His Devil's Rage

by Linzi Basset

  “Perhaps we have reason to be,” Rhone said colloquially. He leaned his shoulder against the pillar, the epitome of relaxation as he observed Wade with unflinching regard.

  Wade felt like a mouse trapped in a cage, with two vicious cats prowling for food. He took a step backward, cursing softly as he encountered the wall behind him. He should’ve taken the other side of the patio. At least there he wouldn’t have been trapped in a corner. Too late for recrimination, he straightened and planted a mocking smile on his lips.

  “Spit it out, Rhone. You’re burning to, anyway,” he mocked, sliding his gaze toward Bruce. “And you, Master Goliath, how—”

  “What are you guys doing out here? We have something to celebrate.”

  Lance’s untimely arrival offered Wade that split-second advantage, when their attention was diverted, to take out his gun. He aimed it at Bruce’s heart, Reece’s voice in his head guiding his aim. “I want Bruce Rickett dead. He’s the one man who knows me better than even Lance. He’d know what kind of moves I’d make before I think of them.”

  “So, you’ve found me out. Who was it? That bitch Morgan? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She was never worthy to be called family,” he sneered. “Don’t fucking take another step, Lance. Move toward us. You’re not going anywhere.”

  He was shaken that not one of the men seemed intimidated by the gun in his hand. He only had one chance, one bullet.

  “I guess I better make the one-shot count that I’ll be able to get off before you’re on me.” He cracked out an evil laugh. “Not that I’m too worried. I’ll give Mr. Z what he wants and he’ll get me out of jail in no time.”

  The three men laughed. Wade glowered, his nerves starting to unravel in the face of their mirth. “What’s so fucking funny?”

  “You,” Bruce derived. “Jail, Wade? You?” He glanced at Rhone. “He must be delusional, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, must be all that—”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Wade snapped. The muzzle of the gun lifted, his aim dead center on Bruce’s chest. “You’re the one he wants dead and I’m going to give it to him.” He snickered. “At least I’ll have the satisfaction of killing the last chance that whore has at happiness.” His smile widened at the fury that flashed in Bruce’s eyes. “Oh, you didn’t know? Yes, my dear little stepsister whored for Reece for the past four years, willingly, I might add. Aided us in quite a couple of other things too.” His lips flattened. “You take me down, she’s going with me. Mark my words, Rickett, Reece will make sure she rots in jail for what she’s done.”

  “Drop that fucking gun, you useless piece of shit.” Morgan’s voice slashed with the bite of an icy winter’s gale toward them.

  “Morgan! Get the fuck out of here,” Bruce clipped out. His heart raced as he looked around. She stood a short distance from the patio, legs spread with a pistol clasped in both hands, aimed at Wade.

  Wade crackled with laughter. “Oh, this is precious. The whore of The Sixth Order. Had fun with Mr. Z the other day, did you?” His eyes didn’t leave the three men, who now stood tense, watching his every move in case he intended to turn on Morgan. They knew better than to charge at him. In such a close confinement, a bullet would be lethal.

  “You’re a vile man, Will.”

  “I am what your slut mother made me. If she didn’t steal my inheritance from me, I would never have had to side with criminals,” he sneered.

  Morgan didn’t bother to respond. It was a topic that didn’t bear discussion. Will always shifted the blame for his actions onto others. Accountability wasn’t in his vocabulary.

  “I suggest you think carefully about your next move, little sister. Don’t forget about that video … you remember? The one of you deliberately killing a thirteen-year-old girl.” He jabbed the gun forward. “Do it, Bruce, my finger is itching as it is. The next twitch of a muscle and it’s over for you. Move back, all of you,” he snapped, smirking in satisfaction as they complied and retreated a step. He shot a quick glance at Morgan. “It was a brilliant setup, don’t you agree?” His smile widened as he noticed Bruce’s fury boiling higher. “Yeah, we staged it. Oh, don’t get me wrong, the child got rammed over and died but not by her. Dan had the honor. Zee already had the footage ready before that night.” Another mocking glance flashed toward Morgan. “He wanted your hot little cunt, Morgan. He made sure he got it and you were the perfect foil for the other little jobs. You were only too happy to comply to stay out of jail. You fell for it, hook, line, and juicy cunt.”

  “You bastard,” she sneered in a thin voice. “It’s the end for you, do you hear me?”

  “You, threatening me? Whose bullet do you think is going to hit first, sister dear?”

  “Mine, you motherfucker, because you deserve to die. Rot in hell, brother dear.” Her words were still an echo when Wade staggered back, the boom of the gunshot shattering the silence, seconds after the bullet tore into his body, straight through his heart.

  He slammed against the wall, disbelief on his face as he watched the crimson color of his life force stain his white shirt. He lifted eyes that were slowly losing their shine. “You … fucking … shot m-e.”

  His body crumpled to the floor. The three men stood watching impassively as his body spasmed, his final breath gurgling from his throat with his eyes staring vacantly to the glimmering stars in the sky.

  “Morgan,” Bruce scaled the balcony without effort. He rushed toward her where she kneeled on the grass, the gun still clasped in her hands. He gently pried it from her fingers and pushed it into the back of his leathers. He wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve got you, baby.”

  “I’m sorry, Bruce.”

  Bruce leaned back to stare at her. She started to shiver as shock set in. Killing another human being, no matter how vile that person was, had a massive impact on anyone, especially the first time.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, Morgan. He deserved to die.”

  “I’m not sorry for killing him,” she said, lifting her eyes. Tears glimmered in their depths as she traced his jaw. “I’m sorry we won’t have a future together.”

  “Baby—”

  She silenced him with her fingers on his lips. “I couldn’t let him hurt any of you, and it was my due. All these years he knew. He knew it was a setup and he did nothing! I had to be the one to end his miserable life. He had to know it was me who sent him to hell.” She dragged in a shuddering breath. “I did that and it felt … good.” A small smile flashed on her lips. “For which I’ll sit in jail for the rest of my life.”

  Bruce hugged her against him, running his fingers through her long hair. “No, you won’t. Shh, baby. You did the world a favor.”

  “I still killed a man, Bruce.”

  “Yes, you did and as part of our team, you’re protected by the amnesty issued to us by the President of the United States to end the anarchy of The Sixth Order. You’re not going to jail, Morgan. In fact, you’re forever in our Government’s debt for eliminating one of the leaders of the Syndicate,” Rhone said as he hunched down next to them. He brushed the tears from her cheeks. “No more tears, little one. The future is winking bright ahead for you and Bruce, as it is for all of us. Soon, this will all be in the past.”

  A shudder racked her lithe frame. She shook her head. “It’s not over, Rhone. Not for as long as Mr. Z is out there. He’s dangerous, clever, maybe a lot more than you think. Whether you believe it or not, it’s not going to be that easy to get rid of him.”

  “Leave that to us, baby.” Bruce picked her up in his arms. He feathered a tender kiss over her lips. “Come. Let’s get you home.”

  Rhone stared after them, surrounded by Keon, Ethan, Max, Jack, Lance, and Alex.

  “I can’t fucking wait to finally close this chapter,” Rhone clipped through thin lips. He turned to face his friends. “Morgan was the closest to Reece in his role as Mr. Z. In that aspect, she knows him better than we do. I don’t think we should take her warning lightly.”

&
nbsp; “I agree. Bruce already warned us about that. We better be prepared for the unexpected when we go for him. He’s always been like a tiger when it comes to retreating,” Jack interjected.

  “Yeah, and now that he’s in a corner and wounded …” Alex allowed his words to drift.

  “Wounded or not, let’s get ready,” Keon sneered, his lips drawn back from his teeth. “I know how vulnerable we are now with little Jake in the picture and it has to end. I won’t let anything happen to my family.”

  Rhone knew how he felt, how all of them felt. With his own child on the way, all he wanted was to live in peace and harmony. He was fed up dodging bullets and looking over his shoulder wherever he went. His voice sounded dark, a quiet oath that all of them shared in their hearts.

  “It’s time to end this. Once and for all.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mont Alto, Franklin County in Pennsylvania

  She flicked her hand lazily to signal the server should leave; the shiny white gold bangles on her arm shifted and clinked to exaggerate her dismissal. Her eyes followed the young man strutting away.

  “Now, where were we?” She rested her elbows on the well-shined table, tapping manicured nails against her bright red lips. The bangles rippled further down her arm, glinting in the afternoon rays. To anyone watching, she appeared poised, charming, and oozing sensuality.

  Dark blue eyes, the shade of the sky at midnight, studied the man across from her. Patience wasn’t one of her virtues, maybe that’s why she’d turned to computers. She didn’t have to be polite or drag information out of the virtual world. She was the queen in her own little world there. In control, with everything at her fingertips. Not like this, she snorted in her mind. Trying to draw information out of the imbecile before her was worse than pulling teeth from a bear.

  “I dunno. You’re the one talkin’.”

  Jessica Simmons dragged in a deep breath and planted a smile on her lips. Endure and conquer, that was her motto. This decrepit low life farmer wasn’t going to get the better of her. She looked around briefly. She didn’t have much time. His father, Geezer Jones, was like a closed book and made it clear he didn’t trust strangers, especially ones nosing around his farm.

  “Adam? That’s your name, right?”

  “Tolcha already. Whatcha want with me. My da already told ya we ain’t tellin’ ya shit.” He jabbed a finger in the air in her direction. “We don' take to strangers around this here town.”

  Jessica cringed at his slurring words, holding her breath for the waft of stale liquor to dissipate. She’d almost gagged the first time he opened his mouth. She leaned back as far as she could in the booth.

  “Come now, Adam, you’re a grown man. Surely you don’t need your daddy’s permission to speak your mind? Or is that it? He’s the one doing the talking and your opinions don’t matter.”

  Jessica bit back the gleeful smile as his lips thinned. She smiled coyly, allowing the insult to sink in.

  “I speak my own mind, ya little chit,” he sneered, looking around for the big, burly man who was yapping away with his friends at another booth in the opposite corner of the small diner. “Spit it out. Whatcha wanna know?”

  She offered a girlish smile, all innocent and pure. Beneath the mask of delight, she basked in her victory. “I’m looking for a friend. An injured man who might have come knocking for help. A little birdy told me you and your father might have had a hand in saving his life in the forest.”

  Adam frowned, clearly confused. “A bird?” He shook his head, anger splitting his eyes wide open. “I ain’t no dumb fuck.” He pointed a finger at her. “What Da and I do in the bushes ain't none of your beeswax.” He glanced around with beady eyes.

  Jessica played her trump card. His eyes bulged as she played with the thick wad of notes in her hands.

  “I don’t care about any of that, Adam. I’m just looking for my friend.” She leaned closer and whispered. “I promise he won’t be angry.” She spun the money around on the table. “In fact, I can guarantee he’d be so happy to see me, he’d give you ten of these.” She pinned the money down with a red fingernail and pushed it to the center of the table.

  “Ya gonna give that? All of it?”

  Jessica shuddered as she watched the drool slither from the side of his lips.

  “Yes,” she lilted. He reached out his hand, but she pulled the wad back. “Only if you tell me where to find him.”

  Adam glanced indecisively at his father whose boisterous voice boomed throughout the diner. She tapped her fingers on the bills to draw back his attention. She sighed heavily and opened her bag to put the money away.

  “Stop. I know where he is.” He held out his hand.

  “Ah, not that easy, darling. You haven’t exactly filled me with trust.” She dropped the money inside and zipped up the bag.

  “Then what?”

  “Take me to him,” she shrugged with a grimace as she watched a drop of spittle drip onto his shirt.

  “I ain’t no liar,” he grumbled.

  “Oh, I get it. You have to ask Daddy’s permission first.” She sighed elaborately. “You’re wasting my time. I’ll find someone else who could do with some cash.”

  Jessica got up and without looking back walked out, heading toward the rental a few yards up the street.

  Adam rapped on the window just as she turned the key. She smiled and opened the door. “Wise decision, Adam.”

  He glared at her in response. “Go straight out of town,” he grumbled morosely.

  Jessica patted herself on the back for acting on impulse, or rather instinct, that led her to the small town of Mont Alto, after hiding for a grueling three days inside the Sauna House before she could manage to escape. The Sauna House was situated between Mont Alto and Pond Bank. Pond Bank was the town where they got their supplies and the team went for relaxation. She’d known Dexter wouldn’t go there. He might be hurt but he wasn’t stupid.

  It was easy to bribe some of the young kids on the street who were only too eager to tell the tale of the two mountain men arriving in town with the ‘catch of the day’ as they’d boasted about it at the time. It wasn’t as easy to get the rest of the close-mouthed community to talk and a trip to the Summit Primary care facility ended in a dead end. She had to wait a frustrating week for Geezer Jones and his son to come to town.

  The trip to a hidden cabin in the woods took over an hour. Jessica cut the engine and stared at the quaint picture in front of her. It was big, sturdy and very neat with a luscious garden and a sparkling fountain to finish the picture-perfect home.

  “This is your home?” She couldn’t hide the surprise from her voice.

  Adam snorted. “Da and I live off the ground. We doan like walls around us, no sirree.” He got out of the car and started walking.

  Jessica followed him quickly. She stumbled at the words that floated back to her. “This here is my Ma’s house.” He rapped on the door and pushed it open. “Ma!”

  “Dontcha dare trample inside my house with those muddy boots, boy,” shrieked a surprisingly feminine voice from the inside. A petite, gray-haired woman appeared in the doorway. She sniffed delicately in the air. “Good lord, Adam, when last did you see a bar of soap?” She slapped him against the arm and pointed to the back. “Git! Go and take a shower. You don’t set foot inside until you smell like a field of lavender.”

  “But Ma!”

  “Git!” She stamped her foot. “I’m not talking again, boy. Now git!”

  Jessica stood in amazed wonder as the man who towered over both of them obeyed and disappeared around the house. Her gaze swung back to the woman in the doorway, who watched her unflinchingly.

  “And who might you be and what is such a pretty little thing like you doing with that slug of a son of mine?”

  “I’m Jessica Simmons, thank you for the compliment, and I’m here looking for my friend, Dexter Powell.”

  Her hands landed on her hips. “A friend you say? And just how do I know that?”


  Jessica’s lips trembled as she smiled. The woman might be small and dainty but she obviously learned how to intimidate people, no matter their size or station in life.

  “I’ll wait right here while you go and confirm it with him. I’m sure he’ll only be too happy to see me.”

  “Very well,” she said and closed the door.

  Jessica wasn’t surprised to hear the lock turn. In such a small community trust had to be earned. They all made it clear that they protected their own. The door opened.

  “Name’s Dorothy Jones. Come on in. The boy is taking in a little sun on the side porch.” She pointed down the hallway. “Second door to the right.”

  “Thank you.” Jessica smiled. She quickly walked down the hallway. Her steps slowed, and she hesitated in the doorway, staring with shock at the man hunched in the chaise lounge on the porch. “Dexter?”

  He didn’t move. His gaze remained on the tall trees swaying gently in the breeze. His voice was bleak, lifeless. “How did you find me?”

  “Ah, well, you know me. I’m resourceful.”

  “Did he send you?”

  Jessica didn’t miss the sudden sharpness in his voice. She didn’t ask who he was referring to. She knew.

  “No. I have no idea where he is. He fled with Dan Scott minutes before the Sauna House was invaded.” She walked around to face him. His face was wrapped in a wad of bandages. “What happened to you? They thought you were dead and then I overheard snippets that you disappeared.”

  “Forget about me. How did you avoid capture? Rhone and his team are thorough. They would have turned that place upside down.”

  Jessica frowned. “You don’t trust me,” she said. She forced herself not to rear back as he lifted his eyes. Hatred turned his eyes almost black, the part of his face free of bandages, rigid with what she could only assume was anger.

  “I don’t trust anyone.”

  “You can trust me, Dexter.” She went down on her knees and took his hands. “You gave me a chance at a time that I was destined to end up dead or locked away for good. I owe you. That’s why I’m here. To help you,” she hesitated, “with whatever you need done.”