get her to cooperate in your investigation?”
Normally, Nick didn’t take too kindly to hotheaded excons who invaded his personal space. But this particular hotheaded ex-con happened to share DNA with his girlfriend, so he was willing to play nicer than usual. “I didn’t threaten your sister, Kyle.”
“Oh, I suppose she decided to help you out of the kindness of her heart,” he said sarcastically.
“If you want to know Jordan’s reasons for helping us, I suggest you ask her yourself.”
“Trust me—I plan to.” Kyle’s voice rose as he pointed to the corridor that led to the X-ray rooms. “Because my sister is in there with a broken wrist, and from what I’m hearing, she narrowly escaped being killed. All because the
FBI
put her in the line of fire. So I’d like to know why she would ever agree to help you unless—”
He stopped as a look of realization crossed his face. “No.” He pointed emphatically. “Do
not
say that she did this for me.”
Nick didn’t have to say anything else.
Kyle took a step back and ran his hands through his hair. He said nothing for a moment. Then he wiped his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Goddammit, Jordo.”
Grey cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Nick. “I’d like to know more about this undercover agent who posed as my daughter’s date. The ubiquitous Tall, Dark, and Smoldering.”
Nick put on his best meet-the-parent smile. “I generally prefer to go by Nick.”
Kyle did a double take. “
You?
You’re the jerk-off dating my sister?”
“Is that a problem?”
“Um, yeah. It kind of is,” Kyle said dryly. “Because the last FBI agent I met nearly snapped my ankle off putting on a monitoring device. And the two agents before that threw me in prison. So no FBI agents are sniffing around my family. Period.”
Nick folded his arms across his chest, not worried in the slightest. “In what alternate reality do you think Jordan’s going to let
anyone
make decisions for her?” He gestured to the doors that led to the X-ray rooms. “But you should go give her that speech right now. She could use a good laugh, and that ought to do the trick.”
“My God, he’s as sarcastic as she is,” Kyle muttered under his breath to Grey.
Hearing that, Nick knew he was in.
With the Rhodes clan, that was the ultimate stamp of approval.
JORDAN SAT ON
the examination table, holding up her wrist to check out her new fiberglass cast. “How long do I have to wear this?” At least her cheekbone wasn’t broken. Although thanks to Xander, she’d have a heck of a bruise for the next week.
“Six weeks,” the resident told her. “And make sure you keep the cast as dry as possible. I’d suggest baths.”