A Lot like Love
Page 82

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, ass**le?”
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.”
As he led Jordan out of the store, she bumped her wrist against her chest and sucked in a breath at the flash of pain. “I think it’s getting worse.”
“It’s the adrenaline wearing off,” Nick said tersely. He led her over to his car and opened the door to the backseat. “You should sit here while we wait for the ambulance.”
“Just a heads up: I might throw up in your car from the pain.”
His eyes flashed, yet still there was no quip or sarcastic comment. He was acting very un-Nick-like.