Page 4 of Exhale (Out for Justice #8)

T he house before Jordan in the quiet neighborhood looked as it always had…

Peaceful.

The trip to the sprawling brownstone from the Nightfall Drifter’s ranch had been a few hours, so Jordan took the time to stretch his legs when he slid from behind the wheel of his borrowed SUV.

The front door opened, and Marsha Richardson stepped out onto the porch, waving like crazy. Her smile was so big that Jordan couldn’t help but smile back.

“Jordan!” Zoey, Marsha’s teenage daughter, darted around her mother and charged down the stairs.

When Zoey threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly, Jordan squeezed her tight.

“I was wondering when you’d get here!” Zoey said happily, putting him at arm’s length.

“Let him come inside,” Tom Richardson said from his spot next to Marsha on the porch.

The couple had been married for thirty-three years and had lived in the same home for almost as long. It was evident by the homey clutter and feel when he stepped inside.

Every time he came here, Jordan felt comfortable, like putting on a favorite sweater. The place smelled amazing, like baked apple pie and brownies. Marsha was a baker, and because she had known he was coming, she had gone to town on desserts.

Photographs of their three children, in various stages of growing up, hung on the walls and littered every available space on the living room wall unit and adjacent shelves.

Zoey linked her arm with his and drew him into the kitchen. She was the youngest at nineteen, followed by Scott at twenty-four, and then Cindi coming in as the oldest at twenty-six.

Jordan was close to them all and was sorry to hear that Scott and Cindi couldn’t make it for his visit.

Jordan had met them all by accident one blistering hot summer in Morristown, Arizona.

It had happened out of the blue when he had taken a job three years ago. He had just finished up his part at the local cybercrimes division. They had needed his help with catching a perp wanted in connection with money laundering.

Heading out after the job was done, he was starving, so he stopped at an all-night diner in Phoenix, Arizona, on his way out of town.

It was there that he noticed a sixteen-year-old Zoey, at the time, looking pale and scared out of her wits. She was sitting in a booth with two unkempt men, and something about the whole thing struck him as odd.

So, Jordan waited.

He finished his burger and fries and ordered coffee.

One of the men reached over and pulled the ball cap the girl wore down over her forehead in a ploy Jordan was sure was designed to hide her face.

Zoey lifted her head and glared at the guy. The bright black and blue bruise surrounding her eye and covering her cheek was clearly visible.

Jordan stayed where he was at the counter and waited. But he knew what those bruises meant. Even if the young girl was related to the two men—and he didn’t think she was—those marks spoke of abuse. And he was going to do anything and everything in his power to help her.

So, he did.

He hadn’t done much, really, but when the waitress came back to the counter with his fresh coffee and the bill, he handed her a napkin. On it, he wrote for her to call 911 about a suspected kidnapping.

The waitress was smart and crinkled the napkin in her hand and disappeared into the back room.

Sure enough, the cops pulled into the cracked and cratered parking lot about ten minutes later. No flashing lights, just a police cruiser parking as if they were stopping for dinner.

Around that point, Jordan got up and went toward the restrooms. He didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. Plus, he could be of more help coming in from behind.

When the cops entered, the two officers walked directly toward the table where the two men sat with the girl.

Before the cops could say anything, one of the men grabbed Zoey. Sliding out of the booth, the guy dragged her along and held a knife to her throat. The asshole tried to hide behind the slender teenager.

The fucker couldn’t completely hide because of their size difference, but it was enough to make the policeman hesitate after drawing his gun.

Jordan slipped silently out of the hallway and pulled his own piece, a Sig Sauer P365—he preferred the smaller weapon versus the bigger nine-millimeter.

Jordan nudged the barrel against the back of the perp’s head.

“Drop the knife or you’re dead,” Jordan said.

The guy dropped the knife and released the girl. Jordan grabbed her and spun her away from the perp.

“Drop it!” the cop growled at him, and Jordan dropped his gun to the floor and held the girl when she wrapped her arms around him and hung on.

She cried and thanked him over and over, telling the cops that he wasn’t involved. The waitress vouched for him as well, saying he had given her the note to call 911.

It had actually taken a phone call to the chief of police to confirm his identity and stop him from being arrested. The respect in the officers’ was noteworthy when they realized he was with Pegasus.

Later, Jordan sat with Zoey on the ambulance’s tailgate. They were still there when Zoey’s parents arrived. Marsha and Tom Richardson had crushed Zoey tightly in their arms. Her brother and sister sobbed, holding onto the small, closely knit group.

The good news was that Zoey had been recently abducted, and the two men had not had time to rape her.

The bad news was that Jordan knew Zoey would forever be scarred from the incident.

Zoey told her parents everything about how Jordan had saved her. Marsha launched into his arms, and Jordan returned her tight hug. Tom stood close with a hand on his shoulder.

“If you ever need anything , we’re here,” Tom said.

Jordan would later find out that Tom was a former FBI agent.

Because of Tom’s background in law enforcement, everything went smoothly after that.

They went so far as to share about him being a member of Pegasus.

“I’ve worked with Dave and Rossi,” Tom murmured.

It really was a small world when Tom briefly told him that the Phoenix team had helped his office with a case years ago.

Instead of getting a hotel room, Jordan ended up going to their home that night and sleeping in their spare room.

Through the years, Jordan made a point to come back and visit. Plus, he also tried to attend every family ceremony possible—including graduations, birthdays, and a wedding when Cindi put college on pause and got married. Cindi and her husband were now back at school full-time.

The Richardsons were the closest to actual family he had besides the men of Pegasus.

“You said you’d bring Owen to meet us soon,” Zoey said, dragging him from his thoughts.

She handed him a bottle of flavored sparkling water, and he sat on one of the barstools in the brightly lit kitchen.

“I did?”

“Yes, you still have a crush on him, don’t you?” She asked.

“I don’t think he feels the same way, so…bringing him here probably isn’t going to happen,” Jordan hedged, cracking open the bottle. It gurgled and fizzed, and he sipped at the lime flavor.

“Aww, come on. You’ve liked him since forever,” she said with an eye roll, leaning her elbows on the granite island bar.

“Owen doesn’t know that,” Jordan reminded her and took a swallow of his bubbly water.

“Well then, you’ve got to have courage and say something,” Zoey insisted.

Jordan burped loudly instead of answering and smirked.

“Ew, gross,” Zoey giggled and smacked him on the arm.

“Leave him be,” Marsha scolded. “It’s time to eat.”

Dinner was lively, and the next several hours flew by.

He ended up in the garage that served as a weight training room, along with a large mat for sparring. He spent an hour with Zoey going through techniques she had memorized.

After Zoey’s abduction, her father had asked him to teach all of their kids some self-defense skills. And Jordan had and still spent time doing just that through the years.

Zoey caught him off guard because he was distracted and sent him tumbling to the mat. Winded, he gazed up at her and snorted a laugh when she giggled and held her hand out. He let her pull him to his feet, and they went at it again.

Before he knew it, it was time to leave and make the drive home to California.

“Please come for the Thanksgiving holiday if you can,” Marsha said, hugging him tightly.

“I’ll try,” he promised with a smile and hugged each one before he made his way to his SUV.

They were grouped up beneath the porch light, waving as he pulled away.

A lump grew in Jordan’s throat as the distance stretched between him and the Richardsons.

And he wondered if he would ever have a family of his own.