“Now, that’s just plain not nice,” Adam said.
Jason’s impression, now that he’d seen his face, was that, while Bryce Jordan may once have been an attractive man, those days were past. He looked weathered, and his complexion, Jason thought, could use some sun. He knew the man had spent a few years in prison, but he also knew he’d been out for a couple of years. He still has a jailhouse pallor.
Jordan switched his attention to Adam, who must have pinned his badge on his belt loop as they’d walked over. “What the fuck do you want? I’m not breaking any laws. I’m just sitting here, having a beer.”
Adam’s stance appeared casual, but Jason knew that, in this case, appearances absolutely were deceiving. “Actually, if you’re sitting here and plotting revenge on a person that would result in a chargeable offense—maybe planning on how you’re going to carry out that revenge—you are breaking a law.”
“Fuck you. I saw you over there, too. What the fuck does it matter to you if I want to have a few words with my ex? She file a restraining order against me?”
“Not yet,” Adam said. “And what it matters to me is that it’s my job to protect the people of my town against anyone or anything I perceive to be a threat.”
“We ain’t in no town. I’d be willing to bet that you don’t actually have any legal jurisdiction here at all, do you?”
“You’d lose that bet,” Adam said. “The town of Lusty recently annexed this piece of land, and therefore, it now officially includes the roadhouse.” Adam looked at Jason. “It just made everything easier for everyone, under certain circumstances.”
Like the one we’re in now where we’re all having a chummy conversation. Not.
Bryce sighed, and then he spun around on his stool. He blinked when he saw Marcus there, standing tall and buff, arms folded, and a scowl on his face.
“Look, it’s a free fucking country, and I can go where I want to go. I can speak to who I want to speak to. That fucking bitch sitting over there put me in jail, and I mean to have my say to her, whether you like it or not.”
“I asked her if she wanted to speak to you,” Adam said. “And she said no. It may surprise you to know that I’ve read your file, Jordan, and the transcript of your court-martial. The only person who put you in jail was you. Leave here, Mr. Jordan. Go back to Dallas and carry on with your life. There’s nothing for you here but more trouble than you can possibly handle.”
Jason could see that Bryce Jordan was pissed. He scowled over toward the back of the dining room where Leesa sat. Jason didn’t follow his line of vision. He knew Phillip was watching and would make sure to distract their woman so there was no chance of her returning her ex’s stare.
The sound of Leesa’s laughter assured him that there were others also seeing to it she didn’t worry about what was happening here at the bar. And the sound of that laughter drew him. He turned his attention back on Bryce Jordan then met Adam’s gaze.
“I’m heading back to the table.”
The look Adam gave him then told him he was doing the right thing. And that was nice, because he had been doing his best to get to know these cousins and let them get to know him.
But at that exact moment, the only thing that mattered to Jason was Leesa. And in Jason’s estimation, he’d already been away from his woman long enough.
* * * *
He knew how to make a plan, and he knew how to be patient. He’d thought that, by now, he’d have been off living his new life of leisure. Everything was ready for him to retire. He just needed one more thing. He just wanted to close one final case, as it were. Get one more really big payday. Leesa Jordan had the information he needed. And he’d have that final piece of his own cosmic puzzle very, very soon.
Everything is under control. I just have to be a bit more patient. True, finding another agent in the vicinity had given him a moment, but when he understood that Alvarez—fuck that hyphenated name he was going by now—lived in this town, he wrote the bastard off as being no threat at all.
He knew the bureau he’d worked for this past twenty years. Not a one of those so-called managers would give Alvarez the time of day. They could say they were all for equal rights based on sexual orientation, but that was just talk.
Bateman kept the door of the roadhouse under surveillance as the evening progressed. He’d known Jordan had left Dallas and checked into the motel out by the interstate. He’d given him directions to Lusty and had mentioned that, occasionally, Leesa had been known to stop in here for a drink.
He’d chuckled as Jordan had pulled into the parking lot earlier, parking in the corner closest to the state highway to do some less than professional surveillance of his own.
He’d kept Jordan in sight and then smiled when he saw another arrival—Leesa Jordan with Jason Benedict and his silent, none-too-swift-looking cousin. The three had entered the roadhouse, and he sat back, ready for this to be over.
Bateman blinked. What the fuck? That dumbass was actually going into the place, instead of waiting outside for his ex to come out. What the hell did he hope to do? Confront her in there, take a shot at her in front of all those witnesses?
Fuck me. He had one job. All he had to do was follow her, then lure her to him when no one else was around. Well, no one but himself. The plan called for Bateman to be Jordan’s witness that
