Jordan knocked on the door leading into Julie’s room. She met Susan’s eyes, giving her a slight nod to let her know that she and Matt had already met with the CDD already. She didn’t take the folder with case notes out of her jacket for fear that it would upset Julie. “Assistant Director Mitchell.”
Susan’s wary eyes met hers, and she could see they were red-rimmed. “Susan, please. We’re outside the office.”
“Susan.” Jordan’s voice was decidedly low, given the sterile and ominous surroundings. She gestured towards Julie, who was still under heavy sedatives. “How is she?”
Susan stood up and rolled her shoulders. The ache that had started when her partner had been attacked hadn’t stopped. She wasn’t sleeping, and it showed. “Resting, finally. She’s been having nightmares.”
“As expected.” Jordan rested her hand on Susan’s arm. She met her eyes, not masking the concern in her own. “How are you holding up?”
“I’ve been better.” Susan shrugged. “I’m sure when the shock wears off, and I finally sit down, it will all hit me. I’m certain I’ll fall apart then.”
“Call me if you do. We’ll talk.” Jordan’s voice carried her concern. She suddenly felt closer to Susan, as if they were friends, and she wasn’t her subordinate. They would return to that when protocol dictated, but for now, Jordan knew Susan needed a friend more than a coworker.
Susan let herself feel anger for a few brief moments then her body grew tight and Jordan felt her pull away, physically and mentally. Her eyes flicked to Julie then back again, satisfied she was still asleep. “Did you get any leads from the CDD?”
Jordan shook her head. “Not here. Let me get you a cup of coffee. There’s a Starbucks right around the corner. You look like you could use a break.”
Susan looked as though she might resist, but her weariness got the better of her. “A quick one, okay?”
Jordan nodded her acquiescence. “Fifteen minutes.”
They rode the elevator in silence and didn’t talk again until they were seated at a corner table, nursing Venti coffees. Jordan pulled the folder out of her jacket and slid it on to the table in front of Susan.
Susan eyed it suspiciously and raised an eyebrow in Jordan’s direction. “This is it?”
“It’s not much to go on, I know. I’m hoping that Julie can give us at least a somewhat decent description of the UNSUB.”
Susan scanned the file quickly. The tips of her ears reddened as she read, the only sign that her ire was raising with every sentence. She finally shut the file and leaned back in her chair. “He’s a fucking monster.” She ran a hand through her unruly hair. She looked like she hadn’t slept or showered in days. She leveled Jordan with her gaze, hints of helplessness juxtaposed by seething anger. “I want him dead.”
“Is that my boss or my friend talking?” Jordan saw the mixed emotions in her eyes. “I know this is personal, but I need to know.”
Susan shook her head. “I can’t answer that. My heart wants this bastard dead for what he took from me, from Julie. I know he should rot in prison for his crimes, but why should he get to live when my baby is dead?”
Jordan watched the tears well in her eyes. Susan was making it even more difficult to keep her distance from the case. She was already too close to it. She needed to get that emotion under control, so she didn’t make a mistake. “I’m sorry, Susan. I’m so sorry for your loss. I won’t sit here and say that I know what you are going through. However, I will promise you today, we will get him, dead or alive.”
Susan saw the understanding in Jordan’s eyes. “I know you will. That’s why I asked you to do this for me.” Her eyes dropped, and she rolled her cup around in her hands. “I know that I don’t have to tell you what I want.”
Jordan shook her head from side to side. Susan didn’t need to tell her that officially or unofficially, it didn’t matter. She wanted him to suffer and eventually die. If asked on an official basis, both knew they would never say those words out loud. They would swear only to catch him and having faith in the justice system. Neither one would ever voice anything other than blind faith in the law. “No, you don’t.”
“How did the Detective treat you?”
“Alright.” Jordan smiled ruefully, her mind going back to yesterday’s encounter. “She did make it quite clear that she didn’t give a rat’s ass that we were FBI, and her only reason for cooperating in the least, was her desire to catch this bastard. She’s ballsy. She might be the best person to have taken the case. I don’t see her giving up.”
“I guess if she doesn’t put up with your shit, she won’t let anyone run over her.” A hint of a smile played on Susan’s face. Whatever their relationship, the two women had a lot of respect for each other. Jordan knew any teasing from her boss was because she genuinely liked her.
“Hey, she didn’t fall for Matty, either.” Jordan said defensively. She wasn’t sure why it mattered that Detective Foxx had shot her down. She tried to tell herself to take the rejection and move on, but her thoughts had returned to the hot redhead more times than she was comfortable admitting.
“Don’t get sidetracked, Gray.” Susan said sternly. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, but Jordan knew from the throwback to her last name that Susan wasn’t joking, and she wouldn’t be stupid enough to blow this case because she couldn’t keep her libido in check.
Jordan fidgeted in her chair. “I won’t, Assistant Dir…”
Susan waived a hand dismissively. “Jordan, please. I know I’m asking a lot for you and Matty to do this on your own time. I hope I’m not asking too much.”
“You aren’t.” Jordan shook her head. Her eyes turned cold. “I want him just as badly as you do.”
Susan gulped the remaining coffee and set the cup on the table. “I need to get back.” She stood up, her eyes telling Jordan to stay seated. She tapped a finger on the file and met Jordan’s eyes. “I’ll call you when Julie feels like talking. I’m not sure if she got a look at him. It was pretty dark. However, maybe she can remember something.”
Jordan watched her walk away; her shoulders huddled against the wind. Her heart went out to her boss. Her partner was safe, albeit hurt, but they had lost their baby. She hoped that the wounds she couldn’t see would heal with time.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed a number and waited. When he finally picked up, she smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey, boss.”
Jordan smiled again. His moniker for her made her smiled every time. She wasn’t his boss. In fact, he had shown her more than once that if anyone were boss, it was him. She stood up and stuck the file under her arm. “You busy?”
“Nah. What’s up?”
She could hear his gravelly voice and wondered how he was as healthy as he was when he smoked like a chimney. It seemed almost illegal that her trainer was in better shape than she was, given her strict diet and exercise regimen. The only vice she allowed herself, besides cars and women, was alcohol. She figured she was going to die one day, might as well let liver failure take a shot at her. “You up for some sparring?”
“Yeah, sure.” She could hear him talking to a voice in the background, decidedly female, and she chuckled. It was obvious she was interrupting some sparring already. “Give me thirty minutes and I’ll meet you there.”
“Sure thing.” She ended the call and shoved her phone back in her pocket. She cinched her collar up around her neck in a vain attempt to block the wind. “Fucking cold weather.”
She didn’t realize she’d sworn out loud until a fellow pedestrian glared at her and tried to cover her son’s ears. “Sorry.” Only she wasn’t remorseful. The kid probably heard worse in school anyway.
She crossed Michigan and headed back towards Mercy Medical. She was illegally parked in an unloading zone in front of the hospital and figured her fifteen minutes was passed being over. She increased the speed of her stride. The wind blowing off the lake was the coldest of the season, and she shivered uncontrollably.
She spotted her car and rolled her eyes at the pink ticket flapping under the wipers. She ripped it off her car and wadded it up, her irritation making her want to toss it on the ground to prove a point, but instead she shoved it in her pocket and got in her cold car. It turned over reluctantly, wanting to make a point that it didn’t want to work in this weather any more than she did. She proved her own point and sped away from the parking lot before the engine had a chance to warm up and let it whine in protest.
A half an hour later, she was strapping on gloves, waiting for her trainer to show up. She threw several blind punches in the air, feeling the muscles in her shoulders start to warm up. She moved slower in the winter, or maybe she was just getting old. Thirty-six wasn’t exactly old, but lately she felt it. The last few years had snuck up on her and a quick look in the room-length mirrors confirmed her suspicions. The wrinkles were starting to show.
She ran a finger over the laugh lines around her eyes and lifted her eyebrows, groaning at the creases on her forehead. “Ahh fuck, Gray. Don’t let one crazy redhead make you feel old.”
A loud chuckle from across the room got her attention, and she spun around to see Tony laughing at her. Tony Wozniak, or Woz to his close friends. Retired FBI, at fifty-eight, the man looked better than most guys half his age. “See what women will do to you.”
“Hey, Woz. How come it hasn’t happened to you?” Jordan smiled and punched him in the shoulder.
“Whiskey and maybe cigarettes. All the preservatives.” Tony was the father she never had. Her own father had abandoned her mother years before, and most times, unless she thought long and hard, she couldn’t even remember what he looked like. Tony had taken her under his wing long before she joined the FBI. In fact, there had been a time when she thought that maybe he and her mother might like each other.
His proclivity for women and smoking changed her mind rather quickly. Her mother, God bless her soul, didn’t need another man coming into her life and leaving just as fast.
She watched him pull on his own gloves. He punched one hand into the other to make sure they were tight then repeated the process on the other hand. “You ready, kiddo?”
Jordan nodded, her feet already dancing on the pad below her. She put her mouth guard in and waited while he did the same.
She watched his eyes, admiration in them. She was cagey and a good boxer to boot. She could feel his respect for her. Their sparring matches usually ended in some well-placed punches on both sides, but more often than not, he could still take her. She thought back to her childhood and wondered if she hadn’t wandered into this very gym twenty years ago, if her life would have taken the same course.
They danced around each other, throwing a few light punches, each feeling out their opponent. In silent agreement, they both raised their gloves and readied for the real match. She moved around him, her left hand resting just in front of her chin protectively. She jabbed with her right, and soon, she had landed several good blows to his ribcage.
He took advantage of her weak left shoulder, a result of a gunshot wound years earlier and took a poke at her unprotected jaw. She wheeled around, stunned momentarily. She shook her head, shaking off the stars.
“Come on, kiddo. Keep your left up. You gotta guard your moneymaker.” He smirked behind his glove, and she felt her blood start to boil. Jordan was competitive by nature, and she hated to lose, especially to someone twenty years her senior, whether she liked him or not.
She brought her shoulders forward. Her eyes narrowed, and she focused on the small opening above his glove. She threw a roundhouse punch to his left ear and smiled when it hit home. His head whipped sideways, and his left hand flew to his ear protectively. She jabbed at his abdomen, and when he bent forward, she threw an uppercut at his chin. He reeled backwards, his hands in front of his face, and she went at him, her fists pummeling him everywhere.
She didn’t mean to be so brutal, but the emotions from the case were flooding to the surface. She wasn’t sure how long her arms jabbed, recoiled and jabbed again, but Tony’s voice finally broke through her haze. “Whoa, whoa, whoa there, kiddo. Take it easy on your old man.”
Jordan stood back and shook her head, dazed. “Sorry, old man.”
He shook it off, waiving a gloved hand dismissively. He stuck his hand under his arm and pulled his glove off then pulled his mouth guard out. “Rough day?”
She smiled sheepishly and held up her gloved hands. “Sorry, they kind of got away from me.”
Tony chuckled. “Wanna talk about it?”
Most times, when he offered, she would share whatever case she was working, and he would offer his opinion. This one she couldn’t talk about. She shook her head. “Nah, just a lot of pent-up energy."
He quirked an eyebrow and smirked at her. “Energy, huh? That's what you’re calling it these days?” He knew her well enough to know that her taste in women was very similar to his and staying tied down to one wasn’t in their blood.
Jordan laughed and wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead. “Guess I just need to get a few more rounds in. You up to it?”
Tony shook his head. “Can’t, kiddo. I got a date tonight.”
“Same girl I heard on the phone? Sorry about dragging you away.”
“Nah.” Now it was his turn to smile sheepishly. “New gal. Met her at my dry cleaners. She puts a hell of a crease in my pants.”
“And now, you would like to see her crease up close?” Jordan teased and was rewarded with a laugh.
“Something like that.” Tony pulled his second glove off and slapped them together on his leg. “Listen, kiddo, I’ve known you a few years now, and I can tell when something’s up your craw. If you decide you want to talk about it, I’ll be around.”
Jordan watched him walk away and waived one last time as he threw a glance over his shoulder. She listened to his steps, wishing she could talk to him about her unofficial case. She knew he could offer invaluable insight, and so far, with the limited details in this case, any help would be greatly appreciated.
Instead of feeling settled and worn out from their sparring match, she felt uptight. She walked towards one of the gym’s punching bags and was just about to take out her emotions on the heavy bag when a husky voice interrupted.
“I could use a partner, if you’re up for it.”
Jordan turned and was immediately struck by the owner of the voice. She had dark eyes and even darker hair, and it struck Jordan that she was very tall. She had at least a couple of inches on Jordan, which meant she was six feet tall at least. “Sure.”
Jordan watched her approach, and her heart skipped a beat. The stranger was attractive, and if Jordan was correct, was regarding her with what she could only describe as mutual interest. Her eyes were chocolate brown, set in an angular face, framed by masses of flowing black hair.
“Thanks.”
The stranger’s voice was deep and husky, somewhat at odds with her feminine features. She looked down, concentrating on her gloves, which gave Jordan even more opportunity to study her. Her bare arms were lean and rippled with muscles. She was on the slender side, in need of a few extra pounds. Jordan could tell she was in incredible shape, though. Her eyes swept over her body, and as her eyes flicked back up to her face, she met her amused gaze.
“I usually hit the bags too, but I wanted to spar and there’s never anyone here when I come.”
Jordan shook her head, the heat finally leaving her cheeks. “Yeah, mornings are the best time here. You can usually find someone to go a few rounds.”
“I’m Meghan, by the way.” Her eyes studied Jordan, the interest in them still evident. Her gaze roamed over Jordan’s body, and she unconsciously licked her lips.
Jordan felt the heat rise in her face again. She was used to women blatantly checking her out, but it had been a while since a woman had grabbed her attention so quickly. “Jordan.” She spun around, needing to break the connection between them. “You ready?”
Meghan put her mouth guard in and punched her gloves on tighter. “Ready.”
She stepped back on her right foot, planting her weight on her heel and dropped her right shoulder. She grazed at her chin with her gloved hand, a sign she was ready to spar.
Thirty minutes later, the women sank to the mats, completely out of breath and totally drenched in sweat. It was several minutes before either of them spoke.
“Wow, you are really good.” Jordan said with admiration. “I don’t even work that hard with my trainer.”
Meghan chuckled softly. “Well I should have told you before. I boxed in college, and I kept it up for fun ever since then. I had an unfair advantage. You held your own alright, though.”
Jordan blushed. The compliment, spoken so honestly, warmed her through and through. “I’m sure you were taking it easy on me.”
Meghan sat up quickly, feigning innocence. “I did no such thing.”
“Sure.” Jordan sighed and pushed herself off the mat, her knees cracking in protest. “I’m gonna hit the showers. See you around?”
Meghan nodded yes. “Hey, if you’re not in a hurry, you want to grab a drink? I mean, if you’re available.”
Jordan smothered a smirk. It had taken her all of thirty minutes to ask her out. Guess I haven’t lost my touch after all. Take that, Detective Foxx. “I’m completely available.”