BEVERLY BARTON - The Black Widow

“A report on you.”

Her expression didn’t alter except for a slight flickering of her eyelashes that hinted surprise. “You requested a report on me?”

“It’s standard procedure. I’ll get one on Ryan, too, probably later today.”

“Did you find anything of interest in the report, something that adds to your suspicions?”

“You’ve had several tragedies in your life.”

“I’d say that’s an understatement.”

He suspected that she was forcing herself not to break eye contact, to continue looking directly at him. “It’s no secret that Dan is the third man that I’ve loved and lost. My fiancé died in a one-car accident shortly before we were to be married. I was twenty-one. My first husband was killed in a hunting accident when we’d been married only two years. And now, Dan…Neither Robby Joe nor Boyd was murdered, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Murder can be made to look like an accident,” Rick said and when her face went chalk white and her eyes widened in shock, he wished he’d kept that assessment to himself.

Jordan slumped into the chair behind her desk, her movements indicating that she could barely manage to stand on her own two feet. Rick took several tentative steps toward her, concerned about her welfare.

She held up a restraining hand. “No, please. I’m all right. Just shocked that you would even consider such a thing was possible.”

“Look, I was hired for a specific reason and I have to consider every aspect of the situation, which means looking into the past. The senator’s past, your past, and the past of anyone who had an opportunity to kill Dan Price.”

“I know you’re just doing your job, but the very idea that Robby Joe’s death or Boyd’s was anything other than an accident is ludicrous.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I upset you, especially since you’re pregnant,” Rick said. “I think maybe we should discuss Powell’s sending in another agent to replace me, all things considered. I’m probably not the best man for this job.”

“No! I don’t want another agent,” Jordan said vehemently. “I—I don’t want to start all over again with someone else. You’re here. You’re qualified. If you weren’t, Nicole wouldn’t have sent you. Am I right?”

“Yes, ma’am, you’re right. But I thought that since—”

“I’m not offended that you think I might have killed Dan. In your place, I might question my innocence, too, especially after learning that Dan was not the first man in my life who died unexpectedly. But I didn’t kill Dan anymore than I killed Robby Joe or Boyd. I’m not afraid of the truth and the truth is that Robby Joe’s death and Boyd’s death were terrible accidents. And if Dan really was murdered, I’m not his killer.”

Damned if he didn’t believe her. At least for the moment. She looked so sincere, sounded so sincere, and sent out strong I’m-sweet-and-innocent vibes. Everything in him wanted to believe her without question. He wanted her to be just what she seemed, a grieving, pregnant widow who really had cared deeply for her husband and wouldn’t have harmed a hair on his head.

Maybe he should stick around, stay on the job and prove to himself that Jordan was innocent of any wrongdoing. Wasn’t that what he wanted?

“Will you please reconsider leaving, Mr. Carson? Please stay and continue to investigate Dan’s death.” She gave him a pleading look that had him all but dropping to his knees and begging her to forgive him for ever doubting her. Damn, she was good. Either that or he was far too susceptible to her charm.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll consider staying, if that’s what you really want.”

“It’s what I want, someone impartial who will find out the truth about Dan’s death.” She offered him a fragile, seductive smile.

Hell, he was reading far more into her delicate smile than she intended. He wanted it to mean something personal. It didn’t and he damn well knew it didn’t.

You can’t stay here. You’re too vulnerable to Jordan’s charm to remain impartial. You know she could be guilty of three murders, but you want her to be innocent because you want to screw her.

There, he’d said it. He had admitted that he was thinking with his dick and not his brain. And he suspected he wasn’t the first man who’d let his libido take over and his good judgment go out the window where Jordan Price was concerned.

Before he had the chance to refute his agreement to stay on as the Powell agent investigating her husband’s murder, they both heard a loud ruckus, the sounds of shouting, screaming and running feet coming from somewhere nearby.

What the hell?

Jordan shot up out of her chair and muttered under her breath, “Oh, Lord, what now?”

When they both headed toward the door, Rick falling into step behind Jordan, Tammy Harris came flying into the room, a wild-eyed expression on her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rushed to Jordan. She wrung her hands together, all the while gulping for air.

Jordan grabbed Tammy’s trembling hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Help, please help,” Tammy blurted out, her voice shaky.

Jordan squeezed Tammy’s hands. “Calm down. Everything will be all right. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

A loud thump followed by another and then another gained their attention. Tammy glared through the open doorway, sheer terror in her eyes.

“You have to stop them before they kill each other,” Tammy finally managed to say on one long, hurried breath.

“Who?” Jordan asked.

“J.C. and Wes,” Tammy told her. “They’re fighting.”

“What happened? Why are they fighting?”

“Stop them, please.” Tammy jerked her hands free of Jordan’s tenacious hold. “I can’t stand it. I can’t. You have to stop them before they kill each other.”

“Okay, okay. Just calm down.”

Kendra Brannon’s appearance halted Jordan outside her study.

“Jordan, you have to do something,” Kendra said. “Wes and J.C. are fighting and it’s all my fault. J.C. was sort of flirting with me and Wes went berserk. You know how protective he is. He thinks J.C. is too old to be flirting with me.”

“Damn!” Jordan huffed loudly. “J.C. is too old to be flirting with you. But Wes shouldn’t have started a fight over it. Come with me. Now.” Jordan glanced from Kendra to Tammy. “We’ll put a stop to things before someone gets hurt.”

Kendra eyed Rick, who stood inside the study. “Shouldn’t he come, too? He looks like he could handle J.C. and Wes.”

“Want me to take care of this for you, Mrs. Price?” Rick asked, dreading the thought of breaking up a fist-fight.

“Please, come with us,” Jordan told him. “But let me handle things. I’m used to playing referee and peacemaker in this family.”

By the time they made their way to the scene of the brawl, the fight that apparently had begun inside the house had moved out onto the veranda. Just as Jordan opened the front door, Wes knocked J.C. down the steps and onto the lawn.

“I want you two to stop this stupid fighting right this minute!” Jordan shouted in an I-mean-business, authoritarian voice.

J.C. came up from the ground swinging, his face bloody and sweat dampening his silk shirt. Taking a stand, Wes prepared to defend himself, a look of pure hatred on his face.

“Enough!” Jordan ran across the veranda and down the steps.

Shit! She was heading straight toward the two battered fighters and neither one seemed aware of her presence.

Don’t do it, honey. Don’t step between them.

But that’s exactly what Jordan did, walked right between J.C. and Wes, with both men ready to continue clobbering each other. Rick went after her, but didn’t reach her in time to prevent her from putting herself in harm’s way.