The Kendall Family: Riley Part 7

"I know."

Kris shook her head from where she stood across the room. "But not her." Riley frowned at her but didn't have a chance to speak before she added, "I know you need her help and all of that, but no one who's tried to kill one of us stays in this house. Ever."

The Marine sighed. She had a point and he wasn't in the mood to argue. "Fine. We'll stay elsewhere."

"I'd love to help," began Tristan, the youngest of them, "but with a pregnant Victoria back at my house, I'm not really comfortable with her staying there. I kind of need to get home."

"Yeah, I understand," replied Riley. Even though he was sure-mostly-of Jordan, imposing on a young family was a little much even without the circ.u.mstances.

"You can come stay at the inn," suggested Connor, second youngest of the six siblings and often mistaken for Tristan's twin. He ran the family B&B with some help from his girlfriend, Sophia, who now sat beside him on the couch.

"Not there either," interjected Kris, eyes hard.

Connor shot her a look and squeezed Sophia's hand. "Our call, not yours."

She replied, "That was our parents' first house, so same rule applies."

"And what rule is that?" the normally docile Connor challenged. "You're just making it up. And it's my house now, the same way this one is Quinn's."

Kris' glare deepened. "She's a threat to any one of us and I won't feel everyone's safe with her in the same house."

"No, I'm not," Jordan said, her tone unchallenging despite her disagreement.

"Stay out of this," snapped Kris.

Jordan sighed and slowly rose, turning to Riley and making to go. "I don't want to come between you and your family."

"Too late," Kris said.

"Quit it," Riley said to her, his own gaze hardening. Then he took Jordan's hand, as she'd started for the door. "You're not going anywhere without me. At the least, it would look strange, and now that I think about it, Kris, the police might be suspicious if we didn't stay here or at the inn."

His older sister folded her arms while his younger sister spoke up.

"He's right," said Chloe, sitting beside Sophia and Connor on the couch. "And it makes more sense for them to be here than the inn, which has guests, so if you're worried about anyone being in danger, we have liability at the inn if a stranger gets hurt as opposed to one of us here. Not that I think that's an issue."

Scowling intensely, lips set in a firm line, Kris turned and stalked out of the house without another word, her riding boots like hammer blows on the hardwood.

After a moment, Chloe said lightly, "Was it something I said?"

"She'll lighten up," said Riley, amused.

"Somehow I doubt it," said Jordan, sitting back down.

"It might help," began Quinn, "if you tell us more about you and why you do...what you do."

Jordan exchanged a look with most of those present before turning questioning eyes to Riley, who said to all of them, "Everyone knows the real reason Jordan is here, but that knowledge is never to leave this room. Nor is anything else she tells you. And it is her decision to tell you anything."

She put a hand on his leg. "I think the decision's yours. Maybe this is old fashioned, but there was a time when, if you saved someone's life, that person belonged to you. As a modern woman, the idea of being anyone's property rankles, and I can't take that literally, but the fact is I wouldn't be sitting here were it not for you. My loyalty to you is...deep. And I wish that's something I could make everyone, especially Kris, understand."

He squeezed her hand and didn't let go. "I understand. Telling us more about you can only help, warts and all. And I certainly want to know everything."

Jordan leaned against his leg, realizing she had to open up to this room full of strangers like she hadn't to anyone, to gain their trust. With a sigh she asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Start at the beginning with where you're from and lead up to today."

She made a face. "Well, that's a long story. Can I have a gla.s.s of that wine I see over there?"

Quinn went to the kitchen counter nearby and poured her a gla.s.s. On returning, he flicked a glance at Tristan as he handed it to her. "Why don't you stay a bit if you can. Victoria will pound you with questions you'll need to answer."

"True," he agreed. "Should I go get Kris?"

Quinn hesitated but Riley firmly said, "Yes. And tell her to not talk and just listen. She's made her position known and I don't want to hear anymore of it."

"I can't wait to make that suggestion." Tristan headed for the door leading toward the barn.

After he left, no one said anything and Jordan found herself emptying the wine gla.s.s faster than normal. Her mouth felt dry and her stomach twisted. Wondering at the reaction, she realized that she really did feel indebted to Riley and wanted not only his acceptance, but that of his family. She wanted to protect him the way he'd protected her. A deep sense of loyalty had arisen, surprising her with its existence and strength. Since Jake's attack, she had repeatedly envisioned herself with a bullet hole in her forehead. The vision returned now as she sat there, and that Riley had prevented that very image becoming reality after she'd tried to do the same thing to her had humbled her. Even humiliated her. Somehow she felt vulnerable. And in need of forgiveness. And the one person who clearly wouldn't do the latter was the one Tristan returned with minutes later.

An irritated-looking Kris followed him in and sat as far away as possible, for which Jordan was glad. Everyone settled in to hear what she had to say. The sniper polished off the first gla.s.s of wine, extended it for a refill, and began talking, wondering if getting a little drunk would make her seem more honest. She had every intention of telling the truth. Mostly.

"My name is Jordan Hunt," she began. "My father was an army Colonel stationed in Russia when he met my mother, a Russian. They got married and I was born here in the U.S."

"Where?" Riley asked.

"New York. We lived there a while, apparently. I don't remember it. I never stayed in one place too long."

Riley nodded. "Army brat."

"Never liked the term, but yeah. My father taught me marksmanship when I was a kid. One of his army buddies was a sniper and taught me even more as a favor to my dad, who thought I was very good. He got me to do some compet.i.tions, which I usually won. Like a lot of military kids, I was being groomed to enter the service, but everything changed when a suicide bomber killed my parents in an attack in Paris. They weren't the targets, just caught in the explosion."

"Oh, my G.o.d," said Chloe, putting her hands to her face. "That's terrible."

Jordan met her gaze and nodded her appreciation. "It ruined my life."

"How old were you?" Riley asked, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

She wasn't used to the compa.s.sion, which almost felt weird. "Twelve. After that, I mostly lived with my father's sister here in the U.S., but she and her family didn't want me joining the military, and they weren't too keen on me continuing to shoot at the range, or take self-defense cla.s.ses, so that caused a lot of tension. I threatened to run away a few times."

"Why would they object to self-defense cla.s.ses?" Sophia asked. "I've taken those myself and they're a great idea."

"Well," Jordan began, "they could tell my interest was as much in kicking someone's a.s.s as in protecting my own."

"Nice," said Riley, smirking.

Kris rolled her eyes from across the room. "You just think that because you're into all that macho s.h.i.t."

"And you aren't?" he asked her. "You're the most macho girl I know."

Quinn interrupted. "What about your mother's side of the family? Did you still see them?"

Jordan took another sip of wine. "I spent summers with them in Russia. I traveled with them to other countries a lot, which is how I first went back to France. Somewhere along the way, I got it into my head to kill the guy who organized the attack that killed my parents."

Riley's eyebrows shot up. "Love it, but that's ambitious, especially for a twelve year old."

"I was sixteen by the time I did it."

Even Kris seemed impressed. "You succeeded?"

"Yes."

A short silence followed. Jordan noticed everyone looking either awed, respectful, or wary. Maybe she shouldn't have admitted it, but her parents' death and killing their killer was crucial to understanding how she'd ended up here trying to kill Riley.

"I want some details," said the Marine.

Jordan shrugged. "I knew the name of the organization that did the bombing. They tend to advertise that sort of thing. I researched them for over a year. At some point, I pretended to be a sympathizer and made it seem like I wanted to be a Muslim bride fighting for Allah and all that c.r.a.p. I attracted some low-level guy and we met up, then I drugged him."

Eyebrows rose around the room.

"With what?" Riley asked.

"A date rape drug. They're easy to get in Europe."

"Even for a sixteen year old girl?" Kris asked dubiously.

"Yeah. The easiest way is to find out who's rumored to be using them on girls and beat the s.h.i.t out of the guy and take them, so you know, those self-defense cla.s.ses came in handy."

Kris' eyes widened before she started to smile grudgingly. Several others in the room laughed and Chloe said, "Wow, that's awesome!"

"Remind me not to p.i.s.s you off," Riley joked for the second time today.

Wryly, Jordan said, "I think you've already proven you can handle me pretty well."

Before he could reply, Quinn said, "Why did you drug the guy?"

"To get his phone. Everything was in Arabic, which I couldn't read, though I'd been learning some. I didn't really need to read it too much. The phone's icons were the same for things like maps. Going through his contacts, emails, and other s.h.i.t like saved map locations, I was able to piece together some intel on where he tended to go. I also used some online translation services to decipher texts and other content. I began watching those places and eventually saw the guy I wanted dead."

"How did you know what he looked like?" Chloe asked.

"His face had been on the news. With those groups, their leaders are often known. He didn't keep a set schedule or anything, but I scoped out a good sniper perch at one location, waited for a good chance, and killed him with one shot. That's when everything went to s.h.i.t."

"You mean you were seen?" Riley asked.

"Yeah, but not by the a.s.shole terrorists. By Jake."

"The dead guy they wheeled away earlier?" Connor asked, looking confused.

"Yeah. This is when I met him."

Riley asked, "What's the story there?"

Jordan sighed, knowing only bad memories lay ahead.

"He chased me across the rooftops," she began, remembering the scene. "I had to leave my rifle, but he still caught up with me. I could tell as soon as we started fighting that he was a lot better. He was black, so I thought he might be with the terrorists, so I fought for my life, but he wasn't with them. He'd actually been trying to kill the same guy as I just had, as it turns out."

"Really?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah. Basically, a guy named Thomas Beckett works for the anti-terrorism unit of the French government. Jacques, or Jake as I called him, worked for Thomas, who'd sent Jake to kill the guy I shot. We were both there on nearby rooftops, ready to make the shot, but I did it first. I later learned that Jake was hesitating because he didn't really like his opportunity, or so he claimed. He was never as good a shot as me and was impressed with the shot I'd made. That was one reason he chased me down, to find out who'd made a shot he considered impressive.

"His other reason was that I was an unsanctioned sniper, as he put it, and they didn't want me doing stuff like that, killing people on French soil. He cuffed me and brought me to Thomas. I was pretty worried I'd be headed for prison, but in the end I told them my story and they realized that was the only kill I was likely to do. They would've let me go, but Thomas blackmailed me."

"How?" Riley asked. "To do what?"

"To work for him, as a sniper, killing people for the French government, supposedly. He said if I didn't agree, he'd turn me in. I didn't know what to believe. I was only sixteen."

"Did you feel bad about killing the guy?" Kris asked, eyes narrowed.

Jordan met her gaze without flinching about her answer, even though she sensed Kris wanted a different one. "No. He murdered my parents."

Kris asked, "Do you feel bad about any of the other people you've killed since then?"

Jordan sighed. "Not really. If you let it get in your head, it starts to mess with you. I was following orders."

Seeing Kris about to say something else, Riley interjected, "She's right. It's something you learn to tune out as best you can."

Jordan gazed up at him. "Something we have in common."

Seeming concerned for her, Connor asked, "What about your relatives? I mean, what did you do? You couldn't live with them and still do what Thomas wanted, right?"

"Right. Thomas and I worked out something plausible that they'd believe. I told them I'd been offered a job working for the French government, teaching marksmanship to their cadets. My family didn't like it too much, but they agreed to let me move to France, since it was better than me joining the military myself. Everything looked above board. They have no idea what I've really been doing for a living."

"And all this time," Chloe asked, "you've been acting as a sniper? Killing terrorists?"

Jordan nodded but said, "Not always. Thomas would only give me so much information about targets. It's one of the things we clashed over. I don't like killing someone without knowing why."

"Questioning orders isn't something you do," admitted Riley. "I was told never to ask."

Jordan said, "Yeah, they didn't care for that and it caused a lot of arguments between me and them."

"Thomas and Jake?"

"Yeah. It's part of why I stopped working with them. For the first few years, Jake trained me in a bunch of things."

"Like what?" Sophia asked.

"How to create fake IDs. How to set up a stash of cash and weapons in another country so I didn't have to take anything across the border, or deal with customs. I set up bank accounts in other countries, too, anywhere they might need me to operate, though mostly in Europe. Jake taught me everything."

Riley scrutinized her expression. "Is that how you two became an item?"

She met his gaze and sighed. "Yes. I always had the impression Thomas was jealous of Jake for being with me, even though Jake was almost ten years older than me and Thomas was even older."