A Trident Security-Related Short Story
Jack be nimble,
Jack be quick,
You can’t catch me,
Because I’m too slick!
Fourteen-year-old Jordyn Alvarez loses everything in a single violent act. Stripped of her family, fortune, and future, she’s left to survive in an orphanage while greedy relatives profit from her tragedy.
Her salvation comes from an unlikely source—the notorious black sheep of the family. Uncle Iggy is an international jewel thief with a talent for staying one step ahead of the law. Under his guidance, Jordyn learns skills that will change the course of her life forever.
Years later, after Iggy’s death leaves her alone once again, Jordyn takes control of his criminal empire and quickly proves she’s even more talented than her mentor. But success comes with a price. An Interpol agent is determined to bring the elusive cat burglar to justice, and his relentless pursuit threatens everything she’s built.
In a game of deception, ambition, and survival, only one question remains:
Will he finally catch her?
While Jack Be Nimble is part of the Heels, Rhymes, & Nursery Crimes multi-author series, it is related to the Trident Security series, with the events taking place eight years before Jordyn gets her HEA in The Dom’s Assassin (formerly titled Absolving His Sins).
Series Note:
The Trident Security World includes several interconnected spinoff series. For the best experience across the entire world and to avoid spoilers, follow the Trident Security World Best Reading Order, available in the main menu.
Laughter filled the outdoor recreation area, but Jordyn Cabrera Alvarez had no desire to play with any of the other children there. The Argentinian orphanage, near a small town a half hour north of Buenos Aires, was the last place she ever expected to call home, and she still couldn’t bring herself to admit it was where she now lived.
For the first fourteen years of her life, she’d resided with her mother and father in their mansion in Recoleta, the most affluent neighborhood in Buenos Aires. She’d had everything a little girl could dream of—plenty of friends, a beautiful home with more amenities than most people could dream of, servants, and the latest styles of clothing, among other things coveted by the rich and famous. Everything she’d owned had been top-of-the-line, and no expense had been spared to make her happy. Her parents, along with the estate’s staff, had doted on her, spoiling her rotten since she’d been an only child. She’d gone to private schools, taken lessons in horseback riding, and learned anything else she wanted to.
Her father, Santino Cabrera Perez, had been a wealthy businessman who’d been lucky enough to catch the eye of Regina Alvarez Huerta, a former Miss Argentina and a first runner-up in the Miss Universe pageant. Theirs had been a passionate love affair—maybe too passionate. While her father had never lifted a hand to Jordyn in anger, it’d been a different story with his wife. He’d been very jealous of the way other men would eye or flirt with his wife, and in his mind, no matter what, it’d been Regina’s fault. The dutiful wife and mother had become an expert in hiding her bruises with clothing and makeup. It had taken years before a young Jordyn had learned that spousal abuse wasn’t the norm in most families.
Her ideal life had come grinding to a halt three months ago when she’d arrived home from school one afternoon to find the house uncharacteristically quiet. The staff had been missing, and Jordyn later discovered that her father had told everyone to take the day off work. The teenager had been the one to find her parents’ cold bodies in their bedroom. For reasons probably only known to him, Santino had shot Regina in the head before turning the gun on himself. The police had said the murder/suicide had taken place shortly after Jordyn had left for school that morning. In the blink of an eye, she’d become an orphan. To add insult to her tragedy, her father’s greedy relatives had swindled his estate, leaving her penniless and alone. They’d wanted the money, just not another mouth to feed. Four days after the double funeral, her Aunt Ana Maria had dropped her off at the orphanage with barely the clothes on her back, since Jordyn’s bitchy cousins had wanted all her beautiful things for themselves. Apparently, her father’s family had bribed his lawyer, a judge, and a children’s welfare agent in order to commandeer the estate and banish her to the orphanage.
It hadn’t taken her long to realize that few children over the age of six or seven found new families through adoption. As it was, Jordyn was one of the oldest children there.
She’d attempted to run away when she’d first gotten there and managed to find her way back to her old neighborhood, only to find she’d been locked out of the home she’d grown up in. When she’d knocked on a friend’s door, the girl’s father had turned his nose up at her and told her she wasn’t welcome there anymore. A few minutes later, a police officer had pulled up and taken her back to the orphanage. She’d been sure she would be punished when they’d finally gotten there, but Sisters Patrice, Rosemary, and Teresa had embraced her in their loving arms and did their best to let her know they weren’t mad at her—just concerned.
Many a night, it was Sr. Patrice who’d sit on Jordyn’s bed long after the other kids were asleep, when the teen’s grief became too much for her to handle and she silently cried in the darkness. The nun, who’d been born and raised in Chicago in the United States, would pet Jordyn’s hair and shoulders while singing soothing songs in both English and Spanish. Thanks to the woman’s tender love and compassion, Jordyn eventually calmed enough to fall asleep.
Now, she sat in the afternoon shade with her back to the wall of the old, weathered building that housed the children’s bunk rooms, the nuns’ bedrooms, a kitchen, and a dining room. A similar building across the dirt yard housed the classrooms where the twenty-six orphans attended school. A few other structures dotted the landscape, including a cabin for Pedro Hernandez, the young handyman who did all the heavy work for the Catholic nuns who ran the orphanage. The other building was a small chapel where they all gathered for an hour on Sundays. A local priest came every week to say mass, and several residents in the area also came to worship there rather than travel two towns over to the nearest Catholic Church.
Picking up pebbles, Jordyn tossed them into an old, chipped coffee cup sitting on the ground a foot or so away from her, as the other children played with each other. She hadn’t made any attempts to befriend the others and had resisted any efforts they made to engage her in conversations or activities. The only time she interacted with any of them was while doing chores or if she had to be paired with someone for a school assignment. Otherwise, she wanted to be left alone to wallow in her own despair and resentment.
Preferring to be by herself also meant she was bored out of her mind most of the time when she wasn’t in school. She didn’t belong at the orphanage. She belonged with her friends, going to movies, shopping, laughing, and talking about boys. Most of the other children over the age of seven had lived at the orphanage for years, and their definition of fun was far different from hers. The nuns did their best to help all the children find loving parents to adopt them, even from other countries, but the older the children got, the less likely they’d find a new family. Jordyn didn’t want a new family—she wanted her old one, or at least the one that included her mother. She’d never forgive her father for taking away her almost perfect life and everyone she loved. The image of her parents’ bloodied bodies on the floor of their posh bedroom was one she’d never be able to erase from her mind.
“Jordyn,” Sr. Patrice called to her from the doorway to the school where her office was located. “Come here, por favor.” The nuns often spoke in both English and Spanish, wanting their charges to be bilingual, since many of the couples looking to adopt came from places where English was the primary language, like the United States.
Sighing, Jordyn stood and wiped the dirt from the non-designer clothes she was now forced to wear. As she trudged across the yard, she noticed a new white SUV parked next to the old, dirty pickup truck Pedro used. She hadn’t seen it pull up to the orphanage and wondered who it belonged to. If it were someone interested in adopting a kid, it was highly doubtful they’d want Jordyn, and vice versa.
Sr. Patrice’s smile lit up her face when she approached. As much as Jordyn hated her situation, it was difficult not to like the three nuns who ran the orphanage. Sr. Patrice was about forty years old and was an inch taller than Jordyn’s five-feet-three-inch frame. Like the other two nuns, she always wore sedate clothing—twill pants or jeans, a short or long-sleeved, white or pastel-colored, button-down shirt, sneakers or loafers, and a navy-blue habit that covered most of her short brown hair. She had a kind face—one that, despite the circumstances, always made Jordyn feel safe.
“Sí, Sister Patrice?”
The woman tilted her head toward the open door. “Come inside, so we can talk.”
Following the nun inside, her mind raced, trying to think if she’d done anything she’d be in trouble for. Although if she had, her punishment wouldn’t be anything more than a look of disappointment from Sr. Patrice, along with a few extra chores. Since her one attempt at running away, Jordyn had quickly learned that disappointing the nuns was something she wanted to avoid, because whenever she did something right, the praise they lavished on her made her day a little brighter.
Sr. Patrice led Jordyn into her small office, and the young girl was surprised to see a man waiting for them. Although she didn’t recognize him, something about him was familiar. He stood from the chair he’d been sitting in and gave her a tentative smile. “Hola, Jordyn.”
Her eyes narrowed. How did he know her name?
Putting an arm around Jordyn’s shoulder in support, Sr. Patrice said, “From what I understand, it’s been a few years since you’ve seen Mr. Alvarez, but he’s your uncle—your mother’s brother.”
The tall, dark-haired man squatted down so he wasn’t towering over her. He spoke to her in Spanish, but his accent was definitely American. “Look at you, my little chinchilla. Do you remember me, your Uncle Iggy? I used to bring you saltwater taffy from California.” He held up his hand, showing her a threaded band around his wrist. “You made this and gave it to me the last time I saw you.”
Jordyn stared at the multicolored friendship bracelet as memories trickled in from the far reaches of her mind. She must have been six or seven the last time she’d seen Ignacio Alvarez, her mother’s brother. He would come to visit several times a year, and always when her father had been traveling, since Santino had despised his brother-in-law, often referring to him as a piece of worthless trash. Despite her father’s distaste for the man, Jordyn had fond memories of her Uncle Iggy—he’d always made her laugh and told her about the places he’d been, things he’d done, and people he’d met. She remembered making the bracelets with her friends, and Uncle Iggy asking if he could have one so he’d always have a part of her with him when he was between visits.
He was right—that’d been the last time she could recall seeing him. He’d stopped coming around, and Jordyn had almost forgotten all about him, since neither of her parents had ever spoken about him again. In fact, she’d thought he’d died or something. The memories of him now tore through her mind like a flash flood.
“You—you never came back. You said you would, but you never did.” Tears began to fill her eyes. “Why? Was it something I did?”
His expression softened with regret and tenderness. “No, my little one. It wasn’t because of you. Your parents and I had a disagreement, and it was best for everyone if I stayed away. I’m so sorry it took me this long to find out your parents were gone and Santino’s family left you here. But I’m back now, and I’m going to take you to California. You’ll love it there. You and I—we’ll be our own little family. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again, Jordyn—you have my word.”
When he held out his hands to her, Jordyn couldn’t hold back her sobs anymore. She flung herself into his arms and cried her heart out into his shoulder.
“Hush, my little chinchilla. I’ve got you. It’ll be all right.”
Reviews
There are no reviews yet.