Clearly, she wasn't happy about the news concerning her brother, and Nick couldn't say he blamed her. She was getting the raw end of the deal with the FBI, but sometimes that was how things went. That's why they'd chosen her, after all. With her brother's freedom at stake, she wasn't going anywhere-no matter how unhappy she was that they'd changed the terms of their deal. The special agent in him knew all this and was glad the operation hadn't completely tanked because of the curveball Eckhart had thrown at them that evening.
The man in him, however, felt like shit.
Nick closed the door and checked out the guest bedroom. His eyes skimmed over the king-sized bed with its plump, welcoming pillows and silk blue comforter. Through a doorway on his right, he found a private bathroom designed in creamy marble and well stocked with virtually every toiletry imaginable. It certainly beat the eight-by-eight-foot cell he'd slept in as part of his last undercover assignment.
Getting comfortable, he slipped off his suit jacket and made one last call for the night.
"So? Is Jordan on board?" Davis asked.
"Of course. Eckhart's not going to slip away that easily. But there's a catch." Nick eased onto the bed. "I'm calling in that favor you owe me. The one that just tripled in magnitude because of this mess you roped me into."
Davis sounded surprised. And a little suspicious. "What kind of favor?"
"Do we still have Agent Griegs in play?" Nick asked.
"Yes. Why?"
"This will involve him, too."
Davis sighed. "I'm not going to like this favor, am I?"
"Probably not," Nick said. "But I debated between this and having you call my mother to explain that it's your fault I can't make it to her sixtieth birthday party. You pick. But I should warn you: my mother is Italian. New York Italian, which is like being five hundred percent Italian."
Davis swore under his breath. "The hell with that. I'll get ahold of Griegs."
Fifteen
NICK WOKE UP the next morning not immediately recognizing his surroundings. An occupational hazard. When he felt the silk comforter brush against his bare chest in a caress, he remembered.
Jordan.
He wondered how angry she'd still be that morning. If he were an introspective person, one of those in-touch-with-hidden-emotions types-aka a woman-he would probably take note of the fact that it was much harder to blow off her dislike of him than it had been merely six days ago. And, if he were an introspective person, he might also ask himself what he'd been doing by calling in that favor with his boss last night.
Thank goodness, then, that he wasn't such a person.
Because if he were, he would also have to tell himself to shut up and stop asking so many damn questions. He had an assignment to focus on.
He sat up and listened for any sound outside the guest bedroom, wondering if Jordan was awake. He checked the clock on the nightstand, saw that it was just past seven A.M., and figured she was still asleep after the late night they'd had.
He yanked the comforter off and made his way into the bathroom. He sped through his shower routine and threw on the shirt and pants he'd worn the night before, having no other options. Despite its other luxuries, Palazzo Rhodes didn't come with a spare set of men's clothes.
He looked in the mirror and decided to skip shaving. For anyone who might be watching from a black sedan out front, Nick Stanton had just spent the night rolling around in bed with a smart, sexy woman and undoubtedly had better things to do this morning than shave.
Nick Stanton was a lucky SOB.
Nick McCall, on the other hand, had work to do, starting with a few phone calls. Including one in particular he dreaded.
He went downstairs to the kitchen, found an expensive-looking espresso maker that appeared wholly unused, then poked around and saw no other machinery in the house capable of producing caffeine. This brought about a round of grumbling about damn fancy rich types and their damn fancy gadgets as he sat down at the counter and called in to the office.
"We've got a condo for you in Bucktown," Davis told him. "1841 North Waveland, unit three-A. It'll work well for you-two bedrooms and an office, top amenities. Nice enough that it won't raise any suspicions."
"Can't have Jordan Rhodes's boyfriend slumming it now, can we?" Nick grumbled.
"I wasn't thinking so much about the girl, more that a successful property investor such as yourself wouldn't be slumming it," Davis said. "What's gotten into you this morning, sunshine?"
Nick grunted. Damn pesky questions. "Just haven't had my morning coffee, boss."
"Perfect. Because you and your girlfriend are going to make a run over to Starbucks so we can drop off your new house keys. There's one located a couple blocks from Jordan's house, at the corner of Barry and Greenview. Pallas will meet you there at ten-you know the drill. Got car keys for you, too-you'll find a Lexus waiting in the parking spot of your new condo."
"Sounds like I'm moving up in the world."
"As they say, you are the company you keep," Davis quipped.
When Nick hung up with his boss, he checked his watch. It was nearly nine A.M. in New York, which meant he had only a short window to catch his mother before she left for church. He steeled himself and dialed the phone number. Heck, he already had one woman mad at him that morning because of his job; he might as well make it two.
His mother picked up on the second ring.
"Happy birthday, Ma," he said.
"Nick! What a surprise to hear from you," she said in an overly dramatic tone. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Hold on-let me go into the other room."
There was a pause, then she came back on the line. "Okay, the coast is clear. Your father still thinks I don't know about the party. Are you at the airport? You should call Anthony or Matt to pick you up-tell them to bring you right over. Who knows how long it's been since you've had a decent meal? I've already got a pot of sauce on the stove."
Nick closed his eyes. She was making his favorite-penne arrabiatta. Just shoot him now.
No sense in delaying the inevitable. "Ma, there's no easy way for me to say this, but . . . I'm not coming today. They put me on a new undercover assignment, and there's been an unexpected development that means I can't get to New York. But as soon as the assignment's over, I'll visit for a whole week. I promise."
He waited. He could practically hear her thoughts.
Your promises aren't worth very much these days, are they?
And it would be the truth.
"I understand," she finally said. "I know how hard you work, Nick. Your job comes first. You do what you need to do."
He tried to explain as best he could without getting into details. "This wasn't something I planned. The case was supposed to end last night. You know that if there was any way I could make it today, I would."
"Don't worry about it," his mother said in a short tone. "The family will be disappointed, but I'll explain it. Frankly, I don't think anyone will be too surprised you're not coming." She made some quick excuse about needing to finish getting ready for mass, told him to call soon, and hung up.
Nick set his cell phone down on the counter and blew out a ragged breath. Plain and simple, that sucked. He would've preferred she'd just yelled at him-that he could handle. But hearing the disappointment in her voice was tough.
He heard Jordan clear her throat from the doorway. He looked over, not having realized she was there.
She shifted awkwardly. "I overheard your conversation when I was coming down the stairs." She walked over and took a seat in the stool next to his. "Your mother's birthday is this weekend?"
Nick nodded. "Her sixtieth. My family planned a big party for her."
"She was born the year after my mother. My mom would've been sixty-one this June." She hesitated before continuing. "She died in a car accident nine years ago. Maybe you knew that already."
Actually, he had known that from the file Huxley had pulled together. Jordan had been in business school at the time of her mother's car accident. "Yes."
"Granted, I'm a little biased when it comes to the subject of mothers. But I would've given anything to have been able to throw a sixtieth birthday party for mine." Jordan held his gaze. "I'm sorry you couldn't make it home this weekend." She rested her chin in her hand and sighed. "What can I say? Xander's an asshat."
Nick blinked, then laughed. And something pulled tight in his chest when he realized that was exactly what she'd intended. "I didn't realize billionaire heiresses were allowed to say asshat."
With a slight smile, she glanced at him sideways. "You don't know a lot about billionaire heiresses, do you?"
"No." Although he did know one in particular who looked awfully cute in her jeans and long-sleeve navy T-shirt that made her eyes seem impossibly more blue.
Suddenly uncomfortable, Nick looked away and cleared his throat. He shook off the feeling and changed the subject. "We need coffee." He pointed to the high-tech espresso maker. "Think you can skip the homemade stuff and go for a Starbucks run? I have to get my new house keys from another agent who will be there at ten. I was thinking you could be the contact person for the drop-off."