Jordan’s Deliverance (2 page)

Chapter Two

 

 

Agent Riordan Deliverance tossed the janitor disguise into the nearest dumpster eighteen blocks from his most recent job. Taking a guitar case from the trunk of a non-descript 2002 Cadillac Seville, he slipped his smaller rifle case inside. He pulled the worn Red Sox hat over his blond locks and disappeared into DC’s busy metro station. The sniper job had been a distraction. He was rarely sent on missions in order to shoot to kill. That was Michael’s job as a fed. Riordan was a strategist. His team had to find a way to place surveillance equipment inside four offices in the Chinese consulate. What better way to do that than fake an assassination attempt on the Chinese Consul General? The building would be in chaos during shutdown provisions, and no one would notice a few extra security guards checking on the safety of the office’s administration. He was sure this went against some UN regulation, but if the rest of the world played fair there wouldn’t be any use for intelligence agencies, and he would be somewhere winning chess tournaments for fun.

As Riordan settled back in his seat on the Metro he stretched his long legs out in front of him and pretended to sleep with his head down. His image of a ne’er-do-well musician was complete down to the worn Vans sneakers and the tight black tee. When a twenty-something blonde in a waitress uniform slid three seats down to sit directly across from him he raised the brim of his hat an inch or two. She dropped her backpack close to his guitar case and grazed her hand over her cleavage, bringing his attention to the waitress uniform that was unbuttoned rather low. She leaned over slowly in order to showcase her goods to their best advantage. He smirked at her endearing efforts to be seductive and gave her a wink and a hint of a dimpled smile before lowering his hat brim again. She was attractive in that barfly type of way but his tastes had recently begun leaning toward soft curves, intelligent eyes, and rich, dark skin.

Historically, he had never met a woman that he didn’t like or at least appreciated for whatever special gifts God had given her. He could always find the silver lining in every woman, be it her talent, her wit, her soft skin, or her figure. And women ultimately fell under his spell.

Until Jordan Anderson. She couldn’t stand the sight of him. He might as well be mud on her shoe, oil on her pizza, the foam she blows off her beer. Didn’t she know his mother told him he was a catch! He just didn’t get it. He’d never done anything to her! And maybe that was her problem. Ms. America didn’t have anyone to shake up her life. Someone who could pull sighs of pleasure from those fully pouty lips or spread those luscious thighs every morning. If she could sheath that venomous tongue for more than a minute, he would be happy to show her more pleasurable ways to use it.

At every function Michael had invited him to, he’d seen her with a different companion, all attractive and seemingly successful. He’d just never seen her with anyone consistently. Consistently enough to be taken to her bed, that is. At least he hoped she wasn’t taking those jokers to bed. The idea she would give herself so freely made him want to do a constant surveillance of her bedroom or, better yet, safe house her in his Vermont cabin till she agreed to behave.

As his stop approached he smoothly swung the guitar case over his shoulder and made his way toward the sliding doors. The waitress raised her head and smiled, crossing her legs slowly, giving him a complete view of her pale, thin thighs. When she placed her hand inside her backpack pocket, pulled out a phone and mouthed
call me
, he chuckled. He placed his hand in his pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill.

“Thanks for the show, sweetheart. Here’s a tip and some advice. Don’t tease strange men in subways. Not everyone’s as harmless as I am.”

He smiled and exited the train, jogging toward the nearest federal building to debrief and meet Michael for drinks.

 

***

 

“She becomes a basket case at the drop of a dime, man. I don’t get it,” said Michael Sinchester, CEO of Sinchester Securities. “Things that never bothered her before set her off like nothing I’ve ever seen. I’ve been in warzones with less shrapnel than my living room walls. One minute she’s furious, the next minute she’s crying in the middle of the floor and telling me she loves me. I know it’s the baby but damn.”

Riordan smiled and pulled out his phone.

“What are you doing?” asked Michael.

“I’m texting Alexi and Flynn. I’m informing our best friends you’ve gone from the cold hard-ass we know and love to a mushy punk-ass who cries at commercials. Smile, I’m taking a picture to send to them so they can remember the man you used to be,” Riordan teased, raising his phone to focus on Michael.

Michael leaned over the small bar table, quickly snatching the phone from Riordan’s hand.

“Stop being a jackass. Remember I’m your link to the ever-elusive Jordan Anderson. You fuck me over and you can light that opportunity on fire. She’s not giving you a chance and unless you need a foot in your ass and a ‘go screw yourself’ I’d say you’re out of luck. I believe the last thing I heard her say to you at our Jack and Jill bridal shower was ‘If you were the last man on earth I would jump species.’ You need help, buddy. Admit it.”

“I don’t need you to get me a date, my man, I’m perfectly capable of handling one woman and getting what I need,” Riordan countered.

“I’m warning you, though, if she is just a challenge and you’re gonna chew and screw then leave me out of it. One, I’d rather not know she’s a notch on your bedpost and two, Audra would beat the living hell of me if I had anything to do with you breaking her friend’s heart.” Michael sipped his beer and smiled knowingly. “And on the extremely high chance you get shot down again and you want to truly know what kind of obstacles you’re working with, I have a file in my laptop with her name on it. It’s all yours.”

Riordan paused with the beer at his lips. What the hell was Sin doing with a file on his woman? Oh, wait, she wasn’t his woman. Did he want her to be his woman? Did this go that deep? Thoughtfully, he put those questions aside, deciding at the very least to tack on a few official dates with Jordan before he dragged her back to his cave by her hair, grunting and beating his chest.

“What the hell, Sin? What’s with you nosing around in people’s personal lives all the damn time? Didn’t Audra tell you to stop doing that shit? Really, it’s disconcerting, creepy, and damn rude.”

“For your information,” began Michael, “I actually told Audra I would stop doing it on general principle unless it has to do with my family. Then all bets are off. Information saves lives at best and curtails drama at the least. And besides, when she and I reunited I had no idea who these ‘best friends’ from college were, what kinds of histories they had, or what their motives were toward my future wife. I did one for Jordan and one for David. Both came out clean and have been sincere friends to Audra from what I’ve seen in the last several months. But what I did find about Jordan would definitely play a part in her being skittish with you. You are the information and planning guy. You should understand.”

Michael leaned back in his chair, stretching his arm over the back of a nearby chair. His relaxed position emphasized his hard, muscled frame in the crisp white dress shirt and navy dress pants. Looking like he had not a care in the world, he surveyed the new wave of after-work crowds in the bar. Riordan just shook his head at his friend’s nonchalance. He guessed this high-handedness was what made Sin millions while Riordan was still being assigned agency missions. He adored his job but was never one to want to be responsible for the livelihood of others. Business ownership was not his thing.

“I still think inviting her friends for dinner and drinks would have given you the same information without risking your fiancée’s wrath. And more importantly, you are seriously going to need to address your trust issues. Letting people in without knowing their social security number, blood type, and criminal record is
normal
. Capital N, capital O…”

“Since you ain’t tellin’, I ain’t worried. And I am normal, just extremely proactive. If you want the file, it’s there, man. Your move.”

“I’ll think on it, Creeper.”

Chapter Three

 

 

Jordan loved this part of her job. The early morning, when she first walked into her store and the smell of cedar, lavender, and sage swept over her. Her cream lace skirt swished around her ankles as she walked toward the rear stock room and flipped on her most recent New Age CD. She loved the mix of African tribe melodies mixed with the smooth lyrics of Marvin Gay’s classic “I Want You
.”
Her generous hips swayed rhythmically to the music as she picked up the stock clip board to begin her normal routine.
I want you to want me too… I want you to want me too
floated through the air as she began to count the inventory for her soy candle orders that week. The tinkling chime of the door caught her attention as the mail lady came in and dropped off the day’s packages. “Anything to take today, Ms. Anderson?” asked the petite blonde.

“Not today, Cheryl. How’s Frank and the kids doin’? I know the layoffs have him bored as heck.”

“Well he’s beginning to understand my schedule with those three bad kids we have. With me taking on more shifts he has to be cabbie, cook, nurse, maid, and house accountant. It’s funny how much he appreciates what he used to call ‘mom duties’.” Cheryl chuckled.

“Good for him! Parenting is the hardest job in the world, and no one writes you a check… At least that’s what my friends with children say,” said Jordan, smirking.

“What I wouldn’t give to be fancy and free like you,” sighed Cheryl dreamily.

Jordan’s good-natured smirk slipped a little.

“Yup ‘fancy and free,’ that’s me,” she replied.
Try alone and tired for seven years but who’s counting?
“You have a good one, Cheryl, and if you need more lavender to help little Josie sleep you let me know.”

“Will do, Ms. Anderson. Have a great day.”

As the woman exited Jordan thought about the long line of men who had run from the creepy girlfriend who woke up four or five times a night or didn’t sleep at all. The many times she had to fake Academy Award-winning orgasms because her boyfriend’s touch had changed from tentative and slow to hard and frighteningly aggressive. When other women giggled about husbands “tearin’ that ass up” or “breakin’ backs” she inwardly shuddered at the thought of a man weighing down her curvy body and bruising her skin.

She sighed heavily and set her mind back to counting bundles of dried plants, candles, and herbs. A few hours had passed, and her day was well under way when the door swung open with a bang, startling her and the quietly milling customers. She leaned over her register area and squealed as loudly as humanly possible while still within the range of human hearing.

“
DAVIIIID
…!” Jordan picked up her skirt and ran into the arms of her best male friend in the world. “You’re here, you’re early, Audra said you wouldn’t be landing till the day after tomorrow!”

David Edwards leaned down and wrapped his long arms around his other best college friend. He, Audra, and Jordan had been inseparable at the Massachusetts Institute of Art in Boston. She leaned into his hard chest, tilted up her face, and kissed his chiseled jaw.

“Hey, beautiful! You know I couldn’t stay away when one of my girls is getting married and the other is clearly having man issues in the extreme. Audra said some hot Mama Jama’s been all over you and you can’t stand him. And before you get mad at her let me tell you this—if it’s one of Michael’s friends you need to get your head outta your ass and ride that roadster till the brakes fall off and light on fire. That’s part of the best friend job description.”

David looked around and back down into Jordan’s upturned face.

“It’s also my proud job to support you and tell you how great you look in that antique lace. As always, the store looks all New Age, hippie, African Queen lovely… It still smells like weed, but hey, I guess it’s working for you.” Jordan hit his arm and laughed at his teasing.

Taking her hand in his, he walked her back toward the register desk.

Audra beamed up at the one man who’d made her escape to college bearable. As outgoing and social as she’d seemed, David had been her escort more times than she could count. He’s kept her from having to date some groping college boy who didn’t understand the Pandora’s box he’d be opening if he kissed too fast and too hard at a drunken, frat house party. Getting expelled for shanking an unsuspecting student for feeling her up was not her idea of a good time.

“It’s sage and cardamom, not weed, fool. Clearly you are not a pot head worth your salt,” she quipped. “I’m so excited to see you. What’s new? Are you in DC alone, or did you bring Philip?”

“Honey, I haven’t seen Philip in two weeks, nor have I seen my bar manager, James. It’s funny how I wasn’t attentive enough as a boyfriend and I also wasn’t attentive enough as a business owner, working six days a week. I have the distinct feeling the text I got at two a.m. from James’ phone saying he quit the day
after
Philip left me have something to do with each other. I guess it’s a good thing in the long run, but they can still take a long walk off of eighteen bridges. Bye, Felicia!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetie. I know you really wanted things with Philip to work out,” Jordan consoled.

“I did, but apparently the minute I said no to spending
my
hard-earned cash while he was sitting by the pool, doing nothing, I wasn’t the bee’s knees I thought I was. But alas, my heart will heal, and love will find me. I have no doubt. But forget about me—I’m here to help you, girl. Audra says you’re fighting this attraction like Muhammad Ali in the ring. Tell me everything.”

David pulled up a stool behind her counter, looking like a blond model selling wares in an Apostle ad.

“Ugh, you’re right. It is one of Michael’s friends. It’s Riordan. You remember the CIA guy, right? Tall, blond, funny, uses sex appeal like a weapon. I can’t depend on a man like that, David. Is he gonna clown me when I cry at some far-off memory in the middle of the damn night? Make me feel ashamed when he touches me wrong and I run the other way? No, I need a quieter guy who listens and is patient with me, not so demanding and so…big.” Jordan scowled into her cup of chamomile tea.

“Okay, so tell me about him. What’s he like on dates? When it’s just you and he together, is he mean or rough with you?”

“Oh, well, we’ve never been on a date or anything. We’ve just met at Michael and Audra’s gatherings. Talked about what needed to be done for them as the maid of honor and best man, things like that,” she corrected.

David’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Okay, so you haven’t actually seen him in action or given him a chance, but you’ve judged him and sent him up a creek with no paddle or boat? Are you sure you’re being fair to him, and more importantly, to yourself? If he seems as interested as Audie says, he may be more understanding than you think, Jay. When did you realize he was in hot pursuit of your lusciousness? Fill me in on that piece of juicy goodness.”

“Well, it went like this…” she began.