The decision had been made. They were moving Jordan to a safe house along the California coast. Winstead knew that her testimony was critical to his case against Pete Gavanotitch. The bureau had also been tracing activity relating to the mob and Jordan. Her name had been tossed around too much on the streets for the bureau to take any chances. Winstead figured the further away he could get Jordan from Boston and New York, the better. California fit the description.

Woody was on his way over to break the news to Jordan. He wasn't sure what her reaction would be. Indeed, he wasn't sure how she was doing at all. Since their little interlude night before last, he had gone out of his way not to see her.

He reasoned with himself that there were agents that could look after her as well as he could. That his energies would be better spent concerning her safety in looking for a new location. That was the rational side of his brain talking. The other side of his brain was telling him a completely different story. What would he do when he saw her again? How would he react? How would she react? Part of him desperately wanted to know and another part of him told him to leave it alone...put it in the past. What happened was just the result of a beautiful woman in a very revealing night gown that was too available. At least that's what he kept telling himself.

He didn't believe it, not even for a second.

But it sounded good, it sounded rational, and it helped him get over the guilt of avoiding those honey-colored eyes until his FBI façade was firmly back in place. Smiling grimly to himself, he entered the hotel's freight elevator and punched 10.

==============================================================

Jordan had been in her hotel room for two days now. Two long days. Two Woody-less days. It had taken her quite a while to cool her body back down after he left that night. For a long time she had just lain there, reliving the moments. When he failed to show up the next day, she grew angry. She had pulled the card out that he gave her with his phone numbers on it and nearly called to give him a piece of her mind. But she chickened out at the last minute. Instead, she threw the card away. She would see him soon enough.

And soon came, well, sooner than she thought. She heard a soft knock at her door and felt who it was even before she answered it. And she was right. It was Woody.

If she had expected remorse or longing for the unfulfilled event, she was sorely disappointed. His agent face was firmly snapped into place. "Good morning, Jordan," he said.

"Good morning yourself."

Woody pulled off those ever-present sunglasses. "Are you okay?"

"Just peachy. You?"

Woody looked at her carefully. She was angry. And hell, he expected her to be. He hadn't called her or saw her the next morning as he had promised. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he thought "And heaven and hell help you if that woman is Jordan."

"I need to talk to you about relocating," he began.

"I'm not going anywhere unless it's Boston."

"Jordan, that's impossible. Gavanotitch and the rest of his people know you live in Boston."

"I'll dye my hair, buy a new car, change apartments. I could stay with Eddie Winslow."

Woody nearly flinched at that statement. How close was Jordan to Eddie? He couldn't picture it, but he supposed in five years anything was possible. They were pretty chummy in her apartment that day he came to get her to bring her to New York. But there was no way she was going to stay with Eddie. That would happen over his dead body.

"No. I'm afraid that's not possible."

Jordan sighed and walked over to the window. Shoulders sagging in defeat, she asked, "Then where am I going?"

"California."

She swung around and stared at Woody in shock. "California? Surely, that's not necessary..."

"Look, Jo, we have to keep you safe at least until an arrest is made. Winstead wants you as far away from Boston and New York as possible. California fits."

"When will an arrest be made?"

"We're working just as hard and fast as we can."

"When do I leave?"

"Tonight. I'll be here around eight to pick you up. Be ready."

And with that Woody was gone, leaving Jordan to pick up the pieces of her scattered life and try to arrange them into some sort of shape. Numb from the information, she picked up the phone and called Nigel. He answered on the second ring.

"Nige..."

"Jordan!" At least he sounded delighted to hear from her.

"They're....they're moving me Nigel."

"Where to, love?"

"California."

"You're kidding, right? You're coming home."

"I wish I was, Nige. I wish I was kidding and I wish I was coming home. But I'm not."

"Sweet Nancy, what is their reason?"

On the other end of the phone, Nigel was motioning for Garrett to pick up the extension. They both listened as Jordan explained the situation.

"Well, it's like this," she began, struggling to keep her voice from breaking. "Evidently this Gavanotitch is pretty serious about shutting me up permanently. So there's all kinds of rumors out there about what he might do. Winstead said he needed to keep me as far away from Boston and New York as possible. So, I'm headed to California."

"When?" asked Garrett

"Garrett? Is that you?"

"Yeah. When are you leaving?"

"Tonight."

Garrett and Nigel looked at each other in disbelief.

"Anyway," Jordan continued, "I just wanted to let you know. I'm leaving at eight."

"Will you be able to call us when you get there?" asked Nigel.

"I don't know. I don't know much of anything."

"Is Woody going with you?" Garrett inquired.

"I know he's taking me to the airport. I don't know anything else." That hit Jordan hard. She had been put in his care and now she didn't know how that was going to change. Would he stay with her, or come back to the East Coast?

Garrett blew out a sigh and pulled his glasses off. He was going to call Woody himself, as soon as he calmed down. FBI or no FBI, Jordan deserved better than to be jerked around like this.

"I guess I need to go and get packed, guys. Take care of yourself."

"You, too Jordan," Nigel said.

"Look, Jo, be careful and do everything they tell you to. Stay safe," Garrett told her.

Jordan slowly hung up the phone. There was no one else to call...she had no clue where her dad was. Her closest friends were just notified. She turned and went into the bedroom. She really needed to do laundry before she left.

==================================================

True to his word, Woody was at her apartment at eight. She was ready to go, with her suitcases packed and in the hall. Jordan hugged Gail goodbye and handed off her luggage. As before, Woody took her arm and headed her down the hall, keeping her in the center of a cluster of FBI agents. He leaned over and softly whispered in her ear, "It's good that we're leaving."

She turned and gave him a puzzled look.

"The threats were stepped up this afternoon." They exited the elevator and Jordan found herself in the backseat of an SUV with Woody beside her.

"They were real and credible threats, Jo." The SUV pulled out of the garage and onto the thoroughfare. "And I don't think we left a minute too soon...."

A deafening blast cut off whatever else Woody was saying. Woody threw himself over Jordan as the SUV rocked with the after waves of the explosion. "PICK IT UP! PICK IT UP!" yelled Woody to the driver, who floored the vehicle. Sirens blaring and moving at high rates of speed, the FBI convoy pulled into the highway and headed for the airport. Jordan wiggled out from under Woody and turned back to look at the hotel. There, where her room had been, was a gaping hole in the side of the building. Jordan shut her eyes and fought the waves of nausea that welled up. Turning back around, she looked at Woody who was busy screaming directions into his ear piece. She slid down into her seat. Maybe California wasn't such a bad idea.

==================================================================

The rush to the airport, the haste to get on the plane, the sheer madness of it all was taking a toll on Jordan and Woody knew it. She hadn't said a word the entire time. The only thing that she response she had given Woody was a curt "I'm fine," when he asked if she was hurt. Other than that, she was silent.

Arriving on the tarmac, the SUV pulled up beside the private plane and the agents got out of the vehicles. "Come on Jordan," Woody had said as he opened her door, "Come to me." And she had, quickly and without argument, grabbing his hand tightly. He hustled her up the stairs and into the plane, quickly followed by agents carrying her luggage. He got her settled and told her to buckle. Then he called Winstead to reassure him that Jordan was at the airport and on the plane.

Jordan was looking out the window, wondering how long it would be before the plane took off. The sooner the better, as far as she was concerned. A long-neck bottle appeared in front of her eyes. Glancing up at the hand, and then the arm, and then the face that beer belonged to, she saw Woody, who was grinning down at her. "I think you need one after this afternoon," he said, sitting down beside her and pulling on his own.

"I didn't think you could drink while you were on duty," she said.

"There are exceptions to every rule," he replied, tipping back his bottle, "And this is one hell of an exception."

Jordan sipped her own. "Remind you of any of the old days at the Boston PD?"

Woody could remember more than a few harrowing times they had together. "Yeah. Like that time that guy rigged his house to explode when you opened the gate?"

Jordan nodded.

Woody chuckled. In one way that seemed like so long ago. In another way, it was like yesterday.

"Ummm, Jordan about the other night," he sounded like a high school kid that had gotten caught making out with his girlfriend.

"Uh-huh."

"I didn't mean for it to happen....I mean to happen like that."

Jordan raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, you know what I mean."

"No, I have no clue. You didn't come back like you said you would."

Woody loosened his tie. "I mean I didn't come into your bedroom with the intent of making love to you. You were there, in that gown, and ...well..."

"If you tell me it 'just happened,' I'm going to scream."

"No, it didn't. Not entirely. I'm just telling you that wasn't my intent. I wanted to talk to you about relocating."

"Oh." Jordan sifted this through her mind. It may not have been his intent, but it happened. Why, she still really didn't know. The heat of the moment? The temptation of the gown? The need to see if the embers of their past romance could be rekindled?

She, herself, would say yes to the last one. The sparks between the two of them burned brightly again that night. So bright, she got burned again. Why was Woody bringing this up, anyway? Guilt? The need for confession? The fear she may place more importance in the event than she should? Or the fear that he would? Maybe it was just some residual lust between the two that needed to be burned away.

"I'm not sorry it happened," Woody continued, "But it's over, right?"

Jordan nodded. "Yeah. It's over."

Woody tipped his bottle back again. "Thank goodness," he thought. "Thank goodness she's not making more out of this than she should."