by Linzi Basset
His wife and five-year-old daughter. He didn’t have to check to know she was dead on impact. The bullet had torn through her body and shattered her heart on exit, before it penetrated the small body of his child she had been holding in her arms. The amount of blood beneath Amelia’s body that covered Beckie, was more than enough evidence that they were dead.
He looked up, hate threatened to turn him into a violent monster, ready to tear apart any living thing in the vicinity. A dark figure leaned over the edge of the hotel roof across the road. The silhouette of the sniper rifle in his hand caused another surge of rage to explode within Keon.
“I will find you, you fucking bastard! Even if it takes me the rest of my life. I will—”
Rhone yanked him to the side, a move that saved his life and Rhone’s apparently, as he was thrown off his feet by the ferocity of the bullet tearing into his shoulder, taking his friend down with him.
He shouldn’t have. He should’ve left me to die with them. He should’ve let that bullet hit me between the eyes.
“Keon?”
He forced a deep shuddering breath into his lungs before he opened his eyes. Rhone stood over him with a question in his eyes. He had a bandage wrapped around his head and looked as listless and empty as Keon did.
Keon knew why, because try as he might not to, he blamed Rhone as well.
He was the one who had been threatened. He sighed heavily with the realization that it was unfair. He couldn’t blame Rhone. Not when they had decided together it was for the best to send Amelia and Beckie to that safehouse.
They should’ve known better, been more prepared, took better precautions. Corruption stretched far and wide in their world. They had always known that but they’d become placid, believed they had covered all the avenues.
But they never accounted for a mole within their own midst.
And for that, Keon’s family had to die.
“I’ll survive, Rhone. If only to avenge my family’s death.”
* * * * * * * *
“I will take care of you, Lauren.”
It had been the sweetest words at the time. Her entire family had been killed by a senseless robbery and left her alone—an orphan, with no one to turn to.
A year. It had taken an entire year for her to fully recover after the gunshot wound to her chest. The emotional recuperation had taken the longest. There were times that she wondered if she would ever completely convalesce. She still woke up from nightmares, looking into her elder sister’s eyes, identifying the shock of death in them, even as she felt the pain of the bullet exploding from her chest to spray her sibling in a splatter of red.
That had been ten years ago, just after her fifteenth birthday. It had been torture living without her sister to confide in. To talk to and listen to her advice about boys. Not that she’d needed it much since, seeing as she’d been in a girl’s only private school and lived in the hostel deep in the hills of Colorado. Sandra had always known who to trust. It had been one of her best traits.
“Oh, god, I miss her so much,” she whispered as she battled to force back the tears.
Crying wasn’t going to change anything. It hasn’t for the past ten years and it wasn’t going to now.
Lauren hoisted her plaster cast onto a footstool, clicking the remote control to scan through the channels. Every muscle felt tight, sprung for action and she couldn't even walk. Her body screamed at her to sprint down the street, to spend the energy that kept piling in regardless of her inability to use it. Even her face felt tight, like smiling just wasn't an option. Her usual calm had been replaced by a carousel of ideas, each one more worrying than the last.
A broken leg meant no teaching for at least a week, no jogging—her stress relief—and the way she’d learned to cope with William Booth, her savior and benefactor since her family’s death.
“Yeah, let that be a lesson Lauren Francis, you’re too old to be doing hopscotch with a bunch of ten-year-olds,” she berated herself.
She already missed her pupils. When William had offered to pay for her tuition, she hadn’t hesitated. Teaching had always been in her blood. She loved to guide and give others direction.
The only thing that stemmed her ability to be embrace life and find happiness was the hold he had over her—William Booth.
She cringed recalling the crush she’d had on him in those early years. A vulnerable sixteen year old at the time he took her under his wing. He was an attractive, enigmatic older man who knew how to charm people, not just women. And she, even as a young girl, had no defense.
“Maybe that’s why it had been so easy for him to take control of every aspect of my life,” she pondered aloud. “Ugh, not another rerun of Family Ties,” she complained and flicked off the television. Lauren hated any movie or television show relating to family.
Lauren had tried to find her own roots as soon as she’d graduated as a Primary School teacher. William, had other ideas.
“I’ll hear nothing of the sort, my dear. I took you in when you had nowhere to go. Now, you will start repaying me.”
She’d been flabbergasted at the sudden cold look in his usual warm eyes. In front of her stood a stranger and for the first time in years, she feared him.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s no rush, my dear. But, you will stay under my guidance and control until I’m ready to make my demands known.”
The leering look in his eyes had been enough to warn her what he’d been eluding to. She had been unable to contain the shudder of revulsion that shook her lithe frame.
He, the demon from hell, as she’d begun to call him since that day, had barked out an evil laugh. It had been cruel of him to make such a statement because she’d been on guard ever since. Waiting for him to pounce on her. Now, three years later, she feared the time has arrived.
The slamming of a car door shattered her ponderings. She craned her neck to see outside.
“Ugh! I don’t have the strength for him today,” she complained loudly as she identified the blonde head of her benefactor. She prepared herself emotionally for his acerbic annoyance at her stupidity to break her leg.
She blanched when she heard the key turn in the lock. It was another thing she abhorred. That he came and went into her house like he pleased. And it was her house. She paid the rent herself every month. On that, she had been adamant. She refused to make herself more indebted to him than she already was.
“Good Lord, Lauren! What happened?”
“What does it look like?” she muttered. She didn’t bother to hide her irritation.
“Careful, my dear. You should know better than to sass me,” William warned. His voice and the words, ‘my dear’, grated on her nerves. It was another pet peeve she had when it came to him.
She has had it with the cat and mouse game he had been playing with her for years. He’d stopped hiding his lust and lately forced his caresses and kisses on her—threatening and yanking her around when she dared to oppose him.
Lauren stubbornly refused to face him.
“What do you want? As you can see, I’m not good company. If you phoned before you took all the trouble to drive out here, I would’ve told you that.”
It was a not so subtle stab at him for arriving at will in front of her door.
“You’ve complained so often about living alone that I thought it was time to bring you some company.”
Lauren was tempted to turn around but refused to give him the pleasure.
“Again, if you phoned, I could’ve warned you I’m incapable of entertaining.”
“I see. Well, I guess that means we’ll just leave, then.”
A tiny sniffle caught Lauren’s attention. She stiffened as they became louder until she heard the crying of a child. She turned around.
“I want my Mommy and Daddy,” the dark-haired little girl wailed the moment their eyes met.
Lauren sat frozen, her mind went blank. The past came crashing down upon her. Flooding her with the same pain
and longing she noticed in the little girl’s eyes.
Not again. Oh, god no, please, not this little girl too.
The little girl struggled against William’s hold until he lowered her to the ground. The moment her feet touched the floor, she tore over the short distance and hurled herself into Lauren’s arms who caught her with a cry of pain as her cast thumbed to the floor.
Her small arms clamped around Lauren’s neck as she sobbed against her throat.
“Shh, there now, little poppet. Don’t cry like that. It’s okay. Everything will be okay,” she soothed her as she stroked her long hair.
“No, it won’t! They’re gone. Mommy and . . . sob . . . Daddy . . .”
Lauren’s eyes lifted. William was too slow to hide the smile of satisfaction from his face. She was shocked. How could any human being relish the heartache and pain of such a small child?
“What is this, William? Where are her parents?”
He shrugged and walked around the room, negligently inspecting every corner and table like he expected someone to be hiding somewhere.
“Just another lost soul I’ve taken into my care. Much like you, all those years ago. Her parents are d-e-a-d,” he spelled the word, “and like you, she has no one to take care of her.”
“But she could’ve gone through the legal system, William. Nowadays there are wonderful people looking to adopt or foster kids.”
“That is true but can you imagine the trauma the poor little thing is going through and will continue to experience for as long as the legal system takes to find the perfect match for her?”
He looked at her with raised eyebrows. “ I thought I was doing her and you, for that matter, a favor but, I guess you’re right. I should take her to child services.”
She watched him approach and her arms instinctively tightened around the clinging girl.
“What do you mean by doing me a favor?”
His eyes seared hers that caused a shiver of trepidation to run down her spine. It was a warning of change ahead. She dreaded what would follow.
“Come now, my dear. We both know you have dreams of white picket fences and children in your future. I would’ve thought that you came to realize that was never going to happen. Not for you. Because, you, my dear Lauren, belong to me and I have every intention of picking the fruits of years worth of labor and money to support you.”
“What are you saying?” Her voice had turned husky and sounded like the croak of a frog in the silence that had become oppressing since the little girl had stopped crying.
“I have every intention of getting married one day. To a rich, successful heiress, which of course, discounts you as a candidate. However, I am a very possessive man and you will be mine for as long as I deem fit and that, my dear, is about to become a reality for you. As soon as your leg is healed, you will become my slave.” He laughed briefly at her gasp. “So, I figured, this little girl will be the only opportunity you will ever have at playing mother.”
“You’re not serious.”
Lauren found it difficult to breathe but the expression on William’s face was undeniable. He intended to turn her into his concubine. That it would be an unwilling one, didn’t seem to faze him in the least.
“Oh, but I am, my dear. I suggest you study the e-mail I’m going to send you on what my expectations are for our future. You better be ready because I am not a very patient man.”
He walked closer. He fisted a clump of her hair in his hand and yanked her head back. The kiss was hard, painful and meant as a lesson of what the future held in store for her.
“You will bow to my demand, Lauren. This little girl’s future depends on it,” he hissed into her ear.
He released her when her painful whimper drew the little girl’s attention and she sat upright, looking between them.
“See, I promised you a new Mommy,” William said in a soothing voice, a complete contradiction to the venom he’d just spat into her ear.
“And, to make sure we’re all happy and safe, the two of you will wear these bracelets. Aren’t they pretty?” He asked the little girl who stared at the silver band he’d just clipped around her small wrist.
The battle to keep him from branding her was short when he pushed Lauren’s fingers back until they threatened to snap.
“There. See? You and your new Mommy are wearing the same bracelets. Do you like them?” William asked while he brushed her hair back.
She nodded and sniffled while gingerly fingering the cold steel of the clip.
“One more thing, my dear. Do not attempt to remove them. Inside that casing is explosives and it’s rigged with a signal linked to my cell phone. I will know the moment you remove them and believe me, Lauren. I won’t hesitate to detonate the one removed.”
“You can’t be serious! She’s a little girl. She won’t leave it alone. Please, William. I beg you. Remove hers and leave mine. You can’t—”
“I’ll leave it to you to make her understand the importance of leaving it be. Before I forget.” He picked up a brown manilla envelope he’d left on the entrance table when he’d walk inside. “Your new identity. From today, you are known as Cynthia Marsh and soon, she will be your legally adopted daughter. I’ll be back in five weeks, my dear,” he said from the doorway. “At which time we will embrace our future . . . as Master and slave.”
Lauren listened to the car driving away. She didn’t realize she was crying until the little girl brushed her tears away.
“Don’t cry. You’re too pretty to be sad,” she said in a small voice. She tried to be brave but Lauren noticed her bottom lip quivering.
She hugged her against her.
“It’s okay, little poppet. I’m not going anywhere. You and I are going to become good friends.”
“I miss my Mommy and Daddy,” she stammered dolefully.
“I know, little one. I lost my Mommy and Daddy as well many years ago.”
“You did?” She stared at Lauren with big, sad eyes that found their way into her heart without even trying.
Lauren nodded, too choked up to talk. She cleared her throat.
“What’s your name, little one?”
“Rebecca, but Daddy always called me Beckie.”
Books Written as Linzi Basset
Club Wicked Cove Series
Desperation: Ceejay’s Absolution–Book 1
Desperation: Colt’s Acquittal – Book 2
Exploration: Nolan’s Regret – Book 3
Merciful: Seth’s Revenge – Book 4
Claimed: Parnell’s Gift – Book 5
Decadent: Kent’s Desire – Book 6
Club Alpha Cove Series
His FBI Sub – Book 1
His Ice Baby Sub – Book 2
His Vanilla Sub – Book 3
His Fiery Sub – Book 4
His Sassy Sub – Book 5
Their Bold Sub – Book 6
His Brazen Sub – Book 7
His Defiant Sub – Book 8
His Forever Sub – Book 9
His Cherished Sub – Book 10
For Amy – Their Beloved Sub – Book 11
Their Sub Novella Series
No Option – Book 1
Done For – Book 2
For This – Book 3
Paranormal Books
The Flame Dragon King - Metallic Dragons #1
Slade: The First Touch
Azriel: Angel of Destruction
Romance Suspense
Caught Series
Caught in Between
Caught in His Web
The Tycoon Series
The Tycoon and His Honey Pot
The Tycoon’s Blondie
The Tycoon’s Mechanic
Standalone Titles
Her Prada Cowboy
Never Leave Me, Baby
Now is Our Time
The Wildcat that Tamed the Tycoon
The Poet’s Lover
Sarah: The Life of Me
Books Co-Written as Isabel James
The White Pearl Series
Double Shot Espresso – Book 1
The Crow’s Nest – Book 2
The White Pearl - Boxset
Poetry Bundle by
Linzi Basset & James Calderaro
Love Unbound - Poems of the Heart
About the Author
Linzi Basset is a Bestselling Author of suspense and paranormal romance and erotica whose passion for writing began at an early age.
Linzi Basset reached Amazon Bestselling Author status with her very first series, Club Alpha Cove, a BDSM Club suspense series. All 11 books in the series achieved top 10 status on the Amazon Bestsellers ranking lists, with books 8 – 11 in the top 5 ranks. Books 10, His Cherished Sub and 11, For Amy, Their Cherished Sub achieved number 1 Amazon Bestseller ranking. His Forever Sub and His Cherished Sub were both nominated for the Golden Flogger awards (2016). His Cherished Sub was a finalist for the same award.
Linzi believes that telling stories in her own voice, driven by her own passion is what motivates her and that is the very essence that gets insinuated into every one of her stories. It's a distillation of who and what inhabits her being. She truly experiences and lives every scene. She feels every touch, every kiss, every harsh word uttered and that to her is the key.
“I write from the inside out. My stories are me. I live them. I couldn’t imagine writing a story looking in from the outside to try to describe something that I cannot see or feel. When I feel myself laboring unnecessarily to write a scene that I can’t connect to, I know it’s going to come out wrong. My editor always tells me to leave some things to the reader's imagination, because I become so involved with describing what I see and feel.”
Why do I write? This is the question we always have to think about, isn’t it? For me, it boils down to what Vincent Van Gogh once expressed: “I would rather die of passion than of boredom.” That's why I write. To express the deep well of passion that lives in my soul which is the part of me that I keep secreted away from my day to day existence. It's a part of me that had been suppressed for a long time primarily due to a very conservative upbringing. It was part of my familial and cultural heritage and what was expected of me. Now, I've reached a point in my life where I’m able to liberate myself and share my passion with others. Blossoming out of what once was the genesis of my own confined existence! Passion is what drives my creativity. Passion is what allows me to 'see' and express my own sensuality through the medium of the written word; to be able to draw from that deep well to define the beauty of eroticism and all that it encompasses. I want to share what I feel with others.