Page 33 of Stella's Christmas Rescue
“Stella, I promise, you couldn’t have killed me.”
“You’re not bulletproof, Jordan?—"
“And you shoot like a storm trooper.”
She frowns, “What?”
“Your aim is terrible, hon. I was in no danger from you, you weren’t going to kill me. I promise.”
“Oh. I guess that’s a relief.” She does not look relieved.
“What is it?”
“Hanson left all those guns in the closet, and I’ve always felt safer with them around, but obviously, I don’t know how to use them.”
I shake my head, “That’s no big deal?—"
“If I’m going to keep them around, then I should know how to use them, right? Otherwise, someone could use them against me, or I could shoot someone I care about. Would you teach me?”
I nod, “I’d be happy to.” Flashing lights blink in the front windows. Wes is here. “I’m going to go get dressed before they come in. You’ll be alright alone to answer the door?”
She smiles, “Don’t want your Marine Corps brother to see you in my flowery robe?”
“Not particularly.”
12
Once the agents do their initial pass, they hook up my electricity. They attach a backup generator designed to kick on automatically, if the power goes out for any reason. After all of that is settled, the doctor in Wes’ team takes Jordan to the living room for his exam.
In the dining room, I tell Wes everything I know. His brow furrows at parts and his lips tighten, too. I get the distinct impression he’s frustrated. It almost makes me happy. He says, “I’ll be speaking to my supervisor to see about getting you some more local protection, but even with the increase in attacks, she won’t approve your relocation. I asked.”
For the first time I’ve known him, he sounds angry. It’s refreshing. “I know you’re trying to get me out of here and Wes,I appreciate it,” my voice shakes less this time. I wonder if that means I’m doing okay, or if I’m officially losing my mind. “What about Jordan’s feet? He needs real medical attention, I know it. Like a hospital with doctors and surgery and antibiotics. I’m sure your people are great, but it’s not the same and we both know it.”
We subtly turn to look at Jordan, without him noticing us. He’s on the couch in the living room, under examination from one of the agents. Wes quietly mutters, “He says he’s fine.”
I whisper, “Do you believe him?”
“No. But he’s a big boy, so it’s not my choice.” He shrugs.
If I think about it too hard, then I’ll worry too much about Jordan and get sidetracked. I turn my attention directly to Wes. “Did you find out anything about the last attacker? Anything from the blood samples, or?—"
“I’m sorry, but no. We don’t have his information in any law enforcement databases. But since we have new samples, hopefully we’ll get something good out of all this,” he gestures around my house, “havoc, and then maybe it’ll all be worth it, right?”
My foot is tapping. “Will it?”
He smiles with pity in his eyes, “It was a rhetorical question. Of course, it will. We will catch them, and we will get Riker, and we will make you safe.”
I sigh. “Maybe.”
“I know this is hard on you?—"
“Hard on me? Are you kidding? This is?—"
“Something my people will handle. There are two main roads in and out of Floyd. I will have agents posted to watch for anything suspicious, as soon as I get the approval,” he smiles.
“Why not post them here?”
His eyes dart to Jordan, then back to me. His voice is quiet again, “You have protection here.”
