Cold Hearted (38 page)

“Okay, we’ll talk to her.” Rick glanced at Ryan. “Just the two us. If she agrees, we’ll put this convoluted plan into motion. But God help us if we screw this thing up.”

“No!” Jordan was adamant. “You’re asking me to lie to the people who mean the most to me. By taking part in this plan, I’m as good as admitting that I believe someone near and dear to me is a murderer.”

“On the other hand, it could do the exact opposite,” Rick pointed out to her. “If no one takes the bait, it could convince us that we’re wrong.”

“I can’t do it.” Shaking her head, she turned away from him.

“Jordan, I don’t want to believe it’s possible any more than you do,” Ryan told her. “But even if there is the slightest chance that Rick is right—”

“He’s not.” She turned on them, her gaze darting from Ryan to Rick and back to Ryan. “Do you honestly believe that Devon could have killed Dan? My God, he all but worshipped your brother. He would have moved heaven and earth for him.”

“No, not Devon, but—”

“Darlene? She’s like a mother to me. She’s gentle and kind and I love her dearly.”

“I admit that Darlene doesn’t have the disposition you would expect a cold-blooded killer to have,” Ryan said.

“And Rene is my best friend. She’s ambitious and aggressive, but good grief, she cries when she sees a dead animal in the road. She couldn’t kill anyone. What about Roselynne? Do you honestly think she’s a killer? And Tammy? Do you think she’s actually smart enough to get away with murder and not just one murder, but six or seven? And even J.C., for all his faults, doesn’t have it in him to kill.”

“I know and I agree,” Ryan said. “But someone killed Dan.”

Jordan closed her eyes, obviously wanting to shut out the ugliness of that undeniable truth. Someone with access to their home, someone who had known where Dan kept the gun he’d bought her, had killed Dan. As horrible as the thought was, she had to accept the facts — if Jordan didn’t kill her husband that meant someone else did.

She opened her eyes and looked at Rick. “All right. I’ll go along with this, but only if the profile you receive from Powell’s actually points to one of your suspects.”

“We shouldn’t wait,” Ryan told her. “The sooner—”

“You have a deal.” Rick glanced from Jordan to Ryan. “We can wait a couple of days if that makes this any easier for Jordan.”

“I’m agreeing to this only to prove to both of you that you’re going to have to look beyond the obvious and find other suspects.”

Ryan frowned sympathetically, then walked over to Jordan and hugged her. “I’m sorry to put you through this and I truly hope you’re right. But you must understand how important it is to me, now more than ever, to prove that Dan didn’t commit suicide. And we all want to prove that you have never killed anyone.”

She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. “I do understand. I want Dan’s killer caught and punished just as much as you do. And Devon wants the same thing.”

Ryan released her and then turned to Rick. “Take good care of her. She’s a special kind of lady.”

Rick nodded.

When Ryan closed the study door behind him, Rick made a quick decision. He intended to leave Jordan in peace, at least for the rest of the evening. “Agent Elliott will be posted outside the study,” Rick told her. “He’ll stay with you for a few hours while I take care of some other things.”

“What things?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. If I learn anything new, I’ll share it with you immediately.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

He hated leaving things this way, with Jordan exhausted, emotionally raw, and worrying about everyone except herself. But he needed to put some distance between them — even if it was only a few rooms inside the house.

“You realize that from here on out, I need to be with you around the clock,” he said. “Maybe you could see if Tobias can round up a cot of some kind and put it outside your bedroom.”

“Do you actually think someone might—”

“Work with me, okay? I know your feelings. You know my thoughts. It’s my job to keep you safe. I need you to cooperate with me.”

“There’s no reason for you to sleep on a cot. There’s a daybed in my dressing room. You can sleep there.” She looked him over, from head to toe. “The bed may be a little too short for you, but it will be far more comfortable than a cot.”

“Do you trust me that much, to let me sleep in your dressing room?”

“I believe you’re the type of man who would never do anything I didn’t want you to do.” She offered him a wavering smile. “You see, I trust you far more than you trust me.”

“Don’t assume you know what I think.”

“I assume nothing where you’re concerned.”

“If I sleep behind closed doors with you, what will your family think? Aren’t you concerned about—?”

“No, I’m not the least concerned. You’re my bodyguard. It’s expected that you will stay close to me at all times.”

Despite his better judgment, he moved toward her, narrowing the space between them to mere inches. “That’s the problem. I want to be close to you.”

He reached out, clamped his hand on the back of her neck and drew her to him as he lowered his head down far enough so that they were staring directly into each other’s eyes. Her mouth opened on a startled gasp.

“Rick?”

“Damn!”

He covered her mouth with his, his tongue circling her lips, tasting her before he thrust inside. She swayed toward him, her breasts brushing against his chest. Holding her head in place, he deepened the kiss. Just as he realized that she wasn’t responding and started to end things, she laid her hands on his chest and moaned as she kissed him back. It was then that he knew she was as hungry for him as he was for her.

Taking full advantage of the opportunity, Rick kissed her until they were both breathless. As they broke apart slowly, his hand still gripping the back of her neck and her hands still on his chest, he lifted his head and looked at her.

When she closed her eyes, he pressed his forehead against hers.

“You make me feel things I haven’t felt in years,” she said. “Not since…”

He ran his index finger up and down the back of her neck in a caressing gesture. “Not since when?”

She opened her eyes, smiled at him and said, “Not since I was young and foolish and believed in happily ever after.”

“Not since Robby Joe?”

“What I had with Robby Joe, I’ll never have with anyone else. But I didn’t expect this. I don’t even know what to call it.”

“Sexual attraction.”

“That’s all it is,” she said. “It’s all it can be.”

“Don’t discount the power of lust in a relationship.”

Neither of them realized someone had seen the kiss and overheard their conversation; not until Rick heard the door close and caught a glimpse of Rene Burke as she hurried away.

“What is it?” Jordan lifted her hand to his face, cupped his chin, and turned his face to hers. “Did you hear something?” She glanced at the closed door.

“The door was open,” he told her. “Rene was there, but when she realized she was interrupting something between us, she left.”

“Oh.”

“Does it bother you that she saw us?”

“No. And I suppose it plays right into the little charade you have planned to trap Dan’s killer, doesn’t it?”

Rick cupped her face and forced her to look directly at him. “That kiss had absolutely nothing to do with the plan. It was something just between you and me.”

“I know.”

“Good.” He kissed her forehead and her cheeks.

“We can’t act on our baser impulses again.”

“You’re calling the shots. We’ll go as fast or as slow as you need to and we can stop with this one kiss, if that’s what you really want.”

“What I want—”

Rick’s cell phone rang. He cursed under his breath. “I’d better get it.”

She stepped back, moving away from him, while he retrieved his phone and checked caller ID.

“It’s my boss.” He flipped open the phone. “Yeah, Griff, what is it?”

“We’ve unearthed a piece of information I think Mrs. Price should know about as soon as possible,” Griff said. “Our sources have uncovered the identity of the person who sold the story about the senator to The Chatterbox.”

“Was Haley McLain involved in any way?” Rick asked.

“I don’t know,” Griff replied. “But you can ask J.C. Harris. The Chatterbox paid Mrs. Price’s stepbrother three hundred thousand dollars for the info they used in the exposé about Daniel Price.”

“Do you know where Harris is now?”

“He’s in Vegas spending his ill-gotten gains.”

“How about sending someone to question him?” Rick suggested. “Someone who knows how to get the truth out of him.”

“If Haley McLain was involved, she could lose her job.”

“Yeah, I know. If she put Harris up to this, she shouldn’t be in law enforcement.”

“Agreed. I’ll send Luke Sentell to Vegas.”

“Thanks.” Rick slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned to Jordan, who had waited quietly while he spoke to Griff. “Your stepbrother sold the story about Dan and Devon and you to The Chatterbox. They paid him three hundred thousand.”

“Oh, God. This news will kill Roselynne when she finds out. And Tammy. Rick, I don’t want either of them to know. Please.”

He stared at her, stunned by the fact that instead of being outraged that her stepbrother could have betrayed her in such a blatant and hurtful way, she was worried about his mother and sister.

“Honey, are you for real?”

Before she could do more than stare at him, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her again.

For the past two nights, Rick had slept on the daybed in Jordan’s dressing room. He had made a point of being up and out of the room before she awoke both mornings and had waited until she was in bed each night before he walked quietly through her bedroom. After sharing some hot kisses Tuesday evening, they had agreed not to allow things to progress any further. Rick wanted more and was sure she wanted more, too, but exactly what that more involved he didn’t think either of them knew for sure. Yeah, okay, so he did know he wanted sex. That went without saying, didn’t it? But did it go beyond that for either of them? After all, they had known each other less than a month and had met the day of her husband’s funeral. But Dan Price had been Jordan’s husband in name only, so it wasn’t as if she were in mourning for a man she’d been in love with.

Don’t forget about her baby.

Jordan hid her grief for her child. Since the miscarriage, she’d barely had time to come to terms with the loss. She’d been forced to deal with being suspected of murder and having the truth about her marriage revealed to the world. And it seemed that as usual, she’d had no choice but to put everyone’s needs before her own. He wasn’t going to do that to her. Instead, he was going to do what he knew was best for Jordan and keep his hands off her. She needed his protection, needed the Powell Agency to find out who murdered her husband, and needed to be exonerated of any guilt in the deaths of the others.

Taking care of Jordan sure as hell didn’t include screwing her.

Rick checked his wristwatch as he finished his brisk morning walk around the estate. Ten-fifteen. He had left Nix Elliott in charge of Jordan while he escaped. Being with her twenty-four/seven was proving to be more difficult than he’d thought. If she were any other woman and this was any other case, he’d have already bowed out and handed her over to another agent. Permanently. He had never allowed himself to become personally involved with a client and knew he was playing fast and loose with his own code of ethics.

If you think things are difficult now, just wait until you two set “the plan” into motion.

As he came up the drive, he heard an approaching vehicle. He turned just as a silver Corvette drove past him and pulled to a stop in front of the house. Rick recognized the tall, lanky guy who emerged from the sports car. Derek Lawrence, former FBI profiler, now an independent contractor, the author of half a dozen true crime books, and a part-time Powell Agency employee.

Derek threw up his hand. “Hey there.”

“I thought you were going to call,” Rick said.

“I’m on my way to Atlanta, so Griff suggested I stop by and give you my report in person.” Derek glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the antebellum mansion and the broad expanse of lawn. “Quite a place.”

“Have you had breakfast?” Rick asked.

“Yes, thanks. I stopped in Chattanooga for a bite on the way here.”

“Come on in. I’ll get Jordan and we can—”

“Let’s talk, just you and me. You can share whatever information you think Mrs. Price needs to know with her later.”

Rick eyed Derek questioningly. “What’s going on?”

“Do you feel like showing me around the place? I wouldn’t mind taking a stroll around the property.”

“Sure. Come on.”

They left the veranda, side by side. Rick waited for Derek to continue the conversation, his gut warning him that he wasn’t going to like whatever this renowned profiler had to say.

“After going over all the information Griff sent me, I’ve come to the conclusion that your killer is probably either Jordan Price or someone who would do anything for her.”

Rick had figured as much. Hadn’t he, early on, suspected Jordan? She was the logical choice.

“I know all the reasons why she would head the list of suspects. But ruling her out completely, who’s our second choice?”

“Don’t rule her out,” Derek said. “That would be a mistake.”

“You were supposed to work up a profile of our killer, not—”

“Just because you don’t want the lady to be a killer doesn’t mean she isn’t.” Focusing on Rick as if he were trying to solve a puzzle, Derek scowled. “Your interest in Mrs. Price goes beyond the professional, doesn’t it?”

“No.” Rick huffed. “Yeah, okay, it does. And I know she’s the prime suspect in her husband’s murder and if the other deaths were murder, then she’s the person who had the most to gain from killing each of them. But if you knew her, you’d know that Jordan is not a killer.”

“All right, let’s work under the premise that someone other than Mrs. Price killed her husband and his ex-wife and possibly her first husband and fiancé and the others.” Derek glanced back at the house. “Let’s keep walking. We’ll have more privacy that way.”