His Devil's Desire
Page 1
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
His Devil’s Desire
Club Devil’s Cove
Book 1
By
Linzi Basset
Copyright © 2017 Linzi Basset All Rights Reserved
His Devil’s Desire
Copyright © 2017 Linzi Basset All Rights Reserved
Edited: Anumeha Gokhale
Proofread: Janine Janse van Rensburg
Published & cover design by: Linzi Basset
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, business establishments, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Linzi Basset has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this eBook/book only. No part of this eBook/book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.
Disclaimer: Neither the publisher nor the author will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained in this book.
Acknowledgement
Firstly, I wish to thank all my loyal readers and fans for your support. This series is in acknowledgement of how I appreciate all of you, especially as so many of you have been asking for Rhone and Keon’s stories.
I reached out to my fans on Facebook for some assistance and I’d like to thank everyone who offered their suggestions. The following ones were the two I used in this book.
Chasity Gosnell Mahala, thanks for the suggestion on the leather and lace corset dress outfit. It’s the one I used in the opening of the club that Samantha was wearing.
Vicky Brown, thank you for the suggestion on a clue during the treasure hunt. Except I changed cane to crop to fit the Master I used in the scene.
If you haven’t friended me yet, what are you waiting for? Here are my Facebook stalker links: On Facebook: Friend me on: http://bit.ly/2gJZyYV
Like my pages:
Linzi Basset Author Page: http://bit.ly/2wSmpI9
Linzi’s Poetry Page: http://bit.ly/2wS5EfY
Club Wicked Cove: http://bit.ly/2wUyjQX
Club Alpha Cove: http://bit.ly/2xfEZtE
AND, don’t forget to join Linzi’s Lair for loads of fun! http://bit.ly/2wUfzks
Contents
Preface
Author’s Note
Dictionary
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Excerpt: His Devil’s Heat
Books Written as Linzi Basset
About the Author
Stalk Me
Preface
HIS DEVIL'S DESIRE
Club Devil's Cove Series - Book 1
The series you've all been waiting for. Rhone & Keon's story.
If you liked Club Alpha Cove - this is the series for you!
Club Devil’s Cove is located on the secluded, private estate of Rhone Greer, in Washington DC. His best friend Keon LeLuc is a co-owner and together they’ve built a BDSM club to offer a safe and secure environment for its members to practice their kink.
In this series we meet Rhone and Keon’s friends, Jack Blackmore, Max Shaw, Lance Talbot, and Ethan Brodie, who under the disguise of their company Precision Secure, run undercover ops for the President of the United States. Along the way we meet their governor friend, Alex White, Mistress Pamela Seeger, who is in charge of the club’s legal aspects, war veteran Richard Almer, and the Club Manager, Wade Moore—all powerful Dominants.
In this take-no-prisoner series of suspense novels, we come to know each of the Senior Masters - big, dominant men and their strong, sassy women, along with their kinks; who you will either love or hate, as they carry on with their lives and fight against the pernicious grasp of crime syndicates, corruption, death and violence they are exposed to. And let’s not forget love and finding their happy ever after.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
Club Devil’s Cove is a spin-off from Club Alpha Cove, featuring the powerful brothers of Ruark Greer and Bracus LeLuc, Rhone Greer and Keon LeLuc.
Please note that books 1 & 2 must be read in sequence. Although the rest are written as alone standing novels, to obtain the best experience of all the protagonists involved in the series, they should ideally be read in order.
His Devil’s Desire, Book 1, is about Rhone Greer and his sassy sub, Samantha Frazer, or Ace, her codename as a sniper.
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re indulging me, Samantha?”
Her eyes widened innocently. “Me, indulge you? You should be so lucky. Oh no, this is all self-indulgence.”
Rhone has ducked trouble many times. As an undercover agent, you see a lot of shit. But this time trouble came wrapped up in an alluringly seductive package.
Samantha Frazer.
She’s good with her hands . . . er, at carving wood. She’s even better with her mouth . . . huh . . . snippy little thing. Also, her aim is dead centre. She’s gunning for his heart, in more ways than one.
From the moment Samantha lays eyes on . . . um . . . all of him, she is hooked. Rhone Greer is mouth-watering. He’s also one of the owners of Club Devil’s Cove and the most compelling Dom she’d ever met. He’s hot, controlling and hungry . . . for her. Lust and manipulation make strange bed partners as Rhone and Samantha combust between the sheets.
The game is on. Who will bite? Who’ll get devoured?
Unbeknownst, a sinister plot is underfoot and everyone is a target. As ghosts from the past resurface, there is only one question to be asked.
Who will live . . . who will die?
I hope you’ll enjoy Rhone and Samantha’s story as much as I did writing it.
Best regards
Linzi Basset
Dictionary
Assez - Enough
Ce n'est pas sur - It’s not right
Fils de pute - Son of a bitch
Imbécile - Fool
Je vais - I will
&nbs
p; Ma petite femme - My little lady
Medre - Fuck or shit
Mon amour - My love
Mon Dieu - My God
Mon Petit - Little one
Mois, je vous dis - Months, I tell you
Non - No
Oui - Yes
Pour l'amour de Dieu - For god sake
Rapidement - Quickly
Tais-toi - Be quiet
Tu connard - You asshole
Tu me gonfles - You’re pissing me off
Tu vas bien - You okay
Vraiment - Really
Prologue
6 Years Ago . . .
Being an assassin in the Kill Squad for the CIA had its perks; a new city every week, casual hotel life, with no dishes or chores, new clothes every day. Although, she donated the old ones to charity or the homeless. She chuckled.
“Yep, there are some finely dressed homeless walking around all over.”
Ace—her code name, of course—swallowed a gulp of double espresso and browsed the newspaper. She had an hour before her next job officially began, or rather, until she received the target’s identity. It was how she operated. She didn’t want to know anything about them. She only needed their location to set shop and take the shot. She left the planning to the operations team.
What they didn’t realize was that she always double checked everything. She wasn’t a fool to leave her life in other’s hands.
She’d learned early on to maintain a cool detachment from her targets. Mostly, she tried not to think of them at all, but when she did, it was with indifference; like they were already dead. She thought of them as meeting their destiny and she was merely the conduit. Everyone had to die sometime, and most of her targets got off easy—considering the lives they’d lived. The way they’d made others suffer—they shouldn’t go from happy and oblivious one second, to dead the next. Simple. Convenient. Painless. No, most of them should be put through Hell’s fire.
She'd barely raised the cup when her phone beeped.
Damn! Trust Bulldog to be early! She snorted reading the text message. Her targets were already on the way. She frowned. No one had informed her there would be two targets. Ace hated surprises. She punched a reply and sent it, tapping her fingers on the table waiting for a response. In true Bulldog manner, it was curt and to the point.
Be ready. Price is double. Lock and load, Ace. They’ll be there in thirty minutes. I’ll send the photo in twenty.
Leaving a perfectly good cup of coffee on the table offended her morals. So, she gulped down the rest and paid the bill.
“The breakfast is on me,” she told the server who protested her leaving without eating her food.
Within fifteen minutes she was in position on rooftop of the Hilton Hotel. Her targets were to arrive at the apartment building across the street. She perused the street and nearby rooftops through the telescope of her XS1 TrackingPoint sniper; the best and the most accurate one in the market. It was early morning and apart from the hum of the traffic below, it was quiet so high up. Everything seemed in order. Ace sat with her back against the wall and waited for Bulldog, her handler, to send her the photo of the targets.
No one who’d met her would believe she executed people for a living. Most definitely not at twenty-six years of age. She was as agile as an Olympic gymnast, and just as fast. When she’d embarked on her career, she hadn't been in a sound frame of mind and they had used her vulnerability to recruit her. Of late, she’d come to realize it wasn’t the right choice for her. Her questionable career choices didn’t reflect in her personal life, which was pretty low-key.
She was efficient at her job. Instead of dispatching paperwork and emails, she dispatched people to whatever came after life; but only the ones who had it coming. Only those who posed danger to the people of this country; or that’s what she kept telling herself to keep going.
The photo arrived seconds before the limo came around the corner. Ace settled behind the rifle, her lips pursed in an annoyed pout.
“What danger could such a beautiful woman pose to the country? Or is this another one of Bulldog’s own vendettas he’s got me taking care of again?”
Ace had become uncomfortable with her assignments of late. The last two jobs just hadn’t felt right. And this one smelled foul as well.
Her mark stepped out from the black limousine, her curly brown hair falling in soft layers around bare shoulders. She had the right physique and the right hair, but Ace would have to wait for her to turn to get a positive I.D. of the face. She never assumed anything in this line of work. A loud siren drew the woman’s attention and she turned around. Ace froze and then her finger relaxed on the trigger. She drew a ragged breath, staring at the child the woman held in her arms. She looked at the picture again.
“The little girl . . . No, she can’t be the second target.” She sat frozen in shock, staring at the picture.
“Fuck you, Bulldog. I’m done doing your dirty work,” she growled. Her actions were methodical as she began disassembling her firearm. This was where she drew the line—killing innocent women and children. There was no way that innocent little girl could’ve done any wrong. She was barely six years of age, if that much.
Ace wasn’t heartless; killing for the joy of killing. She did if for protecting the innocent. The only time she had done it for revenge had been the very first time—for her family.
Bulldog’s voice crackled over her earpiece. “Shoot! What are you waiting for?”
He had a direct link-up to her earpiece and was probably in the ops control room watching the scene via satellite, but she ignored him and detached the magazine from the sniper.
Then all hell broke loose. Ping! Ping! She heard the shots and picked up her firearm to peer through the scope. She spied another shooter on an adjacent roof, taking shots at the mother and child. She jammed the magazine back into the rifle and took aim. When she squeezed the trigger, she knew she’d killed the shooter on the other roof, even before the bullet hit him.
She looked back to the limo below and froze. The young woman was lying in a pool of blood on the black tarred road. The white frilly dress of the little girl she was slumped over was tainted red. There was no movement apart from a large man who was screaming and running toward the limo, closely followed by another. More shots were fired. Samantha aimed her rifle at the window of yet another building, where the shots were coming from this time. She released a folly of bullets in that direction.
“Ace! What the fuck are you doing? Get your target. Now!”
“Target is already dead,” she snapped into the mouthpiece.
“Get the fucktards trying to get to the limo. They are not to reach that child! Ace, I gave you an order!” Bulldog snarled in her ear.
“Fuck your order. This is bullshit, Bulldog! Fucking bullshit and you know it! Who the fuck are these people?”
“It doesn’t matter. Do what you get paid for! Shoot those fuckers!” He screamed into her ear.
“You know what?” She said with a calmness that belied the trembling of her hands. She’d almost done something she would never be able to live with. Kill an innocent woman and child. Had she not waited for her to turn . . . “Do your own fucking dirty work. I quit!”
She took one final look down to the street. She caught the big man’s gaze, who was kneeling by the body of the bloodied woman. He probably saw a dark figure in a cap and a sniper rifle in hand. He didn’t know that she had tried to save them.
She saw him scream at her. It was too far to hear but in her mind she knew what he said. “I will find you, fucker! You will pay for their deaths!”
Ping! Ping!
Two more shots fired in quick succession. The force of the bullet, impacting his chest, threw him back at the same time the man running toward him went down from a hit. Ace found the third sniper and this time took careful aim. Her bullet hit him dead center.
The sirens and screeching tires of police vehicles came around the corner and spurred her into action. She p
icked up her duffel bag and ran, disassembling her rifle at the same time.
Ace was always prepared for the unexpected. She’d just locked the gun away in a secret compartment and jumped under the shower of the room in the Hilton Hotel she’d rented two days prior, when there was hammering on the door.
The police officer searching the rooms on the floor for a runaway assassin was disarmed when a petite, blonde woman wrapped in a small white towel, dripping wet, answered the door.
Chapter One
Current day . . .
CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!
“What the fuck!” Rhone Greer jerked awake and looked around. He could see the horizon, turning a deep charcoal in preparation for the upcoming dawn through the bedroom window.
RIZZZ! RIZZZ!
“Someone is gonna get it from me today!” He muttered as he untangled himself from the woman who was wrapped around him like a limp noodle. He frowned at her, distinctly remembering that he’d told her to go home after he’d satisfied his lusts the night before.
“I hope it’s not a sign of a problem,” he mumbled, highly annoyed.
THUMB! THUMB! WHER. WHER. RIZZZZ!
He stomped down the stairs and stalked toward the large building a few yards from the house.
Club Devil’s Cove. The new BDSM club he and Keon LeLuc were in the process of having built on his secluded property on a Washington hillside. He and Ruark had purchased this piece of land from the Government after they’d seized it. Initially, he’d received the property from a Mexican crime lord as payment for a job he’d done. Of course, he hadn’t known that Rhone had been working for the Government as part of a deep undercover operation at the time.
“Jesus, it’s five in the fucking morning,” he grumbled as he crossed the foyer, which was already finished. It looked welcoming with a dark wooden reception desk and burgundy leather sofas that contrasted in a wicked way with the exposed stone walls. The light scones against the walls added an extra depth of warmth and mystery to the room.