Chapter 60

MELANIE

I WAS IN DEEP, DEEP TROUBLE.

I could feel Jordan's icy stare on the side of my face but I stubbornly stared straight ahead and said nothing. I knew telling him about the car was not an option.

Somehow I had to keep it away from him until I got my paycheck and could repair it. If that meant hightailing my ass home every day before he did and hiding it behind the other cars in the garage, then so be it. He was going to be furious and full of questions if he ever found out, questions I couldn't answer.

Sometimes I considered just opening up and telling him everything, but I already lived in his house, ate his food, wore the clothes he bought me, sat in his office, drove his damn car. I wasn't going to add any more burdens. Besides, I'd always taken care of things by myself.

Cadell was my responsibility, and I wasn't sure I would be at peace if he didn't die by my hand. At the same time, I had to consider that Cadell was causing damage to his property and I held the power to do something about it. I was still thinking about it.

We got to the underground parking lot and started towards his car, today a black Cadillac Lyriq. His silence was unnerving, the kind that made killers confess because they couldn't take it anymore. We got in and I saw his mouth open and braced myself.

“We’re going to a factory in Bayamon” he began. I blinked at him; that was definitely not what I'd expected him to say so the most intelligent thing that came out of my mouth was “Huh?”

He looked at me like I was a half-wit (I felt like one at the moment) and proceeded to fill me in on the details.

By this time I'd recovered enough to be myself “So in summary, we're going to kick someone's ass” I said.

He started at me for a second as if considering it then gave a nod.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

I grinned “My favorite kind of activity. Let's go.”

The engine purred to life and shot out of the garage.

As Jordan expertly took the turns and corners I stared at his hands on the steering wheel, noticing for the first time how long-fingered and slim they were. Like a pianist's. Or a writer's. They certainly looked like they could do a lot of damage. My mind immediately flashed back to a hotel in Rome. Yeah, they could definitely do a lot of damage.

Like life was trying to tell me to focus, my new phone rang and Blaine's name flashed across the screen. I picked it up with my heart in my mouth, hoping that it wasn't one of his aunts calling to say that he'd suddenly slumped and at the same time praying it was just one of the kids who had gotten hold of his phone.

I still hadn't gotten used to the idea that I was someone’s– fake– girlfriend. Blaine's deep voice filtered through the speaker.

“Hey beautiful.” Despite myself, I smiled. He was my friend first and foremost, and a damn good one at that. If this was what it took to give him peace of mind, then I'd do it “Hey handsome.”

Jordan stared at me as if checking to see if I'd suddenly developed two heads before focusing on the road again. Blaine chuckled “I haven't heard from you all morning so I decided to check on you. It gets lonely around here” I heard a muffled “Hey!” and I think someone smacked his arm because he said, “Ow. Yes Bella, I enjoy your company, but this is my girlfriend we're talking about.”

I wondered at the ease with which he accepted I was his and started showing me affection.

“I’m okay. Jordan's been keeping me busy, but nothing I can't handle. We're actually on our way somewhere so we'll have to talk later” I said.

“Tell him I'll kick his grumpy ass all the way to Nebraska if he overworks you. Laters, gorgeous” he clicked off.

I relayed the message with a little smug smile as he stopped the car. He barely gave me a glance as he said “Big talk for someone who got his brain fried.”

I held back a chuckle as we walked towards huge iron gates. There are some emotions that were so strong that they hung in the air, and the tang of despair in this place was thick at the back of my throat “Do you actually own this place?” I asked Jordan.

I couldn't believe anything he owned could be this rundown “Unfortunately, I do” his voice had grown considerably cooler and I looked on his direction, noticing his hand in his pocket, the only sign of whatever emotion he was feeling. We walked through the gates and found the guard post empty.

I shook my head as we walked past. It's like they were asking to be fired. Inside the factory itself, the despair was thicker and the noise was deafening. I spotted tired face after tired face listlessly doing their jobs. The whole place was dingy and smelled of stale oil and smoke. I wrinkled my nose at the debris on the floor around the overflowing bin.

Jordan stepped into the main work area and tapped a young man in clothes a size too small for him.

“Where’s your manager's office?” he asked. The man slowly assessed him, from his shiny Italian leather shoes to the Armani suit and gold cufflinks.

“Who’s asking?” he sneered in a thick Puerto Rican accent. I saw Jordan debate the pros and cons of answering “Mr. Alonso” he finally said.

Down the production line, another head perked up “Did I hear that name right?” the second person said, abandoning his station and shuffling over to us. I frowned as the bent figure of an old man came into view; he should be sitting in front of his house with other men his age and enjoying his pension. What was he doing here?

Jordan asked him the same question and the old man shook his head “Been denied pension four times in a row. Gotta keep working, I've got a family to feed. We've been writing to you ” he poked a wrinkled finger at Jordan in accusation.

“My apologies. A letter just reached my office this morning.”

Appeased, the old man sighed “That Suarez boy is good for nothing. Sits in that office all day like a man old enough to be his father isn't out here breaking his back. José, run along and tell Suarez that he's got visitors. This should be a day of reckoning for him. He figures you'll never come” he explained as José ran off.

By now other people had stopped working and came closer for a better view. Someone even turned off the noisy machine.

My heart twisted for these people and the way they stared at Jordan like he was the Messiah.

“I apologize for my negligence this far, but things are going to be different from here on out” he addressed them.

Among the mutters and grumbles he gestured for me to come with him as someone pointed us in the direction of the office. It was like a whole new world from here. The walls were clean and the floors were tiled. Even the manager's office had not a thing out of place. Well, except for José's body lying in the corner and the manager himself attempting to scramble out the window.