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eight.”
    William snorted. “See why you’re courting her if she’s got that kind of power. Of course, we can’t let them come here, so what are you going to do about it?”
    Michael glanced at his watch. They would be changing planes in Atlanta. If he was lucky, he had just enough time to get someone there. Crossing to the credenza he poured a cup of coffee. “I’ll take care of it, but this is the last mess I’m cleaning up for you.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    The jolt of the plane woke Jenna from an uneasy sleep. She felt Jordan’s eyes on her, turned, and grimaced as the plane jolted again. “I hate flying.”
    Jordan didn’t answer but stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. “Have you met my father?”
    Jenna struggled up in the seat. She wanted a shower, a warm bed, and eight good hours of sleep.
    “Only once. He was the judge in a case I was prosecuting. He let the bastard out on bail. He was killed before we could get the matter to trial.” She smothered a yawn. “Michael has told me a lot about him.”
    Jordan’s laugh was a scratchy, ugly sound. “Yeah, I bet he has.”
    Gone was the scathing, teasing personality. Facing her now was a man with dark, angry features, venom in his voice, and hatred in his eyes. She had no doubt Beaumont would blame her for anything that went wrong. If she wanted a career, she needed to control Jordan’s anger quickly before they landed. “Let’s assume Michael didn’t tell me the truth. So why don’t you tell me about him?”
    Jordan turned, meeting her gaze. He studied her face for a long time before settling back in his seat. “I’d rather tell you about my mother.”
    Jenna relaxed. That was probably a much safer topic. “All right. Tell me about your mother.”
    Jenna watched as his posture softened, the shadows disappearing from his eyes for just a moment. “Mom was great, one of those sweet Southern ladies. She’d grown up with money, nannies, and parents that indulged her every wish. I think the first time my father hit her was over the nanny issue. She wanted to raise us herself, but he gave her the speech about a woman’s place being beside her husband. He had an image to uphold, and that meant she had to be at his beck and call when he wanted her.
    “She tried her best to live in both worlds: mother and wife of the notorious Judge William Elkins. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes she’d hide in her room for days until the bruises healed.”
    Jordan stopped talking, his eyes glazed with memories. Jenna watched as his hands clenched and unclenched. She needed to keep him talking, to cool the anger.
    “How did they meet?” Jenna asked.
    He relaxed slightly, his voice whimsical as he repeated the story his mother had told him. “She met my father when she was eighteen, fresh out of school. He was handsome and charming. It wasn’t until after she married him she discovered his true nature. Most people think our money comes from him, but the truth is, mom was the one with money. Everything he has, everything we ever had, came from her family inheritance.” The anger was coming back.
    “Listen, Jordan, I don’t care what you think of your father. I would probably agree with you that he’s a cold-hearted, mean bastard. But that’s not important right now. I did this so you could say goodbye to your mother. Clifford Beaumont did this so you could say goodbye to your mother. That’s what we’re going to do, and then we’re getting back on a plane, and you’re going back to serve your sentence. Is that understood?”
    Jordan glanced at her, a hint of admiration in his dark-brown eyes. “I bet you’re one hell of a prosecutor. Never lost a case, have you?”
    Jenna sat back in the seat, stunned. That was the second time he’d referred to her as a prosecutor. She hadn’t told him what she did, and she was pretty sure Michael hadn’t either, so where had he gotten that information? And when? Something was wrong—seriously wrong. The intercom