His Devil's Chains

by Linzi Basset

  “Forward? What are you saying, Jack?”

  “I want you to come home with me, Jordan. My house is empty, and I feel like a lost soul floundering around looking for a ray of sunshine.”

  “But we were only in a trial relationship.”

  “Were we? Do you still believe that’s all we ever were?”

  Jordan became lost in the swirling vortex of emotions and promises that she saw in his eyes. A slow smile curved her lips upward.

  “Are you saying you’re willing to sign another agreement with me, Master Black? One without the word trial and four weeks in it?”

  “Hm … if you insist, Emerald. However, if memory serves me correctly, the word trial wasn’t mentioned, nor was there a term stipulated in our original agreement.”

  Her eyes widened. “It wasn’t?”

  “Remind me never to send you to sign any contract without me in future. Didn’t I instruct you at the time to read every line thoroughly?”

  “Ehm … yes you did,” she said with a sheepish grin. “But I was so elated you were actually formalizing our agreement with a contract I guess I didn’t pay attention.”

  Jack smiled gently. “Will you do me another favor, Jordan?” She nodded. “I need you to go to Bruce for counseling. Not only for what happened to you, but to guide you through the maze of finding Gideon within your soul.”

  Her eyes filled with tears at his accurate assessment of her heartache.

  “He’s still there, love. You just need to find him.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly. “Yes, Jack, I’ll go home with you, and I’ll go for therapy, but one thing I refuse to do is become involved with Crown International. I don’t want that company. We should’ve declined the inheritance from the start. We didn’t know Brad Flint. He was never a father to us. I don’t know why Gideon insisted… Will you help me get rid of it?”

  “Of course I will, but let’s not worry about that for now. Let’s go and meet the rest for an early lunch and then we’ll go home.”

  “The rest?”

  “You didn’t think Max and Joanne would allow me to come alone, did you?”

  Jordan was elated that Joanne had come, and for the first time since the ordeal, she managed to relax and finally started to feel human again.

  She had just taken a sip of wine when a thought flashed through her mind. She choked on the liquid in her throat.

  “Are you okay, love?” Jack asked, thumping her on the back.

  “Yes, but I just remembered something.” Her hand waved in front of her. She looked at the people around the table. “I had blocked out the entire episode, even things I had heard them say until Jack forced me to remember.”

  She smiled gently as she noticed Rhone and Keon flash dark looks at Jack. “It had to be done. I needed to know what really happened. It has actually set me free from the demons that had been hounding me in my sleep.”

  Jack briefly explained what she had believed.

  “Then I’m glad the record has been set straight. Not that it means the bastard would come off lightly, you understand. If Jack gets his hands on him, he’s a dead man,” Keon rasped.

  Jordan encountered a black look on Jack’s face when she glanced at him. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him to let the man go, to remind him that it was over and they were moving on. If Jack found him and killed him, Gideon’s soul would come to rest, irrespective of what he’d done to her.

  “What was it you remembered?” Joanne prodded gently.

  She took a deep breath. “I think he personally knows you, Jack.”

  “Who?” Jack seemed confused at the sudden shift in conversation.

  “The man…” She shuddered. “That bastard who … you know.” Jordan couldn’t bring herself to say the words again.

  Jack’s entire body went stiff.

  “You said you didn’t see much of his face, but did you hear his name?”

  Jordan fiddled with her fingers. “I did see his face in the moonlight. Very briefly and I’ll sit with the sketch artist again.” She exhaled slowly. “After he was done, I was in a limbo, there, but not really fully present. I could hear what they said but nothing penetrated my mind. Now, I do remember. He was livid when the other man used his name just outside the bedroom door. He called him Mr. Powell and once he’d left, I heard him mutter to himself. Something like … Dexter Powell will come to a fall.”

  “Name doesn’t ring a bell,” Rhone said.

  “What made you say he knew me?” Jack asked. His thumb traced the palm of her hand.

  Jordan took a deep breath. “He was such a bastard. He said … he called me your fluff, that you always had good taste.” She blinked a few times. “He seemed to revel in the fact that he would be marking something that you had claimed as yours. He whipped me because he recalled that you preferred a little kink.”

  “Fuck! If I get my hands on him…”

  “Do you have any idea who it is, mate?” Max asked.

  Jack was deep in thought. He wracked his memory but no one sprang to mind that he knew personally and could be involved with a crime syndicate.

  “No idea. Maybe if … wait. Max, do you have that photo you showed me the other day on your iPad?”

  “You know everything is always on hand when it comes to the virtual world, mate. Yes, lemme find it … there.” Max handed the iPad to Jack.

  “Is it possible this is the man, Jordan?”

  Her hands trembled when she clasped the iPad between them. She stared at the tall, muscled frame, the contours of his shoulders and the lines of his jaw. She closed her eyes and conjured the hateful vision of the man as he held himself above her. How his face had pulled into a grimace in the slither of the bright moonlight. Her breathing turned swallow. Her eyes were haunted when she opened them and looked at Jack.

  “Yes. It’s him.”

  “So, now we have a name and confirmation that he is a leader of the Sixth Order. Let’s hope we can dig up something with that and not strike out like we did with facial recognition,” Max rasped.

  “What about the DNA results,” Rhone asked. “Surely Ethan must have finalized the profile by now.”

  “I’ll ask him when we’re back home.”

  Jack pulled Jordan closer and kissed her softly. “For now, no more doom and gloom. Let’s enjoy our meal.”

  “Yeah, nothing better than a hot bowl of … what is this crap you ordered, Max?” Keon complained as he dipped the spoon into the thick soup.

  “Stop complaining. You know the saying. When in London…”

  “Fuck that. Don’t tell me they don’t eat fucking meat here. A nice, thick, juicy steak. Yeah. That’s what I need. Waiter! Hey, over here,” Keon shouted at the server who came rushing over.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “This has to stop, Samantha.”

  Samantha gaped at Rhone as he pushed past her and stomped toward the kitchen.

  “Well, hello to you too,” she mumbled as she closed the front door before she followed him with reluctance. He was wearing that devil look of his, the dark one that made her ovaries do a little jiggle of excitement.

  Get with the program, for fuck sake! You’re supposed to shrivel in fear when he looks like that.

  She found him pacing around the kitchen island. He downed the soda he had taken from the fridge. She jumped when the bottle clanked loudly as he slammed it down onto the counter. Her eyes rounded as she gazed at him with an innocent look.

  “I imagine you’re going to inform me what has to stop?”

  His eyes narrowed dangerously. Samantha swallowed as he straightened to his full height, not in fear, but because her loins tightened with desire. He was dressed in tight black leathers and a white sleeveless shirt that was hanging open to show off his mighty chest and abs. She swallowed the drool that formed inadvertently in her mouth. Why was it that the one man who irritated and angered her to kingdom come was the only one who had the ability to arouse her with nothing mo
re than his presence … and of course, his fierce anger and devilry.

  “This!” He slammed his fist on the counter. He pointed around them, stabbing a finger furiously into the atmosphere. “Running back to your house when we have a little bump in our relationship.”

  “A little bump? Is that what you call it? A little bump?”

  “Don’t play with words, you know I’m right. This is the second time you walked out on me without a word.”

  “I hate to remind you, but the first time, I made it blatantly clear I was leaving and why.”

  Rhone flung her an acerbic look, snorted, and commenced his pacing again and ran a hand over his face. He looked tired and stressed, the complete opposite of his usual reserved and impassive demeanor under circumstances like these. Hope flared to life inside her.

  “And this time? Exactly what made your heels flash out the door the moment I turned my back?”

  “You seem to have a very short memory, Rhone, or should I say, a very selective one. The little bump you referred to … the one inside my belly … does it ring a bell?”

  He came to a halt in front of her. Her breath faltered at the look in his eyes. His gaze dropped to her still flat stomach as his hand grazed the curve of her hip to come to rest on the gentle swell below her bellybutton.

  “I don’t need a reminder that you’re carrying my child, Samantha,” he rasped. His voice had lowered and was filled with an emotion she had never heard in his tone before.

  “Rhone, I don’t understand. You said you didn’t want the baby.”

  His gaze swung to hers, fury flashed briefly in their depths.

  “I never said that. I would never turn my back on my own flesh and blood.”

  Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she wracked her mind to remember exactly what he had said, but she had been so upset and angry at the time, everything came back blank.

  “Exactly what did you say then?”

  His sigh was slower than the descent of the Titanic to the ocean floor.

  “I said I’m not going to marry you and granted, my reaction wasn’t exactly that of a delighted father to be, but I’m different than most men out there. Surely you know that by now? I needed time to wrap my mind around it.” His voice deepened as his palm brushed over her stomach. “How far along are we?”

  “Eight weeks. I honestly don’t know how it happened. I’ve been very diligent in taking the pill.”

  He stared at her, his look intense. “Are you sorry you’re pregnant?”

  “I was upset at first because I know it isn’t something you wanted in your life, but no, I’m not sorry.” She looked down as she placed her hand over his. “I’ve always wanted children, and when I met you I knew you were the only man I wanted to have them with.”

  Their eyes met and for moments the only thing that mattered was the shared acknowledgment of the little life they’d created. Rhone was shaken at the emotions that seared through him to settle deep inside his heart, his soul. Feelings that needed to be dissected and understood at a later stage.

  “I’ve never asked and I accept there are things from your past that haunt you, which is what keeps your emotions locked deep inside your heart. Are you ever going to tell me why you are so against marriage?”

  “Does it really matter that much to you? Getting a ring on your finger, a piece of paper to validate our commitment to each other?”

  “Marriage to me is so much more than a ring on my finger, Rhone. It’s about being happy and committed to a future where you’re able to reach a level of deeper fulfillment.” She brushed her fingers along his jaw. “We both know that nothing in life is guaranteed and that everything changes; sometimes people change, and I have no doubt we will too in the years to come. I’m not going to stand here and tell you it doesn’t matter, and that I will accept it if we never get married. It does matter, and I do want to be married, in a partnership. One where we are our own people who commit to each other, not because of a piece of paper or a ring, but by choice.”

  “I’ve seen so much, Samantha. Bad things, ugly things by people who at some point claimed to love each other and yet, wouldn’t hesitate to do anything to destroy that very person, even murder. I … fuck, this isn’t what I came here to say,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Why do you focus only on the bad, Rhone? There are so many people in your life that are living proof of happiness and joy within a marriage. Why don’t you take a page out of their books and start writing your own story, a brand new one, just meant for you, and hopefully me. Look close to home, my love. Your parents are still happily married after all these years. Ruark and Courtney; your brother didn’t shy away from love, even after what he had gone through with his first wife, and look how happy he is now. Keon, Ethan, and Max, everyone around you is opening their arms and embracing love and a future within a committed relationship through marriage. Why can’t you?”

  “I am committed to you, to our relationship, Samantha. I don’t need to marry you to prove it.”

  “Are you? Really committed, Rhone?”

  His eyes caught hers in a direct stare. “Yes, love, I am. I want our relationship to work and I have changed since we got back together. I am trying to open up, I really am, but I can’t do it if you’re not there. I know I’m not an easy man to live with. I know I am slightly fucked up emotionally, but all I need is more time.” He brushed his lips over hers in a tantric plea for understanding. “Will you give me more time, love?” A half-smile curved his lips. “Who knows, you might wear me down and one day I might bring you a thousand pencils and paper to help me with that story.”

  Samantha’s breath caught but a bright smile spread over her lips. “A thousand pencils?”

  “Yeah, I suspect our story might have a lot of twists and turns and a pen … well, I wouldn’t want us to run out of ink.”

  It was the closest Rhone had ever come to committing to forever after. Hope and acceptance bloomed inside Samantha to root itself deep inside her heart. For now, it was enough, but she wasn’t ready to give up on her dream of her own white wedding one day … with him by her side.

  “Wherever Dexter Powell exists in this lifetime, it’s not real,” Max said. He tipped the bottle against his lips and swallowed the cold bitterness of the beer. “The only Dexter Powell we could find died twenty years ago in a car crash. We checked his social security number but it hasn’t been used since. We scoured every newspaper, online media, even social media but we can’t find any sign of him anywhere, which only means one thing.”

  “The fucktard is also hiding behind a mask. How many more bastards are there in the Syndicate living a double life?” Jack sneered. He downed his beer and slumped further down into the sofa. He’d had so much hope that they were going to find some lead since Jordan had given them his name.

  He stared at the photo of Dexter Powell on the overhead screen in Rhone’s office at Club Devil’s Cove where they usually gathered for a short meeting on Friday evenings. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something very familiar about him.

  “I’m afraid I have bad news, Jack,” Ethan said as he walked into the office. His rigid jaw suited the tenseness of his shoulders as he sat down next to him. “I suppose we should’ve known they would realize we were running DNA and be more careful.”

  Jack sat upright. “What happened?”

  “The senior lab technician who did the DNA tests was killed in a hit and run this morning. I’ve spent the entire day with the head of the lab. We had a break-in last night. They smashed a couple of in-process tests but their main aim was the DNA profiling tubes. The samples we took from Jordan were among them. The lab computer and server were destroyed as well.”

  “Another senseless death,” Lance interjected. He slammed his fist in his palm. “We need to do something. Goddammit, we have to find out who they are!”

  “Yes, we do,” Jack said quietly as he left the office.

  He called Lexie’s number as he paced the balcony on the mez
zanine level looking out over the Entertainment Room. He had placed her life in danger too. He could only pray that he had been careful enough not to be followed when he went to her. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her because of him.

  “Hi Jack,” she answered on the second ring.

  “Lex, how far are you with those tests?”

  “It’s done. I’m sorry it took so long but we’ve been busy with some big cases.”

  “I understand. Did you do what I told you to?”

  “Jack, are you sure you want me to destroy the evidence?”

  “Yes. You should have done so already.”

  “Very well. I’ll do it now before I leave. I’ll drop off the results at your house. Jack, I have to warn you…” She hesitated.

  “Spit it out, Lex. I’m a big boy.”

  “You’re not going to like what I found.”

  Jack closed his eyes. His gut had been telling him that Dexter Powell looked familiar. Lexie just confirmed his fear.

  “I don’t suspect I will,” he said quietly. “Thank you, Lexie. Please, destroy everything and be vigilant out there. In your line of work … you are very exposed.”

  “I know, and I always am.”

  “If one more sub asks me where Master Black is with that predatory look, I’m going to lose it!” Jordan fumed. Her eyes smoldered with irritation as she glared daggers at the retreating sub.

  “I have to admit, they seem very eager to see him,” Joanne pondered, watching the lingerie-clad sub trot away with a seductive sway of her hips. “I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that he has been ignoring them ever since he took you as his sub?”

  “Trial sub,” Jordan said automatically. A smile brightened her stormy face. “Although, apparently the word trial isn’t mentioned anywhere in the contract we signed. I never noticed at the time because I was so shocked that he went to the trouble to have one drawn up.”

  Joanne sat forward. She made big eyes at Samantha, Lauren, and Paige who sat on the sofa opposite her.