Jordan closed her eyes. Oh God.
"You destroyed my life," he hissed. "I'll lose everything over this. My restaurants, my home, my wine collection-Martino's money has touched everything, and the Feds are going to take it all." He dug the gun harder into her skin. "I'll go to prison. If Martino doesn't get to me first. I'm a dead man, Jordan. Because of you."
As she lay on the floor of her store, trembling, Jordan realized that she hadn't thought about what would happen to Xander when the investigation was over. Maybe she hadn't wanted to. "Xander, I-"
"Don't." His hand shook. "You ruined me, and now I'm going to return the favor. I'm getting the hell out of here. Taking off to a faraway place that doesn't have an extradition treaty. I'll spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, worrying who will find me first-the FBI or Martino. Not the way I thought things were going to work out for me. But at least I'll have one thing: the satisfaction of remembering the look on your face when I pull this trigger."
He was desperate. Jordan could see the sweat beading along his brow and knew she was looking at a man at the end of his rope. So she pushed through the fear that threatened to overwhelm her and played her last card.
"My father will pay you anything you want," she blurted out.
Xander went still. She had his attention.
Then she heard voices outside the front door.
NICK PULLED UP in front of DeVine Cellars just in time to see two uniformed Chicago police officers approaching the door. They stopped a few feet from the store as he parked haphazardly along the curb. He jumped out of the car and quickly assessed the scene-noting the closed shades on the windows and door-and hurried to the back of his car to pop the trunk. He flashed his badge with one hand as the police officers came over, and reached for a midsized metal lockbox inside the truck.
"FBI," he said in a low voice, not wanting Xander to overhear them from inside the store.
"We received a call that you guys were on your way," the older cop said.
"Have you made contact with anyone inside?" Nick asked.
"Just got here seconds ago, right before you pulled up."
"We may have a hostage situation." Nick opened the lockbox with a key on his key ring, and heard another car pull up as he grabbed his spare gun and lock-pick kit. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a familiar Ford LTD Crown Victoria come to a stop behind him. He was closing the trunk of his car just as Jack Pallas and his partner, Wilkins, strode over.
Pallas wasted no time with preliminaries. He handed Nick a bulletproof vest. "What's the plan?"
Nick slipped the vest over his shirt. It went without saying that he was in charge. It was his investigation, and more important, Xander Eckhart had his girl in there. He'd be damned if anyone else tried to call the shots.
"I'm going in through the back door," he said. "Jack, you cover me. Wilkins-you guard the front." He nodded to the two uniformed cops. "They can serve as backup."
"I'll let you know when we're in," Jack said to Wilkins, pointing to the small receiver in his ear. Wilkins wore a receiver in his ear as well, and both men had transmitters wired to the collars of their bulletproof vests. "Don't move until you get my signal, Sam."
Wilkins pulled back the slide on his gun, ready. "We've got a second team on the way that'll be here in minutes," he told Nick. "You sure you don't want to wait?"
"We're not waiting." Nick took off toward the alley, with Jack following him.
They cut through the alley and stopped at the back door to DeVine Cellars. Nick saw that the lock was a standard dead bolt and prayed Jordan didn't have a chain on the inside of the door that would prevent quick and quiet access.
He glanced over at Pallas as he pulled out his lock-pick kit. "I'll take Eckhart. You make sure the scene is clear-it's possible that Trilani is in there with them." He got to work on the lock. He moved fast and steadily, but still it took time he worried they didn't have.
In his head, he kept playing over and over what might be happening inside Jordan's store. And he knew one thing: he was a fucking fool. His job, being the top undercover agent, his stupid pride-it all meant nothing. The only thing he wanted was to know that she was safe.
He gritted his teeth as he pushed the lock pins into place with the pick. "This can't be it. No way. There are too many things I need to say to her."
He didn't realize he'd spoken out loud until Jack answered him.
"You'll get your chance."
Nick stared the other agent in the eyes. "I better. And just so we're clear, depending on what I find inside, there's a good chance I'm going to kill this piece of shit."
HAVING HEARD THE voices, Xander's eyes darted to the front door. "Who's that?"
Please let it be the police, Jordan prayed.
They both watched the door for what felt like an eternity. When nothing happened, Xander slightly eased his grip on the gun. "Sounds like they're gone."
"Let's get back to the money," Jordan said, stalling once again. "My father could wire whatever you want in exchange for my release. Fifty million. A hundred. Wherever it is you plan to vanish, that will go a long way toward keeping you comfortable."
Xander's lips pulled back in a sneer. "There's only one problem: I couldn't touch that money. Thanks to you, the Feds are watching all my accounts."
"My brother shut down Twitter from a laptop computer in Tijuana, Mexico. Trust me-he and my father can manage to open a bank account wherever you want, under whatever name you give them."
Xander paused again. He sat up, hovering over her on his knees. Jordan saw his hesitation.
"The money will give you your life back, Xa-"
"Shut up!" He shoved her against the ground, and the back of her head banged against the tile. He wiped sweat off his brow with one hand, and his voice rose. "I can't think with all your talking! Just shut up!"
Jordan braced herself when she saw him draw back his other hand, about to hit her with the gun. She closed her eyes and pleaded silently-please don't let it hurt too much-
A gunshot rang out across the store.
Her eyes flew open.
Xander jerked back and dropped the gun to the floor. He clenched his shoulder, his arm hanging limply at his side from a perfectly aimed bullet. He saw something coming from the direction of the back door and his eyes widened in panic. He scrambled to his feet and quickly backed away from Jordan. He held up his hand defensively. "No, I didn't-"
Nick stormed toward Xander with a menacing look. "I told you to keep your hands off her," he said in a low growl.
He grabbed Xander by the throat and flipped him to the ground with one hand. He shoved his knee against Xander's chest, pinning him to the floor, and pointed his gun right between Xander's eyes.
"Who's out of his league now, asshole?"
Xander remained motionless and quiet, undoubtedly the smartest decision he had made all morning.
Nick stared down at him for a long moment, his expression icy. Finally, he looked over at Jordan. "Are you okay?"
She nodded. "Yes." Hearing the tremor in her voice, she cleared her throat. "I think so." She pushed herself up with one arm, holding her injured wrist to her chest.
"You're hurt." Nick shoved the gun against Xander, who half grunted, half whimpered. "Care to explain how that happened?"
"She tripped and fell."
"Now there's an original answer," Nick said disgustedly.
Someone approached from behind them. Jordan turned and saw the agent who'd put the monitoring device on Kyle's ankle. Agent Pallas, if memory served.
"I checked the cellar," he told Nick. "No sign of Trilani or anyone else." He raised an eyebrow at Xander's position. "We're good here?"
Nick eased his gun off Xander's forehead with what seemed to be a great deal of reluctance. "Yes. We're good." With one hand, he caught a pair of handcuffs that Agent Pallas tossed over. He yanked Xander up by the lapels of his coat. "Please try to resist. It would make my day."
"Fuck you, McCall," Xander said. But he held his hands out complacently as Nick slid on the cuffs.
Agent Pallas walked over to the front door and unlocked it. "We're clear." Another FBI agent in a bulletproof vest and two police officers stormed into the store, guns drawn. Nick handed Xander over to the other agents, and then walked toward Jordan.
He bent down and took her hand. "Think you can stand?" he asked softly.
She was very aware of the five extra pairs of eyes on her, one pair of which belonged to the man who'd just held a gun to her head. "Get me out of here. Please."
Nick nodded. He helped her up, being careful with her wrist. He led her toward the door, stopping to address the younger FBI agent. "Did you call for an ambulance?"
"It's on the way," the agent said.
Nick looked at Xander, whose face was strained with the pain of the gunshot wound. "Get another one for him. Tell them to take their time."