Jordan wiped his hand over his face slowly. “I have a team,” he finally told him. “I want to get out there first and access, but contact Heat Seeker and the others. You’re on call. If her identity is in question, then we could be up the creek here.”
It was more than their asses going into the fire, though. It was Tehya. He’d promised her the fear of the past was over, and that no one would know who she was, or where she was.
“That was my thought as well,” Travis answered. “I’ll put the call out.”
Jordan disconnected before turning slowly and staring at the nephew that had somehow grown harder over the years. Rory, named for Jordan’s father, Riordan Malone Sr. At thirty-two Rory had finally grown into himself. His body had matured, his blue eyes hardened, his face acquired strong, lean lines. Hell, he was almost a replica of Noah before the reconstruction to his face.
He’d been working with the Elite Ops backup team in conjunction with a group of army Rangers whose commander Jordan had worked with several times.
Ethan Cooper and his team of Rangers had been deemed unfit for service because of various physical injuries. They were a highly fit fighting force, though, and often worked as “assets” to various agencies until Jordan had picked them up to work with the Elite Ops backup team.
Rory had somehow managed to insert himself into that team, despite Jordan’s objections.
Rory straightened from his position against the post, his blue eyes narrowed as he glanced around, nearly causing Jordan to smile.
They all did that. Him, Rory, and Noah Blake. They were checking to be certain their grandpop was nowhere close, listening.
“He’s at Dad’s,” Jordan informed his nephew.
Rory’s lips quirked for a second before his expression once more became all business. “They found Tey?”
Jordan gave a short nod. “I need to follow up with a few sources before I go to her. I want you to contact Turk and the two of you meet up in Hagerstown asap. I’ll have Travis forward the information to you. Watch her, nothing else. Don’t take your eyes off her, Rory. If she’s taken, then just follow until the team can get there. You’re my only link to her if her father’s enemies snatch her before I can get there.”
“I’m calling in Iron and Casy,” Rory decided. “They can back us up if needed. Two men on this may not be enough. I want two sets of eyes at all times and we can relieve each other that way.”
Damn, Rory was turning into a hell of a covert operative for a team of men who weren’t even supposed to be in service any longer.
“Head out.” Jordan gave him a sharp nod as he mentally began going over the checklist of preparations needed. “I’ll call this evening with an update on my arrival. I should be only hours behind you.” He paused, and almost grimaced before his lips parted with words he had no idea how to speak. He couldn’t find the words to tell Rory how important this was.
His lips clamped shut again.
“No fears, Jordan.” Rory took pity on him. “I understand. She’s like Sabella, right? Priority.”
That was what Sabella had been when word had come through that her first husband, Nathan Malone, was dead. Jordan had known better, but he couldn’t tell Rory that at the time. He’d simply told the boy that Sabella was priority. They were protecting her for Nathan, because that was where Nathan’s heart survived.
Jordan wasn’t going to look into the fact that Rory had picked up on something where Tehya was concerned. He sure as hell wasn’t going to search that mishmash of f**king emotions he couldn’t seem to get a handle on in his own soul.
All he knew was that nothing could happen to Tehya. He hadn’t had a chance to figure out what he felt yet. He hadn’t had a chance to decide the pros and cons of a decision he knew he’d been making for the past nine months. He hadn’t had a chance to see her smile again, laugh again, or piss her off again. He hadn’t had the chance to make love to her again.
And he’d be damned if he’d allow anyone to take those chances from him.
Especially not a past that should have been dead and buried eight years before at the same time her father, Sorrel, had died.
Hagerstown, Maryland
The back of her neck was itching.
Tehya rubbed at her nape, her fingers pushing beneath the heavy fall of rich red-gold curls as they cascaded down her back. As she glanced around the narrow confines of Friendly’s Bar, her lips thinned in irritation.
Nine months away from the Elite Ops wasn’t nearly enough, it seemed. The paranoia that had been part of the life she had lived before Jordan had taken her into the group had returned now.
She had officially been free for nine months. It felt like yesterday.
“Your turn there, Tey.” Voice slurred, body weaving, the customer she was shooting pool with called her attention back to the game.
“Got it, Casey,” she murmured, the music from the jukebox covering her response as she sank the eight ball and shot him a teasing smile before snapping up the wager they had on the game.
“ ’Nother game,” Casey announced, glaring at the table as though it were the table’s fault rather than his own that he’d lost the small wager.
“Not tonight, Casey.” She gave a quick shake of her head as she glanced around the room once again. “Sober up first.”
She swore she could feel eyes watching her, someone stalking her. She’d felt that way for weeks now. No matter where she went or what she did, she had that feeling of impending danger stalking her.
There couldn’t be any danger, though. She was as careful, as cautious, here as she had been most of her life. She never caught anyone tailing her or managed to glimpse anyone tracking her. No one seemed unusually interested in her, and no one appeared to be lingering where they shouldn’t.
The security systems attached to her car as well as surrounding her home never caught anyone sitting in surveillance. No one attempted to break in, nor did they attempt to slip onto her property.
The back of her neck was still itching like hell, though. That primal survival instinct was in high gear, making her restless and ill at ease.
Crossing the small, empty dance floor, she headed back to the bar and ordered another beer as she laid several dollars on the scarred wood slab.
Kyle, the bartender, slid the cold bottle across the bar to her. Gripping it, she lifted it to her lips as she gave the area another quick glance.