She studied his face, seeing if he truly had been as good-looking as she remembered, or if she'd built him up in her mind. The lines of his clean-shaven jaw, the high cheekbones, the dark eyes that seemed to glitter under the lights … nope. All just as she remembered.
"How have you been, Ava?"
She sighed. "Busy. Sometimes, I wonder if taking a vacation is even worth it when I come back to stacks of work."
He furrowed his brow. "It's too bad your co-workers couldn't help you out."
"Well, they did do a lot, but some stuff I needed to complete myself. What about you? How's your new unit?"
"They're a really great group of guys. I lucked out."
She'd had the fettuccini Alfredo, while he had dug into a huge plate of lasagna. They'd shared a bottle of wine, and by the time they'd finished their tiramisu, disappointment had railed through her that the night would be coming to an end.
Jordan took her hand in his, caressing her palm with rough fingertips. "We're getting the evil eye from the waitress. I guess she didn't like us sitting here for four hours, keeping her from turning over her table."
She shrugged. "We'll have to leave her a big tip to make up for it."
They had, then strolled out of the restaurant hand-in-hand. A storm had moved through while they ate, leaving the night air damp and a bit cool. She'd parked about a block away, and he walked her to her car.
Once there, she turned to him to say goodnight, not wanting their time together to end.
"I wish I didn't have to be up at four in the morning," he whispered as he cupped her cheek.
Butterflies tickled her stomach as desire crashed through her. She wanted him to kiss her so badly, to feel his lips on hers.
"Me, too."
When he leaned in and their mouths met, her desire became a full-blown ache. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her close.
Their tongues danced languidly together, his lips soft, yet firm. She ran her hands over his solid shoulders and through his dark hair. Her head began to spin as her heart raced and the kiss became more passionate and frantic.
After a moment, he stepped away. They stared at each other, both their chests heaving, and just as she was about to invite him back to her house, he spoke, his voice gravelly.
"I need to go, Ava."
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. Yes, he had to wake at four.
"By the way that kiss felt, I guess that means that I can see you again."
She chuckled as he took her hands in his. "Yes, I'd like that."
"I'll call you in the next couple of days."
"Okay."
She opened her car door with shaky hands and slid in, trying to get her wits about her. Glancing up at him, she smiled and started the car. Just as she was about to pull out, he knocked on her window.
She rolled it down, and he grabbed her neck and pulled her in for another kiss, this one shorter, but even more passionate.
"I'm going to marry you, Ava," he whispered against her lips.
Then he straightened up and walked away, leaving her sitting in shock. They'd spent one day together in Seattle, and just completed a four-hour dinner. Even thinking about marriage at this point seemed absolutely ridiculous. Yet, as she pulled away from the curb, she couldn't help but feel it in her very soul that he spoke the truth. Yes, one day, she would be Mrs. Jordan Callahan.
She startled when she heard Joe's voice behind her, bringing her back to the dingy, prison basement.
"Is everything okay, Ava?"
She nodded, trying to clear the sweet memory from her head. "Yes. It's just hard to see him like this."
"I imagine so. However, please know that we have only his best interests in mind, as well as our own. He's a lethal man, and we don't want to turn him loose and have him hurt anyone … or worse."
"I know."
They stared at Jordan in silence for a few moments, then Joe spoke.
"I've put together a schedule to watch him until he wakes up. Then the difficult work begins, where we will try to force him to remember his previous life. Based on what you've told me about his reaction when he sees you, I would like you to see him."
Nerves tickled her belly, and she took a deep breath to try to calm them. "Of course."
"However, I have a feeling it won't be pretty. We don't know what to expect from him."
She hated the thought of seeing Jordan in pain as he had been in Pioneer Square, but sometimes, good things didn't come without a little heartache and hurt.
Of course, he could have a completely different reaction, as well. Instead of the agony he seemed to be in, he could experience volatile anger. She couldn't imagine him breaking down and crying, but it could also be a possibility.
Sighing, she stood and went up the stairs. Her heart felt heavy in her chest, and she hoped a walk along the beach with Grunt would help lighten it.
19
Jordan came to consciousness slowly, his head feeling as though it had just been run over by a bulldozer. His limbs were still heavy, as if they had cement flowing through them instead of blood, and he could have sworn someone had jammed a dirty gym sock in his mouth.
Opening his eyes, he glanced around the room. Concrete walls and floor greeted him. As he tried to sit up, it registered that he had been tied down.
A bit of panic surged through him, but then he realized that if Joe Smith had wanted him dead, he'd never have woken up.
He recognized the man sitting in the chair in the corner and shoveling food in his mouth as if he had been starved-the guy from the Four Season. What had he said his name was? Brody.
That damn feeling of familiarity came over him as he recalled the name, then his anger flowed as he remembered all the details of his capture. He hadn't been right in his head since landing in this city, and that had led to him being caught. He should have given up the assignment.
What did his future hold, now?
No matter what came his way, he would get out of this mess alive and in one piece, and that meant even if he had to kill every last person involved in his capture.
Brody met his gaze. "How're you doing, Jordan? You hungry?"
He shook his head.
"I bet you're thirsty, though."
That could very well be the understatement of the year, and he moved his tongue around his dry mouth and over his cracked lips.
Brody stood and came over to him holding a red, plastic glass of water with a straw sticking out the top. "Here's the deal, man. I'm going to give you a drink. If you so much as do anything but say thank you, I'm going to hit you. Got it?"
He didn't have the strength to try to overpower Brody at this point, so it would be best to rest, drink and eat, then get a plan together.
"Yes."
Brody brought the cup over and Jordan lifted his head. Wrapping his mouth around the straw, he sipped greedily. Damn, the cool water tasted so good, he almost moaned out loud.
"I know you don't remember this, but you and I used to be pretty good friends. We served together in the marines. You remember Lucas, right? The guy who smacked you around at the hotel? He served with us. We were all pretty tight, on and off duty. Lots of barbeques, bars, bowling alleys, and laughs."
He heard the words, but the water tasted so good, he really didn't pay much attention to them.
"Well, Joe will be coming down in a minute to talk to you."
He slipped the straw from Jordan's mouth and returned to his chair.
Laying his head back, Jordan pulled on his restraints, but they didn't budge. At some point when his strength returned, the right time and place for an escape would show itself.
He lifted his head when he heard the door open. Joe wheeled himself in, followed by the man named Lucas, and a big black man he recognized as the guy from Pioneer Square.
How cozy. As hindsight was always twenty-twenty, he could see now he definitely should have excused himself from the assignment. All the players fell into place. The black guy and that blonde woman had been casing him, while the other two had been the muscle for the takedown. Jesus. He'd always thought himself smarter than this.
The fact of the matter had been that the blonde and the black guy weren't even good at their jobs. It had almost been as if they'd wanted him to see them, which didn't make any sense. Why monitor someone in plain sight?
His gaze slid over to Joe, who smiled at him.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Callahan. As I'm sure you remember, my name's Joe Smith."
Of course he remembered. He'd only spent four days planning the guy's death.
Joe studied him for a long moment, then finally spoke. "Gentlemen, could you please release Mr. Callahan? Brody, bring over that chair and let's have him sit up for a bit."
Lucas glared at him, while Brody withdrew a gun from the back of his waistband. If only he had the strength, this could have been his chance to get the hell out of dodge.
As his restraints were loosened and he became free, he sat up in bed, threw his legs over the side, and massaged his wrists. He stared at the floor, as he didn't want them to see how dizzy the simple movement had made him.
Finally, he looked over at Joe again.
"Please, Mr. Callahan. Come sit down. However, be aware that there are four guns in this room, and none of us are above using them."
He got to his feet, wishing his legs were sturdier. He slowly walked over to the chair, all eyes in the room on him. He sat down, and Brody moved to his back and Lucas stood behind Joe. The black guy leaned up against the wall, his finger on the trigger of his gun.