His Devil's Chains

Home > Other > His Devil's Chains > Page 23
His Devil's Chains Page 23

by Linzi Basset


  Jordan struggled to hold back the grief. When the congregation started the song, ‘The Lord is my Shepherd’, the tears started. When Jack folded his strong arms around her body and pulled her into a protective cocoon, the dam of grief finally broke. It was more than crying; it was the kind of desolate sobbing that came from a person who could not accept what fate had decreed.

  “He is in the hands of the Lord now, my dear.” The minister squeezed Jordan’s hand. “Do not despair, his body might have departed, but his soul will forever be within your heart.” He nodded at Jack and turned away.

  Jack kept his arm around her waist as he guided her toward the exit.

  “I want to go home.” Jordan’s voice was so soft Jack had to strain to hear.

  “Of course, love. I’ll just let Max know we’re leaving.”

  “No, Jack. Home, to London.”

  Jack examined her face. She looked drawn and pale. She’d lost weight and her face looked gaunt. He had been trying to convince her to go for counseling with Bruce, but she had refused, choosing to spend all her time at Gideon’s bedside. She had been devastated the day he had died. Jack’s concern about her emotional state was increasing by the day.

  “Very well, love. I’ll make the arrangement and we’ll leave within a couple of days.”

  Jordan stopped walking. She wrung her hands. Her eyes followed the faraway horizon like it was the only lifeline available to her.

  “No, Jack. I have to … I need to go alone.” She looked at him. He was crushed by the bleakness in her eyes. “I need time. Please, you have to understand. Gideon and I … he was … without him, I can’t … you and I … it’s … I just can’t. I need to go.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “How many losses?”

  “Five. Hank and I just made it out before the bastards kicked in the basement door.” William was still shaken at how close he’d come to meeting his maker. If Jubba hadn’t managed to dial his number seconds before he got killed to warn him, they wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  “Were those losses actual or did they capture anyone alive?” Dexter kept prodding. They couldn’t afford any loose ends at this stage of the game. Not since they had managed to win the Bratva’s confidence.

  It had been a stroke of genius from Mr. Z to suggest they store the stolen server in plain sight. It was also one of the best guarded bunkers since the CIA had moved some of their secret projects there.

  Dexter had arranged the transportation at the same time a new server had to be installed. No one suspected a thing, especially as the senior IT Technician was on the Sixth Order’s payroll and would ensure no one would be any the wiser. Until the FBI and the DOD stopped probing or assumed the server had been moved across the border, it was safe and sound under lock and key. They were in no rush and neither were the Russians.

  Forward planning always paid off. This time, the Sixth Order was going to cash in big. Not with money. Oh, no. Dexter and Mr. Z had their sights set on something of a much bigger magnitude.

  Power and world domination.

  William Seely’s retort yanked him back to the present.

  “Dead, Mr. Powell. I personally took a trip to the morgue. They all received fatal shots and died instantly. No one talked, of that I can assure you.”

  “Loss of life is never a good thing, especially loyal soldiers like them,” Dexter reminded him curtly.

  “I agree. It’s unfortunate I couldn’t take their bodies to their families personally.”

  “You will ensure they are compensated from the organization’s pension fund immediately. We do not wish to see any of the families suffer because they gave their lives for our cause.”

  “Of course, Mr. Powell.” William sounded surly. He didn’t need to be reminded of his duties.

  Dexter pinned Seely down with a penetrating stare. “Let’s get back to the reason you were there in the first place. You said you got Clark to supply the authorization code to release our money. Did you use the Cayman account as instructed?”

  “Yes, and I made sure it would bounce off various bogus accounts to make it untraceable. Even if they managed to trace it to that account, it’s the one set up under the guise of Crown International’s offshore account. It would appear as an investment transfer, nothing more.”

  Dexter paced the boardroom at the Massage Parlor. “I still don’t understand what tipped them off. You said the security detail had no way of knowing anything was wrong.”

  “You heard what Clark said. The girl belongs to Jack Blackmore. He must’ve come looking for—”

  “Armed to the teeth with a full tactical team? Don’t insult my intelligence, Seely,” Dexter snapped. “What about the girl? Did you follow my instructions?”

  William shifted his weight. He tapped his finger against his brow. “Er … there wasn’t time, sir. We were in the process of—”

  Dexter turned to face William. There was no trace of emotion on his face. His eyes were narrowed, rigid, cold, and hard. William knew what it felt like to look death in the eye. At this moment, he wasn’t the Bossam of the Sixth Order, he had become the number one enemy of the mighty Dexter Powell.

  There were no gray areas with Dexter; only polar extremes existed. You either got classed in black or white and at the moment, his lethal stare was painful and piercing, like he had the ability to tear apart William’s heart with a blinding yellow flash from his eyes.

  William drew in a deep breath, waiting for the brutal explosion of words to cut him down even further.

  Dexter’s lips barely moved as he gritted out through clenched teeth, “Are you telling me she was found exactly as I left her that night?”

  William shifted his weight. He shouldn’t be this affected by Powell. He was used to much worse from the Dons of the Occhipintis, but somehow, this man appeared more lethal as he stared at him.

  “I had planned to clean the room and her as soon as I got Clark to sign the—”

  “Get out.”

  The words slammed against the walls with such coldness that William felt a chill of doom encapsulate him.

  “Mr. Powell, you’re concerned for nothing. Jack Blackmore was so relieved to find his woman that I’m sure looking for evidence of her…”

  William swallowed the rest of the protest as Dexter straightened to his full height, towering over him.

  “You know fuckall! Jack Blackmore wouldn’t leave any stone unturned to find the one who dared to violate the woman he had claimed as his. You just handed my DNA on a platter to them, Seely, and you had better fix it.”

  “But—”

  “Fix it. Find out to which hospital she was taken to and get hold of the DNA samples. Destroy it and any test results that are in process.”

  “Mr. Powell—”

  “Get the fuck out of my sight!”

  William jerked back as the crack of Dexter’s fist hitting the desk slammed through his mind. It was evident that Dexter had reached the end of his tether. His knuckles were white from clenching his fists too hard. William could hear him gritting his teeth, and his hunched form exuded an animosity that was like acid—burning, slicing, and potent. His face was pulled into a grimace with suppressed rage. William wisely nodded and retreated without a further word.

  Dexter didn’t watch him go. He was livid. Not only with Seely but with himself. He knew better than to depend on anyone but himself. Yes, Seely hadn’t followed his instruction, but ultimately, he had been the one who had fucked up. He should never have acted on the impulse to go to that house.

  He planted his feet apart and crossed his arms over his wide chest as he stared into the buzzing operation center below. His gaze was impenetrable. No, he shouldn’t have but the desire to see the woman who had managed to unlock Jack Blackmore’s heart had been too strong. Not to mention the need to lay his own claim on her.

  His cackle of laughter sounded eerie in the silent room. A pity he’d become overexcited and couldn’t hold back. It would’ve been so much more fun to
make her beg for it.

  “Oh, well. What’s done is done.”

  He had left his mark on her nevertheless, even if in the end, it would only be an emotional one. It didn’t matter. It served the purpose he’d wanted—to unsettle Jack Blackmore, to keep his mind occupied. Of the entire Precision Secure team, Jack was the one Dexter and Mr. Z were the wariest of. His intuition was too sharp. He thought outside of the box and because of that, he saw things others missed.

  Seely had better get hold of that DNA sample. He had no doubt Jack would’ve had the presence of mind to retain a sample of the sperm that had dried on her body. In his mind, he experienced that moment when he’d ejaculated and then pumped his cock wildly to coat her satiny skin with the viscous ropes of his release. It had felt surreal, had given him a surge of power. Just the thought that she was Jack’s whore had made his climax so much more explosive. He’d never felt so relaxed and satisfied as he had once he was done.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I should’ve cleaned her myself. If Seely doesn’t destroy the DNA sample, I’m done for. Jack won’t let me live.

  One thing Dexter had learned over the years was that you couldn’t stop time. It was the one sure thing in life. The minute arm of a clock counted each passing moment with ruthless accuracy, warning you of what was and what would be. Wasting time on regrets wasn’t something Dexter concerned himself with. Nor would he this time. He would move on, resolutely toward the one aim that now, more than ever before, was finally within their reach.

  “Your tendency to compete with Jack is going to be the end of you.”

  Dexter’s shoulders tightened at the deep voice that sounded from behind him. He didn’t turn around. The flickering of the monitor on the wall he could detect from his peripheral vision was enough to warn him that Mr. Z was the one causing the uneasy trickle to shudder through him.

  “It had nothing to do with competing with him and you fucking know it,” Dexter sneered. His lips barely moved.

  “I know, but it’s been years. I thought you were over it. Jesus, man, we can’t afford to fuck up. Not with the Russian Mafia involved. Not to mention the domino effect it would have with the US Cosa Nostra if word reached them before we are ready.”

  Dexter wiped a hand over his face. He turned and sat down at the boardroom table and glanced at the silhouette of the man on the wall mounted screen.

  “How did you know?”

  Mr. Z snorted with disgust. “You, of all people, ask me that? I have eyes and ears everywhere. I’ve learned not to depend on anyone. Something I had thought you had learned from me over the years.” He hesitated a moment. “How bad did you fuck up?”

  Dexter leaned back in the chair as he curtly relayed the scenario to Mr. Z.

  “And once again you depend on someone else to fix it? You better get yourself sorted out and quickly. Get over Jack Blackmore or you’re going to be the reason we fail.”

  “Of course,” Dexter sneered. “Get off your fucking high horse. We’re in on this together and have become who we are because of them! Or are you going to tell me you are over Rhone Greer?”

  “Don’t turn this on me to absolve yourself of your own guilt. You fucked up. Plain and simple,” Mr. Z barked. He leaned forward to stress the urgency of the situation. “Because we are who we’ve become, we have to be extra careful. We choose to live a double life to achieve exactly what we’re so close to at the moment. Not just to have ultimate power but to destroy those two fucking bastards. Don’t forget that. Always remember our end goal. Nothing else matters. You get me?”

  “Yes! I fucking get you.”

  “Then fix your fuckup. If anyone finds out who you really are, we are both exposed and everything we’ve worked so hard to achieve over the past fifteen years is for nothing. Nothing! And I for one refuse to allow that to happen.”

  Dexter looked up. He stared at the man whose face was in the shadows. Not that he needed to see him to know what he looked like. They had grown up together. They were each other’s yin and yang. Or so he had thought. The warning in Mr. Z’s voice chilled him.

  “What are you saying?”

  “You know what I’m saying. It’s the one rule of our organization. Eliminate those who weaken the foundation we have built. Don’t become the weakest link. No one, not even you, is above—”

  “Fuck you! We are the Sixth Order. You and me. I have given up just as much as you have—if not more—to build the organization to where it is today.” Dexter got up. The chair swiveled back and crashed against the wall. “You are not superior to me. Don’t forget that.” He stalked toward the door. “Don’t ever threaten me again. Do you get me?”

  The hesitation was brief but Mr. Z didn’t bother to hide the satisfaction from his voice. He’d achieved what he’d set out to. Dexter needed to learn to curb his impulsiveness, especially when it came to his sexual proclivities. Not to mention his fixation with Jack Blackmore. It was the one thing that could become a potential threat to their success.

  “I get you.”

  The screen went black before Dexter slammed the door behind him and stomped down the stairs.

  “What have you managed to find out?” Mr. Z asked the moment the thin, wiry man walked into his office.

  “They were taken to Brodie Clinic. Ethan Brodie personally attended to the woman.”

  “Of course. Jack wouldn’t trust anyone else with his little, precious darling.”

  Carlos Lovett stared at the man across the desk. He had known him for a long time. Mr. Z never did anything without giving it proper thought and consideration. It was the first time he had ever interfered with something his partner was involved in, though, which triggered a warning bell in his mind. If the top leaders of the Sixth Order were at odds, it could potentially turn out disastrous for everyone in the organization. He shifted in the chair. He knew better than to pry. Mr. Z had a very short fuse and wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate him on the spot, no matter how loyal he had been over the years.

  “I’m not so sure she qualifies as his precious darling, sir.”

  Mr. Z looked up. His gaze narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “From what I gathered, the D/s agreement they signed is a trial only. From what my source informed me, everyone believes Blackmore is only indulging her because she’s such a brat. He didn’t even commit to exclusivity.”

  “Well, well, that does place a different light on the matter. Very well, it serves no purpose to waste time on a woman who is no more to him than a fuck buddy.” Mr. Z scratched his chin in deep thought. “Brodie Clinic is a research facility, which means they would be doing the DNA tests on the premises.”

  “Yes. There were two samples taken and both sent to their lab.”

  “At least I can depend on you to do things right, Carlos. I don’t trust Seely, and Dexter is too close to think straight at the moment. I can’t afford to wait and see if they fuck up again.” He pointed to the door. “You know what to do. Get it done.”

  Carlos nodded and got up to leave.

  “No delay with this, Carlos. Get on it now, right this minute.”

  “As you wish, sir.”

  Mr. Z sat unmoving long after he’d left. Something wasn’t adding up. He couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had been gnawing at him since they’d moved the stolen server to the secure bunker. It had been a bold decision but it was how he operated. He wasn’t scared to do things others wouldn’t dare consider. It was how they had managed to grow the Sixth Order to the biggest crime syndicate in the US. Overshadowed only by one—the US Cosa Nostra. But not for long. Soon their reign would diminish, crumble to nothing, and be flushed away like brittle leaves after a flash flood.

  Vito Vitale, the last Don of the Occhipintis and the first Boss of the five ruling mafia families in the US, had been the biggest stumble block in the past. It had been a stroke of genius to manipulate the demented mind of Adam Baxter to get rid of him.

  Since his death, the coalition that Damiano Vitale had formed of the f
ive ruling mafia families had broken apart. They went back to their old ways and lost the advantage of the strength they had as one force.

  His laugh cracked in the air, filled with devious malevolence. “And since they still haven’t appointed a new Don in Vitale’s place, they are losing power by the day.”

  They had lost their edge to such an extent that the Sixth Order had eased ahead in the majority of crime sectors in certain areas of the US. It was imperative to strengthen their forces and be ready for the final push.

  “Yes, the time has come. We will rule and soon. The Occhipintis and the US Cosa Nostra have swung their scepters long enough.” His laugh crowed from his lips. “With the Bratva behind us, we will be strong enough to take them over. Yes! The day will come that no one will fear or even mention the word mafia in the US anymore. The Sixth Order is here to stay.”

  He puffed on a thin cigar, and his eyes followed the swirling line of smoke until it dissolved into the atmosphere.

  “We will become the only crime syndicate to rule in the US. Mark my words. We are here to stay.”

  “From the description Jordan gave the sketch artist before she left for London, we’ve managed to identify the two men who escaped through the tunnel,” Max said and flicked a photo onto the big screen on the wall.

  “The first one is a known felon with a rap sheet the length of my arm. He has also been associated with many crime syndicates in the past. Hank Shutto. There is currently a warrant out for his arrest for suspicion of the murder of the two senators who died in a car bomb explosion on 9/11 last year during the commemoration parade here in DC,” Richard interjected.

  “He’s married and the father of two teenage boys and a six-year-old little girl. The last known address we have for him is in Merrifield, but Alex already confirmed they don’t live there anymore.” Max flicked a second photo onto the screen. “Now, this motherfucker is the one who Jordan said tortured Gideon: William Seely. We can’t find a local address for him at all.”

 

‹ Prev