If Tomorrow Never Comes (8 page)

Taken
back by Morgan’s short spurt of humanity, unable to handle the silence that
seemed somehow worse than fighting, Jordan attempted conversation.
 
“What makes you think I can help you,” her
voice all at once very childlike in extreme.

Staring
blindly at the floor, his voice surprisingly level and soft, “Simple, the
packages you deliver line the pockets of the man I'm after.”

Aware
of the tension crackling between them that Jordan did not know how to dispel
and wondered why she even wanted to warily she examined him.
 
“I know nothing.
  
Someone drops the packages off in the middle
of the night with an address attached.
 
I
deliver them.
 
I couldn't identify anyone
even if I wanted too.”

Jake's
eyes altering to biting clarity swung to hers.
 
“Maybe you don't think you can, but I'm willing to gamble you know more
than you realize.”

In
an instant, Jordan’s features radiating contempt transposed into fear. “Well,
you're crazy for thinking that I'm going to risk my life just so you can get
your man considering the treatment I've received,” her retort icicle sharp.

Emerald
eyes', hot and liquid capable of melting flesh and bone, held hers.
 
With blatant effrontery, Jake fired, “Whether
you want to admit it or not, one way or another, your life is on the line.
 
You're between a rock and a hard place with
no way out.
 
It’s either Scorpio or me
and if you know anything about your precious drug lord, compared to him, I'm
Jesus Christ.”
 

During
the long lapse of silence, Jordan was unable to peel her eyes off Jake.
 
She couldn't help but consider how awful he
looked, tired, disheveled, as if he’d been living on the streets.
 
How could he insist she clean up when he was
no better, she seethed.
 
Even though the
intended quick glance stretched out interminably making her want to squirm, she
continued to challenge his stare, pondering, his age, if he were ugly or, the
least bit good-looking, telling herself it was only natural curiosity.
   
Yet, her eyes couldn't leave his trim
physique, and corrugated abs, the bulging forearms and heavily veined hands
that spoke of strength.
 
There was no
missing the dimples in his cheeks, the wide mouth, and full lips either.

 
Jordan measuring him made Jake so
self-conscious he began prowling the kitchen like a caged animal, wondering why
he felt so ill at ease, why every follicle of hair on his body began to tingle
under her direct stare.

Their
confrontation was nothing more than a Mexican standoff, Jordan sipping her
coffee, hatefully peering at Jake over the rim of her cup Jake with his
fingertips pressed against his hairline; eyes’ squeezed shut one second then opens
the next revealing hard, cynical globes stealing glances at Jordan.
 
It seemed nothing would bring them together
on common ground until Jake noticed Jordan's hands shaking uncontrollably.

“You're
weak,” he barked.
 
“You need to
eat.”
 

Trying
to still her hands by cupping them around her mug, Jordan’s word's struck their
mark. “Why do you care?
 
You just said
you didn't give a shit, remember?”

Hard
on his heels, Jake grabbed his cell phone brandishing it as he sputtered,
“You're the key to putting an end to a crazy man and like it, or not I'm going
to provide for you until this is over.”
 
To her utter shock he added, “Now tell me what
you want to eat, dammit.”

The
mention of food made Jordan's stomach grumble.
 
“Pizza,” rolled off her tongue before giving any conscious thought as to
what she wanted, “with peppers, onions, and mushrooms.”

“And,
a tooth brush if you intend to eat such garbage,” Jake, reiterated, her request
reminding him how much he detested pizza.

A
half hour later, sitting across from Jordan, Jake watched in total amazement as
she unabashedly plunged right in, slopping sauce on her lap, nosily devouring
most of the pizza along with a half litter of pop, her eyes closing tight as
she licked fingers in ecstasy.
 
Never had
he seen a human eat like a wild animal, as if she may never eat again, as if
the horrid stuff she was consuming was caviar.
  
Angering him more, while she chewed and her tongue licked at traces of
sauce, he felt twinges of arousal.
  

Mulling
over his plans to get Scorpio abated the anger and managed to keep his mind off
the creature becoming all too fascinating sitting across from him.
 
Simple, Jake thought, rather than risk one of
his men he'd allow Jordan to do the dirty work.
 
Under his surveillance, she’d, return to her world at night, continue to
receive the packages, and make deliveries.
 
Meanwhile he’d organize another raid.
 

Stomach
hurting from all she consumed, striking a melodramatic pose, Jordan sat
wide-eyed trying to control the odd sensation flurrying in her
mid-section.
 
Jake had just finished
relaying his plans ending by repeating the warning he’d issued earlier.
 
If she refused to cooperate, she’d be found
in some alley, Margaret or no Margaret.
 
This time the look in his eyes' said, he was serious.

Wondering
why he suddenly felt sleepy, Jake glanced at his watch.
 
It was two a.m.
  
Attempting to fight off the luxury, he
returned Jordan to the bedroom convinced he would be fine if he rested his eyes
for a little while.

Jordan
ate so much it hurt to walk.
 
Lethargy
induced by an over loaded digestive system took its toll.
 
Dutifully, she sat on the floor and leaned
against the mattress, her eyes flaring wide in disbelief when Jake neglected to
handcuff her.
  
Instead, he sat in the
lawn chair a few feet away gripping a gun placed on his lap.
 
Weapon or not, Jordan patiently waited for
him to close his eyes for more than a few seconds.

Jordan
was the one who slept fitfully while Jake scrutinized her facial contortions,
listened to her whines, her mumbling, and watched her tremble.
 
There were no tears, yet he heard her shallow
breathing, saw her chest rise and lower rapidly as though she were sobbing
inwardly behavior that made him imagine the horrible things she must have
endured.

Jordan's
obvious discomfort brought on a barrage of childhood memories.
 
The years following the death of his mother
when shuffled from one foster home to another.
 
A hit and run driver took her life on her way home from work.
 
For the billionth time, Jake vividly
remembered waiting day after day never leaving the apartment wondering, where she
was, if she'd ever return.
 
A week later,
starving and frightened he gave himself up to grief.
 
Neighbors who heard his cries came to his
rescue.

Jake
knew nothing about his father his mother never spoke of him or of any other
relatives.
 
At the age of four, he
learned what it was like to be, alone, unloved, and unwanted, physically and
verbally abused by foster parents.
 
Such
was the course of his life until he ran away at fourteen. The summer and fall,
spent wandering the streets of Chicago sleeping in parks, under porches, in
garages, stealing food to survive?
  
That
winter, a priest found him lying beneath a bridge almost frozen to death.
 

Father
Mahoney promised to provide shelter, food and odd jobs as long as he attended
school.
 
Due to Father Mahoney's age and
physical limitations, their relationship was nothing like a real father and
son, then again, it was as close as Jake would ever get, he reasoned.
 
Shortly after graduating with honors from
High School, Father Mahoney died leaving what little money he managed to save
to Jake.
 
Thanks to his heavenly
guardians influence and financial support, Jake chose a future in serving and
protecting others.
   

Possibly
Jordan experienced the same abhorrence’s in life, Jake decided, a consideration
that increased his heartbeat, and made old wounds fester as he thought about
how much more difficult it would be for a young girl with no choice but to sell
her body, or deliver drugs.
  
Suddenly,
he wanted to protect her, and care for her, help her, but mind you, only
temporarily.
 
Good thoughts that tugged
on the lids of his eyes until they slithered shut.

CHAPTER 9

Jake's eyes sprung
open.
 
Despite the fuzz clinging
tenaciously to his mind, he sensed that Jordan was gone.
 
As soon as he came to his feet, he heard
water running.
 
Stuffing a gun into his
waistband, overpowering the urge to sprint, he crept quietly into the living
room.
 

           
The
kitchen light illuminated Jordan standing at the sink on her tiptoes, arms
stretched to the max her reach falling short of the upper cabinet. Her bare
legs, and the shirt she wore scarcely covering the creases of her buttocks
halted him in his tracks.
 
His glance
swished to the jeans draped over the chair then back to her a scrutiny that
lasted a few heartbeats too many as it went from accusatory to damn
interesting.
   

           
With
his will power substantially weakened, Jake couldn't help gawking at the legs
beneath the hem, shapely limbs that led upward to the outline of firm round
haunches.
 
While male anatomy entertained
the delusions of a lunatic, for the briefest second his breath caught.
 
Impulsive feelings nipped at the bud by
reminding himself of the vow he’d made long ago to never again allow a female
to bewitch him so strong were his beliefs that women were witches who, once
within their clutches, consumed every fiber of a man.

           
Having
honed her sense of hearing and smell into that of an animal, Jordan was
instantly aware of Jake's presence.
 
Preparing for battle she slowly lowered her arms, one hand reaching for
a dirty glass, the other for a butcher knife lying on the counter.

           
Certain
his presence went undetected, Jake sneakily closed the distance purposely
crowding her when stopping at her feet his glare drilling through the back of
her head summoning a shocking response.
  

           
Spinning
around, Jordan brought the tip of the knife against Jake's bare chest.
 
The audible click of two sets of eyes'
clashing left no mistake she’d pushed the ogre well beyond mild annoyance, a
realization that brightened the color of her cheeks.
 
Nevertheless, she pressed the knife into
flesh mesmerized as the point made an indentation yet struggling not to notice
the taut skin covering the swelling muscles.
 
The blonde kinky curls spreading across a broad expanse on their way
upward to a cluster at the indentation of his Adam's apple.
 
The warmth spreading through her body,
collecting in her throat making it feel parched and raw was nothing more than a
trace of apprehension, she reasoned.
 
Defying a pulsating heart clanging about in her chest, her visage
exhibited no visible signs of distress.
           

           
The
look Jordan gave him filled with reproach, her spunk so amusing; he had to
fight the smile threatening to curl his lips.
 
Damned if he didn't admire her fearlessness that kept exploding when he
least expected. Damned if she didn't arouse him again.
 
Regardless, Jake made no motion, no sound,
never even blinked.
  

           
A
verbal response wasn't necessary she was struck dumb by spearing eyes
expressing immeasurable intensity, emerald orbs that never moved, or abandoned
the gold threatening to paralyze him.
 
Hypnotized by his features becoming fierce, and disdainful, Jordan
missed entirely his hand raising slowly, the rough, calloused fingers curling
around hers to seize control of the knife.

           
Despite
her cold and deadly disguise, it was impossible to ignore the soft flesh, and
fragile bones beneath his touch.
  
Thankfully, sanity arriving in time ignited sufficient rage that goaded
him into pressing the knife forward.
 
Both
stood ground as eyes' dueled, his dark and inscrutable, hers glistening bright
nuggets worthy of a lightning bolt.