A Lot Like Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

planned to purchase when leaving.
    Today, however, was not one of those days.
    Outside, the snow continued to fall steadily. By seven o’clock the weathermen amended their predictions and were now calling for a whopping eight to ten inches. In anticipation of the storm, people were staying inside. Jordan had an event booked at the store that evening, a wine tasting, but the party called to reschedule. Martin had a longer commute than she did, so she sent him home early. At seven thirty, she began closing the store, thinking it highly unlikely she’d get any customers.
    When finished up front, Jordan went into the back room to turn off the sound system. The store felt eerily quiet and empty without the eclectic mix of Billie Holiday, The Shins, and Norah Jones she’d put together for the day’s soundtrack. She grabbed her snow boots from behind the door and had just sat down at her desk to replace the black leather boots she wore when the chime rang against the front door.
    A customer. Surprising.
    She stood up and stepped out of the back room, thinking somebody had to be awfully desperate to come out for wine in this weather. “You’re in luck. I was just about to close for the . . .”
    Her words trailed off as she stopped at the sight of the two men standing near the front of the store. For some reason, she felt tingles at the back of her neck. Perhaps it had something to do with the man closer to the door. Her eyes immediately fell upon him—he didn’t look like her typical customer. He had chestnut brown hair and scruff along his angular jaw that gave him a dark, bad-boy look. He was tall, and wore a black wool coat over what appeared to be a well-built physique.
    This was no Italian-loafer wearer. Unlike Cal Kittredge, this man was good-looking in a rugged, masculine way. There was something a bit . . . rougher about him. Except for his eyes. Green as emeralds, they stood out brilliantly against his dark hair and five o’clock shadow as he watched her intently.
    He took a step forward.
    Jordan took a step back.
    A slight grin played at the edges of his lips, as if he found this amusing. Jordan wondered how fast she could make it to the emergency panic button underneath the bar.
    The blond man, the one wearing glasses and a camelcolored trench coat, cleared his throat. “Are you Jordan Rhodes?”
    She debated whether to answer this. But the blond man seemed safer than the tall, dark one. “I am.”
    He pulled a badge out of his jacket. “I’m Agent Seth Huxley, this is Agent Nick McCall. We’re with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
    This caught her off guard. The FBI? The last time she’d seen anyone from the FBI had been at Kyle’s arraignment.
    “We’d like to discuss a matter concerning your brother,” the blond man continued. He seemed very serious about whatever it was he needed to tell her.
    Jordan’s stomach twisted in a knot. But she forced herself not to panic. Yet.
    “Has Kyle been hurt?” she asked. In the four months her brother had been in prison, there already had been several altercations. Apparently, some of the other inmates at Metropolitan Correctional Center figured a wealthy computer geek would be an easy mark. Kyle assured her that he could hold his own whenever she asked about the fights during her visits. But every day since he’d begun serving his sentence, she’d worried about getting that phone call that said he’d been wrong. And if the FBI had sent two agents to her store during a blizzard, whatever they had to tell her couldn’t be good.
    The dark-haired man spoke for the first time. His voice was low, yet smoother than Jordan had expected.
    “Your brother is fine. As far as we know, anyway.”
    Jordan cocked her head. That was an odd thing to say. “As far as you know? You make it sound like he’s missing or something.” She paused before folding her arms across her chest. Oh . . . no. “Don’t tell me he’s escaped.”
    Kyle wouldn’t be so stupid.