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Chapter Seventeen
Travis followed Halstead’sdirections, but it wasn’t long before he figured out where they were heading. The southern-style home tucked beneath the rimrocks off Lone Pine Road was one of several properties owned by Halstead Enterprises, rumored to be where Halstead kept his mistresses for clandestine rendezvous. Anger flooded Travis at the thought of Jordan within those walls.
He’d broken the first rule of undercover ops—never let it get personal. Jordan had gotten under his skin, and he couldn’t shake her. The woman’s innocence and naivete should have turned him off from the start, but her courage, and the way she kept putting one foot in front of the other, despite the exhaustion that had to be tugging at her heels, had earned his respect and admiration. Waking beside her on the mountain with a raging hard-on had blown his mind. Kissing her at the church sealed his fate. Now, saving her was his mission, and if he wasn’t careful, it could be his last.
He was dead on his feet, and mistakes at this point would be disastrous. Luke and MacGyver were at least two hours away. Coop was off the grid, most likely undercover and not answering his phone. No brothers covering his back. What a shit-fest this was going to be.
He’d gotten lucky—no one had followed him when he’d forced Halstead into the passenger seat of his Jag and fled the ranch. Since then, one other car had appeared in his rearview mirror, and he’d left it behind several miles back.
Travis stopped the car as soon as lights from the home’s windows came into view and then backtracked a few hundred feet to a turnout alongside the road. A casual observer wouldn’t see the vehicle from the house, meaning whoever held Jordan might not see them coming.
He checked his handgun, re-holstered it, and hurried to the opposite side. “If we attract any attention, you’ll be the first to die.” Jerking Halstead from the vehicle, Travis flipped him around, checked his bindings, and pushed him toward the house.
“This is unnecessary. A woman, an acquaintance of mine who works as a data analyst for the FBI, brought Jordan here, and I guarantee she’s not armed.” They’d only walked a hundred feet, and Halstead was already breathing hard.
So, that’s at least one FBI employee on the payroll.Travis studied the house as they drew closer. “There are a lot of lights on for two people.” The front was mostly glass, and every window glowed as though they were expecting company.
Halstead scoffed. “Carmen doesn’t know the meaning of conservation—energy or money.”
Travis had no sympathy for the problems of the rich and criminally motivated. “You realize youracquaintancejust lost her job, right?”
“Only if you survive the night.” Halstead laughed and shrugged. “Either way, I have no further use for Carmen.”
“That’s cold even for you.” Travis grabbed a handful of the man’s collar, pressed his weapon into his ribs, and propelled him toward the back of the house. “No more talking.”
Through a window, Travis watched an attractive Latin-American woman prepare food in the kitchen and turn with a smile on her face when Jordan entered the room. Relief flooded him as she accepted a plate and helped herself to whatever was cooking on the stove. Both women seated themselves at the small kitchen table. It didn’t appear that Jordan was treated as a prisoner and held against her will. She’d showered and found clean clothes, her dark almost-black hair still damp, curling over her shoulders. No fear or anxiety marred her features. Her beautiful brown eyes sparkled when she smiled and conversed with the other woman. The only evidence of mistreatment was the bruises she’d received while at Brody’s camp.
He caught movement at the kitchen doorway.Jake? He survived, but how did the floppy-eared fleabag find her?The last time Travis had seen the dog, he lay crumpled and limp against a church wall, unaware that his self-chosen mistress had been hauled away.
The dog’s attention centered on the other woman. Travis was no expert in canine behavior, but how Jake watched Carmen was night-and-day different from the adoring gaze he’d leveled on Jordan from the first time he’d seen her. The animal tracked Carmen’s every move, and when she rose to take her dishes to the sink, the dog’s lips drew back in a snarl, and the hair stood up along his back. Jordan turned and said something to him, and Jake laid his head down, looking only slightly repentant.
Evidently, things weren’t quite as affable as they seemed. The dog clearly sensed danger to Jordan, even though she seemed unaware. Given a choice, Travis would trust Jake’s instincts since Jordan had a history of being duped. First Alex, then Brody. It wasn’t the first time she’d landed herself in trouble believing the wrong people.
Travis dragged Halstead back the way they’d come. At the front door, he quickly slit the tie that bound the other man, then pressed the gun into the small of his back. “In and out,” he said in a low voice. “I get Jordan, and no one gets hurt.”
Halstead snorted. “And I get my cargo back, right?”
“That’s the deal.” Travis shoved him forward.
Halstead tried the door, found it locked, and banged on it with his fist. A moment passed before Carmen swung it open.
A brilliant smile lit up her face. “Joe, I thought you’d never get here.”
Halstead stepped through the door, followed by Travis. When the woman saw him with the gun pointed at the object of her happiness, her smile faded, replaced with confusion. “What’s going on?”
“Shut up.” Halstead brushed past her.
Travis grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her along with them.
“Let go of me.” She tried to jerk away. “You’re hurting me.”
He tightened his hold, forcing her to keep up. As they spilled through the doorway into the kitchen, Jake’s menacing growl rumbled deep in his throat. “Chill out, Jake.” Travis’s quiet command resulted in a half-hearted swish of the dog’s tail as he retreated to stand in front of Jordan.
Fear filled her eyes when Halstead entered, followed by relief and what might have been gladness as her gaze settled on Travis. He didn’t have time to consider the spark of satisfaction that flashed through his mind. Irritation dispelled Jordan's glad-to-see-you moment when he propelled the protesting woman toward the table.
