Chapter Three

The Old Irish Rose

Jordan sank back down in her desk chair at Nigel's words. So that's why he was so dressed up the other night, she thought as she rubbed her temples with her fingers…feeling the beginnings of a headache throbbing there. He was getting ready to go out, all right…straight to the Old Irish Rose and oversee the mob activities there…does he have any idea of how dangerous this is? That he could get caught in the crosshairs of some really nasty mob fights and end up….end up…She swallowed hard. Jordan couldn't complete the rest of the sentence.

"Love, are you all right?" Nigel asked, coming around to kneel beside her.

"You're sure?" she asked in a voice that wasn't steady at all.

Nigel nodded. "I'm sorry, Jordan. Truly….truly sorry."

"It's okay, Nige. I mean, what does he have left? He's lost his career. Lu and he…well, from what I understand, now Lu's not even speaking to him…and I… we…"

Nigel gently took one of her hands. "He still had you. You and I both know that. He's the reason you really couldn't give your heart to JD, no matter how hard you tried. You may not want to admit it and neither does he, but it's true."

Jordan nodded and withdrew one of her hands to wipe the tears off her cheeks. "I know…but sometimes you nearly have to lose the thing that keeps you sane…that makes you the most human….before you realize what it means to you."

"That happened to you with Woody…when he was shot. And one day, he'll realize just how much he cares for you, too, Jordan," Nigel whispered.

"But what am I supposed to do now? Let him ruin his life by getting involved with a group of men that could either get him killed, or make him do a total one-eighty and defy all the ideals and principles he's believed in all his life?"

Nigel stood and drew Jordan up with him. "I don't know…I don't know what your plan should be. Let me do some digging, love. Find out exactly how he got in and why…and then I suggest we talk to the other person who knows him best in the whole world. Lu."

Jordan glanced over Nigel's shoulder to stare out the window and gather her thoughts. As a person, she liked Lu. Lu was a great detective and her background in psychology was proving invaluable to the Boston PD homicide department. The woman had a strong work ethic and didn't mind putting in the hours or the leg work to see a case through.

But her connection with Woody still rankled Jordan. Jordan had never necessarily thought of herself as the jealous kind. But anytime she had seen the blonde detective and Woody together, she had gone beyond seeing red. She had seen green – Jordan became jealous. Jealous that Lu had more in common with Woody than she did. Jealous that Woody had confided things to Lu that he never dreamed of telling her. However….something had happened. Jordan had seen them out enough together to know they were on the cusp of becoming a couple. And Lu was no longer Woody's psychologist, so that hurdle had been jumped.

Then, like someone had thrown a switch, it was all over between Lu and Woody. The interoffice gossip grapevine lit up, but there were no positive, definite reasons over what caused the split. Lots of speculation and rumors, but nothing for sure.

Still…Lu knew Woody pretty well, and in some areas, much better than Jordan or Nigel. Especially recently…She may be able to throw some light on a dark corner of Woody's world. "Sure…we do need to talk to her," Jordan finally admitted in a small voice. "She would want to know what's happening with Woody, I'm sure."

"And she may be able to help. Call her and ask her to meet us at lunch. By then, I'm sure to have some answers." Nigel gave Jordan a parting smile and platonic kiss on the forehead before he ambled out of her office, back to his computer, to research Woody's introduction to the Irish mob.

Jordan's eyes followed him and then settled back at the phone on her desk. Reluctantly she picked up the receiver and dialed the direct number into Lu's office. Here's hoping Lu didn't have previous lunch plans.

"He was definitely fired," Nigel said, between bites of his sandwich. He, Jordan, and Lu were meeting at a deli about three blocks away from the morgue.

"From what I've heard, there wasn't even an IA investigation," Lu said. "And that struck me as odd…especially with as long as Woody had been with the force."

"Yeah, but he hit a rookie cop," Jordan responded. "And there were at least a dozen witnesses, including myself."

Lu nodded. "I know they didn't even let him back in to clean out his desk. Someone did that for him and put his personal things in a box out at the receptionist's desk for him to pick up. They've called him twice and he still hasn't come by yet."

"Tell me, is it protocol that once they fire someone, their record is sealed?" Nigel asked Lu.

"I don't know…I guess it depends on what Woody was working on before all this happened," the detective responded.

"Was it anything special….say mob related?" Jordan hedged.

Lu shook her head. "I don't think so. I mean Woody and I haven't worked together in a while…and haven't talked in several, several weeks."

Jordan raised an eyebrow, asking the unaskable. Lu didn't bite…she ignored Jordan's unspoken question and concentrated on her salad.

"I don't think whatever he was doing before he was terminated had anything to do with a mob case," Nigel said, finishing his sandwich and starting on his chips.

"What makes you say that?" Lu asked. Jordan had filled her in on where Woody was working now. A little research on the female detective's part had let her know that Jordan wasn't shooting her a line of bullshit. The Old Irish Rose was a long-standing mob-owned establishment that had sheltered all the major family heads for decades. The fact that they had hired an outsider…a former cop …let her know that either the mob wasn't trusting one of their own to run that particular business any longer or that Woody had an "in." Someone that could vouch for the former Boston policemen…that would let the mob leaders know without a shadow of a doubt Woody would be loyal and true…and could be explicitly trusted.

"Because…first, the mob could smell that a mile off…and quite possible believe that Woody was working undercover. Which we know he's not because...he's had no mob case and he's been fired," Nigel replied

"Yeah, but there was the Albanian mob case," Jordan rejoined.

Nigel nodded. "And that's where I'm going. From what I can tell, Woody used Cal to get him introduced to Little Johnny."

"Cal?" Jordan asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Not per say personally, but let the mob know that he had an inside to the Albanian mob if they should ever need information. They asked for some. As a sign of loyalty, Woody gave them some phone numbers and information he had wrangled off of Cal. It showed the Irish mob they could trust him…"

"Cal?" Lu asked. "Who's Cal?"

"It's sort of a long story, but let's just say that he's Woody's younger brother and was messed up with the Albanian mob a couple of years ago. He ended up coming to Boston and Woody found out about it…" Jordan told her.

"And hit the roof…" Lu concluded.

"Something like that….yeah," Jordan softly replied, not wanting to tell Lu that Woody had buried evidence against his brother.

"So now, what do we know?" Nigel asked rhetorically. "First, we know that Woody was fired," he said, raising one finger. "Secondly," he raised another finger, "we know that he is now seemingly employed by the Irish mob. Third, this means that our lily-white Wisconsin boy scout is now probably involved in racketeering, bookmaking, prostitution, drugs…and who knows what else?"

"And even if he's not directly, it's still guilt by association…" Lu finished, her voice trailing off, a far away look in her eyes.

Jordan made an impatient sound in the back of her throat. "I don't care…I don't care what either of you say…I know Woody Hoyt better than both of you put together….and I just can't picture him ever getting involved with something like this… I just can't. There's got to be another reason."

Lu stood and began to gather up her things to leave. "I know, Jordan. It's hard for me to picture him taking a mob job, either. But as a psychologist, not as his friend, I can tell you something…"

Jordan looked up at her expectantly. Lu continued. "Sometimes, when a person has given all they can to one way of life, one set of expectations…and things don't go exactly as planned, that person pushes back. They do that one-eighty. They embrace a lifestyle and set of values that seem totally contradictory to their personality."

"Do they ever go back to the way they were?" Jordan asked quietly, after a moment's hesitation. She wasn't really sure she wanted the answer.

"Sometimes. Depends on if they have a real incentive to."

Woody would have to admit, it was going better than he expected, as he sat across from his new boss and listened to the itinerary for the week. And he had to give the informants that Walcott and Captain Freeman had planted inside the Irish mob two years ago most of the credit. They had introduced Woody to the Irish mob's leader, a guy by the name of Little Johnny.

Little Johnny. Woody didn't let the name fool him. Little had nothing to do with an accurate description of the mobster. A towering man at six foot six inches, he had a good two inches and at least 40 pounds on Woody. He was a giant of a man, who like most good mob members, was a contradiction in terms. He was a devoted family man, married to the same woman for nearly 25 years…and she was as petite as Johnny was big. He had four kids, whom Woody knew that the mobster thought the sun rose and set in…and was equally loved by his offspring. Little Johnny attended church regularly, cared about the senior citizens in his parish, and gave generously and anonymously to many local charities.

He was also a cold-blooded killer. Woody personally knew of at least a half a dozen disloyal mob members he had taken the responsibility to have "offed."

But the informants paved the way for the detective, letting Little Johnny know about how the police department had been so disloyal to Woody, after all the time and years he had spent with the force. And if there was anything Little Johnny despised more than anything, it was disloyalty.

So, the mob leader and Woody had talked. And talked. Finally, Little Johnny had agreed to let Woody have a go at managing the bar and keeping his ear to the ground about the various goings and comings of mob members and what they were doing. "I like you, kid," the Johnny had told Woody. "I can see in your eyes that you hate fickleness as much as I do. I admire that in a person. We'll let you have a chance at a new career with us…and you may prove to be an asset to us…with your knowledge of how the Boston PD works…and the fact that you still have friends there. Friends that might not like the way you were treated either…and will let you know if the good Captain Freeman is plotting anything against us. The job's yours Hoyt….as long as you don't screw it up."

That was the beginning of Woody's "new" career as a mob member…managing the Old Irish Rose…and letting Little Johnny know of any news he might find important.

He was also telling his captain the same news. And so far, so good. Everything was going well…until the other night he had looked up and saw Nigel Townsend walk in the bar. The color had drained from Nigel's face as the criminalist realized that Woody was there and what Woody was doing.

Woody had sworn under his breath, praying all the while that Nigel wouldn't do anything to blow his cover. He had one of the waitresses take care of them, while he disappeared in the back, going to his office and closing and locking the door. He had half-way expected to find Nigel knocking atit before the night was out.

But that never happened. When Woody emerged again about an hour later, Nigel and his group of cronies were gone. However, Woody didn't fool himself. He knew the next day Nigel would make a bee line for Jordan's office and tell her what he had found….what he had seen. Who Nigel had seen and where he saw him.

As a result, for the past week, he had expected Jordan to show up at his apartment to confront him…and offer the job at Massachusetts Technologies again. He sighed when he thought about the upcoming argument. He would have to be cold and abrupt with her one more time. Possibly see the hurt flicker in those brown eyes once more. But it would be for her own good…he wouldn't let her be caught in the middle of all of this…She could get hurt.

A quiet retirement to Kewaunne as a dairy farmer was sounding better and better all the time. Between dealing with Jordan and dealing with the mob, Woody was in the most difficult spot he could ever imagine. The quiet, civilian life was looking really good right now.

But these thoughts came to a screeching halt with the bell over the door jangled and she walked in.

What the hell? Woody thought, feeling the color drain out of his face. He anticipated her coming to his apartment, but never dreamed Jordan would have the audacity to come to the bar, given the Rose's history.

"Friend of yours, Woody?" Little Johnny asked from his table in the corner. He had heard the bell jingle, too, and knew it was too early in the afternoon for bar patrons. When the pretty brunette walked in and then Johnny caught Woody's expression, the mobster knew something was up.

"You might say that. I knew her when…when.."

"You were at the police department."

"Yeah."

Johnny was silent for a moment, as he watched Jordan stand awkwardly in the middle of the bar, trying to decide what to do. "Go to her," he urged Woody. "It looks like she needs to talk to you."

Setting his jaw, Woody got up and walked over to where Jordan was still standing. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same question, Farm Boy."

"I'm working."

"Yeah, I heard you've started a new career…can't say I like your new associates," she said, nodding toward Johnny.

"Should that matter to me?" he asked coldly.

Jordan lowered her head for a moment, gathering her thoughts. It hadn't been an easy decision to come to the bar. She had debated about it for two days after her lunch with Lu and Nigel. Nigel had told her it was too dangerous, but that had never stopped her before. It didn't stop her now. What she now knew about Woody was just what she had heard…she needed to see it for herself…that this was his decision….that he wasn't being played as a mob toy.

It certainly didn't look like it. Woody and Johnny had been deep in a discussion when she came it…and it looked serious. She surreptitiously stole a glance at the mobster in the corner, and found him looking somewhat amused at the situation. "Can we go somewhere we can talk?" she finally asked, swinging her eyes back to Woody.

"Sure. Follow me." He took Jordan by the arm and led her back to his office. "What do you want, Jordan?" he asked, after they both had entered and he shut his door.

"Why. I want to know why you're doing this."

"That should be simple. I was fired. I needed a job. Little Johnny gave me one."

Jordan shook her head. "You and I both know who Little Johnny is and what goes on in this place. So don't think you can pull the wool over my eyes, Woody Hoyt."

Woody took a deep breath. He had to get her out of here before too many questions were asked…and if Johnny found out Jordan was an ME….and worse if he found out she was Max Cavanaugh's daughter….it wouldn't be pretty. "Okay…so you know. So what?" he shrugged his shoulders and turned his back to her. Maybe if he didn't have to look her in the eyes, this would be easier to do.

"So what? Woody, this is so much more than just this bar…this is racketeering, prostitution…and worse. It goes against everything you've ever stood for. Why? Why did you do this?"

"That's easy, Jor. I spent my adult life fighting the bad guy. Then one day, I woke up and realized the bad guys were winning. And I like to be on the winning team. So I traded up."

"Woody," Jordan strode over to him and put her hand on his shoulder, making him turn around to face her. "This isn't you…this isn't right…"

Making his eyes ice cold, he spat out, "And what do you know about what's right? What makes you judge and jury? Can't you see that I'm tired of not winning…not getting ahead…not getting anything I work so hard for? Or does everyone have to be perfect in this world except you?"

Jordan backed up at the vehemence in his words, taking a step backwards towards the door. "I didn't mean….I didn't mean that. I'm just….just worried about you. That's all."

"You, Jordan Cavanaugh, worried about me. That's just precious. Jordan. You can take your worry, your concern…your notion of moral righteousness and walk right out the door. And don't come back. I don't want to see you again. Do you understand?" He had followed her, making her continue to back up until her back hit the door.

His face was nearly frightening in its anger. She had never seen him this furious with her, even in the hospital. She had come here for answers…maybe she had them. Maybe Lu was right. Maybe Woody had been pushed until he felt he had to push back…do that one eighty.

Maybe if she just gave him time, he'd find his way back. She nodded. "I do…I understand…" She cursed herself when she heard the tremble in her voice. She'd bet money Woody heard it, too. Especially with the way his lips were turning up in a self-satisfied smile. "It's just that…well….if you ever change your mind…"

"I won't. Not about this job. Not about you."

She nodded again and tried to turn around to open the door and get out. But Woody stopped her, spinning her back around for a moment, looking down into her brown eyes that were echoing the hurt her heart felt. Then, without another moment's hesitation, he caught her lips in a hard kiss.

Jordan's senses reeled for a moment and then steadied out as she felt his lips, hard and relentless on hers…taking from her what he wanted and to her horror she heard herself moan in the back of her throat and felt her mouth open under the pressure of his….

Only to feel him abruptly pull away and open the door behind her. "Go. Get out. Now. And don't ever come back."

Woody had watched her as she stumbled out the door, opting to go out the back way rather than the front. He had stood and stared after her, then quietly followed her, observing her as she found her truck and climbed in. And his heart broke just a little more when he saw her lean against her steering wheel and cry…too upset to drive off for a few minutes.

Damn, that was hard, he thought to himself. And it was. It was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do in his life. But he had to do it. Jordan couldn't be anywhere near this bar if things went badly for him here. She could get hurt….or worse.

But seeing the woman he loved crying over him…and watching Jordan's heart break as she tried to understand why he was acting this way…it was all too much sometimes. Woody shook his head, trying to get the vision of her tear-streaked face out of his mind for the millionth time since their altercation two weeks ago.

It was even harder to get the taste and feel of her lips off of his. Hell, who was he kidding? That was impossible. Especially since her perfume lingered on his coat and in his office.

Everything inside him was screaming for him to call her…to go by her apartment…see how she was and if she was okay. But he couldn't. He couldn't risk seeing her again or it might screw up this assignment that he was working on and other people had been on even longer and risked everything for.

And if he was caught, he would risk ruining Little Johnny's burgeoning trust in him…or worse. So he swallowed his concern and prayed that Jordan would be okay. And that one day she would understand…that he would be given the opportunity to explain the entire undercover situation before he left ot go back to Keuwanne. This was the only way he knew how to deal with it.

And it was working. Working well… Little Johnny continued to give him more responsibilities and better access to mob activities. Woody was doing better than Freeman or Walcott ever expected. Then one afternoon…far too early for bar patrons, but too late for deliveries, the bell over the door jangled again. Woody looked up from his table in the corner to find Nigel Townsend searching the room for him. When the Brit's eyes fell on Woody, he walked over to the table and sat down. "She's worried sick about you, you know," he began without any preface.

"She'll get over it, Nigel." Woody took care to make sure his voice was coldly arrogant.

Nigel looked down at the table for a brief minute. He had assumed that Woody's concern for Jordan had decreased some…especially since the former detective didn't call or come by her apartment after he had upset her. "No doubt, she will, Woodrow. No doubt she will…but I've come to talk to you about something else."

Woody raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Can I talk to you alone?" Nigel asked, noting that Johnny and his associates were taking their place around the table.

"I'm busy right now, Nigel. Just tell me." Woody did his best to act bored with the entire transaction.

Nigel looked around at the crowd of men beginning to surround the table. And suddenly he didn't give a damn about Woody Hoyt any more.

He was, however, concerned about Jordan.

"Okay, Woody…I just figured that considering your past with Jordan, I thought you may want to know…"

"What about Jordan, Nigel?" Woody asked with a sigh.

"Max died last night.."