His Devil's Mercy

by Linzi Basset

  “We’re being lenient with you, Burgess, because of your years of service and your loyalty to date. You should’ve known better than to act without discussing it with us. Now, you have to prove that you can still be trusted to serve the greater good of the organization.” Mr. Z didn’t bode any opposition.

  “Are you saying—”

  “Joanne Blackmore can’t be allowed to talk or worse, recognize you. There is only one way to make this go away, Paul,” Dexter said acerbically.

  “She has to die.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I think I will buy that bakery on the corner,” Jack sighed as he bit into one of the just-baked chocolate croissants that were delivered before their morning meetings, courtesy—Rhone’s PA.

  “Yeah, and then we’d have a battering ram on feet when we’re on a mission,” Max teased, indicating an enlarged belly.

  “You’re just jealous.” Jack took another bite, unperturbed at Max’s taunt. He loved food and was always nibbling on something throughout the day, but with his size, it was little wonder. “Not that I blame you. Your puny muscles aren’t a match for mine.”

  “Hell no! Eat all you like. At least that way, I know I’ll always be ahead in any chase and your big ass would be caught instead of mine. Your muscles might be bigger but when it comes to speed, you’ve got nothing on me.”

  “Jesus, the two of you sound like Beckie and Jaxon when they get together,” Ethan interjected with a broad smile. Max and Jack were closer than blood brothers and acted like it too. Everyone had been concerned that the fight over Joanne might have put a wedge between them but were relieved it hadn’t.

  “Before we start, I have some news I’d like to share with you all,” Keon said in his usual low rumble.

  “Well, spit it out, mate,” Lance prodded when he didn’t continue but looked around the table with a stupid-ass smile on his face.

  “We’re pregnant. Lauren and I are going to have a baby.” Keon’s chest puffed out, obviously happy to share the news.

  “I wondered how much longer she was going to wait to tell you,” Ethan said with a smile. “Congrats, mate. I can just imagine what Beckie’s reaction was.”

  “Gmphf, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you knew before me,” Keon said but his smile didn’t waiver. He knew Lauren trusted Ethan and had gone to him for tests. “Beckie is over the moon.”

  Congratulations followed. Everyone was delighted for the couple. Both of them, as well as Keon’s daughter, Beckie, had suffered greatly over the past six years. They deserved all the happiness that came their way.

  Rhone’s expression was inscrutable as he sat back down. His thoughts were on the beautiful woman he’d left sleeping in his bed earlier. She’d barely fallen asleep by the time he’d left for the office. He had kept her awake the entire night, expunging all the longing and lust that had been building up for the last two months, waiting for her return. He wondered if she’d be there when he got home.

  His gaze returned to Keon. The pride and joy that brightened his best friend’s face was almost too much to bear. Rhone had come to accept that he’d never experience that feeling; the excitement of knowing he’d fathered a child. His sigh sounded like a tired wind blowing over the Scottish moors. At the rate he was going, that wasn’t going to change. Not if he continued to fuck up with Samantha. But the sight of her submitting to Bruce had been the sexiest thing he’d seen in a long time. He didn’t regret his decision to give her what she’d asked for. Even though she’d only done it to goad a reaction from him.

  The object of his thoughts walked through the door at that moment, shaking Rhone from his ruminations. Their eyes caught and in that brief connection, Rhone realized that Bruce had been aware of his motive, which was why he’d played along. It shook his composure. Not that he should be surprised. Bruce was extremely astute.

  The question was in his gaze, only for Rhone to see. Rhone nodded imperceptibly, confirming that Samantha was fine. Bruce’s lips twitched in a brief smile and his eyes darkened as he continued to study Rhone. The smile broadened, when he found what he was looking for, before he turned away and sat down.

  “Hey, sis, how are you?” Jack asked Joanne who had arrived with Bruce. She stood behind Jack and hugged him briefly.

  “I’m fine, brother dear. You can stop worrying about me.” Her found Max’s gaze glued on her. “And you too. I’m tired of being babied. Tell them, Bruce. Enough is enough,” she snapped when she recognized the concern in his gaze.

  The entire team was gathered around the table, including Alex White, the Governor of Maryland, who Joanne had met at the club the previous night.

  “How did your first session with the women go, Bruce?” Alex asked. He’d personally approached Bruce for his assistance as a psychologist to help the women cope with rehabilitation. He was good at counseling abused victims. Despite his daunting size, people trusted him on sight.

  “I started with a group check-in session. It’s easier to get them to open up that way. It went very well. There are a couple of them who are more broken than others, but I’ll take good care of them during one-on-one sessions.” Bruce summarized briefly.

  “Why would that be?” Alex prodded.

  “From what the ladies shared, some of them were mistreated more than others. Debased in ways not many women would survive. It would take a miracle for them to come to trust men again.”

  “What were their reaction about new identities and entering the witness protection program?” Alex queried.

  “Relieved. Well, apart from one. Morgan Adler. Cheeky little chit that one,” Bruce said with a chuckle.

  “Why?” Max wanted to know. “Surely she understands it’s the only way to keep her safe?”

  “She refuses to give up her career. She’d made a name for herself as an artist. You own one of her paintings, Ethan. The one hanging in your den.”

  “You’re right, it’s a Morgan Adler. I bought it five years ago at an exhibit in Santa Monica. She’d just started out at the time but since then, has come a long way.”

  “Which means it will be our responsibility to ensure she is safe.” Alex tapped his fingers on the table in front of him. “I’ve been alerted about a couple of discreet searches through the confidential files about the rescued women, which concerns me.”

  “It means there’s a leak in your team, Alex. We trust the people in this room implicitly,” Max said. He swiped a finger over his iPad while Richard switched on the large monitor on the wall and began typing on his laptop.

  “You won’t find anything, guys. I’ve already looked into it. Whoever has been poking around, did it from an internet cafe that has no security cameras, nor are there any street cams in that area.”

  “It’s someone from the inside,” Rhone pondered aloud. “Lance, get Jerry to allocate additional security at the safe house. I’m not taking any chances.”

  “On it.” Lance left to arrange the detail.

  “You’re going to have to fast track the women’s witness protection arrangements, Alex. If someone is looking for them, it means there’s a possibility that one or more of them might be able to identify the bastards who took them. We have to keep them safe.”

  “It’s already in process and should be finalized by the end of the week and then we can move them all out. What about Morgan Adler?”

  “I’ll have another discussion with her. If push comes to shove, she’ll have to be placed under protective custody in her own home,” Bruce asserted.

  “Agreed.” Rhone glanced at Joanne. “Your turn, little one. We need all the details of your capture. Every little thing you can remember, however minute or inconsequential you might think it is, we need to know.”

  Joanne explained what had happened on the day of her departure to São Paulo, Brazil, finally admitting that the story about singing on a cruise ship had been a ruse to keep her assignment secure.

  “Wait a minute. Granted, you were . . . are a brilliant forensic anthropologist
but why would a Federal Agent draft you for an undercover op in Brazil, of all places,” Jack asked the obvious question on their minds.

  “I don’t know. I supposed I was so flattered that I grasped the opportunity with both hands. I was also annoyed that the forensic team didn’t do the jobs they were trained for, to ensure the murderers are brought to justice. It was a double jeopardy for me. I could expose internal corruption while doing what I loved at the same time.”

  “And this happened just after we left L.A.?” Max asked quietly. It had been one of the reasons guilt had gnawed at him ever since she had disappeared.

  “Don’t put more meaning to that than what there was, Maximilian,” Joanne said gently. “You leaving L.A. had nothing to do with my decision to accept the assignment.” The guilt in his gaze told her more than she wanted to know at this particular point of time. Especially as she was still struggling to come to terms with the hold Max had over her, even after all the years of separation—physically and emotionally. She couldn’t cope with him feeling guilty for her being the victim of human trafficking.

  “Alex, what do you know about this? Do you recall a case the bureau was involved in?” Max turned to Alex.

  He shook his head slowly as he wracked his memory. “Nothing comes to mind, but I’ll look into it. Personally, I don’t see why the FBI would draft an untrained citizen for something as serious as that; especially as we have qualified experts in forensic anthropology for such investigations.”

  “Which means someone tricked her. Someone, who knew her well enough to know she would take the bait. She was never meant to leave for Brazil,” Max pondered out loud. “It was a ruse to get her to that private airfield.”

  “Who the fuck would want to hurt Joanne? And why?” Jack thundered. He was more upset that any of them had realized. Max understood though. Like him, Jack felt that he had failed in protecting his loved one.

  “Why? Think about it, Jack. Our entire team was out of commission for almost five months after she disappeared. We all were searching for her,” Keon interjected calmly.

  “Someone wanted us out of the US, which is why the obvious trail led us to Thailand. We wasted all that time searching for her there, leaving an open field for . . . what exactly? I can’t recall any big cases we were working on at the time,” Jack asked no one in particular.

  “That is the jackpot question, mate,” Lance said. “Offhand, I can’t remember anything particular apart from the usual drug and mob related cases.”

  Richard’s hands were flying over the keyboard of his laptop as he searched their database. “Let’s see. There was a security detail to protect a US Senator who was under threat from the mafia because of a new bill he was lobbying. Investigating a drug distribution ring that had caused an increase in drug overdose deaths in Canada and . . . wait a minute . . . a new human trafficking vein, specifically to the Islamic countries.”

  “Which we handed over to the FBI in favor of searching for Joanne. Correct me if I’m wrong, Alex,” Rhone mused, “nothing ever came of it. The FBI ran into dead end and eventually closed the investigation.”

  “Correct and until we found out about Prince Khalid Saud’s involvement, nothing had happened about it,” Alex responded as he read the reports on the monitor.

  “Give us a name, Jo. Who recruited you,” Max asked gently.

  “Carl Redwood.”

  Richard immediately started to search the name. Alex shook his head. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Not surprisingly,” Richard retorted. “Carl Redwood died four years ago from a heart attack. He was ninety-two years old, alone with no family.”

  “Fuck. Another dead-end,” Ethan growled.

  “Would you recognize him, Jo?” Max asked again.

  “It’s been a year,” Joanne said slowly. “But, yes, I think I will.”

  “Do you remember enough to sit with a sketch artist to draw his face? We might be able to identify him that way,” Alex said.

  “That may be more difficult, but I’ll try.”

  “You guys realize what we’re talking about here, right? Lance reminded them. “We’re talking a corrupt FBI or CIA official, someone, who has enough power to pull off something like this. He’s most probably involved with one of the crime syndicates and the human trafficking ring Khalid Saud was part of.”

  “You may be right, but we have no concrete evidence linking the Sixth Order to that. We don’t even know who is at the helm,” Alex expressed his frustration.

  “Not entirely true, Alex. There is the company Saud visited while he was here—Crown International,” Keon reminded them.

  “Yes, but we don’t know of their involvement. It could’ve been a business meeting for all we know. I’ve looked into Paul Burgess—the owner. He is well-known businessman,” Rhone said.

  “That maybe so, but we all know that businessmen and politicians alike, are the foundation of many crime syndicates. It’s a place to start,” Max said.

  “You’re right. I want you and Richard to start digging. Find out everything about the company, its management team and Mr. Paul Burgess,” Rhone said.

  Max stared at Joanne. He couldn’t get rid of the feeling of doom.

  “You look tired. Let me take you home,” Jack said next to her.

  Joanne didn’t hear him. Her gaze was caught on Max’s body as he got up and stretched. Max’s winked at her when he caught her gaze.

  “Still hungry, baby?”

  “In your dreams, Maximilian,” she snubbed him. She stood up as Jack unfolded his tall frame from his chair.

  “You have keys to my house, Jack. She—”

  “She’s my sister, Max and I’m taking her home with me. I’ll take care of her. No one is going to hurt her again,” Jack interrupted him. He drew himself to his full height and glowered down his nose at Max.

  “Agreed, which is why she stays with me.”

  “This isn’t the club, Max. She is coming home with me,” Jack snapped. His tone had turned gruff.

  “No, she is not.”

  “Can it, Max. She—”

  “SHE is twenty-eight years old and will make her own decisions. And right now, SHE is going with Lauren and Paige to buy some clothes,” Joanne spat angrily before she pivoted and walked toward the door with swaying hips.

  “Sis, you can’t—”

  “Get back here. Do not ignore me. Jo! Joanne Katherine Blackmore, get your ass back—”

  Joanne snapped her arm out with her palm held outward toward the two men.

  “Talk to the hand,” she snipped and walked out.

  Jack and Max charged after her.

  “Sit down, you two,” Rhone’s voice thundered in the room.

  Max spun around and seared him with a cold look. “Rhone, as long as we don’t know who was involved in her abduction, she’s in danger.”

  “Which is why there is a permanent security detail attached to her already. She’ll be safe. We, on the other hand, need to find the fucker who was involved. Clearly, the Saud’s aren’t the only slave traders in Saudi Arabia,” Rhone speculated.

  “Rhone is correct,” Bruce interjected. “You both know Joanne is a strong woman. Not many men would even be able to do what she did. The worst thing you can do now is to treat her like a porcelain doll. She needs to find her feet again. Bickering like this all the time is doing more damage than good.”

  Max slumped into the chair. “I know you are right, Bruce but it’s fucking hard to watch her walk out that door.”

  “Fucking right,” Jack agreed.

  “It’s a transition for her. You need to understand that she needs time to internalize what she has experienced. You are the two she depends on the most to guide her through this.” Bruce glanced between them, hoping they understood the seriousness of the situation.

  Max and Jack looked at each other and said in unison. “Hell.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Trips to the bureau offices, to see if Joanne recognized anyone
, had been fruitless. Since then it had been two weeks of going through thousands of mug shots and regurgitating every aspect of her capture. She’d sat with a sketch artist, directing sketch after sketch to try and capture the picture of the man she’d only seen once.

  The animosity between Jack and Max had been adding to the tension until she felt like she was being torn apart. Eventually, she’d given in and moved in with Jack. Since then, he’d backed off, but he watched her like a hawk; everyone did, and she wished they’d stop, although she understood why. They were watching out for her—keeping her safe.

  Returning late in the afternoon after another grueling day of paging through hordes of nameless faces had taken its toll on Joanne. She was dead on her feet, tired beyond thought―emotionally and physically. She’d begged off after dinner and went to her room for a long, hot bath before going to bed. She fell asleep the moment her head had hit the pillow.

  Her eyelids fluttered. What had woken her? A noise? She listened. No, all was quiet and yet, a silent panic turned her mind to a mental soup of conflicting emotions, threatening to choke her. Her body was frozen under the covers. She clenched her hands into fists as she tried to still her raging heart, but it was too much to ask.

  They found me! God, no please. It was too soon. I need more time.

  Fear sat on her like a pillow suffocating her. She managed to get enough air into her lungs, allowing her body to keep functioning.

  Calm down, Joanne. You can’t afford to have a panic attack. Not now!

  Joanne tried to still the quiver that shook her entire body, but she couldn’t quiet the cold voice in her mind. Fear spoke in many languages, but the result was the same. It made her legs go weak, her stomach lurch and her heart ache.

  Adrenaline activated her nervous system so much so that she could hear the rapid beating of her heart. It caused her blood to divert to her muscles and drew the fear away from her gut. Flight or fight? The question milled through her mind. She’d learned over the past year to fight without holding back.

  No one was taking me away from my family. No one! Never again!