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“So, what do we do?”
“About what?” The new voice startled Jordan, and she whirled to face the door.
Coop laced his fingers together behind his head and leaned back. “Jordan, this is Special Agent Roberts.”
“Jordan?” Intelligent eyes appraised her as the man Coop had spoken with in the other room offered his hand. He was tall and stocky, with a full head of graying hair. His handshake was firm, and he exuded authority.
“Jordan Hayes.” She shook his hand and took the chair he indicated.
Roberts turned serious, and he focused on Coop, tipping his head toward the door. “Let's step outside and talk for a minute.”
“I’m hoping Jordan can fill in some of the blanks. She was the last person to see Travis.”
The agent studied her with renewed interest. “When exactly was that?”
Her memory of the past few days jumbled through her mind. How long had she been living this nightmare? She was no longer the same person who got lost in the woods. That woman had been unable to watch the death of a deer. Since then, she’d faced death andcausedsomeone to die. Would she ever feel sorrow or guilt for Alex? She was grateful to be safe and had to believe that Travis was alive. For now. She had to think of him that way until someone proved her wrong.He isn’t dead yet.
Jordan had hated and feared Travis when he kidnapped her, forcing her to flee through the woods to find sanctuary in a church. But he’d saved her life and made her feel powerful emotions, from stone-cold terror to white-hot anger and more that she wasn’t willing to name. His strength and courage had led them to safety while offering protection and restoring her confidence. A smile tugged at her lips. She missed him and the security of his presence, but the depths of her feelings for a man she barely knew terrified her.
Coop cleared his throat, jolting her back to the agent’s office. Heat washed over her face. “Travis saved my life.” Haltingly at first and then with more confidence, she told her story. Coop interrupted now and then to clarify a point, and Roberts asked a few questions, but mostly they listened. She couldn’t look at them when she told of Alex’s death, afraid to see the accusation in their eyes. When she finished, the room was quiet for a few seconds as though no one knew what to say.
“What now?” Annoyance sharpened her tone. The last thing she needed was sympathy.
Roberts and Coop exchanged glances. “The first thing we’ll do is arrange a safe place for you to stay until we have Halstead, Brody, and his group in custody. With your testimony, we’ll put him away for attempted murder and conspiracy to commit acts of domestic terrorism. Halstead will spend the rest of his life behind bars.”
“What about Travis?”
“I think we can assume everyone’s cover has evaporated. We need to bring him in as soon as possible. If Liam Mann told the truth, my guess is we’ll find Travis kicking ass on Halstead’s property.”
“Or he’ll find us,” Coop said.
“I’m going with you.” The force of Jordan’s outburst surprised her.
Roberts shook his head. “I can’t allow that.”
“You’re still in danger, Jordan. Clearly, it’s important to Travis that you stay alive. He’ll kick my ass when we find him if I can’t tell him you’re safe. Stay here and let us do our jobs.”
She knew he was right, but Coop’s condescension and lack of immediate action irritated her. “You don’t get it. I have to go.” Even as the words left her mouth, it was a given that they wouldn’t take her seriously. How could they understand the compelling need that drove her to be there for Travis whenshestruggled to comprehend her reasons?
“Out of the question.” Roberts’s tone conveyed finality.
Jordan bit back her retort. Her argument wouldn’t change anything. He was used to subordinates following his directives, and Coop was too Alpha to care about her genuine need to return Travis’s kindness. She would let them win this one, but victory was often fleeting.
Roberts pushed a button on his desk phone. “Carmen, I need you to arrange safekeeping for a young lady ... a day or two at the most ... that’s right ... something private ... some food and clean clothes would be in order.” He smiled across the desktop. “She’s in my office now ... you can pick her up as soon as you arrange the details.” He hung up and rose to his feet. “This time of night, we’re a little understaffed. We’ll get your formal statement in the morning.”
He made another phone call requesting an arrest warrant, then he and Coop huddled over a map spread on his desk while Jordan looked over their shoulders. Soon, they seemed to forget she was in the room. Pretending indifference, Jordan listened as the men discussed the layout of Halstead’s house and outbuildings, access routes, and search procedures. Chafing with impatience, she couldn’t stop worrying about Travis and the danger that could be awaiting him. Common sense told her it was a mistake not to intercept him before he reached the ranch if possible. While they waited for the warrant and backup, Travis could die. It didn’t help when Coop began showing signs of impatience, too. He worked for the FBI and, therefore, had to follow orders, butsomeonehad to do something.
Jordan stood abruptly, almost knocking over her chair. She glanced apologetically at the two men. “Which way to the lady’s room?”
Coop’s eyebrows arched slightly. She ignored him and concentrated her attention on Roberts, who barely stopped studying the map long enough to give her directions.
“I’ll be right back.” She opened the door, stepped through, and closed it firmly.
One of the agents at a desk nearest Roberts’s office glanced up, and his gaze followed her as she strode toward the end of the corridor. When she reached the bathrooms, he focused again on his paperwork, and she slipped into the women’s restroom.
It was empty, and Jordan leaned against the door, closing her eyes and willing her heartbeat back to normal. So far, so good. She had only the basics of a plan. Head toward Halstead’s ranch and try to find Travis. The pickup she’d parked outside still had the keys in the ignition, and she’d borrow it. It wasn’t stealing, and she fully intended to bring it back. All she had to do was get out of FBI headquarters.
She drew a deep breath, held it for a few seconds to calm her adrenaline-laced nerves, and peeked through a crack in the doorway. There was no one in her line of sight. A green exit light beckoned over the front entrance, so she eased into the corridor, straightened her spine, and strolled toward the door. Hopefully, she looked as though she had every right to leave, even though she expected sirens and alarms to blare at any second.
