Page 3 of Jordan
"Was it very bad?" She shook her head. "Of course it was. They were trafficking children. That's awful."
He could not discuss the case with her and even if he could, he would not subject her to the horror of what they had found. Abandoned buildings with boarded up walls and debris on the floors. Children tied to bed frames with tears-stained face and bellies gaunt with hunger.
It made him so crazy; he had almost emptied his clip into the Ramono Diaz's skull. But it would have blown his cover and cost him his job. He would just have to be contented that justice will be served and the sick son of a bitch and his cronies would be locked up for the rest of their lives.
"Yeah." Draining the can, he tossed it into the recycle and stole a carrot. "When is the funeral?"
"Saturday." She continued to slice, avoiding his eyes. "You know I have to go."
He understood her loyalty. The woman had looked out for them or tried to make up for her brother's lack, by lending a hand and making sure that Julesa and his mother were given a home when the drunken bastard took his own life. By that time, Caleb had already left to make his own way.
The guilt he felt sometimes ate at him, but he had had to leave, or he would have committed murder. He had wanted to beat his stepfather within an inch of his life. Leaving had been best for all concerned.
He wished he could go with her, but he was never one to cut off his nose to spite his face. And he had work to do. Busting up the operation, one as major as that, meant tons of paperwork, something he could do without. And he could not stomach going back to Winter's Peak. The little town held too many bad memories. He had gone back for their mother's funeral and left right after.
He would never go back. He hated the place with a passion. Small town and small-minded people who had stood by and watched as they were treated like crap. Not to mention the high and mighty Wainwright's who owned the entire frigging lock,stock and barrel. Their mother had worked for the family and been treated like nothing.
Harry Wainwright and his hard as stone wife and their two daughters behaved as if their crap could make meat were as prejudiced as the day was long. He did not want to breathe the same air. So, he was staying away.
Shaking off the troubling memories, he went around the counter to grab a carving knife. "I'm here now," he murmured in a low voice. "You're not alone."
She glanced at him, a smile shimmering. Putting away the knife, she wrapped her hands around his trim waist and just held on. Turning his head, he kissed her forehead gently.
*****
The woman purred, one hand sliding over her voluptuous curves as she stared at the man sitting on the edge of the bed, his chest heaving from the exertion of trying to keep up with her. Joani relished the fact that she was his wife's personal secretary official, unofficially she was Harry Wainwright's mistress and had been a week after she had started working for the prissy Jacquline Wainwright.
The woman looked down her long narrow nose at her and with Joani being black, made it all the worse. Yes, she pretended thatshe was forward thinking and even went as far as hiring her over the other white applicants, but Joani had her ticket and that's why she had entered the illicit relationship in the first place.
Now it was more than rubbing it in the prissy woman's face. She was starting to fall in love with him. She was practical enough to realize that he would never leave his wife, but she wanted children. She was approaching her mid-forties and time was running out on her. He had laid down his rules and she abided by them.
Harry Wainwright was a very generous lover, and her bank account was testimony to that fact. Joani knew he would never jeopardize his position in Winter's Peak and that he saw her in secret, because of his views on any other race except his own.
She did not mind in the least. In the privacy of the apartment, he reserved for them at the edge of town, he was a different person altogether. With her, he was able to shed his stiff and rigid principles and just be himself.
People saw him as arrogant and unapproachable, she saw a man who was addicted to her body and would do anything for her. Within reason.
"You look pensive," she murmured. Kicking off the sheets, she came up behind him and started to knead his shoulders gently. "And tensed. What's going on lover?"
Reaching up a hand, he closed it over hers and felt the familiar lust coursing through his body. He was a man in his sixties, and she was the first lover he had that could make him forget his standing as the most powerful man in Winter's Peak. And the fact that he had a wife and children. She made him feel young and alive and he recognized the fact that he was a little in love with her.
She never nagged him or asked him for anything other than he was able to give her.
"Jordan." The one word was loaded with derision and impatience.
"You have to give him time." Bending, she blew into his ear, sending heat spreading. "He's still young."
"He's in his goddamn thirties," he growled, but the thought of his wayward son was already disappearing into thin air. He had two daughters who had married men picked out for them by him and his wife, but for some reason, his son was determined to defy them.
Joani had heard the same argument for the past five years and made commiserating noises as she continued to rub and knead his flesh. A smile touched her lips as she looked down and saw that very soon, the time for talking was at an end.
Sliding her hands down his chest, she pressed her generous breasts against his back and saw when he started to rise significantly.
"Perhaps we should stop talking altogether," she purred.
"Good plan." Turning around, he pushed her back against the pillows and mounted her.
Chapter 2
