The Pawn
A Novel
Chloe D. Ashton
Some things are better left unsaid………
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Pawn, A Novel
Copyright © 2015 Chloe D. Ashton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the author.
Cover design: FrinaArt
SelfPubBookCovers.com/FrinaArt
Acknowledgment
This book is dedicated to my beautiful angels and little man who mean more to me than life itself. There are no limits to your inspiration, and all that I do is for you.
Once there was a girl and a boy who fell deeply
in love…
Their love was larger than life….
How fortunate a gift…
The Pawn
A Novel
Prologue
Charleston, Georgia…
Shadowed and hidden by the huge weeping willow, the black SUV limo waited, idling quietly a few hundred feet away from the massive-sized church.
Barely restraining his disgust, gripping the vodka bottle at its neck, Jarrod Sabatino slumped against the seat while taking in the scene.
Holland Grove Sanctuary…
Alongside the edges of the impeccable structure, the white dogwood trees were in full bloom, and they added a blatant innocence to the scenery. At different angles, the patches of wildflowers were staggered along the grounds, and they exuded a wonderful splendor on the glorious Saturday afternoon. A Romanesque architectural wonder, exquisitely designed, the church held triple bell towers and a grand entrance fit for royalty. Fit with both marble and white stone, holding many floors, it hosted a series of archways at different points, and the decorative stained windows added to the décor.
In short, the structure was a sight to behold.
Too beautiful and magnificent to sully---
“Matt Addison, you bastard,” Jarrod raged, embracing the bitterness and anger. “What right do you have to even stand within those sacred walls?”
Suddenly, even the air within the vehicle seemed too constrictive. Though he tried, he couldn’t control the tremor in his hand while loosening the necktie. Disturbed by the show of self-perceived weakness, he took a swig of the vodka, but the alcohol only fueled the sting of his bitterness. Certainly, now wasn’t the time to focus on his wayward emotions, he sighed tiredly, closing his bloodshot eyes.
And the insomnia---
These past few days, it’d been past intolerable.
Outside the church, the burgeoning crowd had amassed, and an open gaiety surrounded the group, both young and old.
But, he was the game changer.
He simply could not and would not let it happen, he vowed, staring out the window blankly.
Exquisite, beautifully arranged, and tied with a large pink bow, the gardenia bouquet arrangement hung at the center of the door. As the bridesmaids, groomsmen, and other wedding attendees filed into the church, it was plain that the occasion was monumental.
The team of armed men stationed at the church’s front, however, eradicated any sense of normalcy that surrounded the event.
Another group of wedding attendees veered around the corner, a party of six, and while they were dressed in similar black tie attire, it was apparent that they were the most important yet. Fortyish, buffed, the first two bodyguards led the way, and with a careful edginess, they swept a fast gaze around.
In their wake, the groom and his father followed.
“To hell with you both,” he muttered in disgust at the sight of his targets.
Sixtyish, tall and lithe, flaunting an arrogant air, mobster kingpin Duke Addison seemed almost disinterested as he conversed with his son.
Matt Addison, the apparent heir and prodigal son, thirtyish and almost resembling his father exactly in features, however, displayed a nervousness that was easily noticeable.
As if to reassure him, the man clapped his son on the back. Then, with barely restrained patience, Duke Addison barked out an order, and whatever it’d been, it caused the men to quicken their pace. Behind them, two more bodyguards followed, and they were careful to keep close. Within a few seconds, they’d reached the front and ascended the stairs before entering the church.
After close inspection, it seemed that no more of Addison’s minions were lurking around outside. But, undoubtedly, they were inside the church somewhere.
And that’d make things all the more difficult---
A dead hush filled the limo.
“What now, Mr. Sabatino?”
Tensing, features hardened, he met the driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror and couldn’t mask the naked rage. But, his ire cooled somewhat at the man’s sympathetic expression. Manson, his trusted driver and associate, was probably one of the few that actually knew and understood him; and being acquainted for years as they’d been, the man knew better than to press.
“We wait,” Jarrod quipped tightly. “I’m going to take in this sickening display until I retch. Maybe then, I can dispel this foulness in my gut. Kill the engine.”
Giving a quick nod, turning away, the driver closed the partition, and then, the limo went dead.
Cursing violently, Jarrod struck the half-empty bottle against the door, and on impact, it shattered into tiny pieces, drenching the space with alcohol.
“Does the bastard really think that I’m going to let him get away with this?” he said, angered, hitting a hard fist against the console. Taking a deep breath, forcing himself to calm, he fell back against the seat, and a dead coldness laced his words. “I swear on my life, Addison, I’m going to make you pay for everything. Anything and everything that you care about, I’m going to take it away from you.”
Without a further thought, he snatched the communication device from the seat, and while his men were equipped with advanced technology, making a point of contact was still risky.
After a few seconds, a static voice responded. “What the hell, Sabatino! Are you seriously contacting me right now? This isn’t exactly the time,” Marc Angelo hissed, biting back a violent curse, and his breathy response signified that he was on the move. “The whole point is to be inconspicuous, remember? But, if you don’t stop hindering the progress, we’ll be completely fucked. Everything’s under control, so just chill.”
“It better be or everything will be shot to hell and back,” he muttered, fighting to control his growing unease.
But, everything was going as planned, and his men were already in place, carrying out the secret mission. That was something to be thankful for at least. Weeks ago, they’d managed to get a layout of the church, and it’d come at a hefty price.
Fifteen grand to be exact, he frowned.
But, the price had been worth it, especially considering that the church held a secret underground tunnel and a network of clandestine entrances. Once they ventured along those avenues, the team had to work their way along the different levels and rooms that it housed. And the tracking devices that they wore ensured their safety, especially with the added possibility of an aborted mission.
“There’s not much time, so move fast,” Jarrod quipped tightly. “Take her. Get her out of that church. Whatever you have to do to rip Matthew Addison’s sick, twisted, and idyllic wedding fantasy to shreds, do it. I don’t care what tactics you use, just make it happen. If the bastard gets caught in the crossfire, that’s all the better.” Tensing further, he released a
pent-up breath. “What’s your perimeter?”
“Approximately 150 meters---damn it! The heat’s on us, so we have to move. I’ll contact you later. Just be at the meeting place at our designated time.”
With a click, the connection was lost.
Looking out the window again, he saw that more guests were arriving.
Unfortunately, a different show would unfold before them, he thought bitterly, lowering the partition again. “Let’s go---onto Widow’s Pointe and take the fastest route possible.”
The driver nodded before firing the engine.
***
“Well, this is it,” she sniffled, holding the bouquet close to her chest, and wiped away the residual tears. “The end of everything.”
From the floor length mirror, Olivia Lange stared back at her reflection.
Instead of the twenty-eight year old struggling artist that she was, she resembled a fair beautiful princess from a fantasy movie. Coiffed in an elegant upsweep, her black tresses shone brilliantly under the light filtering into room, curling in soft tendrils alongside her face. Her light brown eyes were especially captive, exuding a smoky aura with a mixture of dark blue and gray shadows along her eyelids. A light red gloss painted her full, pouty lips while faint coral rouge dusted her cheeks.
Turning for a sideways view, she blinked again.
The wedding gown was a perfect fit.
Tiny, fine sequins lined the bodice in a straight pattern, extending down the sides. Flaring out slightly at the waist, the seven feet train trailed across the carpeted floor. And she’d tread lightly in the strapless two-inch heels, hopefully lessening the chance of sending herself sprawling across the floor.
Outwardly, she was the perfect package.
But, the stark reality told a different story.
Inside, she was dying a slow death, and a relentless battle raged, one that she was destined to lose.
With trembling hands, she clutched the bouquet tighter, nearly crushing it, and stared dejectedly at the false imagery of happiness in the mirror.
How could she dismiss the horrible things that she’d learned about her soon-to-be husband or his violent and deadly threats?
More importantly, how could she ignore the forbidden feelings that she’d developed for another man, one who’d stolen her very senses?
The secret, emotional love affair that’d she’d been sharing for the past year with the most breathtaking and enigmatic being…
She fought to breathe.
In a whispering silence, the bouquet fell from her lifeless hands onto the floor.
Even now, the mere thought of him was taking precedence over her sanity. If she were to involve him in this thing, he’d be in danger as well, and it wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.
But, the idea of standing before the church and pledging to honor and trust another man, especially one as ruthless and violent as---
How could she even contemplate that thought?
She’d betray them both.
“How can I marry him when my heart and soul belongs to you? I love you so much, it hurts,” she whispered, tearing up again. “No, I can’t do this. I can’t---”
The door burst open.
With a surprised gasp, she turned and faced her irate husband-to-be.
“But you will, won’t you, dear Olivia? Anything to spare that sickly dying uncle of yours and your own miserable life, and you were wise to accept my threats as truth. Without a doubt, I would’ve upheld every single one of them and that does include killing you,” Matt Addison sneered, closing the door before venturing into the room. Taking a long pause, he looked her up and down. “A beautiful bride you are, but not a blushing one. I think the former idea is overrated.”
“You’re nothing more than a cruel, abusive jerk. How did I ever think that you were a good man?” she whispered, dazed. “Dear heavens, I must’ve been desperate. What was I thinking when I became involved with you? And what kind of man are you? You took advantage of my trust and used it to commit unspeakable acts.”
When he looked at her, his eyes were wild. “Really, Olivia? Are we going to hash all of this out, today of all days---our wedding day? You are truly unbelievable!”
“No, you’re unbelievable. Surely, you’re not foolish enough to think that this is a happy occasion?” she scoffed in disbelief. “Ever fathom the thought that blackmailing me into marriage, not to mention the fact that I abhor the very sight of you, puts a damper on that sweet spirit of happiness?”
“Olivia, you gave me no choice!” Matt snapped, raking a hand through his blond hair. “If you’d just left things alone---”
“And not get smart enough to see the truth about you?” she asked, shaking her head. “Even now, I can’t believe that it took so long for me to do so.”
Matt’s lip curled in distaste. “Aren’t you partly to blame? Poor, desperate, innocent, and gullible…you were an easy mark.” He gave a gleeful laugh. “And you were so clueless to my actions! By using that little miserable dive of yours, I was able to smuggle in illegal art, drugs, weapons, and whatever else I wanted. I’d say that’s some genius maneuvering on my part!”
“And that’s not the worst of your crimes, is it?” she said, and a pure defiance burned in her eyes as they met his. “Extortion, assault, blackmail, murder---you’re not above any of those things, are you?”
“I’m a smooth criminal, I suppose?” Matt shrugged dismissively, freezing her with a cold look. “And you will go through this wedding or you’ll have to answer to me and my father. Good thing he’s not here with us right now, or he’d have your head. Guess that you should thank me for small favors, huh?”
“I hate you,” she said quietly, and meant it. “How can anyone be so cruel?”
Blowing a fast breath, he raised his hands in the air. “Olivia, you brought this on yourself. If you hadn’t been snooping around, sticking your nose into business that wasn’t yours,” he said, exasperated, “you wouldn’t be in this predicament, now would you?”
“Are you really that much of a monster? Innocent people---you’ve killed them, murdered them in cold blood,” she murmured, still surprised by his lack of feelings. “How dare you stand there and have the audacity to act like those people meant nothing!”
“Still sore because I killed some of those homeless bums that you love taking care of at the shelter? I had to teach you a lesson, solidify the fact that I’m a man of my word,” he laughed cruelly. “Look at it this way, also, my dear love. I was doing society a favor and getting them off the streets.”
At that comment, her tears fell free.
Turning away from him, she wiped them away.
Again, she faced herself in the mirror.
A hollow shell…
That’s what she was…
She felt nothing.
“In my worst nightmare, I could’ve never imagined the length that you and your father would go to intimidate me and prove how unscrupulous you both claimed to be. But, you did, the moment you bombed the clinic on Fourth Street,” she whispered miserably, embracing the horror that’d filled her for months. “Those people---they were innocent and needed help. They needed someone to give them hope and let them know that the world cares. Volunteering at the clinic gave me a sense of purpose, and you wanted to kill that spirit. You did.” A dead silence hummed in the room. “Innocent, lost, and heartbroken people---all of them lost their lives because of my incompetency. Their blood is on my hands---I’ll never forgive myself. Nor do I deserve forgiveness. If only I’d gone to the police with my suspicions about you and your father earlier, they wouldn’t be dead.” A broken sob left her. “They’d be alive---”
“Why don’t you stop that, Olivia?” Matt raged in disgust, whirling her around to face him. “Stop trying to be everyone’s heroic angel! Now, you’re a grown woman, for pity’s sake, and isn’t it time to leave your childhood angst in the past where it belongs? Granted, it may not be easy to forget. But, no longer are you the little girl
who was shuffled from foster home to foster home. Unlike many others, you took your negative situation by its bullhorn and turned your life around.” He grasped her upper arms. “Look at you. While it’s not on a grand scale, you have managed to make some money off your paintings. Not only that. You managed to attract a man of my high stature.”
Lifting a well-shaped brow, she gave him a look of disbelief. “So, in your warped world of thinking, I’m beneath you?”
“Unfortunately, yes. However, there aren’t too many people that see past the Addison name, but you did in the beginning,” Matt said, flustered. “Still, though, you’ll never understand how demanding it is to maintain the family legacy.”
“Is this the part where the violins will be broken out to play your sad song? A sad song for the poor misunderstood Matt Addison,” she said sarcastically and pulled away. “Didn’t you leave out a few careful details, Matt? Like how you used me to pursue your criminal endeavors? How convenient that you’re leaving out the fact that you basically turned my gallery into an illegal operation right under my very nose! It became nothing more than a portal for the smuggling of illegal art pieces and little plastic baggies of pure cut cocaine.” The animosity played on her face. “I suppose that you deserve an award for your performance---using me was your intent all along.”
He had the grace to redden. “Maybe in the beginning, but that’s not the point. I love you, and you know that. In spite of your nasty beginnings and unsavory qualities that you harbor, I do love you. And this situation between us now, it doesn’t have to be this way.”
“And you think that’s love?” she asked, stunned. “Lying, cheating, blackmailing people, do you think that’s love, seriously Matt?” She couldn’t hide her anger as she spoke. “What about now? You’re blackmailing me and forcing me into this marriage. How about this part? My only living relative, Uncle Charles---he’s being held as ransom! The poor man is dying a slow death, but you’re still threatening to murder him in cold blood. And let’s not forget the threats that you’ve made against my life.” Again, the hostility played in her voice. “Do you honestly think that I’m going to feel something for you? Any feelings that I had, you killed them long ago.”
The Pawn (Shattered Series Book 1) Page 1