Absolute Power (Absolute Power Duet Book 1)

by Jeana E. Mann

  A set of side doors leads me into the ballroom. The soothing refrains of a string quartet float on the night air. Beyond the champagne fountain, a two-story wall of windows overlooks the lake. I pause to reflect on the grandeur before scanning the sea of tuxedos and designer gowns for Hubert Spillman. The opulence overwhelms the trailer park girl inside me. So this is what it’s like to be rich and privileged. Skirting the edges of the dance floor, I maneuver my way through the crowd to the opposite side of the room.

  Hubert is there, surrounded by a circle of men. I recognize the half-moon birthmark on his shiny bald head. Must be Hubert Senior. My lungs ache, and I’m suddenly dizzy, like there isn’t enough air in the room. I shove my nervousness aside and stride toward him. I hover at his elbow until he notices me.

  “Can I help you?” He glances up at me, annoyed by the interruption. Even though I’m only five-foot-six, my heels make me a few inches taller than he is.

  “I’m so sorry to intrude, Mr. Spillman. Could I speak with you for a minute?” Even though I’m an anxious wreck, my voice is confident.

  “Not now. I’m busy.” His rude dismissal ruffles my calm. I just want this to be over.

  “Cash sent me.”

  The color drains from his face. With a hand on my elbow, he escorts me through the nearest door and into a dark library. He locks the door, flips on the lights, and turns to face me with an outstretched hand. “Do you have it? Give it to me.”

  “Um, yes.” I dig the flash drive from my cleavage and drop it into his palm. He walks over to the desk, powers on the computer, and inserts the device. From where I’m standing, I have a clear view of the monitor. With a few clicks of the mouse, he calls up a dozen photos—none of them flattering. All of them explicit. Hubert is naked, his tiny penis in the mouth of a younger man. They both seem to be enjoying themselves. Me—not so much.

  “You’re going to burn in hell for this.” The color of his birthmark darkens from purple to a deep shade of eggplant. Perspiration breaks out on his forehead. He mops the sweat from his face with a handkerchief. His chest rises and falls with his labored breathing.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Of course not.” Spittle flies from his lips. “If my wife finds out about Pierre, she’ll take everything I own.”

  “Look. I just need the envelope, and I’ll get out of here.” I can’t feel sorry for a man who cheats on his wife.

  “Ahh.” One of his chubby hands clutches the placket of his shirt. His head falls face first onto the keyboard.

  “Oh, shit.” I give his shoulder a tentative shake. “Mr. Spillman?” He doesn’t respond.

  “Hubert? Oh, there you are.” A tall, elegant woman glides into the library from a second entrance. Her gaze bounces from me to the slumped figure behind the desk. “What’s going on here? Who are you?”

  “Um, I wandered in here by mistake. I was trying to find the ladies’ room, and I saw him slumped over the computer.” Hubert’s head is pressing on the scroll buttons. The disgusting photos flash over the screen. In a moment of clarity, I power down the monitor, but his heavy body blocks access to the USB port. “I think he’s having a heart attack.” Nothing could’ve prepared me for a situation like this. “Mr. Spillman?”

  “Oh my God. I’m his wife. Call 9-1-1.” She rushes to his side and presses two fingers on his throat. “I can’t find his pulse. Hubert!”

  With shaking hands, I grab the phone on the desk and dial the number while she yanks off his tie and unbuttons his shirt. The operator answers on the fourth ring. “9-1-1. What is your emergency?”

  I rattle off the information. Meanwhile, a few people have wandered in from the hall, drawn by the woman’s shrieks. Someone yells for a doctor. There’s no way to retrieve the flash drive without causing a major disruption. I set the phone receiver on the desk then sprint toward the nearest exit. I run through the kitchen, to the bewilderment of the chef and his assistants, and out the service entrance on the backside of the building. By the time I reach the Escalade, I’m out of breath.

  “Did you get it?” Cash catches me by the arm, hauls me toward the back seat. “Where’s the payment?”

  “No. There were—complications.” I don’t want to get into the car with him, but at this point, it seems like my only option. “Unless you want to talk to the police, we need to go. Now.”

  Eight

  Jagger

  As we exit the gates of Hellwater Country Club, an ambulance approaches in the oncoming lane of the highway. Cash scrapes a hand over his face. He’s pale beneath his tan, his sensual lips flattened into a thin line. “You wanna tell me what happened in there?”

  “He had a heart attack.” The tips of my fingers are numb. Probably shock. “I think he’s dead. I’ve never seen someone die before.”

  “Shit.” He drapes his jacket around my shoulders, tugging the edges tight around me, then shoves back in the seat to stare out the window. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you at least bring back the thumb drive?”

  “Someone walked in. There were too many people. I barely made it out of there.” I pull the edges of the jacket snuggly about my chest, wishing the soft leather would swallow me up, unable to drive away the chill of what had happened.

  “I gave you one simple task, and you couldn’t even get that right.” He sighs. “Not good, little girl. Not good.”

  “What did you expect?” Too many emotions tumble around inside me. Fear, uncertainty, anger. My temper makes a rare appearance. “I’m not a criminal.”

  “Told you this was a bad idea.” Gage lowers the hood of his sweatshirt and runs a hand through his dark blond hair. “Now what?”

  “I don’t know, Gage.” The steel edge of Cash’s words sends an ominous ripple down my spine.

  “Can I go home now?” I ask. All I want is to feel the warmth and security of my own bed and try to forget this night ever happened.

  “No. You cannot go home now. Not until we figure this out.” His words are clipped, angry. Even the darkness can’t hide the fury in his glare. I shrink into the seat and try not to think about how this might end. He taps the driver’s headrest. “You know where to go.”

  Our next stop is an alley. The driver parks between two trash bins. Cash weaves his fingers through mine and escorts me through a rear entrance into the building. Gage follows on my heels, perhaps to keep me from bolting again. House music vibrates through the walls. After navigating a labyrinth of hallways, we emerge next to the band and their stage.

  A mass of people clog the dance floor. They bob and sway in unison. Laser lights cut through the darkness. My chest pounds with each beat of the bass drum. Cash tightens his grip on my hand and weaves his way through the crowd to the only empty table in the place. A red velvet half-moon sofa borders one side.

  “Sit.” Cash sweeps a hand toward the sofa. I sit on the end. He lifts an eyebrow, prompting me to scoot around to the center. He claims the place next to me. His thigh presses against mine. Although he hasn’t said a word, I feel like he’s making a statement, claiming me.

  Gage takes a seat on my left, bracketing me between his large body and Cash’s more athletic one. The other men pull up chairs across from us. We’re joined by several thin, lovely women in dresses shorter than mine. A bright-eyed blonde trails her fingers along Gage’s chest. He shoves her hand away. She takes the rejection in stride and moves to one of the other men.

  “What is this place?” I ask.

  “Notorious. My club.” He stretches an arm along the back of the sofa. The sleeve of his shirt brushes the nape of my neck. As usual, my body hums at his slightest touch. His palm rests on my knee. When he squeezes my leg, an electric pulse charges up my thigh. “What are you drinking? Beer? Wine? Champagne? Anything you want.” His tone has changed from angry to casual.

  I clear my throat, hoping he hasn’t noticed the way his touch affects me. “A whiskey sour?”

  “You got it.” His hand leaves m
y leg, and I miss it the moment it’s gone.

  Gage raises a hand, motioning for a waitress. The nearest girl approaches. She’s wearing tiny black shorts and a mid-riff baring black T-shirt with “Notorious” printed across her ample breasts. A wide smile stretches her glossy lips. “Hey, guys. Cash.” She tosses her long hair over a shoulder. “What can I get for you? The usual?”

  “Yeah. And a whiskey sour for my lady.” Cash smiles back at her. I shiver at his possessive label.

  “You got it, babe.” She winks and sashays toward the bar, putting an obvious extra swing into her hips.

  I don’t like this woman. I don’t like her perky D-cup tits, her tiny waist, or the way her eyes rake over Cash. Which is ridiculous. I huff and cross my arms over my chest. As far as boyfriend’s go, Cash would make the worst of the worst. He’s arrogant, criminal, and…I’m unable to finish the thought because his hand lands on my leg again. Higher up this time and slides between my thighs. On instinct, I slam my legs together, trapping his fingers next to my panties. He chuckles. Realizing my mistake, I force my muscles to relax, but his hand stays where it is.

  The heavy beat of the music thumps in my chest. I scan the dance floor, curious about the mix of people. Men in business suits. Bearded guys in leather jackets. Women in short dresses. Tattooed girls with vibrant hair and piercings. They all carry an edge of danger about them.

  “Anything else?” The waitress returns with our drinks. Her gaze flits from Cash to me then back to him, dismissing me as inconsequential. “Anything at all?” Her mouth curls upward in a mischievous smirk. “You haven’t been over in a while. I’ve missed you.”

  Cash’s hand tightens on my thigh, like he can read my mind and is reprimanding me for my jealous thoughts. How could he possibly know? I’ve got to get my emotions on lockdown before he can use my insane attraction to him as a weapon. I lift my chin and try to inch away, but his grip on my leg remains firm and unyielding, holding me in place.

  He strokes the bottom of his chin with the backs of his fingers. “Not tonight, babe. I’ve got my hands full.”

  “Okay.” The smile slips from her face. “Let me know if you change your mind.” She pivots in the direction of the bar. The line of her shoulders droops a little.

  “Is that your girlfriend?” I can’t help asking.

  “Not your business,” he replies.

  “Just making conversation.” His refusal to answer leaves my curiosity unsatisfied. Sex oozes from every inch of his long, lean body. A man like him probably has a different woman in his bed every night. This thought proves more unsettling than the previous ones. His fingers drum a tattoo on the inside of my leg. The tickle of his fingertips brings my nipples to tight points. He’s such a dick, but my body wants him anyway.

  The band goes on a break. The dance floor clears, giving me a better view of the place. Metal pub tables and chairs circle the perimeter. Connecting rooms hold pool tables and dartboards. Overhead, exposed pipes crisscross the rooms.

  Cash jerks his chin toward the far side of the room. “You see that?” Gage’s gaze turns in the same direction.

  Five men cross the dance floor, heading in our direction—two in front, three trailing behind. They’re wearing identical denim jackets with a unique bird stitched onto the pocket in a pattern that I’ve seen somewhere else. On Cash’s neck. The leader is short and stocky, with a full beard and mustache. His laser-sharp gaze is focused on us. This man is scary, but it’s the guy in the back who has my attention. The tilt of his head, the way one shoulder is slightly lower than the other, the brown shaggy hair.

  The ringing in my ears overtakes the noises in the club. I tug at the neckline of my dress. The clinging fabric is suffocating me. I need to get out of here. Cash tightens his grip on my leg. Escape isn’t possible. I’m trapped between two powerful men.

  Gage shifts the girl in his lap to one side. “Time to go, sweetheart.” She rises obediently and makes her way back to the bar. He leans over. Says something unintelligible to the man next to him. Everyone gets up from the table. Everyone but Cash, Gage, and me.

  “Don’t say a word,” Cash warns. “If anything happens, you stick with Gage. Understand?”

  “Yes.” The single syllable is all I can muster. My throat constricts in a wave of nervous anxiety. Is he expecting trouble? I’m too rattled to process what’s going on.

  The group arrives at the table. The leader lifts his chin, staring down at us with obvious disdain. “It’s been a long time, Delacorte.”

  “Not long enough,” Cash replies. Although his demeanor remains unchanged, tension hums through his leg and into mine.

  Gage leans forward, his hands beneath the table. “You’re not welcome here, Reaper.”

  The man laughs. It’s a rattling, disconcerting sound that scrapes over my nerves “Good to see you, too, my friend.” His gaze drifts from Gage to me. Bold, eyes rake over my face, my breasts. The tip of his tongue slides over his bottom lip. The remains of my last meal sour in the pit of my stomach. “Who’s your friend?”

  “She’s mine and that’s all you need to know.” Cash draws me closer. In this bizarre situation, I’m happy to belong to Cash. I go to his side willingly because the man behind Reaper is Kyle, and he’s more frightening to me than Cash could ever be.

  “What’s your name, darlin’?” His smile reveals a gold cap on one of his front teeth.

  “You don’t talk to her. You don’t look at her. You don’t touch her.” The cold fury in Cash’s voice sends a chill down my spine. “If you see her on the street, you cross to the opposite side. Understand me?”

  “She’s pretty.” Reaper’s eyes are flat, misty, and gray like a foggy morning. “I wonder if she tastes as sweet as Chelle did.”

  Chelle? I glance at Cash for a clue to this woman’s identity. Was she his lover? A friend? A business associate?

  The muscles in Cash’s body tighten. His fury seeps through his clothes and into my side, sending a shiver down my back. “You’re in my house now.” Cash’s fingers dig into my leg. The noise in the bar has fallen into complete silence. All eyes are on us. “If you want to live, state your business and get out.”

  Reaper scratches his chin with dirty fingernails. “I’m here because the FBI have been sniffing around our business. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  “I try to keep my distance from the feds.” The line of Cash’s jaw becomes sharper. “And I’m not a rat.”

  “Ah, well—” Reaper shrugs. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, but you took an oath of allegiance to us. If you know something, you’re honor-bound to report it.”

  “I don’t owe you shit. I left the DOR years ago.” Even though Cash’s voice is quiet, his rage is palpable. “I paid the price for my defection a million times over.”

  “No one gets out. You know that.” Reaper starts to turn then halts. His gaze lands on me once more. “What about you? Wanna come with me? I can offer you so much more than this loser.”

  “No, thank you.” I lean into Cash’s shoulder, wishing I could evaporate into thin air.

  For the first time, Kyle’s gaze lands on mine. Recognition flares in his gaze. He cocks his head to one side, eyes narrowing. One corner of his mouth tugs upward. A mixture of fear and hatred solidify in my blood. He shouldn’t be here. He should be in prison. Did he get parole? An early release? I was a fool to think I was safe from him.

  “No? Well, suit yourself.” Reaper shrugs. “I’ve got plenty of whores. One more would be an inconvenience.”

  Gage launches out of his chair, tackling Reaper and knocking him to the floor. Cash jumps to his feet like he’s going to join in. I cling to his bicep. He’s an island of safety in this sea of chaos. My touch seems to snap him out of his daze. His arm wraps around my shoulders. A dozen of Cash’s friends come forward, blocking Kyle and the others from interference. Gage and Reaper grapple, tipping over a chair in the process. After a suspenseful minute, Gage drags Reaper to his fee
t. “If you ever come in here again, I’ll gut you like a fish.”

  “Go ahead.” Reaper yanks away from Gage’s grasp then shifts his shoulders beneath his jacket. Amusement glints in his gaze. “And maybe I’ll tell you how your beloved Chelle begged for her life, right up to the very last breath in her delicious body.” Gage roars, his lips white with fury.

  Before he can launch a second attack, Cash raises a hand, bringing the pandemonium to a stop. “Enough.” He nods toward the men who came with us in the Escalade. “Escort these guys outta here.”

  Reaper and his gang are booted out the front door. I stare after Kyle until his backside disappears. Silence blankets the room. Cash shoves a trembling hand through his hair then exhales a long breath. “Who the fuck let them through the door?” Blank stares answer his inquiry. He clears his throat, turns to his bouncers, and speaks in his quiet tone. “Find out how this happened.”

  Gage straightens his clothing. A wild light glows in his blue eyes, like he’s high on adrenaline. “That son of a bitch needs to die.” The ragged emotion in his voice speaks to my heart. He wears his pain on his face. I want to hug him, but my feet are rooted to the floor.

  Cash grabs Gage by the shoulders, forcing him to meet his gaze. “He’s trying to get under your skin. All of them will pay for what they did to Chelle. Every last one. I promise you.” The stare between the two men teems with intensity. “Pull it together. We have a plan. Patience wins this game.”

  “You’re right.” Gage shakes his head, clearing his thoughts, and straightens his shoulders. “It’s just taking too damn long.”

  “I know.” Cash’s tone is soft and introspective. Gage glances away, his blue eyes glittering with something that might be tears.

  The staff works to right the tables and chairs. At Cash’s nod, the band starts, and the dancers return to the floor. The flirty waitress delivers new cocktails, but Cash waves them away.