Chapter Five

Mob Files and No Strings Attached

Woody stared aimlessly out the window of his office, the Albanian mob file that Jordan had asked him to fax to her still laying in the middle of his desk. Professional courtesy…I wonder just what she is up to in New York…he mused. And exactly why and how deeply is she involved with the Albanian mobs there?

Futilely, he wished that she was back in Boston…that she had never left. Despite the fact that he had told Jordan it was over between them…despite the fact that he was dating Allison on a steady basis…despite the fact that Jordan had put several hundred miles between them…he still worried about her.

At first he chalked it up to habit. He had worried about her since the minute he had laid eyes on her at the bank heist years ago. Just because they were no longer pursuing a relationship, didn't mean he still wasn't concerned about what happened to her. And right now she was in New York and he had absolutely no control over her safety.

If he ever really did to begin with. As headstrong as Jordan was, he wasn't sure if he was ever remotely in control of anything they did. At least until the very end. Until he had rebuffed her. Then he realized just how much influence he did have over her. Her sagging shoulders and tears had told him just how much he had hurt her.

It hadn't mattered to him at the time. He had firmly believed he was better off without her. And at the time, his world was revolving around him and what he needed. Not her. Not anyone else, really. Just him, and at the time, his motionless legs.

He drummed his fingernails on the top of his desk. The Albanians were not a group anyone would want to piss off. And unfortunately, when Jordan had involved herself as a mediator between himself and Cal, she had unwittingly tipped her hand to the mob. They knew who she was. He hoped this McCoy guy read the file thoroughly. Out of habit, Woody flipped his cell phone open. He could call her and get the New York DA's number under the guise that there was some information he needed to verbally tell him. Then he could call McCoy and warn him to watch out for Jordan…keep her off the case and out of harm's way.

But was it his job to do that now? Did he have the right to act on a hunch?

Maybe he should take a trip to New York and check things out…make sure she's okay…

Unfortunately, their last words were still too fresh in his mind for him to secure a plane ticket with a clear conscious….

"There's nothing keeping me in Boston, right?"

"No. There's not."

If there was nothing left to keep her in Boston, there was even less propelling him to go to New York. He picked up the file, threw it in his bottom desk drawer, and slammed it shut.

The Albanian file from Boston sat on the corner of her desk…a thick reminder of her work back in Boston…a hint of the work she might have facing her in New York, and a mile marker in her life's journey. In a way, it had been that work that landed her here in the NYC morgue.

Thinking back, it had been during the beginning of that case that she and Woody had been the closest they had ever gotten in their relationship. Not even in LA, when he nearly kissed her again, were they that emotionally close.

Never had she been more ready to let him in…allow him to take her heart…and love her like he wanted to…like she needed him to.

But then, Woody's "inner loop" with the mob pulled the sucker punch that began her Farm Boy's downward spiral into self pity….the action that ultimately caused their budding romance to self destruct. Cal.

Cal was Woody's inside source on the Albanian mob. Not that Woody had asked him to do that and not that Cal volunteered to. The gambling debt that Cal owed one of the mob members put him in a situation where he had to become a police mole for them….via his Boston PD brother. When Woody had found out how Cal was playing him, he had reversed the roles and used the information Cal gave him to help convict the mob members.

But Woody had paid a high price for it…He and Cal were now estranged…and Jordan had tried to play mediator…showing up at the Albanian bar with Cal. That's why the mob knew her face…and once Woody and the other officers showed up at the bar, Albie and his group had quickly put the whole scenario together and threatened Jordan's life. Woody had shot the man, but now her face was known the mob. Not only who she was, but what she did for a living...and what those skills had done to put some of their Albanian family behind bars for a long time.

Woody had never gotten over Cal's deception. It had cut him to the emotional quick. So when she had hesitated about the friendship ring he had given her, he had pulled even more tightly in his emotional shell, declaring they would be better as friends after all. Then when he had been shot, and she had bared her soul to him, he pushed her away for good – when he had needed her the most….and when she had needed him even more.

He had given her no reason to turn down this rotation in New York.

And he would have been the only reason she would have stayed in Boston.

Resolutely, she grabbed the offending file off the corner of her desk, threw it into her briefcase, and slammed it shut.

Jack McCoy was still pouring over the file that Jordan had given him last night. If he had to give her and Hoyt anything, despite whatever personal differences they may have, they made a damn fine team. The information was detailed and as far as he could tell, incredibly accurate and intuitive.

And if completely accurate, it painted only a tiny corner of the picture that may be developing in New York City with the Albanians. Jordan had been right…they were cruel…ruthless…and would hesitate to do nothing in the name of family, honor, and duty.

The body in the morgue…the one that Betty had been sure was the victim of an Albanian hit….was indeed perhaps the first in a line of victims the DA's office could assume to process. He was going to have to hit this case fast and hard in order to hopefully stave off an incoming flood of possible other victims.

He had to put some fear in the hearts of these people

And Jack couldn't be totally sure, but he had a feeling the beautiful ME from Boston was going to play a key role in his efforts both in the courtroom and out of the courtroom. If he could get her paired with Briscoe and Curtis to work these cases, it would take a load off of his mind.

If he could talk her into a few more games of pool, dinner, and some more dancing, it would be even better.

He wasn't confused. Jack knew, that despite the strong resemblances, Jordan was not Claire. But that made him no less fascinated by the woman. That did nothing to diminish his desire for her. Slowly and thoughtfully he closed the file on his desk. Hoyt, he decided, was truly a fool to refuse this woman's love and affection. He wasn't sure why it happened, but right now Jack was glad it did. Jordan may have been hurt by this Boston detective, but Jack was determined to help her get over it.

As a matter of fact, it would be his pleasure to do so. He placed the file in the center of his desk so he wouldn't forget to call Jordan on a daily basis and pick her brain on the case….as if he needed any reminder.

Jordan began to work primarily with Briscoe and Curtis once Betty felt she was familiar enough with the NYC morgue and its procedures to be out on her on. Jordan welcomed the chance to get out of the office and back out in the field…even if the field wasn't the familiar streets of Boston.

She enjoyed working with Curtis, who by his own admission was a family man – happily married with three children. Briscoe was different. Jordan would like to say he was a substitute for Garret while she was in New York, but he really wasn't. The differences between the two men were glaring. And Garret, as far as Jordan knew, had never looked at her with a glint in his eye the way Lenie sometimes did. "If you were a few years older, or preferably, I was a few years younger, we'd have some good times, baby," he'd tease and wink at Jordan.

But Jack continued to be the most fascinating. Whether it was by his frank admission about Claire or the fact that his eyes seemed to be able to read her soul, she wasn't sure. She just knew that when she had a bad day, and Jack found out about it, all it took was one sympathetic look from his deep brown eyes and she instantly felt better.

As a matter of fact, it was becoming harder and harder to remember that a certain pair of blue eyes used to make her feel the same way. Which is good, Jordan reasoned, since he doesn't want me around anymore…maybe Garret was right. Maybe this rotation was exactly what I needed to get over him…put Woody in my past and move on. For the first time, she felt that it might be possible for her to have a future with someone other than the Wisconsin Farm Boy.

The only event marring her stay in New York was the continued worries about the Albanian mobs. There had been two more hits. Jack had read and re-read Jordan's and Woody's files. Briscoe and Curtis had talked with witnesses and informants. Jack feared that the three murders were just the tip of a Titanic-sized ice berg…that they were going to be hit with several more.

And his concern for Jordan's safety grew. She had tried to down play her role in the Boston case, but from what Jack could read between the lines in Woody's file, Jordan had been in more serious danger than she wanted to admit to herself or anyone else.

It also struck him odd that Woody had never called and inquired about the New York cases or Jordan. If the detective's feelings had been at one time been as strong as Jordan indicated, Jack found it strange that Woody hadn't been at the least bit concerned about her well-being…and if she was being watched.

He could come to only one conclusion. Whatever type of relationship Jordan had at one time with Woody was truly over.

Which was fine with him…that meant that Jordan had come to New York with no strings attached.