A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney #2)(63)

Of course, three people in the room knew the true answer to that question. But Jordan maintained her poker face, as did the U.S. attorney.

“Because it’s the fair thing to do, Mr. Rhodes. That’s the best answer I can give you,” Cameron said. “One thing, however—for appearances’ sake, I think it would be best if you spent tonight at the hospital. And I’d appreciate it if you would keep a low profile over the next couple weeks.”

“Not a problem. It’s not like I have an active social calendar these days,” Kyle said.

“Sit back and put your left leg on the table,” Agent Pallas told him. He unzipped the backpack and pulled out a black ankle monitor.

Kyle lifted the leg of his jumpsuit. “I don’t know what to say,” he said to Cameron. “Thank you, I guess. It’s good to see they’ve replaced Silas Briggs with someone who’s a little more reasonable.” He grinned. “Not to mention, someone with a much prettier face.”

Agent Pallas snapped the ankle monitor on, and Kyle yelled out in pain.

“Son of a bitch, you got some skin there!” he said to Pallas.

Cameron threw the FBI agent a look. “Jack.”

He shrugged. “It slipped.” He turned back to Kyle with a look that could wilt plants.

“Easy there, Wolverine,” Kyle grumbled. “Put the claws back in—I meant no disrespect.”

There was a knock at the door. Mr. Cranky the prison guard stuck his head in. “Hey—we’ve got a package for Sawyer.”

“You’re getting deliveries at the hospital already?” Jordan asked her brother.

Agent Pallas went to the door. He took the package from Mr. Cranky, which turned out to be a blue garment bag, and brought it into the room. He hung the bag on the back of the door, unzipped it, and did a quick check of the contents.

“Clothes? Did you arrange for that?” Cameron asked Jack.

He shook his head. “Must’ve been one of the other agents.” He stole a glance at Jordan, and she knew.

Nick.

Cameron clapped her hands together. “Well. I’m sure you two don’t want us hanging around any longer.” She pulled a card out of her jacket pocket and handed it to Kyle. “This is the contact information for your probation officer. He’ll be expecting you to call him tomorrow when you get home. Remember, we’ll be watching.” She joined Agent Pallas at the door, and paused before the two of them left. “And stay away from Twitter, Mr. Rhodes. For all our sakes.” With an efficient turn of her heel, she was gone.

“Are they serious?” Kyle asked Jordan. “I can just walk out of here tomorrow?”

She shrugged innocently. “Looks that way.” She pointed to the garment bag. “Let’s see what’s inside.”

Kyle got up from the hospital bed and walked over to the bag. He unzipped it and pulled out jeans and a gray long-sleeved shirt. “Jeans.” He fingered the material, turning quiet. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “Never thought I’d be so glad to see denim in my life.”

He regrouped and threw Jordan a wry look. “Who’d have thought the FBI could be so thoughtful?”

She came over and rested her head against her brother’s shoulder. Or one agent in particular, at least. “I think there’s more to some of these FBI guys than meets the eye.”

The door flew open and Grey Rhodes rushed in, looking harried despite his tailored sport coat and dark pants. He saw Kyle, exhaled in relief, and rested his hands on his knees like he might pass out from running. “You’re here.”

“Not for long.” Kyle threw his arms out with a grin. “Starting tomorrow, I’m a free man.”

Grey looked over at Jordan. “They didn’t say he had a head injury.”

Jordan smiled. “No, it’s true, Dad. Kyle’s been released from prison. And he was stabbed with a fork.”

Her brother stared at the ceiling. “I’m going to be hearing about this for years, aren’t I?”

“Kyle, dear brother of mine, you have no idea.”

“EVERYTHING OKAY, XANDER?”

The question came from Will Parsons, who was once again on duty as general manager that night. Bordeaux was packed, as expected. Xander stood in the doorway between the main lounge and wine bar, a position from which he could see virtually the entire club. He wanted to watch for a few minutes. Soak it all in.

“I’m fine,” he told Will. Of course, that wasn’t true.

He was f**ked. He should’ve been satisfied with being the top nightclub and restaurant owner in the city. But a year ago, he’d gotten greedy.

Sure, he could say that no one refused Roberto Martino. And this was true—at least, no one refused Roberto Martino without suffering some very serious consequences. But Xander hadn’t needed to be coerced; he’d been perfectly willing to have Martino invest in his businesses as a silent partner. And now, it seemed, he would pay the price for that.

“I’m heading down to my office. I don’t want to be disturbed,” he told Will.

Will nodded. “Of course.”

Xander cut through the VIP wine bar and entered the security code on the panel next to the door that led to the lower level. As he descended the staircase and walked along the hallway to his office, he ran over the events of his wine tasting two weeks ago—the evening that Nick Stanton, aka Special Agent Nick McCall, had infiltrated the heart of his empire.