Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 03 - Money is Murder by Carolyn Arnold Page A

back to Starbucks and she saw him—Jordon Reid was heading toward the door, wearing a thigh-length trench coat paired with jeans.
    “We can stay here all day if you’d like, Mrs. McKinley.”
    “No, that’s fine.” She reached for the handle.
    “As you wish. Good day. Nice to meet you.”
    “You too. Thank you.” She got out of the car hoping for Sean’s arrival. She didn ’t have to wait long.

     
    He wanted to hold her when he saw her standing on the sidewalk. It was like spying fresh water in the middle of a desert. He couldn’t help but jog a little to get to her faster. “What do you know?” 
    She nodded her head toward Starbucks. “They’re both inside.”
    “It looks crowded.”
    “A Starbucks in New York City, do you think they ever experience a slow time?”
    “Good point.”
    “Just be careful.”
    She pulled back on his arm. “Please stop saying that.”
    It was written in her eyes. He was insulting her. “Sorry.”
    “No, you don’t have to be sorry for caring. Just know I’m always careful, and even more so these days because I have so much to live for.” She tapped a hurried kiss to his cheek and headed inside.
    He followed behind and spotted the couple right away. Too bad they spotted them too.
    Jordan shot to his feet.
    Sara turned. “He’s got a gun!”
    There was a bunch of screaming and people pushing their way past him to the front doors.
    Sean gestured with a brush of his hand for everyone to get out. For Jordan to react so quickly, Sean and Sara must have allowed just enough time for Beverly to fill Jordan in about the uncertainty with the USB stick.
    “It doesn’t have to be like this, Jordan,” Sean said.
    “How do you know my name?”
    Sara took a few steps toward them, as Beverly took up position behind Jordan.
    “That’s not important.”
    “Yes it is!”
    “Your family runs Reid Incorporated.”
    “So what?” Jordan’s gun hand wavered in the air. He wasn’t accustomed to holding one. They could use that to their advantage.
    A woman came out of the bathroom, which was located behind Jordan and Beverly, and she began yelling and crying as she rushed past them.
    “You don’t want to kill anyone,” Sean said.
    “How would you know?”
    Sean took a couple steps and stopped behind Sara, who had stopped moving.
    “Just shoot them,” Beverly barked into Jordan’s ear.
    He cupped his ear and turned on her. “Shut up!”
    That distraction was all that Sean needed. He hurtled toward Jordan and squeezed the wrist of the hand that held the gun. He heard it drop to the floor, then glanced back to ensure Sara got it. He spun around, only to meet with a fist to the face. He retaliated, punching Jordan ’s sides, but he shimmied and bucked, left and right, reducing the effectiveness of the blows.
    The man was almost ten years younger, yet Sean’s muscles were fired up and ready to work.
    Another swing nearly connected with Sean’s head, but he lowered just in time. He waited for Sara to get the gun. It wasn ’t happening fast enough. He struggled to look at her, between blocking blows and dishing some out.
    Then, Sara and Beverly were on the floor, grabbing each other ’s hair. Sara was on the bottom, but then the status quo flipped and had her on top. Gasps of squeals came from Beverly as her purse emptied across the floor.
    He turned back to have Jordan’s fist meet with his gut. It instantaneously doubled Sean over—the wind knocked out of him by the swiftness of the impact. He forced himself to straighten and gather strength to return the favor.
    When Sean’s body refused to resume full height, he barreled into Jordan, head-ramming him in the abdomen, knocking him into a nearby table. Jordan let out a howl as he crashed into it and fell to the floor.
    Sean moved over him, fist raised and ready to deliver, when Jordan kicked his legs out from beneath him. He went down—hard.
    “Stop right there.”
    He heard the click of the gun and smiled, knowing