Read Jordan Summers for Free Online

lie. She’d never been so tired in her life and she’d worked longer hours at ATF.
    “Okay, see you tomorrow.” They left, making plans for the night ahead.
    Delaney plucked her key from the front desk clerk’s fingers with a quick thank-you, and walked across the lobby to the elevator doors. She could hear Jeremy’s and Barbie’s laughter fading as the door shut. A twinge of envy hit her, but she brushed it away. She didn’t have time to socialize. She was on duty.
    A ding foretold the glass elevator’s arrival. Delaney stepped inside. The clear wall gave her a view of the ocean as the sun set over Santa Monica. She allowed herself to relax and enjoy the view for a moment. It was easy to forget how beautiful the ocean was while living in a landlocked state like Arizona.
    She had the overwhelming urge to throw her things in her room and then go dip her toes into the cool water. Delaney shook herself. She wasn’t here on vacation. This was an assignment. She turned away from the view and waited for the elevator doors to open.
    Delaney stepped into a deserted hall when she reached the fourth floor. Her room sat at the end of the corridor next to the exit. Just in case she needed to vacate in a hurry. She slipped her key into the lock and opened the door.
    The taupe floors and peach-striped walls of her hotel room greeted her. She pulled her roller-bag inside and locked the door. Lonely silence enveloped her. She sighed. It was just like home, except she probably wouldn’t be able to sleep in the unfamiliar surroundings.
    A laptop sat on a nearby desk next to a portable GPS unit. A set of rental car keys lay to the right of them. She knew bullets for her gun would be in the desk drawer. The Bureau wouldn’t want her going into the field with frangible rounds. She unstrapped her ankle holster and popped the clip out of her SIG Sauer, replacing it with 9 mm rounds of ammo.
    Delaney turned on the laptop and waited for it to boot. As long as Jack Gordon still had his jacket on, she’d be able to track where he went.
    She grabbed the envelope that McMillan had left for her and tore it open. Inside was the photo of a geeky college kid. At least that’s what she thought at first glance. Upon further examination, Delaney noticed lines bracketing his cruel mouth and the coldness of his eyes.
    Delaney flipped the photo over. The name David Rico was splashed across the back. Beneath it was a notation in McMillan’s masculine scrawl.
    Secondary contact—small-time dealer.
    Was she supposed to look for David Rico now? Should she drop surveillance on Jack Gordon? Delaney flipped open her phone. Her finger hovered above the number she used to speed-dial McMillan. She was about to press it, when the screen on her computer glowed to life. A map popped up, showing a red blip in Marina Del Rey, fifteen minutes away from her hotel. What was Jack doing in there, when he lived in Malibu?
    She flipped the phone shut and changed out of her uniform quickly into a pair of faded jeans and a white blouse. Delaney slipped her ankle-high boots on, shoving her ID, credit card and cash into her pocket, before strapping on her pistol. She snatched the portable GPS unit off the desk, then pocketed her keys and raced out the door. If she hurried, she might be able to catch him before he left.
     
    J ACK PULLED IN TO the parking lot of Jerry’s Famous Deli. He couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that he was being watched. He glanced around the area, slowly scanning the parked cars. A flash of movement brought his gaze back to a rented blue Chevy sedan. Was it his imagination or had someone ducked the second he looked over that way?
    He knew it. Someone was following him. His gut never lied and had kept him alive on more than one occasion. Too bad it hadn’t helped on his final arms sale.
    Hell, his guns had killed so many. He might as well have pulled the trigger himself. It would’ve been a lot more humane than what his last buyers had done. A