The Pawn (Shattered Series Book 1)

by Ashton, Chloe D.

  Unable to control his fury, he crossed the room, and uncaring of the man’s discomfort, yanked the sash from his mouth. Staring at the assassin, he backed away in disgust. “Addison’s getting sloppy,” Jarrod said coldly. “And that just makes me wonder if junior is behind this maneuver rather than his father. But, your biggest mistake was taking on the task.”

  “Stupid piece of shit,” the assassin spat, eyeing him closely. An ugly sneer grew along his face. “Matt Addison…Duke Addison…it really doesn’t matter, does it? The job will get done, regardless. I will make the kill.”

  “Clint Rivers. Tell me. How much is my life worth?” he asked coolly, grabbing the only other chair in the room, and straddled it. “Hundreds? A few grand?”

  “Enough to make me an extremely happy man for a long time. Since you’re keen upon asking, I’ll tell you. With this hit, I’m going to make half a million, and of course, I can’t leave a trace or the amount will be lessened. There’s no chance in hell that I’m losing one red cent---so you’re going to have to die fast like a graceful little boy.”

  A volatile silence filled the space.

  The assassin’s smile was mocking. “Know what I see? With this loot, I foresee endless fun with fast parties, excursions, and useless whores,” Clint spat again, slumping in the chair, and a dangerous gleam shone in his eyes. “You know, I like when my assignments include pretty boys like you, Sabatino. Nothing pleases me more than killing all that self-pride and haughtiness. You won’t be pretty for long, though. I’m going to fuck you up in unbelievable ways.” His smile was deadly. “Then, I’ll have the pleasure of killing you.”

  “What do you take me for? Don’t be the fool and underestimate me. Trust me, I’m not a choir boy, and you’d be surprised of what I’m capable of doing,” he warned, and his smile was equally lethal. “I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty if the situation warrants it.”

  “Are you a murderer, Jarrod Sabatino? With all your intent, I don’t think you are. While you’re a hard man, there’s a shred of human decency that separates you from me,” the assassin said triumphantly. “No doubt, you’re a roaring lion, but underneath, there beats the heart of a just man. Unfortunately, it will be your untimely doing.”

  “Pity that Addison has given you such an inaccurate description of my so-called good qualities.” He shrugged. “I don’t have that many. Hell, I don’t know if I even have one. And you’d be amazed at what I’d do when my back’s against the wall.” Again, the disgust filled him. “Just like the cowardly bastards to try to off me, but not get their own hands dirty in the process.”

  “And that’s what I’m here for, right?” Clint suggested. “To take on such unpleasant but necessary tasks for the wealthy and privileged.”

  He scoffed. “Really? You’re proud of that?”

  A flash of petty jealousy played across the assassin’s face. “Yes, I’m proud of it! Why? Not every man has what you have. Wealth…privilege…success. Men like me, we grab hold of the glory in any way that we can. If that means killing someone, so be it. That makes me all the more powerful! And some of the locals here learned that firsthand when they wouldn’t take the sting. What worthless fools they are to place you in such high regard.” A calculating look played across his face. “The one that’s been keeping me here, I suppose that he’s right about you after all. Around here, you are a modern day, motherfucking hero.”

  “And you are the spineless, freaked-up wannabe villain for Addison, correct?” he challenged, tensing in the chair. “Poetic justice for you, I suppose. I die…you get rich. Again, tell me. Whose idea was it to shank me, junior or his proud murderous papa?”

  Eyes widening incredulously, the assassin threw his head back in laughter. A mirthless second later, he eyed him coldly. “Do you actually think that I’m going to tell you anything? Even I don’t have enough balls to snitch, especially on Duke Addison. I’m not telling you---”

  “So, Duke Addison is running this show,” he murmured, smiling triumphantly. “That’s very telling. The noose is tightening around the bastard’s neck, and he’s feeling it.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth. Believe what you want to believe,” Clint muttered, eyes shifting, and flushed red with embarrassment at his unintentional slip. But, he recovered quickly. “Do you know who you’re messing with? The biggest mafia that operates in that part of the south, and you’re a fool for thinking that you can win against them.”

  “Watch me,” he mouthed, and the two words were barely audible. “I’m going to see both of them in hell.”

  “But, you’re already standing within its fiery pits, aren’t you, and its flames are lapping around your dead soul?” Clint’s snarled cruelly. “When I’m given a job, I always make a point of getting to know my unfortunate quarry. So, I’ve done my homework on you, Jarrod Sabatino.” A cold smile lingered on his face. “Let’s just say that some interesting things came to light--- with the main fact being that you’re a dead man in the figurative sense. You’re breathing, but you’re not alive.”

  From his stance across the room, Jarrod watched the assassin, and with a deadly edginess, he closed his hands into rock hard fists, but said nothing. Yet, the fiery anger seared his very soul, and it took everything within him to maintain control.

  The assassin laughed again, spurred by his silence. “Nothing to say, huh? Well, I’ve learned quite a bit about the infallible Jarrod Sabatino. As a matter of fact, the ghosts of yesterday’s past co-exist with you, don’t they? And I know the dreadful truths that they whisper,” he said in a low voice, and his look was taunting again. “In the dead of night, does your wife’s pitiful cry still haunt you? Of course, I’m privy to the unfortunate details of her demise. Like the fact that she was roughed up a bit and physically assaulted. But, don’t take it personally---men like me find it necessary to wield our manly power from time to time. There’s no limit to the feeling of satisfaction that we get when we do so.” The assassin shrugged. “I suppose I’d be tormented by an action such as that if I were even remotely human.”

  Finally, he spoke again. “But, you’re not.”

  “Of course, I’m not,” Clint stated matter-of-factly. “But, you with all your boasting of being unfeeling, it’s the furthest thing from the truth. You are human. And I’m willing to bet that day and night, you’re tormented by what happened back then. How many sleepless nights have you had? Realizing that you’re a failure and that your bitch is dead because of you? And what about the ‘thing’ that’s too horrible for you to mention? Yes, it’s more than blatantly obvious that you’d struggle with that failure as well.” His laugh was cruel and short. “Too bad they didn’t get the opportunity to do the same to that pretty little girl of yours. What’s her name---oh yeah, Meghan…Just the thought of tasting that sweet innocence is enough to make me get hard---”

  The violent growl left Jarrod as he bolted from the chair and sent it careening into the corner. He rushed across the room. Though the assassin was weighty, the chair nearly toppled over as he rammed into him with brute force.

  Moving with an agility that was both swift and frightening, he moved to the back of the chair. Only the anger served him as he locked his arm against the man’s thick neck. “Don’t you ever fucking say anything like that about my daughter, you filthy son-of-a-bitch!”

  Any control that he’d had, he lost it in that very moment. Bearing his weight against the floor, he tightened his hold and increased the pressure against the man’s throat. Through the red haze, he faced the fury, and nothing else breached past the swirling colors. At the edges of his conscience, the present and past collided, and he fed the naked rage that lapped within him.

  In the background, he heard the man’s chortled gasps, but it did little to hasten his actions. Guided by nothing but pure instincts, Jarrod stared down at the assassin with cold intent. “Fuck you...fuck Addison,” he muttered coldly, detached. “All of you---I’m going to send you straight to hell where you belong.”

  G
runting, eyes bulging, the assassin fought to breathe.

  With a loud crash, the door flew open and slammed against the wall, ushering in a concerned wide-eyed Javier. Upon seeing them, he released a string of burning expletives. “Shit! Jarrod, don’t!” Javier shouted, rushing to them, and struggled to pull him off the assassin. “Let him go, damn it! He’s not worth it!”

  But, he was too far gone…

  And the past collided with the present---

  Like a shutter, the events played before him, and the stir of a thousand echoes rushed within his conscience. “No,” he whispered, anguished, and the scalding tears burned his eyes. “No.”

  Yet, the horrible memories prevailed…

  “Jarrod, please. I can’t leave you…I can’t…please. I love you---”

  “Shhh,” he whispered, cradling her close, and couldn’t see past the burning tears. “Just hold on, a little longer. Please…”

  Eyes off-centered, Caitlyn looked at him with a dazed expression. “Meghan,” she gasped, shuddering with pain. “Did they hurt her? Please, tell me they didn’t. W-where’s my sweet baby girl? And Colin, he was up there with me.” She grasped his shirt weakly. “At first, I could hear him, but then, then…”

  Incredibly weakened, Caitlyn sagged against him, and nearly went unconscious. But, she forced her eyes open. “Where is he? Our son---”

  The burning tears burned his vision.

  No words ventured past the pain.

  How could he dare utter the awful truth?

  Staring down into her badly bruised face, he hugged her closer. “Shhh, just rest…save your strength.”

  “Promise me that you’ll take care of our babies,” she whispered, grasping the front of his ripped, bloody shirt. “Promise me that you will.”

  He struggled to find the words.

  His pent-up tears broke free, and his large body shook violently.

  Again, the truth was too damaging, and in the dark moment, didn’t she deserve solace?

  “I promise…I promise…” he whispered.

  As the pain seared through her again, she stiffened against him. Then, she held his gaze. “Say that you’ll love me and only me.”

  “I love you,” he said hoarsely. “Always.”

  Giving a painful gasp, she shuddered against him. Finally, she went limp in his arms. Eyes wide open, she stared at him lifelessly.

  Like a vicious roar, the echoes stirred. But, somewhere, at the dark cresses of his mind, he heard Javier’s frantic voice.

  “Damn it, Jarrod! Let him go!” Javier shouted. “Shit! I hate to go there. But, you’ll thank me for this later.”

  As the hard blow landed against his face, Jarrod came back to the present. Stunned, dazed, he staggered across the room and fought to catch his bearings. Finally, the shadows took shape, and he found himself facing a belligerent Javier.

  “Focus on this the right way! Think of what you stand to lose!” Javier shouted, collaring him, and looked him squarely in the eye. “I know the bastard stinks like shit, because he is pure shit! But, you’re better than this, Sabatino. Don’t let them win, and if you kill him, they will!”

  “Listen to your lover,” Clint breathed between ragged, short breaths. “Aren’t you already shackled with enough guilt? No need to add my death to your sick dying conscience---”

  “Shut the fuck up!” he shouted, shoving against Javier hard, but he was unable to breach against his physical hold. “I’m going to finish what I started--!”

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Javier urged, gripping his shoulders with a firm hold. “Calm down---you got this, man. He’s trying you, right now, and seeing how far he can push you. Don’t play into his hands. Don’t let him make you lose your cool. That’s what the bastard wants. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Now,” he said, breathing fast because of the strength it took to hold him back. “I’m going to let you go. But, I want you to concentrate on the good things---Olivia and Meghan. They’re in your corner. They always have been. They always will be.” Eyeing him close, Javier released him and backed away. “Think on that.”

  But, weren’t they the very things he was fighting for, he raged inwardly, breathing hard and staggered away from him. And if he didn’t protect them, would he lose them like he’d lost---

  Releasing a violent curse, Jarrod charged blindingly to the far side of the room. As he faced the wall, he braced shaky hands against it and fought the war raging inside him. “Fuck that son-of-bitch!” he yelled, breathing fast, and punched the wall hard. Over and over, he pounded it, ignoring the jagged splinters cutting into his flesh. “Hasn’t Addison taken enough from me already? He can’t win. Not this time!”

  Shaking violently, taking a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes and forced himself to calm. Through the confused haze, he felt Javier’s presence as he stepped behind him. When his friend laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, he flinched, but still Javier didn’t pull away.

  And for a moment, he just stood there, facing the wall, and struggled against the great sense of loss that’d enveloped him for years.

  A tense second later, composed, he turned to face Javier and blew a hard breath. “I’m alright.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  Moving past Javier, he crossed the room again, stopping before the assassin. “The only thing this piece of garbage needs is a padded cell. By his own admission, he’s committed a series of crimes here already, and with a murder rap abroad as well as this kill-for-hire plot, the SOB will never see daylight.”

  “If we can get enough proof against him, I’m betting on a life sentence or worse. We need to contact Marc and see what more information we can get on him. More than likely he has a rap sheet a mile long,” Javier said, stopping at his right, and passed the assassin a cold smile. “Just more fire to make an iron-clad case.”

  “A hot trail that connects him to Addison is vital. We have to find substantial evidence through other sources and outlets if we’re going to put him and his organization out of commission. We’re not giving up. We’re going to end his reign of terror once and for all---”

  The click of the handgun stopped him cold. “Afraid that’s not going to happen, good men. Unfortunately, the end is near for the both of you. Don’t worry. You’ll have a proper burial with plastic cellophane wrap and a dirt grave. We’ll even strew a few of your body parts as mementos for the hungry vultures,” Tomas said, pressing the barrel of the gun between his shoulder blades. “Like they say, payback’s a bitch.”

  Chapter 16

  9:30 pm.

  The hour wasn’t extremely late, Olivia mulled, but couldn’t dispel her concern.

  But, it’d been hours since Jarrod and Javier had departed, and they hadn’t mentioned that they’d be gone this long. Not that Jarrod said anything at all, she reminded herself, biting her lip. And she’d be lying to herself if she’d said that she hadn’t noticed their tension. To top that off, he wasn’t returning any of her calls or texts which was so unlike him.

  Finally, giving up all pretenses, she tossed the magazine onto the glass table and left the sofa. Following the sound of Meghan’s and Maria’s laughter, she trailed in that direction.

  When she happened upon the girly-styled bedroom, she stopped in the doorway. Sitting on the floor in a perfect circle, Luna, Maria, and Meghan sang a sweet lullaby with both Spanish and English lyrics. From the doorway, hearing the words of prayer, she felt the fresh sting of tears.

  Not breaking from the song, Luna looked away from the girls and met her gaze. The bright tears glistened in her brown eyes, and even she couldn’t disguise her worry. But, it was apparent that Luna fought to hide her troubled thoughts from the girls.

  And that was best, she agreed silently, taking in the girl’s innocent cheery faces. The darkness had no right to steal their joy.

  “Join us?” Luna asked, extending a hand. “We’ll teach you the words.”

  “Yes,” she nodded, struggling to compose herself, and moved fro
m the door. “It sounds beautiful, and I’d like to learn it.”

  When she reached them, she grabbed Luna’s hand before sinking to the floor, and they both drew strength from the other. In time, she was singing along with them, and with all hope, their prayers would be answered, she prayed silently.

  Thirty minutes later, they were tucking the girls into bed. Adorned in pink and frilly princess-styled bedding, the canopy beds sat adjacent to each other. On her right, Luna was already speaking softly to Maria and readying her for bed. Again, the mother and daughter were a beautiful wholesome sight with their identical features, and their mutual love and adoration filled the room.

  Turning her attention from them, she smiled down at Meghan. “Night-night time, you little munchkin.”

  “That’s what I am, isn’t it?” Meghan giggled, slapping her tiny hands over her mouth. “Especially after all those cookies I had.”

  “That’s our little secret, remember?” she teased, tapping Meghan’s nose playfully. “You know how your father feels about sweets after dark.”

  The girl looked at her shyly. “But, today’s special.”

  “Of course, today’s special, silly. Everyday with you is always so,” she smiled, brushing a gentle hand along the child’s cheek. “I cherish every moment that we have together.”

  “But, it’s not just special,” Meghan whispered, and huge tears pooled in her eyes. “But, really special…and---and...”

  At the sight of the child’s tears, her eyes filled with them, too. “Hey, sweetie, what is it? Why the long face and tears?” she prodded gently.

  Meghan closed a tiny hand around hers. “Will you lay down with me, just for a moment? Please, Livvy,” the little girl pleaded.