by Hannah Ford
“It wasn’t difficult. And right now, those pics are waiting to be sent to many of your fellow Club Alpha members and co-workers. Your CEO, various politicians and kings and ambassadors, heads of state…powerful people that work with you and know you, Zeke. But I think those pictures could really humanize you, make them see you in a whole new light.”
Zeke clutched the phone in his hand as he turned and looked at Jake with a strange, enigmatic smile. “You’re very good,” he said, finally. “You’re much, much better than I ever would have imagined.”
“That’s why I make get all of the glory and you’ll always be a puny little troll trying to steal my crumbs,” Jake said. His words were effortless and said with the ring of truth, as if he was simply telling Zeke what Zeke already knew about himself.
Zeke turned his attention to Max. “Let them go,” he said. “It’s over.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m completely serious. Strike them from the books, release them, and don’t ever speak their names to me again.” Zeke looked at Jake. “Are you prepared to allow for a truce? Can I trust you won’t release these photographs?”
“Of course,” Jake said. “You know I can keep a secret.” He grinned.
Zeke waited until his men had cut them loose from their bindings and then he handed Jake back his cell phone. “You’ve earned my respect Mr. Novak,” he said.
“Go fuck yourself,” Jake replied, putting the cell in his pocket again, and then he went to Raven and took her by the hand. “Come on,” he said, “we’ll walk out of here.”
As they left the warehouse, she waited for a shot to ring out, something, anything. She couldn’t believe it had all ended so quickly and with such little fanfare.
When the bright sunlight hit Raven’s face and she inhaled the fresh air, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Is it really done?” she said, still not believing it.
“It’s done,” Jake told her.
“What were those pictures you had on your phone?”
They walked out of the empty lot and onto the street where a few cars passed by. “Here, look for yourself.” Jake handed her his phone and she looked at the roll of pictures that had been saved on it.
There were about a dozen photos of Zeke, dressed up in garters, heels, a wig. In one picture he was being spanked by a woman that looked like a dominatrix. In another, Zeke was dressed up like Marilyn Monroe right down to the blond wig, smiling flirtatiously.
“These can’t be real,” she said, her eyes widening.
“Oh, they’re very real.”
“How did you get them?”
Jake took his cell phone back, laughing. “Mack Zee passed them along as a gesture of goodwill—at least, that’s what he told me. As it turns out, Mack really was on our side, not Club Alpha’s. And I guess he does more than just keep his ear to the ground—Mack’s a one man intelligence gathering agency. We were very, very lucky to do business with him.”
“And a lunatic like Zeke really cares whether people know he’s a cross-dresser?”
“Zeke thrives on his reputation. His ego is immense, and yet incredibly fragile. If he becomes a laughing stock in that world of power and prestige and money, then his whole life crumbles.”
“It just seems strange,” Raven said. “Who even cares if he dresses like a woman? I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“The important thing is that he doesn’t want those pictures to go public,” Jake told her. “He knows he lost. He’s not going to mess with us ever again.”
She nodded, relief flooding through her. “Thank you for protecting me.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that today, but it was the only way. I couldn’t show my hand in advance and give Zeke time to prepare a response, I had to let things unfold in the moment. I had to show him that I’d beaten him at his own game, outmaneuvered him and surprised him just when he thought he’d won.”
“I understand.”
Jake stopped her. They were standing near a tiny bridge overlooking an empty street. A car or two passed by. The wind was whipping at them, and the sky was overcast.
“They did interrupt me outside the hospital, though,” he told her. “I’d been meaning to give you something important and then those fake cops showed up and spoiled the moment.”
Raven had a dawning suspicion of what was coming. “Jake, I don’t know if my heart can take anymore dramatics today.”
“I can’t stop now, baby,” he said, and got down on one knee. A moment later, he’d produced a box and opened it, revealing a glimmering diamond ring. “Raven Hartley, will you make me the happiest man in this whole universe and agree to marry me?”
She nodded, looking up at the sky for a moment and thanking whoever or whatever seemed to be watching over them, before looking back into her future husband’s eyes. “I will,” she said. “Of course I will.”
As Jake slid the ring on her finger, she laughed, thinking what a crazy and frightening ride it had all been—and yet she wouldn’t have changed any of it—not a single moment.
Because in the end, the difficulties had made finding her true love and her true life that much more worthwhile.
* * *
Zeke and Max left Boston, driving in complete silence.
There was no further discussion of what had happened with Jake Novak back in the warehouse and Max knew better than to inquire about the cell phone pictures. It had been a humiliation, and a loss, but that sort of thing was a very rare occurrence in Zeke’s world.
He’d won many more times than he’d lost.
In some ways, Zeke was even glad it had happened that way. Jake Novak had proven to be an incredibly smart and crafty foe, perhaps the smartest Zeke had ever come across. And Zeke had completely misjudged the girl. That was a surprise, an unpleasant surprise, and in the future he’d need to be better.
Certainly it was of concern that those pictures had found their way into Jake’s hands, but Zeke felt confident that they would remain secret.
It was in Jake’s best interest for those pictures to remain underground. They were collateral, protection against further intervention by Club Alpha.
By the time they’d returned to New York City, Zeke was feeling tired, worn down from the travel and the anticlimactic nature of what had occurred in Boston. He got out of the car on Fifth Avenue to get some fresh air and think, while Max drove back to headquarters.
As he walked, Zeke couldn’t help but stare at all of the women walking by, talking on their phones, texting, shopping, each beautiful in their own way. There were millions of them within his reach, and there would always be a new girl to suit his purposes.
He just needed to keep his eyes open, wait and watch.
After a time, he arrived at the nearest bookstore and went in to browse a little. He liked the smell of the bookstore, the quiet, the hum of low conversation, the different people engrossed in words, not paying attention to a man like him as he watched them.
He went to the café and got an Americano with two shots of espresso and then wandered the store.
It was as if his sixth sense was telling him to be patient, that the next girl was there somewhere if he only would pay attention.
And that’s when he saw her.
She was seated by herself at one of the small tables just outside the café, typing away on her laptop, oblivious to the world around her. The girl was probably twenty or twenty-two at the oldest, simple brown hair cut to shoulder length, a good figure hidden by black pants and a black button-down shirt.
This girl was not someone that would catch a man’s eye at first glance, and yet she was undeniably attractive if you could see past the initial presentation. Her skin was pale and flawless, her hands dainty as they pecked at the keyboard of her computer.
Zeke approached slowly, from behind. He wanted to see what she was writing.
As he got closer, he saw that the girl was writing what appeared to be some kind of simplistic romance, two characters
kissing on a boardwalk. Zeke grinned to himself. “Are you working on a novel?” he asked.
The girl turned and looked at him, startled. “Who, me?”
“Yes. I couldn’t help but notice,” Zeke said. “I’m a writer myself.”
She smiled demurely. Her eyes were a striking blue. “I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’ll turn into a novel,” she said, shrugging almost apologetically.
“Well, good luck with it,” Zeke said. “I have a good feeling something will come of it for you.”
“Oh. Thanks!” She turned back to her computer, and Zeke walked away, but not before attaching one of his tracking devices to the underside of her computer bag.
He wouldn’t be the one to contact her in the future. No, the seduction process was always handled by younger, more attractive persons who were suited to such things.
Zeke would never act as anything other than a scout—a man who could spot the talent, read the soul, and know exactly how to use that person to his advantage.
As he exited the bookstore, Zeke had regained the spring in his step. All it took was finding a new prospect to add to the ever-growing list of girls in the Club Alpha roster.
He’d failed with Raven Hartley, but next time he’d be better, smarter, and far more ruthless.
Next time Club Alpha would win.
End of Book Eight
THE DEBT 9
A man had come looking for Faith Connor, and she didn’t want to go anywhere with him.
“Excuse me, Miss,” the man said with a subtle frown, “it’s time for the Meet and Greet. If you could please follow me.”
The only reason she was even at the football stadium in the first place was because she’d won some prize—in a contest she didn’t even know she’d entered. The announcement had come in the mail one day, a letter stating that she’d been awarded the Grand Prize in the C.T. Bank Fall Giveaway.
At first, Faith been skeptical, but the prize had checked out as being legitimate after a quick Internet search. She’d somehow won football tickets, very expensive VIP tickets, to the New England home opener at the C.T. Bank Stadium in Foxboro, Massachusetts.
The tickets allowed her to bring up to three guests, so she’d decided to invite her parents and sister against her better judgment.
What she hadn’t realized was that the Meet and Greet didn’t apply to everyone—it only applied to her. At least, that’s what this man was telling her now, as he stood in the doorway of the VIP clubhouse and beckoned her to come somewhere alone with him.
She didn’t want to leave the warm clubhouse and be taken to…well…wherever he was going to take her.
“Do I have to go?” Faith asked the man.
The man who’d arrived at the Clubhouse to bring her to the Meet and Greet was large. He almost reminded her of an ogre, with oversized features and icy green eyes that she immediately mistrusted. Even though he apparently worked for the team, or perhaps the stadium, she simply felt a physical aversion to accompanying him anywhere.
“It’s what you signed up for,” the ogre said, his annoyance now plainly showing.
“I’ll go if she doesn’t want to,” Dad offered, as he took a sip from his cup of beer and then gnawed on a Buffalo wing.
The ogre shook his head. “I’m sorry, but the terms of the prize state that only one person, the one who filled out the appropriate paperwork, is allowed to go to the Meet and Greet.” His forbidding eyes focused on her and her alone.
“Give it to some other person,” Faith told him. “I really don’t mind. There are probably a thousand people here who’d jump at the chance to meet someone from the team.”
“I don’t think you understand. The terms and conditions that you signed off on state that you’ll participate in these activities. Otherwise, I’ll have to ask you and your companions to leave immediately.”
Faith sighed. She looked at her family. Dad with his beer and his wings over by the buffet table, shot her a warning look not to screw up his special day. Her mother was looking through her purse, oblivious to everything around her.
And Faith’s younger sister, Krissi, just shook her head. “Don’t be a baby,” Krissi said. “Go. Nothing bad’s going to happen to you.”
How do you know? Faith thought, but then she gave in, sighing. “Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you guys in a bit. Wish me luck!”
Nobody said anything, though, and then she was walking out of the clubhouse with the ogre, as he spoke cryptically into his walkie-talkie, and someone replied through a burst of static.
Their feet echoed in the empty hallways as he led her to what felt like the electric chair.
The stadium was still empty for the most part, because the prize had required them to arrive at the VIP clubhouse two hours before game time. It had been neat to have the stadium all to themselves at first, but now, as Faith followed the ogre to the elevator and got inside alone with him—it didn’t feel nearly as fun.
They stood silent as the elevator went down and down.
Faith glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “So, are you like, security or something?” she asked nervously, trying to make conversation.
“Or something,” he replied, not looking back at her.
Finally, the elevator arrived at its destination and she followed him out and into a hallway that looked like all the others. He took one turn and another, and Faith realized she was officially lost, before he eventually stopped in front of a door with a nameplate on it.
The name on the plate was Chase Winters.
Even Faith knew that name, and she had about as much interest in professional football as she did duck hunting. Which was to say, she had almost zero interest in football. But if you lived in New England, you’d heard of Chase Winters.
“I thought I was meeting the team, or a bunch of guys from the team at least,” Faith said, turning to the ogre, her hands intertwined, fingers wrestling anxiously.
“What gave you that idea?” the ogre replied, raising his hand to knock.
For the first time, the ogre was less frightening than what lay behind that door. “Will you stay with me and then take me back to the clubhouse after?”
Strangely, he smiled at her question. “Relax. Nobody’s going to bite.”
But she wasn’t so sure. This was strange. Where were all the other people? She’d assumed that this Meet and Greet thing would be attended by other winners, other VIPs. Anything other than her alone in a room with the new quarterback just hours before his first pro game.
Not caring about Faith’s concerns, the ogre began knocking on the door. “The contest winner is here, sir!” he called out, and then opened the door and gestured for her to go inside.
She was surprised to find herself in the middle of what looked like a gorgeous hotel suite, complete with flat screen television, mini bar, leather couch and chairs, and even a small kitchenette with a stove and microwave.
“It’s empty,” she said, looking around. “No one’s even here.”
The ogre smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just hang out here for a minute and all will be well. Good luck.” He winked at her, then turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Faith stood there, her heart pounding. What was she doing here?
Everything in her was telling her to leave, right now, immediately, before something bad happened. Because she had absolutely no doubt that she was being set up for something…something horrible.
But then her mind told her that made absolutely no sense. She was a contest winner, and the whole thing was totally legit, put on by the stadium.
You’re just being a silly, nervous nelly. Now calm down. Whatever’s going on, you’re probably going to meet someone from the team and they’ll be bored and hardly look at you and then it will be over and you can go back to the clubhouse with your family.
She nodded, feeling better now that she’d talked a little sense to herself.
And that’s when he came out of an adjoining room, wearing no
thing but a small towel around his waist.
It was Chase Winters, of that she had no doubt. His likeness was everywhere you looked these days. He’d been the very first pick of the draft, having won the prestigious Heisman trophy in his final college season, and everyone was talking about his coming to New England to save the team from the horrible turn they’d taken in the last couple of years.
Chase gave her a quick nod of his head, as if this situation was perfectly natural. “Hey,” he said, walking to the mini bar and pulling out a small bottle of water. His enormous bicep flexed with ease and Faith couldn’t help but notice the tattoo on his flesh—there in stark ink. The tattoo was a black flag with the letters RMH inscribed in bright red. “Want something to drink?” he asked her, straightening. His abs constricted like an interlocking puzzle.
“No thanks,” she said, even though she was thirsty. What if he was planning on dropping a ruffie in her drink?
“Suit yourself,” Chase replied in a deep, even voice that was almost melodic.
As he straightened to his full height and faced her, Faith was overcome with the realization of just how big he was. He wasn’t normal big—he was larger than any regular person she’d seen in her life.
He must have been six foot five, but he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. Everything was proportionate to his height, but incredibly muscular, built like a racehorse. Chase Winters was clearly built for speed, power, and maximum explosiveness.
The other striking thing about him, were his tattoos. In all of the posters and pictures and commercials featuring him—none of them showed the tattoos that were displayed on his biceps and chest.
The tattoos were intricate, dark, and forbidding, even though she had difficulty making out exactly what they even were. There was a skull with letters over the top of it on his right pectoral, and then a clock face with no hands, only numbers, over his left pectoral. Around those major tattoos were lots of smaller, finely detailed drawings and letters and numbers that she couldn’t make sense of.
“Like what you see?” Chase asked, smirking as he broke her out of her awe-inspired gawking.