Page 51 of Jordan

Barrett whistled low. “Damn, you’re good.”

Kayli winked. “I know.”

That was when Leeland started rambling, begging, and asking everyone in the room to save him. I opened the vial and squeezed Leeland’s cheeks to get him to part his lips so I could pour it down his throat.

Watching him die wasn’t nearly as satisfying when I could have made him bleed. He did froth at the mouth and twitch enough that I got some enjoyment from seeing his life end.

Kayli and the others would clean up and put him back in his bed where she found him. The stage would be set, and Leeland would take the fall for more than his own crimes. Another asshole was gone from the planet. If I had to kill them off one at a time, I would. No one would ever take what I’d built.

23

HARTLEY

The heat was broken in my rental and the landlord kept giving me the same line that a repairman would be here to fix it. For the past ten hours. I had space heaters running, but I worried about fires, so I only kept them on in the room I was in. At least I was over the flu. If not, I would have been in a world of trouble.

Was it wrong that I wanted to go back to Jordan’s and burrow under a blanket on his couch? At least there I wasn’t alone, and I was warm. I didn’t even spend a lot of time with Vail and Jordan, but it was enough where I wanted more.

I thought I would have heard from either of them, but my phone had been sadly quiet. Keeping busy meant my mind stayed off them, or so I hoped. I still had two more suits to make for Jordan. The heaters were helping my fingers keep from freezing, though it wasn’t easy to get this done while living like I was.

Groaning, I dropped my head back and stared at the ceiling to reminisce about what it was like before my grandfather died, and I took on his debt. When I had a gorgeous studio and people who loved working for me. When I didn’t have to do everything on my own. Right now, I only had Jordan’s suits to make. Those would have been made by me regardless. But with a team of people, I could have had them working on the next season’s fashion line. They could have been getting me ready for a show, for money coming in.

Those weren’t my dreams any longer. My dreams currently consisted of a home that didn’t have a constant draft, working heat, and no debt. Maybe Jordan and Vail too, if I was being greedy, which I didn’t feel I had any right to be. There were many people out there much worse off than I was. At least I had a roof over my head and enough money to pay my bills.

A knock on the door had me breathing out a sigh of relief. Heat, just give me some fucking heat so I could sleep without fear of a space heater catching the house on fire or me freezing to death.

After carefully placing the slacks I was working on down, I went to the door, not even bothering to look through the peephole before opening it. “Thank god you’re—” I drew up short and maybe let out a little squeak. Jordan stood on my doorstep with Reghan behind him. “What are you doing here?” What I should have said was, Please take me with you. I had some dignity left. Not much, but some.

Reghan made a move to step forward to sweep my place like he usually did, but Jordan held up his hand. “Stay here.”

“But, sir…”

“Here.” Jordan stepped inside and shut the door in Reghan’s face.

“I don’t have anything that will harm you,” I told him. “I wouldn’t do that. By now, Reghan should know.”

“He does, but he always looks out for me. That’s why I pay him.” Jordan’s eyebrows drew together as he watched his breath puff out of him like he was still outside. “Why is it cold in here?” He barely contained a growl. I knew it was in there. With him, those growls were always right below the surface.

“The heat’s broken. Someone is supposed to be here.”

“When?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Hartley…” There it was, the growl I expected.

I sighed. “What do you want me to do? I’m not in control of the HVAC guy’s schedule.”

“This is unacceptable. Who’s your landlord?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“You don’t have?—”

“Never mind. I don’t need you to tell me.” He pressed the phone to his ear. “Lawson, give me the phone number of the owner of the property located at…” He rattled off my address and kept talking. I tuned him out. I wasn’t about to tell him not to call my landlord. It was far too cold in here. If this was how he treated his tenants, I shuddered to think of others who were cold in their homes.

Jordan pulled the phone away from his head and started another call. He asked the person who answered if they owned my rental. That slimy voice came over the phone. I was close enough to hear it where I stood. That voice I hated because nothing good ever came from talking to him. Case in point, my hands going numb from the cold now that I was away from the heaters.

“Do you know who I am?” Jordan asked but didn’t give him time to respond. “Let me tell you. My name is Jordan Altair, and you own property in my city. No, you don’t get to speak yet. A property in your name is one I’m currently standing in. There is no heat, and your tenant is freezing.”

There was only a slight pause while my landlord started apologizing and Jordan silently seethed.

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