Christmas Guardian

That was a lot of info crammed into that brief two-sentence report. “Why didn’t Burke just ask me where I was going? I saw him at the party less than an hour ago.”

The guy blinked. “Because Burke didn’t hire me.”

Jordan studied the guy’s face, looking for any sign that he was lying, but he seemed darn smug about telling the truth. “Then who did?”

“Dunno. I was contracted freelance through a broker.”

A broker. In other words, a middle man who acted as a go-between for P.I.s and clients who didn’t want to be identified. That didn’t mean the employer couldn’t be traced. It just meant Jordan would have to dig through some layers to get to it. Judging from what Anderson had said, Kinley was the reason for this since his employer had wanted to know who went anywhere with Jordan.

“What did your broker-using employer tell you to do?” Jordan questioned.

“Wait outside Sentron.” The man paused. “And when you left, I was to follow you and report back.”

They were simple instructions, but they could have deadly implications.

Jordan stared at him. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re a really lousy P.I. or if you wanted me to know I was being followed.”

Anderson lifted his shoulder.

“Well?” Jordan pressed. “Which is it?”

It still took him several moments to answer. “I was told to be obvious.”

So, this was for intimidation. “Why?”

“Wasn’t told that,” Anderson insisted.

Jordan was about to push for more details, but he spotted the headlights of another vehicle. He eased his gun to his side so as not to alarm any of his neighbors who might be coming home late.

But the car stopped.

It stayed idling just up the street. And the driver kept the high beams on so that the blinding light glared through the darkness.

Anderson glanced back at the car. “I’m leaving now. My advice—you do the same.”

“Who’s your friend in the car?” Jordan demanded.