He took Vince’s gun out of his shoulder holster and took two steps out into the lot. The car drove right at him. Jordan lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. The first bullet hit the driver right between the eyes. The next two bullets hit the engine through the grill, and the car veered to the right. It hit the bumper of the car parked in the last space, then drove into a tree.
“How in the hell did you learn to shoot like that,” Vince wondered when Jordan walked back toward him.
“I didn’t graduate top of my class at Quantico for nothing,” he grinned proudly. “Shooting a gun is all about math: geometry, trajectory, velocity.”
“I get it boy wonder,” Vince said as he struggled to stand up. Jordan took his hand and tried to hold him still, but Vince refused. “I’ve been shot before, this is nothing.” He was lying through his teeth. It hurt like hell but he wouldn’t tell Jordan that. He needed to keep up his appearance of the protector of his loved ones.
“Where are you going? Sit still and I’ll call an ambulance,” Jordan insisted.
“Not yet,” Vince said as he stumbled toward the shooter’s car. “Get his phone.”
Jordan wondered why he didn’t think of that. He searched in the man’s pockets, took out his phone, and found the Secretary’s phone number. He pushed redial, and waited for her to answer.
“Is the job done?” She sounded almost giddy.
“Yes, it’s done,” Jordan said somberly. “I killed your trigger man. That wasn’t a smart move, shooting my friend.”
She remained quiet for several moments. This wasn’t the outcome she was expecting. She gasped for breath several times, and then said airily, “That was my shot across the bow. That was my warning not to fuck with me anymore, you puny little punk.”
“Big mistake,” Jordan said, his voice heaving with anger. “When Vince said I know everything about you, he wasn’t lying. That includes your husband’s dirty little secrets. It’s ironic that a woman who pays young girls to kill sex offenders lives with one herself. And the sad thing is you’ve known about it all along. You hurt my friend when I warned you not to. Watch the news this afternoon.”
“You didn’t say not to hurt…” The Secretary’s voice was panic stricken as she tried to explain, but it was too late. Jordan closed the line, threw the phone down on the ground, and stomped on it. Then he kicked it under the tire of the car.
“What was that for,” Vince wondered as Jordan pulled out his own phone and dialed 911.
“So they don’t know he called the Secretary,” Jordan responded icily.
“They’ll be able to track his…” Vince started.
“You underestimate me,” Jordan’s hard eyes met Vince’s as the 911 operator answered. “There’s been a shooting,” he said, and gave the operator his address. He led Vince to the steps and ran up to his apartment to get some towels. By the time the ambulance got there Jordan had nearly stopped the bleeding.
Arianna drove through Stewart, Ohio. She found it odd that a town had the same name as Jordan, but she dismissed it as coincidence. She found a hotel in the next town over, Martinsburg, and got a room. She carried her bags inside and settled in quickly. She had another animal to hunt, another name and address, and it wasn’t two miles from the hotel. She thought it would be too much to ask that Morton Hendrix might work at the hotel.
She pulled out her phone and called Jordan, and when he answered he sounded weird. “What’s wrong,” she asked immediately.
“Vince has been shot. It’s not that bad, as far as bullet wounds go. It missed all the organs and arteries.” She almost wished that he could manage his clinical voice. But he sounded panicked, which made Arianna want to panic as well.
“Vince has been what?” Her voice raised several octaves, and was much louder than she meant it to be.
“Hand me the phone,” she heard in the background. And then Vince was on the line sounding as strong and gruff as normal. “I’m fine, Ari. They’ll dig the bullet out of me, stitch me up, and I’ll be back to work in no time.”
“You’re not fine, you’ve been shot!” She hated being so far from them even more.
“Don’t worry about me, princess. Jordan’s taking excellent care of me. You do your job and I’ll see you soon.” His voice became weaker toward the end. Arianna was about to hyperventilate.
“I’ll keep you up to date, I promise.” Jordan stated. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Vince shouted. Arianna grinned.
“I have to go,” Jordan said.
“Wait,” Arianna yelled into the phone. “Where does Morton Hendrix work?”
“He doesn’t,” Jordan’s voice was low. “Unless you consider meth a job.” He paused for a moment, then said, “I’ll call you when I have some privacy.”
“Okay, I love you both,” Arianna said quickly. Jordan ended the call.
He sat in the waiting room with his phone and his tablet. He’d erased any record of the calls between the Secretary and the shooter, who turned out to be a cop from a small suburb in Virginia. Jordan felt bad shooting a police officer, but not all that bad. He sent a clear message to the Secretary: he wasn’t screwing around.
He watched the television set closely at noon, to find the story about Margo Tremblay’s husband, Jean-Claude, on the local news. Apparently he emailed pictures of himself with several underage looking females to every one of his contacts, including several FBI agents, lawyers, ranking members of Congress, and the president’s sitting cabinet. Also included in the emails were specific dates and amounts of payoffs for other young girls. The FBI was investigating, as was local police. Secretary Tremblay had not commented as of the time of the newscast.
A doctor approached Jordan, and he didn’t look happy. Jordan hadn’t worried much about the surgery; it was supposed to be routine. At least that’s what the doctor who saw him in triage told them.
“Is something wrong?” Jordan wondered as he stared at the doctor.
“He’s lost more blood than we’d like. His blood type is B-, and we didn’t have enough of it on hand. We had to give him O-. He should be fine, but we want him to stay in the hospital overnight just to be sure.” The doctor shook his hand, and continued. “Who is Arianna? Agent Argento has been asking for you and her. He’s in room 246, right down the hall.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Jordan said as he hurried toward the room.
“Shouldn’t you be at work,” Vince asked when he saw Jordan in the doorway.
“I have a lot of vacation time saved up,” Jordan smiled at him as he walked toward his bed.
“Did you do what you said you’d do,” Vince wondered as Jordan pulled a chair close to the right side of the bed. Vince’s left shoulder was covered in bandages and wrapped in a sling.
“Yes, Jean-Claude Tremblay is all over the news.” Jordan stated in his non-emotional voice. “I did warn her, after all.”
“What exactly did he do,” Vince asked around a yawn. “I think they gave me enough pain medication to put down an elephant.”
“You’re not a small man,” Jordan shrugged.
“Thanks for noticing,” Vince’s voice was light when he said it. He sounded like he was flirting. Jordan’s cheeks turned pink. Vince took it all in silently. Don’t rush it, he reminded himself. Go slowly.
“Do you think you would have, you know…” Jordan started, and his face turned blood red.
“What?” Vince wondered what was going through the other man’s head. When he didn’t answer, Vince prodded him. “Tell me.”
“Had sex with men… if not for…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. It was painful, yet he needed to know.
“I have no idea, and there’s no way I could possibly know. It happened. I can’t change it. But I’m not ashamed of my sexuality; and I won’t apologize to anyone for who I am.” Vince had played the “what if” game way too much on his own for years. But he finally stopped when he realized it didn’t matter anymore. He was who he was.
“Do you think I’ll ever find that place?” Jordan stared into Vince’s eyes. He still had that sparkle, that realization of something precious. Jordan blushed again but didn’t turn away.
“I think that’s up to you,” Vince said wistfully. “I’m never going to judge you, and neither is Arianna. And we’re the only people who should matter. Eventually you’ll find yourself, whatever that turns out to be, and you’ll always have two people who love you and care about you.” He punctuated his speech with another long yawn. He leaned his head back on his pillow and continued to watch Jordan until he fell asleep. Jordan reached out, slowly, by inches, and placed his hand over Vince’s.
Arianna tried to calm herself down and remind herself that Jordan was taking care of Vince and Jordan was a wonderful care-giver. She’d found that out first hand. So after an hour of staring at the phone and waiting for it to ring, she got up and put on her coat. She entered the address Jordan gave her for Morton Hendrix and allowed the car to take her there.
When she arrived she thought it must have been a mistake. The house was a burned out shell. Police tape hung on the open gate and over the gaping doorway. She didn’t want to bother Jordan until she had more facts, so she asked the car to guide her toward the nearest library. It just so happened to be in Stewart.
She tried not to think too much about the name of the town as she drove past several really large houses. Every store front boasted the name Stewart. She walked past the sign that said “Stewart Library,” and shook her head. If she knew how she’d take a picture of herself in front of it and send it to Jordan. She was sure he’d get a kick out of it.
But she stopped and stared when, just inside the entrance, she saw a plaque that dedicated the library to “Stewart’s favorite son, Jordan Stewart.” It listed his many awards and accolades, including graduating from MIT with honors at twenty-one.
He must have started out at Ohio State, and moved on to MIT after he was arrested, she assumed. Her hometown was less than forty-five miles away. How could they have grown up so close and never met until they lived next door to each other. And why didn’t he tell her? She thought about how different their lives would have been if they’d met ten years earlier.
“Can you tell me about Jordan Stewart,” Arianna asked the librarian at the front desk.
“Jordan? He’s the Stewart’s only son. He has two sisters, one older and one younger. Horrible thing that happened to him, if you ask me,” the older lady said with a kind voice. She had soft grey eyes and a friendly face. “It was horrible for that young girl too. Just bad for everyone.”
“The Stewarts?” She needed clarification.
“Well the town’s owned by the Stewarts. Been in the family for generations,” she said dismissively.
“I see,” Ari nodded. Perhaps his money didn’t just come from gambling and the stock market. “I really need information about this address. A friend of mine lived there.” She wrote it down and handed it to the other lady.
“Oh,” she said. She didn’t need to look on her computer before saying, “You’re looking for the Hendrix boy. He died in a house fire a week ago. Cooking meth is what he was doing. The house exploded from it.”
“No, that’s not…” She said quickly.
“You must be looking for Mandy Turner. Her daddy owned the house, but they didn’t live there. They rented it out.” She said quickly.
“Yes, that’s my friend. I’ll have to call her and get her updated address,” Ari said quickly. “Thank you so much, you’ve been so helpful.”
She ran out of the library and to the safety of her car. She took her time driving back to the motel, fighting tears. She wondered exactly which big house Jordan grew up in.
She called him when she returned to her room. She wouldn’t eat or sleep until she knew Vince was okay, and she gave Jordan the good news.
“How is our guy doing,” Ari wondered when Jordan answered in hushed tones.
“He’s asleep,” he said, and stood up to leave the room. But Vince grabbed his hand and held it. Jordan didn’t want to move and chance waking him. “They’re keeping him overnight.”
“Good, he’d probably do something silly and overexert himself.” Ari tried to keep her voice light. “Didn’t you think I’d find out?”
“I wasn’t sure. I’d hoped you wouldn’t,” he sighed.
“Why hide it? We grew up so close, why didn’t you tell me?” She half-whined, half-pouted in that same tone she used when she tried to sound younger.
“Can we talk about that later?” He sounded truly upset about it, so she let it drop.
“Scratch the second name off your list. He fried himself cooking his meth,” she said. She was sad she missed the pleasure of taking his life.
“I usually keep track of them, but I’ve been busy for the past few days,” Jordan said quietly.
“Well that’s the understatement of the decade,” she said with a grin. Even Jordan chuckled.
“Come home. We need you here more than I need revenge.” He sounded serious, not robotic. He really wanted her more than payback.
She smiled brightly. “Thank you. I’ll eat then head that way.”
“We love you, princess,” Jordan said.
“Please don’t you start, too,” she sighed exaggeratedly. “I love you two, too.” It was so easy and natural. She’d never been so happy to pack in her life.
Chapter Sixteen
“God, I’m thirsty.” Vince’s voice was groggy, even more gruff than normal. Jordan sat on the chair by his bed, and his head rested on the edge of the mattress. Vince’s fingers were wrapped in his soft brown hair.
His heart fluttered. He could barely recognize himself. He never thought he’d lose himself like this, and to two totally different people. Arianna was his other half, for better or worse. She didn’t apologize for what she did, because she believed in it. She had a confidence that rivaled his, and a self-assurance despite the pain she felt. She had a strength that went beyond her physical self, down to her very soul.
But Jordan was something else entirely. Jordan was the pleaser; he wanted everyone to be happy and cared for. His insecurities only made him more attractive, more lovable. He played with his hair, wishing he could bury his face in it.
Jordan turned to look up at him, and Vince’s hand moved until it lay on the bed with his fingers against Jordan’s lips. Kiss me, he thought, he implored. But he didn’t; he didn’t move away either. That was encouraging. “What time is it?” He asked, and licked his lips. His tongue lightly grazed against Vince’s skin. Every nerve ending stood at attention, including the ones in his shoulder. And they felt pain.