A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney #2)(9)
And she would prefer to say nothing at all to the FBI, if they weren’t dangling this bit about Kyle over her head. She gestured to the empty wine shop. “I’m sure whatever it is you have to say, the chardonnays will keep it confidential.”
“I never trust a chardonnay,” Agent McCall said.
“And I don’t trust the FBI.”
The words hung in the air between them. A standstill. Agent Huxley intervened. “I understand your hesitancy, Ms. Rhodes, but as Agent McCall indicated, this is a confidential matter. We have a car waiting out front and would very much appreciate it if you came with us to the FBI office. We’d be happy to explain everything there.”
She considered this. “Fine. I’ll call my lawyer and have him meet us there.”
Agent McCall shook his head. “No lawyers, Ms. Rhodes. Just you.”
Jordan kept her face impassive, but inwardly, her frustration increased. Aside from her general dislike of the FBI because of the way they’d treated her brother, there was an element of pride here. They had come into her store, and this Nick McCall person seemed to think she should jump just because he said so.
So instead, she held her ground. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Agent McCall. You sought me out in the middle of a blizzard, which means you want something from me. Without giving me more, you’re not going to get it.”
He appeared to consider his options. Jordan got the distinct impression that one of those options involved throwing her over his shoulder and hauling her ass right out of the store. He seemed the type.
Instead, he pushed away from the bar and stepped closer to her, then closer again. He peered down at her, his brilliant green-eyed gaze unwavering. “How would you like to see your brother released from prison, Ms. Rhodes?”
Stunned by the offer, Jordan searched his eyes cautiously. She looked for any signs of deceit or trickery, although she suspected she wouldn’t see anything in Nick McCall’s eyes that he didn’t want her to.
A leap of faith. She debated whether to believe him.
“I’ll grab my coat.”
Three
THE DRIVE TO the FBI office took longer than expected given the weather. The roads were terrible, but the SUV made the eight-mile journey without too much trouble. Comfortable behind the wheel despite the ice and snow, Nick took his eyes off the road long enough to steal a glance in the rearview mirror at the passenger in the backseat.
Jordan Rhodes. A billionaire heiress, riding in the backseat of his Chevy Tahoe. Not the way he typically capped off a workday.
She stared silently out the window. Her blond hair fell past the shoulders of her black coat, and she absentmindedly brushed a stray lock out of her eyes. She wore a cream cashmere scarf around her neck—at least he guessed it was cashmere—and matching gloves.
He’d seen photographs of her before, even beyond those Huxley had included in his highly thorough presentation. Given the wealth of her family, and the public’s general interest in her brother’s case, nearly every paper, television, cable, and Internet media outlet had extensively covered Kyle Rhodes’s arrest and guilty plea. Nick recalled seeing several photos of Jordan and her father walking in and out of the courtroom at Kyle’s side.
Objectively speaking, Nick knew she was stunning. No doubt, the long, blond hair, svelte figure, and Caribbean blue eyes would appeal to many a man. With her obviously expensive coat and wholly impractical-for-snow high-heeled boots, she reminded him of the ultra-chic, designer-clad Manhattanites he’d occasionally come across back in his New York days.
Not his type.
First of all, he preferred brunettes. And curves. And women without direct relations locked up in a maximum-security prison. Or an inheritance that rivaled the gross national income of a small country. That kind of wealth had to make a person . . . weird. Probably snobby and flashy, too. The impractical high-heeled boots seemed to be confirmation of this.
From the tight set to her jaw, he could tell that she knew he was watching her.
She didn’t seem to like him very much. He was not particularly troubled by this. The beauty of this assignment was that Jordan Rhodes didn’t have to like him. Huxley was going to be her date at Eckhart’s party—he could be the one to work his charm routine. Assuming Huxley had a charm routine.
Nick’s responsibility, on the other hand, was simply to secure Jordan Rhodes’s cooperation. And to do that, he had to resolve a few unanswered questions first.
“So how’s the wine business these days?” he asked, breaking the silence.
Jordan turned her head away from the window and met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “You don’t need to make small talk with me, Agent McCall. I realize this isn’t a social call.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m not much for uncomfortable silences.”
“What’s your position on uncomfortable conversation?”
Nick had to check his grin at that. Christ, she was a sassy one.
“This is some weather we’re having,” Huxley said, quickly interjecting to keep things light. “Good thing you’ve got four-wheel drive, Nick.”
“True,” he agreed. “Although a Chevy Tahoe can’t be nearly as fun to drive as a Maserati Quattroporte.”
Jordan stared at Nick with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. “You know what kind of car I drive?”