His Devil's Chains

by Linzi Basset

  “Hurry the fuck up, Jubba! Get in here,” he snapped irritably. He took deep, calming breaths to ease his rising agitation.

  “I’m here, Bossam. Not to worry, I’ll have it open in a flash.”

  A smirk formed on William’s lips. Every time one of the team referred to him as Bossam, his chest swelled. It was a title singular to the Sixth Order, allocated to the person in charge of all operations; one he hadn’t believed he’d receive this soon, if at all.

  “I want defcon silence from this point. I don’t want to give Clark the opportunity to alert any of the security detail. Understood?”

  He watched the heads nod in consent. He tapped his earpiece. “Duncan, confirm Clark’s current location.”

  The earpiece crackled. “He’s in the living room. Probably watching television, judging by his posture. The door from the basement opens underneath the staircase, which is to the left of the room he’s in. His back is facing the entrance, so he won’t see you coming.”

  “Door’s open, Bossam,” Jubba said as he stepped back.

  William and Hank carefully pulled it open. They froze when a loud creaking noise echoed like a firecracker through the tunnel.

  “Easy. Let’s crack it open slowly. Hopefully the noise upward is less pronounced than down here,” William instructed. He relaxed when they managed to open it without any further noise. “Hank and I’ll take the lead. Jubba and Adam, you’re with us. Once we’re through the door, I want the rest of you to split into two teams to secure the rest of the house. Any of the outside security detail that comes through a door gets eliminated immediately. Anyone else gets captured and brought to me. Understood?”

  “Yes, Bossam,” the whispered choir echoed softly in his ears as he followed Hank through the door. Every fiber of his being vibrated with anticipation. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. The excitement wired his body like he was plugged into an electrical panel. His brain was on fast-forward and there was no off switch. This was what drove him—the chase and the hunt that led to the sweetest reward—killing.

  This was it. His redemption to prove his worth to the US Cosa Nostra. Well, to the leaders of the Sixth Order too but they weren’t his main aim. More of a means to an end. If he succeeded and remained as their trusted Bossam, it would be his one chance to show he had what it took to stand by the side of the most feared Mafia lord in the United States. One who was biding his time to take the reins once again, and heaven help anyone who stood in his way. The Don of the Occhipintis was on the warpath.

  Their footsteps were muted as they climbed the basement stairs. The door opened without a sound. William took the lead down the hallway into the living room from where the soft blaring of the television sounded. William knew Clark couldn’t have heard them coming, but the moment they stepped under the arch into the room, he jumped up and spun around to face them.

  “Who the fuck are you? How did you get in here?”

  “No sudden moves, Clark. Except if you’re ready to meet your maker,” William growled in a guttural warning as Gideon moved back to keep them in front of him. He stood poised with his legs braced apart. William’s eyes narrowed as he watched Gideon shift his body weight from the ball of one foot to the other, taking deep controlled breaths. Realization dawned. A fighter. Gideon Clark was a fighter.

  Adam lunged toward Gideon but he was too quick. He spun and shot out his leg in a sharp kick to Adam’s temple. He went down like a log—never to rise again.

  “Jesus!” Jubba took a step back. His eyes were wide as he stared at the sightless gaze of his friend.

  “You’re wasting your energy, Clark, and making me angry. I don’t like losing any of my men.” William released an amused cackle as Gideon glanced toward the windows. “You can forget about the security detail coming to your rescue. They assume you’re cozy and alone in here,” he barked. He looked at Hank. “Close the blinds. Just to be safe.”

  Jubba took the opportunity to charge at Gideon. He sidestepped. A knee to the groin brought Jubba down. He rolled around on the floor, howling in pain.

  “Shut the fuck up. Jesus! This is turning into a circus,” William growled. He had underestimated Clark. He should’ve done his homework better. He was clearly both an expert and lethal at unarmed combat. He stared at him with an amused grin. “You should know that when it comes to fighting there’s no honor, no code.”

  The flash of the knife was the only warning before a sudden gush of pain jolted throughout Gideon’s body. He hadn’t expected William to throw the knife but he should have. Thugs, like he had said, had no honor.

  “Fuck,” he groaned as he stumbled back. His stomach ached, his arms lost tension and his legs began to weaken. “You’re a fucking coward,” he gasped. Shocked and in agony, he grasped at his side where the knife was still embedded and fell to his knees. Hank approached him, growling out an expletive as Gideon grabbed his foot and yanked it from under him.

  Gideon’s side seared with pain as he brought a fist to the thug’s face, snapping his nose into a grotesquerie, seconds before he blacked out.

  “I have to give it to you, Clark. You’ve got spunk.” William’s chortle of pleasure echoed through the house. “I might just end up having fun in the coming days, after all.”

  “House is secure, Bossam.”

  “Good. Get Clark into the basement. Clean and cover that wound before you string him up. I don’t want him bleeding out on me.”

  “Fuck, Bossam! Adam is dead.”

  William glanced at the men. “Let that be a lesson to all of you. Never underestimate anyone. Get him out of here.” His voice droned dispassionately, reiterating how little their lives were worth in the life they were leading. He lit a thin cigar and dragged the smoke deep into his lungs. “Hank, get to the Surgeon to fix your nose. Then go and deliver Adam to his family. Make sure to offer the Sixth Order’s condolences. Remember to leave his pension with the family.” He watched morosely as two men carried Gideon to the basement. “On second thought, bring the Surgeon back here to fix him up. I don’t want his wound to impede my tactics over the coming days.”

  Silence descended once the men disappeared downstairs. Others guarded their allocated stations. It was at moments like these that William felt a sense of righteousness burgeon to life inside him. He was a selfish man, although he viewed it as pragmatism. Why should he bother with what others needed or felt when he got what he wanted? It was all that mattered. Achievement and success but most of all power. It was so close, he could taste it. Oh, he was in a position of power now, but it was playtime compared to what he would yield as the Consigliere of the US Mafia.

  “Well stocked, Clark. You impress me more by the minute,” William drawled as he inspected the bar. “What is the saying? Waste not want not, or what the fuck ever,” he crowed as he tipped a bottle of Jameson whiskey to his lips. “Ah, the sweet taste of victory.”

  He sprawled on the sofa and began surfing the channels on the television. The Surgeon, Mark Johnson, a registered plastic surgeon, who had been scrapped from the role and now worked for the Sixth Order full time, needed to stitch up Clark first. He didn’t want him half dead or dying from blood loss when he began working on him.

  “Yeah, let’s fix up the boy first. Then, I’ll get my hands on him. Something tells me I’m going to have a lot of fun with Gideon Clark. He doesn’t appear to be the kind of man who will just give in.”

  “Perimeter check, south border, confirmed clear.”

  Jack switched on the security feed from Gideon’s house that he’d linked to his computer in time to hear the four teams reporting their two am checks. He had woken up with a feeling of doom. He sighed in relief but couldn’t shake the thought that something was wrong. He scrolled through the live camera feeds around Gideon’s house.

  Nothing. Everything was in order.

  He sat back in the chair, watching the monitors silently. He turned thoughtful. The Sixth Order had gone silent. After Lillian Dunn’s death, they had expected them
to make an immediate move on Gideon and Jordan. It concerned Jack that everything seemed to have come to a halt. At the moment he had the feeling that they were playing a cat and mouse game. They must be aware by now that Precision Secure was guarding the twins. It just increased his unease and sharpened his senses.

  They had to be on their guard. Jack had the uneasy feeling that they were already a step behind the Sixth Order once again. Somehow, they had put their game plan into play.

  “But what? What the fuck are they up to?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “We’re taught to believe forgiveness is a weakness, but darling, believe me, it’s not. It takes a very strong person to forgive.” Jordan frowned as the memory of the conversation she’d had with her mother a day before she’d died, rippled through her mind. She had been trying to make them see that Brad Flint was worthy of their love.

  “Yeah, Mom, but Jack fucking Blackmore doesn’t deserve my forgiveness. Not for what he did!” Her voice cracked as she walked into the kitchen. The rays of sunshine dancing through the windows were a contradiction to the darkness inside her heart.

  Jack had already left for the office by the time she’d woken up, in his bed, and she knew for a fact that’s not where she’d fallen asleep. She’d jumped from the bed and stormed into the bathroom, ready for a full-on fight. It had been quite a letdown to walk into an empty room.

  Ease off, Jordan. You’ve got your hackles raised for nothing. You know you’re not exclusive. He warned you from the get-go.

  “Oh, shut up!” she ordered her inner voice. She knew she had no right to be territorial over Jack, not under the conditions of their agreement, but since they’d spent the day with Dixon and she’d told him the truth about her and Gideon, she’d believed things had changed between them.

  “Clearly, I was delusional,” she muttered as she switched on the coffee machine. Jordan sat down at the breakfast nook with her chin resting on her hands. She was angry, yes, but she was hurting more. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Ah, shit, Jordan, you’re such an ass! You’ve gone and fallen in love with him.”

  “Hellooo, anyone home?” a husky voice cooed from the front door.

  Jordan straightened as she recognized Jack’s sister’s voice. “In the kitchen, Joanne,” she called. She was filling two cups with coffee when Joanne walked in. The fragrant aroma of the dark chicory flavor filled the atmosphere.

  “Hmm, there’s nothing like the smell of coffee in the morning,” Joanne said with a smile as she took the mug from Jordan.

  “I’ve heard most women get nauseous from the smell when they’re pregnant. Obviously, you’re the exception.”

  Joanne’s tingling laugh brought some joy into Jordan’s heart.

  “I guess I’m lucky. According to Ethan, I’m having a breeze. I haven’t really had any nausea, I have energy that I’ve never had before, and my libido … well, let’s just say, Max is considering keeping me barefoot and pregnant for the rest of our lives.”

  Jordan popped two pieces of rye bread into the toaster and sliced cheese while she waited for it to finish. She glanced at Joanne. “What brings you here? Jack already left for the office.”

  “I know. He picked up Max on the way. I want to do some baby clothes shopping today and I need some company. How about it. Want to join me?”

  Jordan smiled at Joanne’s exuberance. She was always so full of energy, it was exhausting just being around her. The pregnancy wasn’t slowing her down at all. She held out a piece of toast. “Can I make you some?”

  She waved her hand. “No, thanks. I just ate. Ask me in an hour, though.” She laughed. “That’s the only negative. I eat like a horse!”

  “Yet, you still look trim and fit, with a baby bump but no fat.”

  Joanne stared at Jordan. She had felt the tension the minute she’d stepped into the room. Jordan was upset but did a good job of hiding it.

  “What’s wrong, Jordan? I know we don’t know each other very well, but I had hoped we would become friends. You can talk to me, you know.”

  Jordan sighed heavily. “I suppose I’m being stupid but I can’t help being angry.” She smiled briefly. “Besides, it’s your brother. I can’t tell you about our fights. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Pfft, please! Us women have to stand together. If he was an ass to you, I want to know. I’ll kick his backside for you if you haven’t done so already.”

  “I wanted to this morning, but by the time I woke up, he’d already left.”

  “Hm, sounds familiar. It’s their MO. They will talk when they’re ready. You can push all you want, they shut down like stubborn mules.” She took a sip of coffee. “Come on, out with it. What did my idiot brother do?”

  Jordan took a deep breath and the words spilled forth. By the time she finished, tears were running down her cheeks. She swept them away irritably.

  “I don’t even know why I’m crying. I’m so mad at him and yes, before you say it, I know I have no right to be. Our agreement is only temporary and totally non-exclusive. He keeps reminding me of that too.”

  Joanne didn’t say anything at first. She studied Jordan silently. “You love him, don’t you?”

  Jordan blinked. Her shoulders slumped. “Yes. I didn’t fully realize it until this morning, but I do.” She popped a piece of toast into her mouth. “I suppose it’s been a long time coming. The day I walked into the club I bumped into him in the reception area. I know it’s cliché, but it felt like I had been struck by a thousand volts of electricity. I wrote it off to instant chemistry, lust even, but I guess I’ve been fooling myself.”

  “I know the feeling.” Joanne hesitated. She squared her shoulders, having reached a decision; someone had to intervene. Her hard-headed brother was making one gigantic mess of the one chance he had to find love again. It was a sister’s duty to lend him a helping hand. “Has Jack told you anything about his past? About Selina Parker?”

  Jordan stopped chewing. She shook her head and took a sip of coffee to swallow down the piece of toast that suddenly got stuck in her throat.

  “No. I know you’re his sister but in actual fact, he hasn’t told me anything else about his life or the rest of your family.”

  “He’s such a douche bag sometimes,” Joanne mumbled. She smiled brightly. “But don’t despair; there’s a reason for it and I believe you need all the ammunition you can get to bowl him off his throne.”

  Jordan couldn’t help but laugh. Joanne was the most likable woman she’d ever met. “Coming from his sister, I’d say that gives me a head start.”

  “Jack has only been in love once in his life. I was away at college and never knew her. They were also in a D/s relationship and engaged to be married.” Joanne’s smile slipped. Her eyes turned sad as she remembered the discussion she had with him and how devastated he must have been to have his love stomped on. When a Blackmore gave their heart, they did it with passion.

  “He was doing a lot of undercover ops at the time and was away for months sometimes. When he returned from one of them, he caught her at the club they used to frequent in one of the private rooms, offering her services in an all-night orgy to all Doms who were interested. Apparently, it wasn’t the first time either. She had cheated on him every time he was away. She acted like a cheap slut and in the process, belittled him as a Dom in everyone’s eyes. Jack was devastated. He had believed they were the perfect couple and like him, she counted off the days to his return.” She smiled sadly. “That’s what iced over Jack’s heart. He told me not so long ago that he had given her his heart, his body, and would’ve given her his soul.”

  She sighed heavily. “It’s so sad, but in the end, she was the one who changed him from the gentle caring man who had fully committed to the one who now believes exclusivity is a myth. What was it he said again? Hmm … oh, yes, he said that the pleasures of the flesh are divorced from the chambers of our hearts. Love is what you feel inside. Pleasure is derived from everything surrounding you. What y
ou see and hear, smell, taste and touch.” She squeezed Jordan’s hand. “That’s why Jack refuses to open himself to another woman or to commit to only one. His ability to trust has been shattered.”

  Jordan frowned. “Are you saying Jack doesn’t intend to ever get married?”

  “Oh, no, he wants to get married, but even then, he claims he won’t commit to exclusivity with his wife.”

  Jordan stared at her in disbelief.

  “But as his only sister who knows him deep down inside, I believe the right woman will make him change his mind.” She jumped off the stool. “So, arm yourself, my dear, because I believe you’ve got what it takes to make my brother see the light.” She winked at Jordan. “Why don’t you slip into a little black number and pop in for a surprise visit at the office.”

  “What about baby clothes shopping?”

  “There’s still a lot of time for that. Getting my brother’s head screwed on straight is a bigger priority.”

  She followed Jordan upstairs and soon their tingling laughter lit up the house from the inside out.

  Jack Blackmore had better get his armor ready. He had no idea what was heading his way.

  There was a lot to be said about the effect a little black dress had on a woman’s self-esteem and confidence. Jordan was no different. She had made a point to pack her favorite daytime LBD. She twirled in front of the mirror, trying to catch an all-around glimpse of her silhouette. Her smile was sultry as she stared at the reflection.

  “You better watch out, Jack Blackmore. I’m out to get you.”

  She oozed sophistication, which mixed with her natural sensuality, was a dynamic combination in a black Bardot mini dress. The top was off the shoulder, cross-style with a bodycon shape that showed off every curve. Paired with Merumote black, sling-back, peep-toe high heels to show off her luscious legs, she felt like Wonder Woman out to save the world.