Let It Ride (15 page)

The new suit would help.

And it was time for her break. She checked her phone messages first thing as usual and listened to Mrs. Simco's report on her mom, then there was a strange message from Cole.

“Jordan, need to talk to you,” he said. Just hearing his voice made her pulse jump and skitter. He'd be in Texas by now.

“I wanted to do this in person, but—” His voice sounded slurred and there were some weird noises in the background. “I know now.” Some more noise that sounded as if he was fumbling with the phone. “I know what I want, Jordan.”

Jordan squeezed her eyes shut. He sounded drunk.

“Major Jackson!” Jordan heard some female's voice and more phone fumbling. “The doctor said you're to be resting. Oh, you're burning up.” And the phone clicked off.

Doctor? Burning up? Jordan called the number on her received calls list. A woman answered, “University Medical Center.” Cole was in the hospital?

She quickly ended the call and grabbed her backpack, then headed for the time clock to punch out. The timecard was slid halfway in when she caught herself.

What was to be gained by her being there? There was nowhere for their relationship to go. Relationship? Hah. They didn't even have a relationship.

What had Cole said? She replayed the message. Her
heart squeezed when she concluded it was probably pain meds that made him sound slurred. And yet…what was the difference? He still hadn't been in his right mind. Would he have even called her if he hadn't been in such a condition?

She punched in Alex's number. Alex would know what to do and who to notify. After giving her the information, Jordan slipped her phone inside her backpack and returned to work on the casino floor.

It wasn't long before she was just going through the motions. Her mind was spinning. What had happened? Was he going to be okay? Maybe she should go to him.

She didn't wait for another break to call Alex to see if Cole was okay. Relationship or not, she had to know what was going on. If she got fired, she really couldn't have cared less.

 

E
ARLY
Tuesday morning Alex banged on Mitch's apartment door.

McCabe jerked the door open wearing nothing but low-riding jeans, looking red-eyed, disheveled and hungover.

Alex bit back a smile and folded her arms. A smidgeon of satisfaction sparked at getting revenge for the other night. But it hit her that he was really worried. He truly cared for Jackson. If only he'd let that caring person out of its closely guarded prison.

“You got news?” McCabe growled.

“Jackson's in the hospital.”

In an instant, Mitch's posture stiffened and his gaze became alert. “He's okay, though. Right?”

“He'll be fine.”

“Well, why the hell didn't someone call?” He left her in the doorway and disappeared down the hall.

Alex followed him inside the apartment and plunked down on his couch. “Your cell must be dead. I keep telling you to get a land line.”

Mitch poked his head around the corner of the hallway. “I need to shower. Come on back and fill me in while I shave.” Then he disappeared into his bedroom again.

Alex froze. Then she blinked. Then she swallowed. Fine. She pushed off the sofa and sauntered down the hall to his bedroom. She could do this. He'd be in the bathroom anyway.

He was standing at his bathroom counter—in his underwear—shaving as she passed the bathroom door and sat on his bed. No big deal, Hughes. No big deal. They'd been friends for a long time.

Man, why had she never noticed how fine his butt looked in tighty whities?

“So, what happened?” he called out. Alex jumped, shocked at her thoughts. Get your mind in the game, Hughes.

“He wrecked his bike Sunday night. Out in the middle of nowhere. Walked for a while and then finally hitched a ride back to town. No major injuries. Broken ribs, concussion, a banged-up knee. But otherwise good.”

“How'd you find out? My cell couldn't have been dead for long. I was still out looking for him until I came home to grab a few hours of shuteye.”

“Yeah, that's the thing. The only person he called from the hospital was Jordan.”

“The Keno girl?”

Alex heard the shower curtain yanked back and the water turned on. Was he naked? Argh! What was the matter with her? “Yeah, but evidently he was hopped up on medication and wasn't making much sense. Jordan got scared. She was at work and couldn't leave, so she called me.”

Alex heard Mitch swear long and in great detail from behind the shower curtain. “What about his AWOL status?”

“Grady's working on it. But he says Jackson was talking crazy when he called.”

The shower turned off, the curtain yanked back again. Alex bolted off the bed and paced to the window just as Mitch came out in nothing but a towel. Why was this bothering her all of a sudden? She'd seen him in his underwear before. Hell, she'd seen him in a towel before.

“What kind of crazy stuff?” Alex heard Mitch open a drawer and close it, and then the closet door opened.

“Grady said Jackson told him he was going to quit the Air Force. Said he was going to ask for a discharge.”

Another long string of curse words filtered from the closet, and then Mitch walked out buttoning his uniform shirt. “He had to be out of his mind. I'll talk to him. Let's go.”

“Take your own car, I have to be at work in a couple of hours.”

 

“M
AJOR
Jackson?”

Cole winced and blinked his eyes open. Then shut them against the bright light.

“Major Jackson, can you hear me?” an unfamiliar male voice roared next to his ear, splitting his head into jagged pieces.

“I'm sure everyone in Nevada can hear you,” Cole grumbled. His head throbbed like a son of a bitch. He raised a hand to cover his eyes, but something tugged on his arm. He opened one eye and stared at the IV attached to the back of his hand.

He dropped his hand and looked in the direction of the voice. A young African-American man in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck stood peering at him.

Producing a penlight, the doc leaned over Cole, poked his eyelid open and fired a light into first one eye, then the other. “Pupils responding. Do you know where you are, Major?”

“In hell?”

The doc grunted. “His sense of humor's intact. I guess he can have visitors for a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” That was Grady's voice. And Grady shaking the doc's hand.

Silence permeated the room for several long seconds. It was so quiet Cole could hear voices outside and down the hall.

Grady stalked to the window, and opened the blinds to a sunny Las Vegas day. “I contacted your commander at Lackland. He wants to be notified as soon as you're discharged here.”

Cole cleared his throat. “Thanks.” He reached for the pitcher of water on the table beside his bed and his head exploded. “Think I could get some aspirin?”

Grady stalked over to Cole and poured him some water as McCabe strode in, with Hughes right behind him.

“You know, Jackson, if you've got a thing for nurses, there are easier ways to get their attention.” McCabe flashed a huge grin and wiggled his brows.

Cole smiled, glad to see his friends. “McCabe, you dog. I was just telling Grady, here, that I'm fine. You can't keep using me as an excuse to get out of work.” His grin faded and his gaze shifted to Hughes, who was standing behind McCabe. “Did you talk to her?”

Hughes stepped forward, shaking her head. “She has a job interview this morning. Give her some time.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember her saying—”

“Come on, Jackson,” McCabe scoffed. “You aren't seriously thinking about getting out?”

Cole nodded. “As soon as I report to Lackland I'm going to request a discharge.”

“Jackson, think about what you're doing.” McCabe's voice was strained. “You've got twelve years of service. How bad can controlling air traffic in Texas be?”

“That's not it. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I want to do with my life. And I need to be out there. On the front line, making a difference.”

“What are you planning?” Hughes studied him, her eyes narrowed.

Cole grinned and spread his arms wide. “What else? Las Vegas P.D.”

While Grady raised his brows, and Hughes nodded her approval, McCabe's jaw dropped. “Police? You want to be a cop?”

“If they'll have me. I'll have to pass the tests, and the physicals, but…yeah.” And as soon as he started that ball rolling, he'd move on to his next mission: win back a woman's love and then spend the rest of his life loving her.

Jordan. He missed the sound of her voice, her touch, her smile.

There were inherent risks involved in his plan, but the thrill buzzing around inside him told him he'd begun a new adventure. The quest of a lifetime. Winning Jordan back would be the biggest challenge of his life. Cole smiled. He did love a good challenge.

I
T WAS
her first day at her new job. And Jordan loved the work. She had a salaried position she'd dreamed of for years. Her own cubicle. Some nice coworkers. And last week, she'd had a heartfelt goodbye party at The Grand where everyone had chipped in to buy her a gift card to her favorite department store.

But when a florist delivered an arrangement of red and yellow roses to her cubicle that morning, Jordan's heart soared. She knew what that particular combination of colors meant. And she knew only one other person with that knowledge.

Cole.

Two weeks. Two weeks since she'd last seen him.

In two weeks her life had completely changed. She'd been offered the position with Nevada Power and had accepted it. The building where she worked was downtown, within blocks of a bus stop. She'd given notice at The Grand and found a well-run adult day-care facility for her mother. And now she worked days and had weekends off like a regular person.

So how did Cole know where she worked?

Alex.

She fished a five-dollar bill out of her wallet and stuffed it into the deliveryman's hand, hardly waiting until he left before snatching the card from its plastic holder.

Jordan drew in a long slow breath. Why did he have to reopen the wound? There was no point. That chapter of her life was closed.

“Beautiful roses.”

Jordan looked up and realized she'd been staring at the card while holding her breath. “Too beautiful not to share,” she said as she picked up the vase. Without giving herself a chance to think twice, she carried the bouquet to the break room and set them on the table. Out of her sight.

But Cole was never really out of her thoughts.

She could keep herself busy in her waking hours. Yet when she slept, that's when he invaded her mind. When she dreamed, it was of Cole.

Cole, handing her a bag with a carton of Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Cole, playing cards with her mom. Cole on his motorcycle, his shirt open to her touch…

The next day at work, Jordan was just about to open her brown-bag lunch when a man appeared at her cubicle wearing a chef's apron and hat. He carried a silver tray with a chrome-covered plate. “Ms. Brenner?”

Jordan blinked up at the man. “Yes?”

“Compliments of a Major Jackson.” He set the tray on her desk and whipped off the cover. The chef had attracted a crowd of her coworkers and several people oohed and awwed. Sautéed shrimp with prosciutto. Pasta and asparagus steaming with flavor. It was the same meal Cole had made for her the night of her graduation.

“Th-thank you,” she finally stuttered.

The chef bowed, and left.

The tray held a slim vase with a single red rose, a thick napkin, silverware, iced tea in a crystal glass, but…

“Wait!” She jumped up and chased after the chef.

He stopped and turned.

“Was there a note or a message?”

“No, ma'am. Just that it was with his compliments.”

“Oh.” Jordan's shoulders sagged. “Thank you again.”

By the time she made it back to her cubicle, the crowd had grown and everyone was staring at her. “I'm so sorry for the disruption.” Her first week at work and what an impression she must be making.

“Are you kidding?” one lady answered for the crowd. “This is the most exciting thing to happen around here in forever.”

“Aren't you going to eat that?” another lady asked.

“Yeah, don't let it get cold,” chimed in the guy who worked across the aisle from her.

Jordan nodded and picked up her fork as everyone wandered away. The meal sure beat a bologna sandwich. The flavors of garlic and cream, several cheeses and shrimp melted together and exploded on her tongue.

What was she supposed to glean from this? Was she supposed to call Cole and thank him? Shouldn't she? That was what he wanted.

Could she?

Once she heard his voice her resolve for a clean break would dissolve. All the pain of the past weeks would be for nothing.

Wasn't it already?

She'd never be able to go back to the clear-cut and simple life she'd lived a couple of months ago. Everything had been black and white then. School: good. Getting swept off her feet: bad.

Now there were shades of gray.

She loved him.

On Wednesday, the largest box of Godiva chocolates Jordan had ever seen, gold-leafed, embossed and heart-shaped, was delivered to her desk. This time there was a note, but the usual crowd of coworkers lingered until she opened the box and offered a piece to everyone.

As soon as the group dissipated, Jordan slipped the sealed note in her purse and headed for the ladies' room.

Her fingers trembled as she peeled open the envelope and pulled out the card.

Cole. She could smell him. Feel him. Hear him.

What was she going to do? This had to stop. Where
was the peace and acceptance she needed to move on? But how could she move on, when he wouldn't let her?

She ducked into a stall and pressed her palms into her eyes. You're an idiot, Jordan Brenner. It was a waste of time feeling sorry for oneself. Trust that you made the right decision, stop letting him sway you, and move on.

Looking down at her palms, she noticed she'd smeared her mascara. Great. She pulled out some tissues and repaired her face as best she could.

On Thursday, he went too far. “Okay, now,
this
has just got to stop.” Jordan fisted her hands on her hips and stared in disbelief.

The security guard had called her down to the lobby of the company's high rise building to sign for a delivery. When she stepped out of the elevator, a man was waiting to hand her a key.

Jordan walked outside and there in the circular drive sat a brand-new, bright-sunshine-yellow Volkswagen Beetle with a huge red ribbon around it and bow on the roof.

The deliveryman holding a clipboard with papers to sign moved to stand beside her. “Jordan Brenner?”

At her nod, he held out a note. “Here's a message for you.”

There was no way Jordan could accept the car, but she snatched the note from his hand.

Jordan burst into a laugh, and then held her fingers over her lips as it turned into a cry. She turned to the man with the clipboard. “I can't sign for this. You'll have to take it back.”

The man blinked. “You don't want it?”

Jordan shook her head as she crossed the street to a park. Cole had to quit doing these things. She sat on a bench, pulled out her cell phone and punched in Alex's number.

“Major Hughes,” Alex answered.

“Is he crazy? I can't accept a car.”

“I tried to tell him.”

“Well, he should have listened to you.”

“Jordan.” Alex sighed. “Just call him.”

“Why doesn't he call me?” Jordan cringed to hear how petty that sounded.

“He thinks you won't listen to what he has to say. And, for what it's worth, you should. What can it hurt?”

“I don't know.”

“Do you love him?”

Jordan paused. “Loving someone and trusting them always to be there for you are two different things.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and then Alex said, “True. I can't argue with that. Talk later.”

“Yeah,” Jordan managed the one syllable past the lump in her throat, and then snapped her phone shut.

 

O
KAY
.
So, maybe she missed his daily gifts.

After a week of not hearing from Cole, Jordan seemed to go through the five stages of grief like a textbook patient.

First there was denial. She didn't care. It was a good thing. She
wanted
to be left alone so she could move on with her life. And she suited action to feelings. After spending the morning at the coin laundry Saturday, Jordan took her mom to the nail salon and celebrated her new salary by getting them both a manicure and pedicure. She couldn't care less about Cole Jackson.

Second was anger. How dare he send her all those romantic gifts? And the notes? What kind of mind game was he playing? Did he understand that he had gotten her hopes up?

After taking her mom to church Sunday morning, Jordan spent the afternoon cleaning her apartment from top to bottom, scrubbing extra hard and extra long just for good measure.

The third stage was bargaining. Maybe she should have called him. Or at least sent a thank-you note. If she called him now, maybe it wouldn't be too late.

On Monday, at work, Jordan picked up her cell phone and almost called Cole a dozen times during the day. In addition, she composed an e-mail thanking him, but she never hit Send. She even started to buy an online greeting card with a corny thank-you message. But at the last minute she canceled it.

This led to the fourth stage of grief: Depression. Of course it was too late. It had always been too late. Their situation was hopeless. How could she have ever believed anything else? Even if she were willing to trust in a long-distance relationship, he'd obviously moved
on when she didn't respond. He got the message. She should be happy. Wasn't that what she wanted?

On Wednesday night she stopped by the store after work, bought a half gallon of double chocolate chunk ice cream and ate it straight out of the carton while her mom watched television.

And at last, the final stage: Acceptance. Thursday morning, a sense of peace hit Jordan as she sat at her desk at work and opened up her e-mail. She accepted that Cole had moved on. That was what she'd needed. And that was why she hadn't responded to his gifts. This was a good thing. Eventually she'd be able to look back on this experience with gratitude for what it had taught her.