As Jordan drove toward the city, he gripped the steering wheel tightly. He had decided he had to tell her the truth, at least his part in it. He couldn’t tell her about being a Reaper. Nathan would kill him for that. And he’d leave out the Muldoon siblings. He’d tell her that he took the card and copied it. He’d take all the responsibility. Then he would tell her to get out of the city, far away where she’d be safe.
In a perfect world, she would forgive him. But he didn’t live in a perfect world. Actually, his world was pretty damn shitty. He dialed her cell again, for the third time. Something wasn’t right here. She always answered him. Even if it was to tell him she’d call him back. But now it was hitting voicemail, over and over.
Could she already know? She was destined to hate him; he knew that much. Hell, he hated himself for what he did. But he owed it to her to tell her the truth in person. He had to come clean, for her own safety. Maybe this would fuck up whatever plan Bridget and Nathan had in mind. He didn’t care. He needed Penny to be safe and as long as she worked for Reilly, she wouldn’t be. Not after what he’d done. He shouldn’t have even let her leave Jubilee without telling her.
He tossed the phone into the passenger seat. The road stretched out for miles in front of him, surrounded by fields and the occasional farm. One hour to his destination, still, even if he floored it. He tapped the top of the steering wheel. What could he say to make this better for her? He’d destroyed her dream. And for that, he’d never forgive himself. He’d deserve her anger.
When he was talking to Bea, that was the one thing that stuck in his mind. He loved Penny. Loved her so much it sliced his heart in half to think about hurting her. Which was why he had to come clean. Even if she never spoke to him again, he had to do this. He had to stop being anything like his father.
A big tractor appeared in the road in front of him, just rounding over a hill. He slowed down, tracking where the thing was. It appeared to be taking the entire road up. It was a narrow road, but it was a tractor. It could travel off the shoulder, couldn’t it?
As it neared, the tractor showed no signs of moving. It just kept on moving toward him. He frowned and stepped on the brakes, gently slowing his speed. He gauged the room around the tractor. Not much. And he wasn’t in a pickup that could easily maneuver around it.
Then the tractor swung wide and blocked the entire road. He slammed on his brakes and stopped the car. He honked but the tractor showed no signs of moving. The man sitting on it waved and then pointed to Jordan’s left.
Turning his head, he stared down the business end of a 9mm. He followed the gun up to its owner. The dark-eyed man smirked. “Jordan Levi?”
Though it had been framed as a question, Jordan knew it wasn’t. The expression was too knowing, too hungry. The guy knew who he was. Seeing as he was a dead man walking, it probably wasn’t anyone from his old life. So that left his Reaper life. Someone connected to George Reilly. To Penny.
He swallowed. “Who?”
The soft click of the weapon confirmed the safety being released. The sound was ridiculously loud in this quiet country. “Step out of the car, please, Mr. Levi.”
“What’s this about?” Jordan asked as he unbuckled his seat belt.
“Slowly,” the man added as Jordan went to reach for the door.
Jordan popped the door open, which was all he was allowed to do. Another three men appeared, all with guns drawn, surrounding him and the car. Jordan put his hands in the air and slowly stepped away from the door when the man gestured for him to do so.
“So… what’s the party for?” he asked.
“Mr. Reilly would like to see you,” the man said. He gestured behind Jordan’s car. “If you would, please.”
“Well, at least you have manners,” Jordan replied. “My car, though? It’s a rental. I’d rather not have to pay the deposit back.” It wasn’t a rental, but it sounded good to say.
“It will be returned to you later,” the man said. He held his hand out. Jordan stared at it. “The keys.”
“Right,” Jordan said, nodding as he dropped the keys into the guy’s hand. A second later, they flew through the air to another guy, who caught them effortlessly. If he’d had full strength, he probably could have overpowered at least two. But the third and fourth probably would have taken him down. As it was, his leg needed more time. And he was actually a little curious as to why Reilly wanted to see him rather than kill him.
Or maybe it was a see him, torture, and then kill him sort of meeting.
“If you would,” the man said, gesturing to the car behind Jordan’s. One of the other guys got into Jordan’s car and the door slammed shut on him. At least there was a GPS chip in the car. Sierra would track it. But no one would be missing him. Not for a while. Long enough to get good and disappeared, if that was what these guys wanted to happen.
~*~*~
Penny stared at the confines of the room she was in and wanted to scream. Sam had taken everything off her. Her jacket, her phone, her keycard lanyard, even her shoes. Not that she could have done much with heels.
She curled up in the corner and watched the door. That was the only source of light she had, a square window illuminating the small closet of a room. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. That second one, she had done, once she’d realized she was alone, and they weren’t coming back for her. Her heart had finally slowed that thump-thump of fear and she knew she was in shock. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she did. A numbness had finally taken over and though she knew there were tears on her cheeks, she didn’t actually feel them on her skin.
As strange and scary as her situation was, her thoughts kept going to Jordan. That picture on Reilly’s computer. Both of them. From the one implicating him in the break-in to the one where he’d held her in his arms.
God, she’d been such a sap. She’d been looking forward to so many more nights with him. But really, it had been only a few weeks since they’d met. She knew nothing about him, other than he used to be a thief.
Not used to be, she corrected herself. Because he’d stolen from her.
All over again, she wanted to scream.
Her stomach rolled again. How could she be both hungry and nauseous? This was a new one for her. But as she sat there, she felt worse. She stood up and banged on the heavy metal door. “Hey, open up!”
At first, she didn’t think they would. But then the door lock clicked, and it cracked open to reveal one of the security guards she’d seen upstairs in the gallery. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to use the bathroom.”
“No.”
“I’m gonna be sick.”
“Tough,” he replied.
“Come on,” she growled, even as the nausea got worse. “I’m gonna be sick. Please.”
“Wait a minute,” he said, and the door shut in her face. She could hear low rumbling on the other side, though she couldn’t make it out. The whole time, her fucking stomach kept on churning.
Goddamn stress.
Then there was nothing for a long time. She banged on the door a couple more times, trying to rein in the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. The minutes passed, feeling like hours. It might have been, for all she knew. She didn’t have a watch and Alcott had taken her phone.
The door opened again, wider this time and Alcott stood there, frowning at her. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to puke if you keep me in this room much longer,” she said. “Like really puke.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked over her. He rubbed over his chest again. More heartburn, she supposed.
“Seriously,” she said. “I’m not bullshitting you.”
His gaze cased over her, like he was searching for something. Then he sighed. “Let’s go.”
She stepped out into the corridor just as his big hand closed on her upper arm. She frowned. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to manhandle me.”
“Maybe I just like the feel of you,” he sneered. “Walk or you go back in the room.”
She walked, but mostly because she felt like shit. With each step, it got worse. As she saw the bathroom, her jaw tingled with awareness. She broke free of the hold and lunged for the door. She heard the curse behind her, but then all she was aware of was her lunch emptying into the bowl. Her retches were loud, echoing in the tiled room, and she heard the curse behind her again.
Apparently, Sam was getting a show.
Hoped he liked smelling her half-digested lunch. The fucking asshole.
Sometime later, when her heaves were dry but no less powerful, she sagged against the wall. Her breath was rancid. She didn’t need anyone else to tell her that. She could taste it. And still her stomach was doing jumping jacks and flips inside.
God, she was tired. She just wanted to close her eyes right here, except she didn’t dare. Even in the depths of her nausea, she hadn’t forgotten that she was a prisoner. That she didn’t know what was going to happen to her. That she could very easily be killed, and no one would be able to stop it. There was no one coming to save her.
“Am I going to die?” she asked in the silence, her words bouncing off the tiled walls.
Sam shifted beyond her peripheral vision and then the toilet flushed. He didn’t say anything as the flush continued. As the gurgle of the water going down the bowl echoed through the room, he walked over and squatted in front of her. “You good now?”
Right. There’d be no answer to that question, would there be. Exhausted, she nodded.
As he rubbed his chest again, he winced like it hurt him. Then he straightened and one big palm landed in front of her. Slowly, she let him pull her to her feet. His hand lingered on hers for a long moment. Then he said, “Come on. Back down the hall.”
Her legs were stiff as she allowed him to take her back to that little jail. Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? There was no furniture. No way out except the way she came in. No windows.
As she walked back into that room, Sam’s voice was soft behind her. “I’ll bring you some water. Maybe some Pepto or something.”
She glanced back at him. His face didn’t reveal anything about where his thoughts were, but his hand was pressed against his chest. Not rubbing now but sitting still over his heart. Then he left, shutting the door behind him. She sunk to the floor, back in the corner. The wall kept her from completely collapsing like a broken lump of flesh. But that’s what she was. Broken.
A new round of tears fell, and she didn’t even care when the door opened back up and a plastic bottle of water and Pepto pills were left behind. She didn’t know what was going to happen and that small act of giving her water and meds for her stupid stomach made her want to throw it all at the door instead.