Chapter Five

My Heart Still Goes Back to You

He got back to the bar a little after midnight. He had driven around for a while after he left the funeral home… trying to clear his head and think coherently. When he finally pulled into his parking place at the Rose and came in the back way, he found Little Johnny waiting on him. "We need to talk, Hoyt," he said. "Your office. Now."

Swallowing the taste of fear, Woody led the mobster into his office and shut the door. "Yeah, Johnny?"

"I need to know something. What's your relationship with this dead people's doctor?"

"Jordan?"

"Yeah, her. I found out she's an ME for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Figured you two worked together while you were a detective, but what's going on with you two now?"

"Nothing, really. I mean, there hasn't been in a long time. Once….but that's a long time ago…and we were both at completely different place in our lives and was completely different people."

"She and her friends are coming around a little too much for my comfort."

Woody looked at the floor for a minute. Whatever he did, he had to make sure that Jordan didn't come back to the Rose for any reason. "I'll make sure that Nigel and Jordan don't come back to the Rose again. It's just that, I guess I'm the last person they expected to run the Rose…"

"So they're trying to bring you back from the dark side?" Little Johnny laughed at his reference to Star Wars.

Woody chuckled with him, feeling the tension in the room ease a bit. "Yeah. Something like that."

Johnny looked him straight in the eyes. "You're one of the few people that have always been honest with me, Hoyt. So I believe you. Just make sure they stay away. Might scare off the clientele."

"I will. I promise I'll make sure they understand in no uncertain terms."

"Good. Now…I think there are some folks out here that want to see you as soon as you're settled."

Woody nodded and let Johnny out of his office, shutting the door behind the man, then leaning against it and taking a deep breath. He had gotten off easy this time. And if Johnny ever even got a whiff that he was undercover and deceiving the mobster…it wouldn't be pretty.

And heaven help him if Johnny ever made the connection between Jordan and Max.

Thank God Boston's an Irish city and Cavanaugh is a fairly common Irish name…But a vague feeling of unease hung over Woody …and in the days following he couldn't seem to shake it.

I give people the impression I don't need anyone. But you know what? I do. I need someone…I need you tonight…but I understand. I guess that ship has sailed…

Jordan's comment echoed through Woody's thoughts for the next month. Every time he thought he had put the entire event behind him, something at the Rose would remind him of the Pogue, and then memories of Max and what that place had meant to Jordan would fill his mind. Visions of the good times they had all had there together…dancing with her…the re-enactments to solve cold crimes. But of course that was all BS…before the shooting. Before he had become the cold son of a bitch that had made him so perfect for this assignment.

What was even worse was the image of Jordan's eyes when she told him that she needed him…the hurt…yet, the acceptance of what wasn't going to be between them any longer. That was what haunted him the most…those eyes and the knowledge that she had no idea how much he still loved her.

That, coupled with what little Boston police gossip he still heard, bothered him. The word was that Jordan wasn't coping with Max's death. She wasn't sleeping well…or eating right…and working far too many hours. This didn't surprise him. That was Jordan Cavanaugh's classic way of coping.

But still, he wasn't there to watch over her like he had in the past, even when they were estranged. And despite Johnny's warning, Woody kept wishing he could see her…just one more time. However, as the days passed, and no sighting of Jordan, Woody couldn't deal with it any longer. He had to see her…and finally figured out how to do it without Johnny finding out. If Jordan couldn't and wouldn't come to him, he would go to her.

Jordan sighed and shut the big, red door to her apartment. Leaning against it for a moment, she took off her earrings and threw them on the counter along with her car keys. Dropping her pocketbook on the couch, she shed her coat and slung it over the back of a chair on the way to her bedroom. It had been another long day in the middle of a long week, that was wedged in the middle of the month from hell. She stripped and got ready to get in the shower. It wasn't the fact that her case load was any heavier or more difficult than she wanted. It was like Garret had told her one time: Dead bodies are easy to deal with. It's the live ones that give you problems. Jordan winced at the words. In her predicament, it was a little of both.

Max. He had been in Bismark visiting old friends and was working his way back to Boston. Back home. Back to her. He was ready to make amends and be her father again. Then a massive heart attack put an end to his plans. Whatever words he had wanted to say to her were left unsaid. Not even a lousy, damn phone call in the preceding months to ease his conscious and her mind…no… he had wanted to wait to see her in person. It was some small comfort that he had been heading home. It would have been a bigger comfort to know what he wanted to say to her. She turned the water in the shower on as hot as she could stand it and got in.

So that was the dead body that was causing her problems. Her father. It was hard to think of him as dead, but he was. She had his death certificate to prove it. The live body that was still causing her issues was ensconced in a bar on South Boston. Woody. She remembered what she had told him…and that he had rejected her yet one more time. She had needed him so badly the night of her father's wake…him and only him. To hold her. Tell her everything would be all right. Other people had told her that, but she didn't believe them. Woody…however, would be different. Woody had been where she was at. He knew the grief of losing both parents. If Woody had held her and told her that she would be okay, she would have believed it.

Instead, Jordan didn't think she would ever be the same…she had lost her father and her heart. Her father to a massive heart attack and her heart to a man who didn't love her. Maybe he never did.

That fact did nothing to negate her feelings toward him. Her heart was still his…and she still ached to be held by him. The chances of that ever happening are slim to none, she thought as she climbed out of the shower and toweled dry. She wrapped the towel around her and walked to the bedroom to get ready for bed, pulling the sheets and blankets down. She was tired. More tired than she realized. Foregoing the normal girl boxers and tank top, she dropped the towel and climbed into bed completely nude. Her already drooping eyelids told her that for once sleep was going to come easily and quickly.

And it did…and she slept soundly until she thought she heard a noise…the sound of her window quietly being raised. However, her exhausted body was having problems responding to the warning her brain was sending out. It wasn't until she felt a hand brush her hair out of her face that her eyes responded and a scream seized her lungs.

Only to be tamped down by a hard hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened in fear as all she could see was a hooded figured in the dark, sitting beside her on the bed. "Shh….." a voice said.

A familiar voice. Woody?

"If I take my hand off your mouth, do you promise not to scream?"

She nodded and felt his hand leave her mouth and flip on the lamp beside her bed. Then he pushed the hood of his jacket off of his head so she could see it was him. "Woody? What are you doing here?"

Woody chuckled self-consciously and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "I wanted to come and check on you. I heard…I heard ... anyway, I was worried about you."

"I'm …I guess I'm okay." Jordan sat up in bed, careful to keep the sheets wrapped around her bare body. "Why'd you have to come like this? So late…and breaking in my apartment."

"I didn't break in. You left your window unlocked. You always have. All I had to do was climb up the fire escape and crawl in."

"And?"

"And I had to see you this way because Johnny is getting a little suspicious of our…our….friendship."

Jordan nearly snorted at Woody's description of their relationship. It could hardly be called friendship. It could hardly be called anything, to tell the truth. "Did you tell him he had nothing to worry about?"

Woody pulled one hand out of his pocket and raked it though his hair. "He knows you're an ME, Jordan. He's worried that if you and Nigel keep coming by the bar, it's going to spook the clientele."

She did snort then and longed to throw the sheets aside and put some distance between them. But in her present state of undress, she couldn't. "Don't you mean the mob?" she asked, bitterness tingeing her voice as she clutched the sheets a little tighter to her. She still couldn't imagine Woody entangling himself with this group.

"They're not all mobsters," he said, amusement lacing his voice.

"They're not fine, upstanding citizens, either."

He shook his head. "No…most of them aren't. Anyway, I just came by to see how you were doing…" He looked at her closely for a minute. Satisfied with what he saw, he continued. "I guess I should go now." He turned the bedside lamp off, stood up and walked back over to the window, reaching down to raise it again until he heard a quiet voice in the darkness.

"Why?"

"Why what, Jordan?"

"Why did you have to go to work for them? I have friends at Massachusetts Technologies…I could have gotten you on in security there."

I wish I could tell you…but Walcott would have my balls on a platter…The DA had been adamant. She wanted no leaks. Only Woody, Freeman, herself and the two informants knew about Woody's undercover role at the Rose. Taking a deep breath, he replied, "I told you. The bad guys were winning. I want to be on the winning team for a change."

Even through the darkness, he could see her shake her head. "This doesn't sound like you, Woody. Not the Woody I know and lo…loved."

"Maybe you didn't know me as well as you thought you did," he responded quietly and coldly.

"No…I knew you pretty well, Hoyt. At least I thought I did…maybe you're right. Maybe we've both grown apart…turned into two very different people." She heard him reach for the window again. "But one thing hasn't changed. I still love you, Woody."

Damn….Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. God help him….but the Deity was nowhere in sight. He was drawn back to the bed to sit down one more time. Blindly he reached out and touched her cheek. "You shouldn't."

"You're the person who once said, 'People fall in and out of love. You go where your heart takes you'. I can't help my heart goes back to you."