by Linzi Basset
Burgess’ facial expression turned to one of absolute disdain. His shoulders straightened as he stared at him down his nose.
“The fact that you even have to ask that question proves you’ve lost your edge, Whittaker.” He leaned closer, invading Adam’s space. “We’re not pleased, Damien. Not in the least! All his death achieved was to shift the focus to the Sixth Order. After the mafia, we're the strongest syndicate in the US and we’re just waiting for the FBI to start snooping around, believing we were behind his death. And they won’t stop digging. They’re like fucking dogs on scent. You better make sure everything is under control on your side; especially the money laundering. If they find anything linking your operation to the Sixth Order, we're fucked, and you, more than anyone, know how we deal with people who screw us over.”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with that, Mr. Burgess. Everything is airtight on my side,” Adam huffed irritably. The real Whittaker hadn’t taken any chances.
“I sincerely hope so because if not . . . you will be the one taking the wrath. Don’t forget what you are to us, Whittaker.”
“I’m not likely to ever forget that,” he barked, having realized that Whittaker had been set up to take the fall if anything ever came out about the Sixth Order.
“Have you found a replacement for Baxter yet? I don’t like that we have a blind spot about what’s happening in the CIA,” Burgess continued in the same condescending tone.
Adam started. Fuck! It’s the first thing I should’ve done!
He suddenly realized that he’d have to be more aware of his responsibilities in the Sixth Order if he didn't want to be caught out. Especially if he wanted lead the Sixth Order one day.
He cleared his throat to give himself time to get his emotions under control.
“I have someone in mind but I need to tread lightly. I’m still having him checked out. I should be able to confirm within two weeks.”
“Good. Get it done. The CIA is one of the main sources of information, as well as the key to keep our name out of the firing line.”
Adam frowned. “You never told me who the contact in the FBI is,” he said, recalling that Whittaker had mentioned previously that he wasn’t privy to that information.
Burgess straightened his tie. His amused expression made Adam feel inept. “Don’t concern yourself with anything other than what you're responsible for.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. I run the operations part of the business. How can the contact in the FBI not be part of that?”
“Let’s just say it’s not and keep it at that, shall we?” With that cryptic response, Burgess turned and walked out.
Adam fumed. He hated Burgess for making him feel inadequate but that’s all going to change and soon.
His phone rang and ended his feeling of exiguous incompetence.
“Yes, Whittaker,” he barked into the phone.
“Mr. Whittaker, it’s Leroy Wattle.”
“Do you have good news for me, Leroy? Because if you don’t, I’m not interested.”
“Oh, it’s better than that, Mr. Whittaker. We’ve cracked it.”
Adam didn’t move. He was too overwhelmed to react.
“How sure are you?”
“Hundred-and-ten percent, sir.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” he snapped.
“But it’s almost midnight. Can’t it wait until the morning?”
“No, it can’t,” he growled as he made his way toward the exit.
“There is the matter of our fee, Mr. Whittaker and seeing as it’s so late and the banks are closed . . . you do remember we only accept cash,” Leroy said hesitantly.
“You’ll get your fucking money. Just make sure you’re ready when I arrive.”
He didn’t waste time going home to get the cash. His word was good enough and he would deliver the money in the morning. This was too important.
He drove to the back of the large laboratory at the George Washington University forty minutes later
Leroy and his partner, David Cook, were waiting for him. Both seemed annoyed but Adam was unconcerned. He took his overcoat off and pulled back the cuff of his jacket.
“You better be sure this is going to work, Leroy.”
“It’ll work, Mr. Whittaker.”
“Then get this fucking thing off,” he barked when neither of them moved.
“Not before we have our money,” David said. “We’ve been screwed over too many times.”
“How’s this,” Adam asked. He yanked the pistol from the back of his pants and shot David Cook dead center.
“No! What the fuck did you do that for?” Leroy shouted. His eyes were wild and he was on the verge of hysteria.
“I don’t have time for games, Leroy. You will get your money. Now, get this thing off,” he ordered, pointing the pistol at his wrist. His voice was cold.
Leroy scrambled to the desk and opened his laptop. Adam followed him and watched as the screen fired up to show schematics of the bracelet. A green bar appeared with a sequence of numbers.
“I just need to link up and connect with the signal from the bracelet and once I press enter, it’ll deactivate the bomb,” he explained as he typed in codes and instructions. “It shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes.”
He glanced toward the dead man; the dark red pool of blood stark against the white tiled floor.
“You didn’t have to shoot him,” he muttered.
Adam didn’t bother to respond.
“There, it’s connected. Are you ready?” Leroy asked. His expression went pasty white when Adam wrapped his arm around his neck.
“Just to make sure you’re not trying to screw me, if this thing blows, I might lose my arm but you will be headless.”
“It’s not going to blow up. I know what I am doing,” he responded and slammed his finger on the enter button.
A sharp beep echoed from the bracelet, the small green light flickered a couple of times and then died.
Leroy unclipped the bracelet and removed it from Adam’s wrist.
“There.” He turned the bracelet in his hand. “What the fuck?” He exclaimed.
“What now?” Adam asked but took a couple of cautionary steps back.
Leroy waved the bracelet and pointed at David. “He fucking died for nothing! What kind of game are you playing, Mr. Whittaker?”
“What are you on about?”
“This isn’t a bomb. It’s a simple tracking device. You’ve had us waste days working on deactivating a goddamned tracker!”
“How the fuck was I supposed to know that? You pulled the schematics from the damn thing. You should’ve picked that up.”
Leroy frowned as he turned the bracelet this way and that. “I suppose it’s another way of trapping someone. The design is similar to the explosive ones. Someone really played you with this one.” Leroy tried his best to remain calm. The ease with which this man had killed David was a warning in itself. He could be the next one to die.
Adam raged silently. The fucking bastards! They made me live in fear for nothing. He clenched his jaw and yanked the bracelet out of Leroy’s hand. He threw it on the floor and stomped on it; over and over.
He was breathing hard when he stopped; his eyes glowed with hatred as he turned toward the door.
“I will bring your money in the morning.”
“Wait! What about David? How do I explain this to the faculty?” Leroy squeaked fearfully.
Adam turned to look at the stupid man who had dared to defy him. Some people just didn’t know when to be cautious.
“You don’t. You’re gonna pack up and leave. After you cleared out the video recordings of the past three hours and don’t switch it back on. Oh, and Leroy, delete all that information of the bracelet from your system because that would be the only incriminating thing the police would find in here. And, don’t be stupid enough to sign out or leave via the main gate where the security guards are. For all intents and purposes, you lef
t him here at eight and went home.”
“But I don’t have an alibi,” he wailed.
Adam sighed. “You don’t need one. Or did you have a reason to kill your partner? No one will suspect you. Take his wallet and his laptop and remove a couple of the narcotics from the adjacent lab. They’ll assume it was a robbery gone wrong.”
He turned and started to leave but stopped and turned to Leroy. “One warning, Leroy, make sure you don’t mention my name. I won’t hesitate to give you a bullet exactly where he got his. Is that understood?”
Leroy avoided his eyes and wrung his hands as he stared at his dead partner. Adam could see he was beginning to fold. He knew the type. He’ll flap his lips with the first hard assed cop drilling him for information.
Leroy didn’t notice Adam raising his gun once again.
One moment he was looking at all the blood and thinking how much of a waste it was. How clever and well-read David Cook had been and the next, nothing but a black void swallowed him.
He fell back, hitting his head on the corner of the desk. He didn’t feel it. He was already dead.
“Stupid imbecile,” Adam muttered. “Now, I have to fucking clean up everything,” he complained and began searching for the video feed. He found it easily and cleaned the tapes. He took both the laptops and walked to his car.
Ten minutes later he drove off, a blaze of orange flames eagerly lapped high into the air in his rearview mirror, destroying anything that might still have linked the two dead men to Damien Whittaker.
An evil smile curved his lips upward. Now, there was nothing to stop him. He licked his lips and an ugly cackle broke the silence in the interior of the car.
Tomorrow morning, he’ll reestablish his control over the Francis sisters. Lauren Francis will pay for the part she played in the life he was now forced to live.
“And I won’t rest until she breathes her final breath, after a slow and torturously painful death.”
Chapter Eighteen
“I’m coming for you.”
That was all the voice said and although it wasn’t the one she remembered, she knew it was Adam Baxter.
Thoughts of despair mingled with fear inside her head. She had truly believed Keon had put an end to Adam’s harassment. She tried to breathe but it was fruitless. The terror owned her in that moment. She attempted to force oxygen into her lungs with short gasps.
“Oh god,” Lauren whimpered.
The room spun. She kneeled on the floor. She felt nauseous and realized she was having a panic attack.
“Calm down,” she ordered hoarsely. “You are stronger than this!” Her fingers trembled as she tried to call Samantha but her hand shook so hard she dropped the phone.
“Lauren? Where are you?” Keon called from the front door. He walked into the kitchen and cursed when he found her on the floor, curled into a fetal position. “What the fuck happened? Lauren, talk to me,” he said gently as he picked her up and carried her to the den where he sat down and just cuddled her against his chest.
“Him . . . he . . . it was him . . . phoned,” she stammered. “Adam, he said he’s coming for me.”
“The fucking bastard! He must’ve realized that bracelet—” Keon swallowed his words. He was livid. Adam Baxter was a ticking time bomb and clearly on a roll. Yesterday he had Vitale killed and Rhone locked up and today, he just tightened the noose a little more.
Keon and the team had strategized into the night after Rhone’s release and had a plan in place to eliminate Baxter but they were out of time. Playtime was over.
But first, he needed to make sure Lauren and Beckie were protected should something happen to him. He wasn’t going to leave her to the wolves.
“Let’s go.” Keon took her hand and dragged her toward the door.
Lauren grabbed her handbag in passing, running to keep up with him as he strode to his truck.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he turned into the street a minute later.
He didn’t answer.
“What bracelet?” she remembered to ask.
Keon glanced at her briefly. “Forget about it.”
“No, Keon, I want to know. What did you mean that he must’ve realized about the bracelet?”
He sighed heavily. “As soon as we found out who he was we decided to give him a piece of his own medicine. Play with him like a mouse trapped in a maze. We put a bracelet similar to the ones you wore on his arm. Only, it wasn’t a bomb. It was a tracker but he didn’t know it at the time.”
“Then at least it served the purpose of letting him feel helpless and under another’s control. But you should’ve given put the real thing on him. He doesn’t deserve any leniency.”
“You’re right, he doesn’t and we shouldn’t have indulged our desire to see him suffer but we’re not murderers either, Lauren. We’ve always done our best to preserve life and we were trying to squeeze information out of him. But in this case, we should’ve just fucking killed him already,” Keon growled as he parked the truck in front of the courthouse.
Lauren looked around in confusion. “What are we doing here?”
Keon didn’t answer. He got out, walked around and assisted her from the truck. He took her hand in his again and walked inside, skirting the queues to enter a large open plan office at the back. He looked around briefly and then stalked to the office in the far corner. He rapped on the door.
“Come in,” a smooth feminine voice called.
“Ah, Keon, this is a surprise,” Macy Fowler, senior officer at the DC Family Court. Her eyes flashed over Lauren in a brief survey. “What can I do for you today?” She asked. She was one of the regulars at Club Devil’s Cove and had scened with Keon a couple of times in other clubs as well.
“I want you to marry us. Now.”
Both women gaped at him. Macy with amusement, especially when she noticed the look of shock on Lauren’s face.
Lauren was stumped. Elation and disbelief warred inside her but in the end, only jubilation remained. She knew she should question the sudden decision but somehow her vocal cords wouldn’t cooperate.
Macy looked at Keon with raised eyebrows. “Are you sure? Somehow the lady doesn't seem to be.”
“She is. Let's get to it, Macy. I don't have all day,” Keon said brusquely. He looked at Lauren who surprisingly hadn’t uttered a word.
Her eyes shone as blue as the midday sky. They were filled with questions; the kind he wasn’t ready to answer. Not yet.
“Lauren, I'm not going to allow him to get to you. Not again. At least this way, you will be protected if something happens to me and Beckie will have a legitimate mother.”
The penny dropped and Lauren took a moment to overcome the disappointment. She should’ve realized it wasn’t about her. He was marrying her to protect his daughter.
“Wait a minute. Are you saying you’re going to . . . That I'm going to . . .”
“Yes, Lauren, I already started the legal adoption when Max found out the original one was fake. Being married to me removes any hurdles in finalizing it.”
“I see,” she said softly, avoiding his eyes. “Thank you for entrusting Beckie to me.”
“How else, Lauren? You have been her mother for the past six years. I can’t take that away from her.”
“And now you’re willing to bind yourself with a ball and chain in the process. I’m sure that wasn’t in your future plans,” she prodded. What for, she wasn’t sure.
“No, it wasn’t but we all know how unpredictable life is.” Keon turned to Macy. “Well?”
“You know you need a marriage license, Keon,” she said regally.
“Yes, and I also know you can issue one within two minutes, so why are we even having this conversation?”
“You’re the one barging in here wanting a favor from me, mister high and mighty. I suggest you get off your high horse. This isn’t the club. In here, I am the one in charge,” Macy snapped irritably.
“I apologize, Macy. Will you please do as I as
ked?”
“That’s better. Of course, I will. As soon as I hear the lady affirm that it’s what she wants as well,” Macy drawled.
Keon looked at Lauren. Her cheeks bloomed bright red under his regard. She clenched her teeth, hating the effect he still had on her.
“Well, Lauren?” He queried with one eyebrow raised.
Lauren refused to answer him and looked at Macy. “To answer your question, Ms. Fowler, let’s get this done.”
It didn’t escape them that she didn’t actually say yes.
Macy nodded and asked a couple of questions to issue the marriage license. She also conducted the ceremony with efficiency. She signed the marriage certificate with a flourish and handed it to Keon.
“There you go, Mr. LeLuc. Signed, sealed and delivered. You are now a married man. Congratulations to you too, Mrs. LeLuc.”
Lauren was quiet when Keon pulled out of the parking area. On the one hand she was happy because the man she loved was now her husband. On the other, she was sad. This was just a marriage of convenience. When she’d been a young girl, she’d always dreamed about a white wedding dress, flowers and dancing with the man she loved.
Somehow, the cold and impersonal ceremony in a court, didn't feel right; even though she’d stopped dreaming during the years with Adam. She circled her ring finger and felt the burn of tears behind her eyelids.
I don’t even have a ring.
Lauren was so distraught, she didn’t notice where they were going until Keon stopped and opened her door. She followed him blindly and caught her breath when she looked around and realized they were at a jeweler; an exclusive one, judging by the posh interior.
“Good morning sir and madam. My name is Mr. Amray. How can I be of service this morning?” A small, dark haired man asked from behind the hand crafted wooden counter.
“I’d like to look at your sapphire and diamond rings please,” Keon said.”
“Please, take a seat. My assistant will serve some coffee and snacks while I make a selection for you.”
“Mr. Amray, I’d like to see the Tiffany’s selection.”
The man’s eyes sparkled.