His Devil's Rage

by Linzi Basset

  Good lord! Stop it, Morgan. You’re on the edge of a climax and the fool man hasn’t done more than give you a killer smile.

  She crossed her arms, aware that her own nipples had turned as hard as stones at the memory of his large hand and blunt fingertips—

  Good god! Stop, she berated in a shrill voice inside her mind as she found herself squirming in the chair. The knowing smile that twitched on Bruce’s lips was evidence that he was aware of the effect he had on her.

  Of course he would. He’s a Dom after all. A very powerful one.

  One that the subs at the Club had fought over. They had coveted his attention and it had irritated Morgan how they had rubbed their curvaceous bodies against him to entice him to play.

  “And I’m looking forward to the day I order you to spread your legs and watch your pretty pink pussy weep for my cock.”

  Her body turned to stone, her voice lowered as she growled in a husky voice, “That will never happen, Bruce Rickett. No man will ever order me to spread my legs for sex … ever again.”

  Bruce studied her for a long time. His comment had been deliberate. He needed to understand her current state of mind. She’d refused further treatment and had left before she’d learned to cope with her ordeal. Now she was back and he couldn’t help but wonder at the real reason she had invaded his house. Her eyes flickered. He noticed the uncertainty in their depths. The sensual woman deep inside her was crying out to him. To help release her from the chains binding her to the memories of the year of abuse at the hands of sex slavery. At a guess, it was still hounding her. Inside her loomed a woman yearning to be wanted, to be needed for the beauty that she was, to be freed from the visions that wouldn’t fade and continued to haunt her. The hatred toward herself—that she had eventually given in to stop their cruelty because she’d fought every time she was chosen to warm someone’s bed—was at the forefront of the emotions swirling there for him to see.

  “The difference, little one, is that this time, it will be consensual.”

  “No.” She vehemently shook her head. His eyes followed the luxurious cascade of reddish hair that tumbled over her shoulders.

  “Yes, Morgan, because you desire to be wanted, revered for the beauty you are and the sensuality that a man like me would crave to have unleashed upon me.” His voice lowered and tugged at the submissive roaming around deep inside her. A desire to be all he said unfurled like a blossom in the early spring. “You desire to make a man like me quiver with arousal that rages through my veins until I want nothing more than beg you for the briefest touch.”

  “You would never beg,” she managed to squeak, completely enraptured by the flash of silver in his eyes, a combination of such understanding and lust, she could feel her insides turn to mush.

  “No, squirt, I’ll never beg, but I have nothing against asking nicely if the need should ever arise.”

  Morgan scoffed at the absurdity of his claim. She’d been to numerous BDSM clubs since her visit to Club Devil’s Cove and she’d learned one thing. A Dom never asked, he ordered and his sub obeyed.

  “I don’t have it in me to obey blindly. I never did … over there … and I have no intention to now.”

  “Hmmm, so you don’t believe you’d ever be a submissive?”

  Her snort was the only answer she offered, silently wondering how they’d ended up on this topic. She’d been trying to make him understand the danger he was in and now she was having to uphold her resolve that he didn’t have the power to control her … sexually or in whatever capacity. The tightening in her core surprised her at the thought. She did her best to keep her expression stoic.

  It can’t be! Not after what I went through. There’s no freaking way I want him to sexually control me, command and … NO! It’s a definite no. But no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she couldn’t deny how just the thought of being at this huge man’s mercy excited her. Scared the bejesus out of her, yes, but excited her twice as much. I am so screwed!

  Bruce’s smile widened which caused her to sink lower into the chair. He was still the most perceptive man she’d ever come across. Without looking into his eyes, she already knew he was onto her.

  He straightened in the chair and leaned his elbows on the desk, watching her with hooded eyelids. She forced her limbs not to untangle and run out the door. The sparkle in his eyes didn’t bode her well.

  “So, I’m in danger and you’re offering to be my bodyguard?”

  “Yes,” she clipped, waiting with bated breath for the punchline she had no doubt was coming.

  “Very well, I accept.” He seared his eyes over her assessingly. “On one condition.” He stood up and stretched his mammoth body. She stared in helpless fascination at the rippling muscles as he caught his hands high above his head.

  “W-what condition,” she blurted in an embarrassing croak. She cleared her throat with irritation.

  He gestured at his body. “I would become the laughing stock at the club or within the surrounding community if I walked around with a little squirt like you as my bodyguard.”

  “I’ll have you know—”

  A sharp glance silenced her as he continued with lazy reverence. “I’ll accept your gracious offer ... under the condition that you become my full time, live in submissive.”

  “Forget it! I’ll never be anyone’s slave,” she snapped.

  Bruce lowered his arms and stood watching her with spread legs and his hands low on his hips. He looked like a celestial god, a vision of power and control. “I have no interest in a slave, Morgan. As my submissive, you’ll have the control over what we share sexually. I’ll never expect or take anything you’re not prepared to offer willingly.” His shoulders rolled in a negligent shrug as his gaze pierced her in place on the chair. “That’s my offer. I don’t need protection but if you persist in your desire to do so, it will be as my submissive, willingly. Understand this well, Morgan: it means you will be sharing my bed every night.” He strolled toward the door. “The choice, as with everything we do from this point onward, is yours.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” His voice echoed back from the hallway as he continued to walk away. “Make your choice, Morgan.” She listened to his footsteps as he ascended the stairs. “You have until tomorrow evening at ten to make up your mind. Lock the door behind you when you leave.”

  Morgan sat in disbelief as she gaped at the empty study that still vibrated in the aftermath of his impressive presence.

  “How the devil did he manage to twist everything around so fast?” Her voice echoed back at her as she sat stumped, flayed under the untethered desire to do exactly what he’d demanded.

  To become his submissive.

  “In order to protect him, Morgan. Don’t forget about that!”

  Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that.

  Oh, shut up.

  Chapter Two

  “We received reports of bombings at three precincts over the past week,” Governor Alex White said the moment he stepped into the Precision Secure boardroom where the rest of the team was already gathered.

  Rhone Greer, primary owner and Master Dom at Club Devil’s Cove lowered the cup from which he’d just been about to take a sip. “Fatalities?”

  “Twenty-eight, with another twenty-two in critical condition. The bombs were meant to kill, not just as a warning.” Alex filled a cup with the coffee that wafted a deep roasted aroma throughout the room before he sat down next to Max Shaw, the IT Director of Precision Secure.

  “You seem concerned,” Max said as he bit into a freshly baked chocolate croissant.

  “I believe it’s retaliation.”

  Rhone frowned and stared at Alex. They had successfully raided Sixth Order drug labs and all their distributors, costing them millions in cash and product. “Because of the sting op?”

  “Yes.” Alex took a long sip of his coffee. “The precincts they hit were all where some of the officers were drawn from for the raid.” He shook hi
s head. “There has to be an inside leak somewhere, Rhone. They knew their names and made sure the hits happened at a time those officers were on duty.”

  “In other words, we can expect more of the same? If memory serves me correctly, we used recovery squads from ten precincts all over DC,” Keon LeLuc’s gruff voice vibrated with suppressed anger.

  “We expected it, although I believed they would go for the jugular and aim for us rather than the rest of the operatives in the sting operation,” said Ethan Brodie grimly, who also owned Brodie Clinic where he practiced as a surgeon.

  “You mentioned a leak, Alex. Who, apart from us, had intel about those precincts?” Bruce stretched across the table to pick up a croissant to nibble on.

  “Derek Bloom, the Chief of Police, and of course the captains in charge of each precinct.” Alex looked around the room. “My gut tells me the leak is here. The Sixth Order must know that we’ve accessed their contact folder from the data we recovered when we closed down their operational hub. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to approach any of them. I’ve already checked the list. No one on there had information of the raid.”

  “I have to agree with Alex,” Max gestured to Richard Amber, his partner in IT who was tapping on his iPad and flicked on the large monitor on the wall. “As a precaution with all the hits to our secure interrogation and holding locations, Richard and I already started doing in-depth checks on all our personnel. So far, we found two with shady ones.” He pointed to the identity photos of the two suspicious employees on the monitor. “Karen Norwood and Roy Silver. Both have suddenly had an influx of cash. At first, nothing major but over the past four weeks, large cash deposits have been made into offshore accounts in their names.”

  “Karen is one of our experts in research and recovery. Roy has always been a very dependable senior field operative,” Rhone mused as he stared at their photos.

  “They both knew all the interrogation locations that had been breached,” Bruce said shortly.

  “Keep on it, Max, and let us know the minute you find something concrete before more people die in this senseless race for power,” Rhone said grimly.

  “In lieu of what Ethan said about us being the targets,” Bruce interjected. He straightened in the chair and took a sip of coffee. “Remember Morgan Adler?”

  “The talented painter who was one of the sex slaves we helped to escape with Joanne?” Max asked as he too sat upright.

  “The same. She broke into my house last night.” Bruce frowned. “I still don’t know how the hell she managed it, seeing as the alarm system was still activated when I got home after swinger club duty.” He steepled his fingers together. “Anyway, she doesn’t paint anymore. She wasn’t interested in continuing sessions with me, and from what I could ascertain, nor has she since. The fact that she lost the ability to paint, indicates she’s still battling with the demons of her ordeal in Saudi Arabia.”

  “Why did she break into your house?” Keon asked as he filled his cup with coffee.

  “Apparently, she became a bounty hunter to make ends meet. Claims she’s one of the best.” Bruce shrugged. “I did some digging last night and it seems she’s right. She’s known as the Belle of Bounties in the business, as they refer to it.”

  “Don’t tell me you forgot to pay some parking tickets, mate,” Ethan laughed.

  “She’s not hunting me, although she’d make a good couple of hundred K if she did.” He looked between the men staring at him. His gaze came to rest on Rhone. “Apparently there’s a contract out on the Precision Secure team, with the highest emphasis on me and Rhone.”

  “From who?” Rhone asked shortly.

  “My educated guess would be The Sixth Order and not in retaliation but to get rid of us fast and without dirtying their own hands.” He tilted back his head and finished his coffee in one gulp. “According to Morgan, the assassins are so eager to make big money, they’re offering huge compensation for additional information on every move we make, including our family and friends.”

  “In other words, if they hurt us through our loved ones first before they off us, their reward will be greater?” Keon gruffed.

  “Yes.” Bruce chuckled. “She very eloquently offered her services … as my bodyguard.”

  The men erupted in laughter. Bruce shook his head. “My reaction exactly.” He got up to stretch his legs. “I’m concerned about her. I detected a deep sorrow she tried to hide and I can’t walk away from that.”

  “Don’t tell me you accepted her offer?” Max gaped at Bruce.

  “Oh yes, I did. Under the disguise as my permanent live-in submissive.”

  “I don’t suppose she was very impressed with your offer?” Rhone said. “I recall she was at the club once with Joanne and made it very clear that she had no intention of ever submitting to a man unless she was in charge.”

  “At the time it was an expected reaction. Personally, I believe deep down, she’s a natural submissive, as long as she knows the control of the situations is in her own hands. I got the impression that she turned into a hermit and as far as intimacy is concerned, she’s celibate.”

  “You believe you could use this as an opportunity to help her overcome the emotional demons still hounding her?” Alex asked.

  “Yes. She was very receptive to the treatment at the beginning. I have no idea what changed and why she suddenly erected a barrier.” Bruce sat down again. “Back to the apparent contract on us. What do we do?”

  “Max, I want you and Richard to search the deep web. If they put out a hit, it would be buried in the cyber hallways that criminals perfected for such things. Create an assassin profile that they can’t resist and show interest. Find a way to establish how many hitmen have already been contracted and then offer them Bruce and me for an exclusive contract … something violent that will appease their sense of power.” Rhone started to pace as he considered their options. “The Sixth Order must be planning something, or they want to keep our attention off something. We need to find out what … and fast.” He glanced at his watch. “Anyone know where Lance is?”

  “He phoned to say he’s running late. They’ve been battling for the past two days to get hold of Jordan,” Richard interjected.

  Everyone sat upright. “Why didn’t he say anything earlier?” Keon asked brusquely.

  “At first, they weren’t concerned because she left Lexi a voice message saying that she was going out to Jack’s farm to spend the night at the cottage by the river. It was on the day we confirmed he was alive. They decided to give her some space because they know how much she loves it there, but her cell has been off for the past two days. I’ve tried to ping it but I suspect the sim card has been removed.” Richard quickly typed a command on his iPad and brought up a GeoEye aerial view of the farm belonging to Jack Blackmore, who had staged his own death in an effort to get closer to The Sixth Order and to keep his fiancé, Jordan Clark, safe.

  “As you can see, nothing seems out of order. The usual daily farming is in process.” He zoomed into the area over the cottage. “That’s Jordan’s car.”

  “Sorry we’re late,” Lance Talbot, Operation Director, said as he opened the door and ushered his fiancé, Lexi Calvert, inside.

  “Max and Richard just brought us up to date. Any word on Jordan?” Bruce asked, noticing Lexi’s drawn appearance.

  “No, and it’s my fault. I should’ve realized sooner something was wrong, but I stupidly assumed she needed some time to reconnect mentally with Jack.” Lexi’s hands fluttered in the air. “She’s been gone for three days. Four, if you include the day she intended to stay over in the first place. I’m so worried.”

  “Isn’t Michael Flores staying at the farm? If memory serves, Jack offered it to him when he complained about living out of a hotel room,” Keon mused aloud.

  “Yes, you’re right.” Lance took out his cell phone. “Let me see if I can—”

  “Oh my god! Ohmygodohmygod,” Lexi wailed as she frantically rummaged through her large shopper st
yle handbag. “I clean forgot about him with being so worried about Jordan.” She quickly dialed the one number saved on the phone. It went directly to voicemail. She turned pale as she listened to Michael Flores’ deep voice rumbling in her ear. He’d obviously recorded it as a message knowing the only time a call would go to voicemail was when something had happened to him.

  “Now is the time to tell them, Lexi.”

  “Forgot about who, love?” Lance asked, watching her with a frown as she lowered the phone. “Whose phone is that?” His gaze sharpened as he noticed for the first time it wasn’t her usual smartphone she was clutching against her chest. Her eyes were enormous and was as pale as a sheet. “Lexi? Talk to me.”

  “Oh god, I had hoped it would never come to this,” she murmured. She stared at him beseechingly. “I couldn’t tell you earlier, honey. I made a promise to Jack, and Michael said they had been working together. If I told you—”

  “Told me what? Love, take a deep breath and start from the beginning.” Lance led her to a chair and she slumped into it.

  “You’re going to be so mad at me,” she said dejectedly. “All of you.”

  “Lexi, if you know something, it’s better that you tell us now.” Rhone sat forward in urgency. A sense of doom tickled at his gut.