Chapter 21

Robert Jordan is Dead

SNUGGLED INTO THE CUSHY, body-hugging leather seat of Noah's SUV, she barely registered the flicker of green on the dash, as he signaled his intent to pull into the space the Cadillac Escalade was currently backing out of.

It was nearly eleven, much later than they usually arrived. But Fiona had worked until nine. After starting at 11 a.m., it made for a long day. She didn't even try to stifle her yawn.

After parking, Noah took her hand and brought it to his lips. "We won't stay long. I'd have left you home in bed, but I didn't have anyone to relieve me, and Trey has information he wants to share."

"Do you usually conduct Rossi business at the club?"

"It's not unheard of, since so many of us are members."

She leaned her head back and heaved a frustrated sigh. "It stinks that it's been weeks and I still need a babysitter."

"Don't let any of the guys hear you using that term. They're highly skilled security professionals, and don't you forget it."

With a little huff of a laugh, too tired to do more than that, she rolled her head on the leather headrest and looked at him in the darkness. "That sounds like a quote."

"If I had a dollar for every time Tristan said it." He kissed her hand again. "Stay there. I'm coming around."

Her sigh was more wistful than fatigued as she watched him round the hood. He was the best of two worlds. A gallant gentleman who kissed her hand, opened doors for her, and cooked her breakfast in bed. And his grin had the power to melt her heart. He was also a kink-loving dom between the sheets—or wherever he decided.

They walked arm in arm into the club and went directly to the administrative suite. The usual players had gathered and were seated around a conference table that looked identical to the one at Rossi. This time, she was the one sharing a chair with her dom because there wasn't enough for everyone.

When Noah initially pulled her into his lap, she'd resisted.

"Don't." His stern, one-word command had her curling up and snuggling into him like the kitten he always called her. If he welcomed an armful of woman in his lap, who was she to argue?

Trey, aka Griff, hadn't arrived yet, and Fiona actually fell asleep with her head on Noah's shoulder while waiting.

The buzz of conversation didn't disturb her, but when the door latch shut with a soft snick, she jerked awake like it was a gunshot.

"Easy, kitten," Noah murmured, his hand rubbing up and down her spine until she relaxed against him again.

Griff, looking agitated, his hair sticking up in spikes all over his head like he'd just run his fingers through it, stood at the end of the table.

"Jordan is dead," he announced.

"Thank god," Fiona exclaimed. Then she realized how it sounded. "I mean, I'm relieved he's not a problem anymore, not that he's dead. I wouldn't wish anyone dead."

"We know what you meant," Noah reassured her. "Let Griff finish. I'm sure there's more to it."

"A shit ton more," he said, proving her theory correct by running his fingers through his hair, making it stick up even worse.

"Tell us what you learned," Keiran directed. He was much like Noah, with a quiet authority and not easily riled.

"Jonas was the one who cracked it."

"Let me guess. He followed the money." Samson chuckled, bowing to Griff over prayer hands. "Learn from that, young grasshopper."

Fiona didn't get the reference and didn't care at the moment. She wanted answers.

"Actually, no," Griff said, looking a little puzzled, too. "But I understand now why Jonas is so good. He's relentless. He dug further into Robert Jordan's past, going back to kindergarten, getting class lists and, when available, class photos. It wasn't until college that he found what he was looking for."

"He was our Jordan's roommate, right?" Samson guessed again.

"Don't call him that," Eric said, shooting him a disgusted look. "We're sure as shit not claiming that motherfucker."

Val, who sat perched on his knees, rubbed his chest soothingly. "Go on, please. Griff."

"He was classmates, not roommates with a Jordano Parra. Jonas thought that seemed like too much of a coincidence, so he started digging. Then he hit pay dirt. Finding a connection between Robert Jordan, Jordan Ruiz, Roberto Ruiz, Martin Ramos, pick one, any one. He has twelve aliases as far as we know. All with bank accounts listing the same PO Box. We asked Owens to get a warrant when Jordano Parra, aka the Robert Jordan we know, slipped up. He was closing out an account at 1st National in Culver City."

"That's where I live," Fiona exclaimed.

Noah gripped her hand tight and urged, "We know. Let him finish."

"He presented the wrong identification. His aliases were too much alike. Jordan Ruiz asked for Roberto Ruiz's funds. Because of the amount, over six figures, the bank required seventy-two-hours' notice. When he left, with an appointment to return, the bank notified the police. Detective Brent Owens was assigned to the case. He saw the video, recognized him from the club, and called me."

"Who is Jordano Parra, and why is he interested in me?"

"This is where it gets a little convoluted."

"You think it hasn't been so far?" Esme asked. "I need a flowchart or something."

"Go on, Griff," Keiran urged while shifting his wife from her chair to his lap.

Trey Griffin opened his phone and passed it to his boss. "This is Sofia Garcia Parra," Griff explained as he passed his phone to his boss. "She immigrated from Colombia thirty-five years ago with her ten-year-old daughter."

Keiran looked at the screen as did Esme then they both looked at Fiona.

Griff went on explaining. "When she found out she was pregnant, not long after, she married a local man with money. He was older by thirty years and died when the boy was three. Thus began a string of boyfriends and husbands—three of the latter—until she was declared dead ten years later when Jordano was thirteen."

Keiran passed the phone to Eric, Val looking on. They both had the same reaction to what they saw. Their eyes shot to Fiona.

"Declared dead," Noah repeated. "What happened to her?"

"No one knows. She disappeared without a trace. Her older daughter, Jordano's half-sister, twenty-three at the time, went to court to have it done in order to access the inheritance. She became Jordano's guardian until she also went missing five years later."

"A pattern is emerging," Axyl drawled. When Eric passed him the phone, he almost dropped it when he glanced at the screen. "Fuck me," he whispered.

Noah didn't notice, but Fiona's frown deepened when Axyl's head came up and he stared at her too.

"That's what the detective I spoke with at the LAPD said," Griff replied, about the pattern, not Axyl's profanity. "But they never could prove anything. There were no bodies, no signs of foul play. His mother and sister were both Colombian citizens. No one sounded any alarms. As far as anyone was concerned, they could have just gone home."

Unable to sit still, Noah rose, giving Fiona the chair, and paced. "There has to be more to it."

"There was one police call out to the residence of Sofia Parra. Neighbors heard shouting and cursing, during which a male, possibly Jordano, reportedly called one of them—" When his gaze suddenly shifted to Fiona, unease clouding his features, she braced for the worst. "The neighbors distinctly heard the words fat cunt."

Val and Esme both gasped, but, Fiona, too horrified to make a sound, covered her mouth with both hands.

"There's more," Noah stated. "I can tell. Give us all of it, dammit."

"The police report also states the mother, Sofia, often went by a nickname. Family and friends called her Fi."

"Christ!" Noah exclaimed, leaning against the wall as if needing its support. Like Griff, he drove his fingers into his hair.

Fiona reached across the table for the phone Axyl held. A brief tug of war ensued before he finally gave it up. When she looked at the image on the screen, she understood why he didn't want her to have it. So many of the mysteries were making sense, the puzzle finally coming together.

In a voice devoid of inflection, she asked, "They never found the sister?"

"They searched but came up empty. Until this morning."

"So help me, man," Noah warned. "If you make me drag it out of you inch by inch—"

"They found her buried in the backyard of the house Jordano inherited from his mother. Ten feet away from where he buried Sofia twenty-two years earlier."

The phone in Fiona's hands fell from her icy fingers with a clatter.

Noah retrieved it and glanced at the screen. He didn't erupt like she expected. He calmly asked, "Who am I looking at?"

"Sofia Garcia Parra and Maria Garcia. Jordano Parra's mother and half-sister."

"I look just like them," Fiona whispered.

"The same brown eyes," Val said.

"And a ton of long, wavy brown hair," Esme added.

"And curvy," Axyl added, which drew frowns from everyone, including Noah. "What? Like I don't have eyes?"

"He killed them," Fiona stated unnecessarily, but saying and hearing the words made them sink in. This changed everything. Her stalker was a freaking serial killer.

"Most likely, he had an unhealthy obsession with them for whatever reason," Val surmised, piecing together the psychological twists and turns as she often did. "Once he killed Mama, Sister became the target. And, with her gone, he needed another target."

"Fiona," Esme uttered, in horror.

"When did the sister go missing?" Val asked.

"When Jordano turned eighteen."

"That's seventeen years without fuel for his obsession." She looked at her husband. "How many other Fionas have there been between then and now?"

"Since he's a serial killer, my guess is a lot," Eric replied grimly.

"We don't know that," Griff replied, panic in his voice.

"How often is Val wrong?" Fiona asked.

The group's sudden silence spoke louder than words.

Griff sat down hard in Esme's vacated chair. "This is on me. I let a serial killer run loose in the club."

"It's not your fault," Fiona assured him. "How could you have known he stole the identify of a dead man?"

"It's my job to know."

None of the Rossi men disagreed with him.

"Fiona is on lockdown until we find him," Noah announced.

When they all nodded in agreement, she asked, "I haven't been already?"

Her question went unanswered because Axyl proposed a different approach. "We could put her out there."

Noah erupted. "No fucking way!"

"What does that mean?" she asked Eric seated beside her.

"He wants to use you as bait to lure him out of hiding," he replied.

"And, I repeat. No fucking way, so get it out of your head."

"But, Noah, I can't go on living this way, looking over my shoulder and jumping at every noise. At some point, I'm going to have to sleep again."

"We'll find him another way, without putting you at risk," he stated firmly, completely inflexible. "I need increased security at my place," he told Keiran. "Cameras at all doors, alarms at the windows—"

"You're on the fourth floor, Noah," she reminded him.

"We're not going to lose her like we did the others."

"What others?" Fiona asked.

A tense silence fell over the room.

She stood and faced Noah, repeating, "What others?"

"We had another serial case targeting lookalikes," Keiran told her. "It happened not long after we opened. He targeted and kidnapped several of our submissives."

"And killed them," Fiona concluded. He didn't come out and say it, but serial and refusing to lose her like the others kind of gave it away. She sat down because her legs wouldn't hold her any longer.

"How is lockdown different?" she asked.

"It's exactly how it sounds," Noah said from behind her. "You stay put, under security and surveillance, and don't give him an opportunity to get to you."

Lockdown equaled prison, she concluded.

"What about work? I've got bills. A lease, student loans, and a car payment."

Noah spun her chair around and crouched in front of her, taking both her hands in his. "Do you think for a minute I'd risk your life for a fucking credit score?"

"But what about after? I'll still have to live."

"I'm more concerned about you having an after. We'll sort everything else out once he's no longer a threat to you. And you'll live with me, like you have been for weeks."

That didn't erase her concerns. She knew he meant it now. That he cared for her wasn't in doubt. But, not so long ago, he'd been unwilling to agree to a second scene with a submissive, much less a future, a relationship, or love again, especially an enduring love like he had for Claire and Leah. Now, out of danger and tragedy, he'd suddenly changed?

He had cautioned against making decisions during high-stress times, and they'd had nothing except stress and drama from the very beginning.

When a tear escaped, he immediately wiped it away.

"I'm scared, Noah."

He gripped her hands tighter."I know you are, kitten. But I'm going to do everything in my power to hunt him down and have him locked away so he isn't a threat to you ever again."

"That is the priority for all of us," Keiran assured her.

They thought she was talking about Jordan. Or Jordano. Whatever he called himself at the moment. But that was only the half of it.

Val and Esme looked on, tears in their eyes. Did they see both sides? In her heart, she knew they did, and rather than feeling comforted by that, it hurt even more.