Corporate Affair (8 page)

Jordan laughed. “Oh, no, I just live up the street a short distance. I’ll be fine. I’m just not feeling—well, I’m just not feeling right. We’ll talk again in the morning. Thank you for the lovely dinner. I’m encouraged about the transition of ChatDotCom.” She stood again, and Fenton stood with her.

“I have a feeling we’re closing in on this and we can wrap it up tomorrow to everyone’s satisfaction,” he said.

“I’m sure we will,” said Jordan, but Aiden sensed it was an automatic response just to be polite. It was obvious she was feeling awful. He watched as she wrapped her pashmina around her shoulders, picked up her bag, and headed for the door. Her walk seemed even shakier than before.

Aiden pulled out his wallet and put down fifteen dollars for a tip for the server. Then he signed the check with his name and room number. He made up his mind he would at least follow Jordan out to the parking lot, just to make sure she was all right. He was about to stand when Fenton’s voice caught in his ear. He was talking softly into his phone.

“Yes, police?”

Aiden froze in his chair and listened.

“Yes, I’m eating dinner at the Inn here in town, and a young woman has just left the dining room. Yes. Yes. Obviously inebriated. Yes. She could hardly walk. I heard her say she was driving home. She said she was fine to people who offered to drive her, but trust me, she’s not. Yes, that would be prudent. Oh, she’s wearing a dark green dress. Has a shawl over her shoulders. Red hair. Or dark red, yes. Thank you. Yes, I’m just concerned, that’s all. Don’t want anyone to get hurt. Yes. You’re welcome.” Then he slipped the phone back into his breast pocket.

Aiden’s mouth was dry. Everything hit him in the same instance. Fenton was setting Jordan up for some nefarious plan of his own. He must have put something into her drink when she wasn’t paying attention. Hurriedly, Aiden stood and walked quickly from the dining room. Hopefully, he would not be too late. If she got behind the wheel, she would be breaking the law as well as endangering herself and whoever she might meet on the drive home.

Once through the big front door, Aiden broke into a run, jogging down the row of cars parked on the street outside the Inn. He didn’t even know what kind of car she drove. Desperately he craned his neck, trying to see through the half-darkness. Then he saw movement at the end of the line of cars: Jordan. She was leaning on a black Jeep Grand Cherokee, repeatedly pushing the lock mechanism. Aiden could see the lights flashing on and off. He saw her open the door and ran as fast as he could, calling out to her. “Jordan! Jordan! Stop!”

He reached her just as she got behind the wheel, the ignition key in her hand. He took her forcefully by the arms and lifted her out of the car.

“What the hell! Hey!” she shouted at him. “What are you doing? Get your hands off me! Let go of me!”

“You can’t drive,” Aiden started to explain. He was breathing hard, but not from physical exertion.

“Get away from me or I’ll start screaming!” She began to rummage in her purse. “I’m calling the police right now!”

It was then that Aiden saw the flashing blue lights of the police cruiser. “Somebody saved you a call,” he said wryly.

The cruiser pulled up close behind Jordan’s car, blocking any movement. A big uniformed officer got out, flashlight in hand.

“Jordan!” the officer exclaimed, recognizing her.

“John…John,” she stammered, unable to finish her sentence.

“What’s going on here?” said the officer.

Aiden spoke up, “We were having dinner, officer. She didn’t feel well, and we came out here to lock up her car. I’m going to give her a ride home.”

The big man turned to Jordan. “Is this true, Jordan?”

Aiden held his breath. He watched as Jordan blinked hard and leaned back against the vehicle.

“Y-Y-Yes,” she said weakly, “that’s right. I wasn’t…I-I don’t feel very good.”

Aiden exhaled and unclenched his hands. The police officer turned to him. “I’m John Giamo, Clark’s Corners Chief of Police,” he said. “I’ve known Jordan since she was a child. She babysat for my kids. Just who might you be?”

Aiden cleared his throat and met the man’s eyes. He noticed immediately that, although Giamo’s general appearance was bland and ordinary, his eyes reflected an intelligence that was undeniable. They reminded Aiden of a hawk’s eyes, missing nothing.

Aiden recovered his self-confidence. Jordan was going along with his ruse. “I’m Aiden Stewart,” he said. “Ms. Fitzgerald and I were having a dinner meeting, a business meeting.”

“Becky got a call at the station about an inebriated young woman in a dark green dress,” the police chief said. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw it was you. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, yes, my stomach hurts and I feel dizzy,” she replied, “but I’m not drunk. I just had ginger ale. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe you ate something bad,” said Giamo. “Bill Noyes better check his kitchen. Say hi to your parents for me. Hope you’re feeling better.” He nodded at Jordan but then glared at Aiden sharply.

“I’ll get her home safely,” Aiden said, finally relaxing a little as the officer got back into his cruiser and drove away.

Aiden took a deep breath. The cool night air felt good in his nostrils. “Let me have the keys and I’ll drive you home,” he said gently.

Jordan put her hands up to her eyes. “What’s going on?” she asked. “I didn’t have anything, yet I feel like I drank a fifth of rot-gut whiskey. It must have been bad food.”

“What did you have to eat?”

“Prime rib,” she said weakly. “Don’t talk to me about food.”

“I had the same thing and I’m fine. I’ll tell you what happened.”

She looked up at him and suddenly her face went white.

“What’s wrong?” Aiden asked urgently. “Are you going to faint?”

“Oh…oh,” Jordan said softly. “I-I think I’m going to be sick. Get away. Get away from me.” She waved her hand at him, turned, and slumped against the car. Aiden reached out and gripped her arms, holding her up.

“Maybe you need to go to the emergency room,” he said. “I think Fenton put something in your drink.”

“No! Don’t take…don’t take me anywhere. I can’t go…go home like this. I can’t let anybody see me like this. I’ll be fine in a minute. Just let me lie down. I’ll scream if you touch me.”

Aiden ignored her. “Can you still walk? Here, lean on me.” He slipped his arm around her waist and held her close to his body. “We’re going up to my room.”

He began to walk slowly back, half dragging the semi-conscious woman. He felt her sigh. Feeling the warmth of her body, he gripped her more tightly, protectively, as he guided her across the parking lot. He felt her shudder a little, and it seemed to Aiden that she was finally willing to surrender to his help as she slumped against him.

It was ten o’clock as they entered the lobby. Aiden was thankful that it was dimly lit and there was nobody behind the desk. He saw the stairway ahead and knew he would have to get her up to the safety of his room before they were seen. She was nearly dead weight now. He glanced around, and seeing no one, he carefully arranged her pashmina around her face to shield her from any surveillance cameras that might be there. Then he lifted her into his arms and made his way up the stairs.

Jordan nestled snug against his chest. For such a tall girl, she didn’t feel particularly heavy or awkward to carry. Aiden climbed the stairs, holding her close. As he fumbled with his key in the door of his room, he could feel her heart beating next to his own.

Aiden carried Jordan to the bed and laid her down. She seemed to be sleeping now, and some of her color had returned. He positioned her head comfortably on the pillow, brushing her long hair back from her face. He paused a minute, feeling the softness of it, before pulling the comforter gently over her.

He turned and locked the door, thinking,
Now what?
Again he gazed at the woman asleep in his bed. Aiden ran his fingers through his hair. He had probably just blown the most important thing his father had ever entrusted him to do, but well, unforeseen circumstances had interfered with his carefully laid plans. He crossed the room and pulled down the blinds, shutting out the dim glow from the old-fashioned street light outside. He switched on the small lamp on the dresser. It was a three-way bulb, and he turned it to its lowest wattage. He paced the room for a minute or two, confused, glancing at Jordan repeatedly, watching for the rise and fall in the comforter that indicated she was still breathing evenly.

Finally, he blew through his lips in exasperation, and pulling off his shoes, he climbed up on the bed and sat beside her, propped up on pillows. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and began to play Angry Birds. Jordan was breathing regularly; it appeared any danger was probably past. Aiden would wait for her to sleep it off.

Chapter Five

T
HE
F
IRST
S
ENSATION
J
ORDAN
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AS
A
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F
was one of being safe and warm. She stirred slightly under the soft comforter that covered her. As she pulled herself up into consciousness, she thought she must be in her own bed, her baby beside her. Something was vaguely different, though. She moved her hand, but there was no baby beneath it. Even before she was fully awake, panic began to set in. Where was she? Who was in bed with her? She moaned and opened her eyes. The realization hit her like a stone: she was not home, and she was not alone. Her eyes would not focus. The panic exploded in a rush of adrenaline. Jordan threw the comforter off and vaulted from the bed. In the half-light, she stumbled on something on the floor and cried out in pain.

A man shot up from the other side of the bed, and a cell phone clattered to the floor.

“What the hell!” yelled Jordan. “What the hell is going on? What am I doing here? Who are you?” A sudden dizziness set upon her, and she reeled.

In an instant, Jordan was caught in the man’s arms as she sank to her knees. She mounted an effort to get away, and she stood again. “Get your hands off me!” she mumbled.

“It’s me, Aiden. Aiden Stewart. Calm down. You’ll wake the whole building.”

“Let—go—of—me!” She struggled to break free of his grip.

Aiden dropped his arms and stepped away, his back to the door. “Calm down,” he repeated. “Let me tell you what happened.”

Jordan said nothing. She stood there, motionless, her hands clenched, her hair in a wild halo around her head and shoulders. And despite the pain in her stomach, her eyes widened in anger.

Aiden cleared his throat. “I think Fenton drugged your drink. He set you up, Jordan.”

Jordan blinked. This couldn’t be happening. “You’re lying,” she said in a deadly voice, but Aiden shook his head.

“I’m telling you the truth,” he said. He was beginning to relax. His voice slowed, and he talked more confidently. “Will you please listen to me?”

The room was beginning to spin again. Jordan sat back down on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor.
I might as well hear what he has to say
, she thought. “Go ahead.”

“How much do you remember?” When Jordan didn’t answer, Aiden went on. “I was at dinner, seated just a couple of tables away from you, when you came in with Fenton. You didn’t see me, and he doesn’t know me. I could hear pieces of your conversation. I knew you were talking about Chat. Then, when you got up to go to the ladies’ room, I could see something had happened. I knew you didn’t feel well. At first I thought you drank too much.”

Jordan made a sarcastic sound. “I just had ginger ale,” she said emphatically.

Aiden continued, gaining confidence. “By the time you got back, I could see you were sick. When you left to go home, I overheard Fenton calling the police, reporting an inebriated woman in a green dress leaving the Inn.”

Jordan lifted her head and looked at Aiden. Her eyes had adjusted to the partially lighted room, and she could make out his features now. She could see his concern. Her heart, which had been pounding in her chest, began to slow. “Fenton called the police?” she asked slowly.

Aiden nodded. “Yes,” he said. “He wanted them to pick you up. He must have put something in your drink to mimic intoxication, to impair you. Do you remember anything about what happened?”

Jordan looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. “Are you making this up? Are you lying to me?” She still could not wrap her mind around such an incredulous scenario.

Aiden spoke sharply. “Jordan, this is serious! I’m telling you the truth. Now what do you remember?”

Jordan flexed her shoulders and brushed her unruly hair back from her face. Her stomach still hurt, and she felt weak and queasy. She tried to concentrate.

“I remember dinner, of course,” she said slowly, not looking up from her hands. “I remember dinner and then, and then—” Jordan looked up and found Aiden’s eyes, full of compassion and concern. She smiled ever so slightly. “And then I remember you. I remember you running toward me. I was only trying to get into my car and drive home. I was feeling so sick. You were yelling at me. You scared me.”