Jordyn’s mouth dropped as Carter opened his eyes and stared at her. She couldn’t believe at eighteen years old he’d had the balls to demand that—but then again, yeah, she could. “He obviously said yes, and so did you.”
He nodded. “Yup. I was ‘killed’ in jail the next day.” With his index fingers, he made air quotes. “Vicki wasn’t the only foster he’d raped. During the ensuing investigation, three more female victims were identified. On top of that, the Osbournes had been scamming both the foster system and the state disability system out of thousands of dollars. Marion Osbourne was given a pass if she testified against Roland. In the end, he was sentenced to ninety-nine-years-to-life.”
“But-but how does Vicki know you’re still alive then?”
His thumb started rubbing back and forth on her wrist, sending warm tingles up her arm. “Four years later, I’d tracked down where the marshals had placed her in Montana. I had no intention of letting her know I was alive; I just wanted to make sure she was doing okay. What happened was pure coincidence—I was following her home from a college class when she was in a car accident. A little old geezer ran a stop sign and T-boned her. Without thinking, I ran to her car to make sure she wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t, but it was too late—she’d seen me. Once she got over her shock, I drove her home. It was then I found out she had a son—Justin. He was almost three years old.”
Doing the math in her head, Jordyn gaped. “Oh, my God. He was the result of the rape.” She couldn’t imagine what the poor girl had gone through. Having her rapist’s baby and keeping it at the age of sixteen.
Carter nodded again. “By the time she’d given birth, Vicki hadn’t wanted to give him up. The marshals had placed her with an older couple who were also in the WPP. They helped her keep Justin and get her GED so she could go to college. They’re gone now, but Vicki’s doing fantastic thanks to their help. She’s married to a great guy, who adopted Justin as his own.”
“Okay, so why are we going to a prison in California?” she asked. Reaching out, Carter picked up a few strands of her hair and rubbed them between his fingers. Jordyn tried to ignore how erotic that simple act felt.
“A few years ago, Justin was diagnosed with a kidney disease, and they went into failure. Vicki donated one of her kidneys. Unfortunately, his body is now rejecting it. He’s got one of the rarer blood types and the doctors say it’s best if the kidney comes from a relative. I’m going to go see Justin’s sperm donor in prison.” His jaw clenched as revulsion and determination filled his eyes. “He’s going to give me that kidney if I have to take it out of him myself.”
Jordyn hadn’t needed to hear the certainty of that statement in his voice or see it on his face to know it was true. She was now realizing he wouldn’t hurt anyone that wasn’t an assignment nor hadn’t done him or his family wrong. All this time, she’d been comparing him to her father, who’d beaten his wife for the pettiest shit. But as Jordyn stared at Carter now, she knew he was nowhere close to the monster her father had been. That bastard had been out of control, whereas the man in front of her was doing everything in his power to maintain it.
Yesterday she’d read on that website that control and the exchange of power was a major part of the lifestyle, in addition to communication. When she’d first started reading, she’d thought the whole site had been a bunch of BS and those who’d contributed to it had been making excuses to justify their abusive behavior or the fact they were being abused. But then she’d started reading entries in the chatroom and what she’d found there, among experienced Doms and subs, was something she could almost describe as beautiful and carnal. The submissives had been very articulate about why they enjoyed being spanked or flogged or whatever. Like Carter had said, everyone was wired differently. Jordyn still wasn’t sure why her own body had responded to the spanking he’d given her or the erotic scenes she’d observed while walking around the club, but she could no longer deny they turned her on. And that scared the crap out of her even more. The big question was, what was she going to do about it?
Chapter 15
Following the warden through the halls of the state prison in Folsom, Carter’s hands fisted then released over and over. His jaw was so tight, it ached. After he’d spilled his guts to Jordyn, they’d spent the rest of the flight spooned together on the couch. He’d been shocked when she’d pushed him down, then laid next to him with her back to his chest, and her ass snuggled up to his groin. While she’d fallen asleep for a few hours, he’d been unable to. His mind had been one big tornado of the past and the present churning together in chaos, and he hadn’t been able to shut it down. So instead, he’d counted every one of Jordyn’s breaths as he held her close—all 2927 of them.
Not wanting her anywhere near Osbourne or any of the other prisoners in this state dump, he’d told Jordyn to go find them a hotel for the night. Once he got what he wanted, it would take a few hours to organize Osbourne’s transportation to Montana as well as get the transplant teams ready for both surgeries. Since a lot of this was not technically legal, it was being done all at the same hospital where the physician in charge was on the Deimos and CIA payrolls.
“This is highly unusual,” the warden proclaimed as they were buzzed through another locked door. “What does a convicted rapist, who’s been incarcerated for twenty years, have to do with national security?”
“It’s classified.”
The squirrely man tsked and shook his head. Carter didn’t give a crap what the guy thought about the clandestine meeting he’d been ordered to arrange, as long as it had been done to the spy’s specifications. Somewhere in the bowels of the prison, the warden stopped at a door that was being guarded by two men in uniform. Carter eyed them. “The cameras and microphones are turned off?”
The guard on the right answered, “There’s none in this room. It’s an old storeroom that’s not used anymore. Only the one door in and out, no windows or one-way mirrors. We brought in a table and three chairs as requested.”
Good, they’d followed the instructions to the letter. It was clear they were as curious as the warden, but didn’t ask him what was going on. Carter assumed it was because he probably looked like he wanted to kill the prisoner who was already sitting in the room, and what they didn’t know, they wouldn’t have to testify to. At least they didn’t have to worry about any weapons—the warden had insisted he leave them behind, and while Carter could have probably snuck one or two in without detection, he’d decided against it. The temptation to kill the prisoner might be more than he could resist.
Staring at the gray, metal door, he conjured up all his black ops and Dom training to center himself. He would need every ounce of control to get through this. When he was done, he’d find a punching bag somewhere and pound on it until his knuckles bled. Hell, even a brick wall would do.
Making sure his expression was a blank canvas, Carter reached for the doorknob. Before he turned it, he glared at the guards. “Under no circumstances do you enter this room until I come out. I don’t care if it sounds like I’m killing him. I won’t, because I need him alive, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be hurting by the time I’m done. Understood?”
The men glanced nervously at the warden, and when his head bounced like a bobblehead doll theirs did, too. Opening the door, Carter stepped inside and shut it behind him again. As requested, there was a metal, armless chair right next to the door and he grabbed it, shoving the back of it under the doorknob since there was no lock. Taking a deep breath, he stood to his full height, and his barely controlled gaze fell on the man sitting at the table. Roland Osbourne, dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit, was twenty years older than the last time Carter had seen him, and hadn’t aged well. More wrinkles lined his face, his arms were more muscular, but he still had that beer gut, which had to be the result of the starchy, fatty foods here in the slammer.
Osbourne stared at him. “Who the fuck are you, and whatta you want?”
Taking deliberate steps, he strode to the chair
across the table from his former foster father, turned it around, and straddled it. Now that he could see the younger man’s face better, a lightbulb seemed to go off in Osbourne’s head. His gaze narrowed as it scanned Carter’s face. “You? Harrumph. Thought you were dead. What the fuck do you want?”
Below the table, Carter’s fists clenched, his voice low and deadly as he spoke. “You have something I want, and you’re going to give it to me.”
The older man snorted. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“Your fucking kidney.”
“What? You’re out of your fucking mind. What makes you think I’m going to give you a fucking kidney, or anything else for that matter?” Without waiting for an answer, he stood. “Sorry you made the trip for nothing.”
Before Osbourne could move away from the table, Carter leapt up, grabbed his greasy, gray hair, and slammed his face, cheek first, into the table. Even in his rage, he’d known if he broke the guy’s nose, with that force, it could’ve sent cartilage up into his brain, killing him. And for now, he needed the bastard alive.
“Hey! Hey, get the fuck off me! Guard!”
Carter leaned down. “Shut the fuck up. They aren’t going to save your ass.” He grabbed one of Osbourne’s flailing arms and held it straight so he could inspect the skin. Good—there were no signs of needle marks. He also didn’t have that strung out look junkies had. Thankfully, it appeared Osbourne wasn’t one of the prisoners who partook of the drugs that were undoubtedly smuggled into the prison. Carter had also inspected the man’s prison medical file. Aside from the usual injuries from fights, a few bouts of the flu and dysentery, and an appendectomy twelve years ago, the man was relatively healthy as far as Carter could tell.
Shoving him back into the chair, Carter put his hands on the table and leaned toward the wary looking man. “Here’s the deal. First thing in the morning, you’re going to step outside this prison for the first time in twenty years. Enjoy it while you can because it won’t last. You’ll be blindfolded and transported to a hospital where you’re going to be tested for everything under the sun. If the doctors say it’s a go, then you’re going to donate your fucking kidney to someone who needs it. If the doctors say your kidney’s not good enough, I’m going to do what I should have done years ago—I’m going to fucking kill you—because you’ll be worthless to me.”
Osbourne stared at him, trying to figure out how he’d gotten on Carter’s radar for a fucking kidney. “Who’s getting it? Why me?”
“Because you’re the right blood type.”
“Not good enough. What am I missing? If you want my kidney so fucking bad, you’ll tell me why.”
Carter stood straight and ran his hand down his mouth and chin. He didn’t want to tell this bastard he was Justin’s sperm donor, but it might sway Osbourne to do this without a hassle. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at the other man. “The doctors say the best chance he has is someone who’s blood related.”
“He? Blood . . .” A lightbulb must have gone off in his head. “That little slut had my kid?”
Flying across the table, Carter punched the guy in the face, sending him and the chair tumbling backward. He shoved the table out of his way, reached down, and grabbed Osbourne by the jumpsuit. The urge to beat the crap out of him was strong, but Carter forced it down. Instead, he hauled the guy up, righted the chair, and pushed him back into it. Getting in Osbourne’s face, he growled, “Before you use that word again, let me tell you what I’ve been doing for the past twenty years. I’ve been torturing the scum of the earth into telling me all their secrets. I’ll gladly give you a taste of that, without damaging your kidneys, of course, if you use any other word to reference her other than ‘that nice young lady.’ Understand?”
Osbourne was now shaking in fear. His eyes were wide as the realization Carter could and would make the next few hours very painful for him sunk in.
“Nod your fucking head if you understand, Osbourne.”
The man did and Carter backed off. He returned the table to its prior location, putting it between them. Otherwise, he might make good on his threat just for the fuck of it.
Using his knuckles, Osbourne wiped the blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, his wary gaze still on his assailant. “So I’m a father. Go figure.”
“No, you’re a fucking sperm donor. The kid has a father who’s been there for him for a long time now. And like me, he’ll do anything he can for the him. All you’re going to do is give the kid your kidney and then come back here and rot for all I care.”
Osbourne sat up straighter as if suddenly realizing he had a bargaining tool. “I give him my kidney, and you get me out of here. You’ve got to have pull to arrange all this. Get me out of here and it’s a done deal.”
“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’ll help you join society again. Minimum security and you stay in. Your other option is me inflicting enough brain damage for you to still be able to donate the kidney, and then you end up bedridden for the rest of your miserable life, drooling and fucking shitting yourself on a daily basis.”
Silence filled the room as the man thought about the offer, which should’ve been a no-brainer. “Minimum security and I get to meet the boy before the surgery. What’s his name?”
Carter fought the onslaught of rage coming to a head inside him again. “There’s no way in fucking hell you’re meeting him.”
Feeling a little more confident, Osbourne leaned forward. “Let me meet him, and he can have both fucking kidneys. He doesn’t have to know he’s mine. I just want ten minutes with my only child.”
Slamming his hands on the table, which sent Osbourne jumping back, Carter roared, “He’s not your fucking child! You fucking raped his mother! You’re a fucking sperm donor and nothing else!”
“Fine! I’m his sperm donor.” The man sneered. “Ten fucking minutes and you save his life. You’ll be the fucking hero again and you won’t even have to bust your knuckles to do it.”
Carter didn’t want to be a hero—he only wanted Justin to be healthy again. It was going against everything in him, but he found himself saying, “If it’s okay with his parents, you get five minutes and not a second more. I’ll be in the room the whole time, and if you try to tell him he’s yours, I’ll be inflicting that brain damage. Understood?”
Standing, Osbourne had the audacity to hold out his hand. “Deal.”
Snarling, Carter ignored the man’s hand and strode to the door. Kicking the chair out of the way, he yanked the door open, startling the three men behind it. “Take him back to his cell. Warden, you’ll be getting another phone call within the hour. Now, how the fuck do I get out of this pisshole?”
By the time he walked out of the last locked door and gate, Carter had his anger down to a simmer. Striding across the parking lot to where Jordyn was waiting for him in their rental car, he pulled out his cell phone and sent McDaniel a text telling him it was a go before calling Ian. It rang twice before the man answered. “What do you need now?”
“I still have chips you have to cash, dude. Deal with it. I need a four-man team to meet me in Sacramento and escort a product to Montana first thing in the morning. Then I need a second team to keep eyes on another product in Montana after the first is escorted back.” He was speaking in generalizations and Ian’s teams would need more information than that, but Carter wasn’t trusting Vicki and Justin’s lives to a conversation that could be easily intercepted.
“Do you want me to blow up North Korea while I’m at it?” Despite his sarcasm, Ian understood there would be more intel forthcoming. “All right, I’ll have Jake meet you with a team in Sacramento. Text him with the details of where to find you. Where’s the other team going in Montana?”
“Missoula. Have them meet us at the airport. I’ll get our flight info to you as soon as I have it.”
“You got it. Anything else?”
“Egghead or Cook have any info for me yet?” He paused at the passenger door to the rental. Jord
yn could drive them to the hotel she’d booked them in since he’d probably crash them into a tree in his current state of mind.
“They’re still working on it. You really think this has to do with Diaz?”
“It’s the only lead we’ve got right now. We—and that includes you—might be taking a trip down to Colombia in the near future. Can that be done?”
“Yeah, it can be done.” Ian sighed heavily. “All right. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do and thanks.”
“Not necessary, jackass.”
Disconnecting the call, Carter opened the car door and climbed in. Jordyn looked at him expectantly. “How’d it go?”
“We’re set for the morning. Get me the hell out of here.” His eyes were focused on nothing in particular, staring out the windshield in front of him.
She studied him a moment longer, then nodded and put the car in drive. “Okay.”
Without looking down, Carter reached over and found her hand. Pulling it to his mouth, he kissed her knuckles before interlocking their fingers and resting their joined hands on his thigh. He needed her now more than ever. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
* * *
The tension rolling off of Carter filled the rental car as Jordyn drove toward their high-end hotel—if there was no need for a cheap motel, she wanted nice digs. But now, she was wondering if booking them one room to share had been such a good idea. She’d been shocked when they’d returned to his private room last night, and he’d taken the couch instead of insisting on sleeping next to her. With each moment that passed in his presence, Jordyn was getting more and more confused as her attraction to him grew. The story of his youth and how he’d become a Deimos operative had helped her understand the man he was today and why he needed to be in control of every aspect of his life. The events of the last few days had to be driving him nuts as everything spiraled in and out of his control. Yet, he was still gentle and patient with her—still the man who’d rocked her world in Malaysia all night long.
Absolving His Sins: Trident Security Book 7 Page 15