Again, the never-ending horror replayed in her mind.
“He stepped out from the car, and even from where I was standing, I could smell the stench of his cold filthy arrogance. He’d just taken a child’s life and had no qualms about it. I thought to myself. How is it possible for someone to be so evil?” she said with disgust and watched the interchanging colors on the marquee sign. In perfect precision, the neon colors alternated between red and green. “There was a dead coldness inside of me, and my hands were steady when I raised the gun.” Her voice shook. “I wanted to kill him. I wanted him dead. Inside my head---it was so loud like the stirring of a thousand echoes. Yet, somehow, I heard a faint whisper within the noise.” A wretched sob left her. “It sounded like Gage’s sweet and innocent voice.”
A hot tear plopped against her cheek.
As horrible and painful as the words were, she forced them out.
“Within the horror of that moment, I caught a glimpse of myself----I was a monster,” she whispered in agony. “All I wanted was to serve my selfishness. Somehow, in those dark minutes, I realized something profound. I wanted to kill what was inside of me---the anger, hurt, and grief that was devouring my very soul. The rage---I just wanted to free it.” She let out a shaky breath. “Through the haze, I came back to my senses. I finally understood that not only would I desecrate Gage’s memory, but everyone else who’d become Vitali’s fallen.” Her eyes were tear-swollen as she looked at him. “I don’t know who or what I am anymore. When Gage died, I lost me….I died…” Her words dropped to a whisper. “Sometimes, I question the existence of humanity. That’s how dead I am inside.”
Numbed, she turned away from him again.
To her relief, Rowell said nothing further.
The dark night beckoned as she stared out and tracked the stars overhead.
She forced back the onslaught of fresh tears.
Somewhere, Gage’s star was shining bright. Wasn’t it up to her to ensure that it continued to do so? If she just stood back, continuing to do nothing, she’d only fail him more. And wasn’t it time for her to finally stop running away and actually live again? Deep down, wasn’t that was she was afraid of?
The blinding truth was evident.
Stiffening, she faced Rowell again, and her posture was ramrod straight. “I’ll do what you want. Let’s go over the case.” Her features were so tightened that she feared it’d crack. “We need all the ammo that we can to bring Vitali down once and for all.”
Rowell’s nod was affirmative as he sat down and then inclined his head towards the vacant chair. “Good. Have a seat and let’s talk. We have a lot of shit to dig through, and it reeks like pure shit.”
Forty-five minutes later, Rowell had debriefed her on the latest information against the notorious criminal. Finally, he confiscated another file from his satchel, but this one wasn’t as thick as the others. “We have a new player in Vitali’s game---his illegitimate son, Braden Jameson aka Titan. In short, he’s the game-changer that’s going to blow this situation sky-high.”
Frowning, pen poised in her left hand, she took the file as he passed it. Leaning back in the chair, she began scouring through its contents. After flipping through a few pages, she came upon a photo.
At once, its subject captured her full attention.
She stared back at the glossy photo.
Against her will, her breath caught.
To say that her latest pigeon was good-looking would be a serious understatement.
She had a few choice words to describe him.
How about sexy…dangerous…breathtaking…elusive…
She felt the heat spread across her face.
“He’s as dangerous and reckless as they come.” Rowell peered at her over the file in his hands. “Meet Braden “Titan” Jameson---thirty-three year old billionaire playboy and sole owner of Jameson’s Incorporations. Titan is well-known for his constant warring with his father, whether that’s verbally or financially. While Vitali would never utter the words out loud, it’s evident that he wants to win Jameson’s approval.” He released a foul curse. “Jameson’s business venture is unique because it dabs in a wide mix of things. A technological system enmeshed within trading. Genius endeavor on Jameson’s part, and no doubt, his illegal ventures are wrapped in that. But, when it comes to his personal life,” Rowell swore again. “I swear Jameson’s like a sealed vault---we can’t get any substantial information on the bastard. But, he’s as vile as the rest of the lot.”
From the glossy photo, the piercing gray eyes stared back at her.
A strange awareness seeped through her.
How could all that pretty hold such a monstrous heart?
Still, there was something else there, her mind argued.
Call it a second sense---
There were some similarities between him and his criminal father.
But, easily junior trumped senior in thousands of ways.
Her eyes traveled over the photo.
The picture displayed his mixed features well.
A bloodline that was tinged with Italian, Native-American, and Caucasian counterparts…Perfectly squared jaw line…full lips…closely cropped dark hair…strong masculine features…
The expensive suit was the just right masculine cut.
Along his broad shoulders and further down, it fit all too perfectly.
Yet, the outfit was too tame for a man like him…
A wild and reckless quality breathed from him like fire.
That much, she sensed immediately.
Her gaze settled on his face again.
There was a cool aloofness about him…
A self-confidence that exuded easily----
Outright, a blatant sexiness that was glaringly obvious…
Quickly, she dismissed the disturbing and unwanted thoughts.
“Your job is to get in close,” Shaw said sharply, stealing her attention again. “Win Jameson’s trust and confidence. He may be an unfeeling bastard, but even he’s not immune to the charms of a beautiful woman. Do whatever you have to do to get information. I want you to wrap that bastard so tight around you that he can’t breathe.”
“And Vitali?” She looked at him uncomfortably. Again, she forced the revulsion and self-loathing from her sullied conscience. “I can’t imagine him being okay with me cozying up to his golden boy.”
“Especially since you were Vitali’s lover at one point…look at me, Spencer.” When their gazes met, again, both support and understanding simmered in them. “No one is judging you. Better yet, we all know that it was part of the con. You’re an agent, and unfortunately, sometimes, you have to lie in the bed with a snake to catch one.”
“While true, that thought or the words don’t make me feel better.” She shuddered before shaking her head. “Don’t worry about me. This is what I trained for, even the parts and moments that are sickening and repulsive.”
“Go into this with your eyes wide open. Nothing about this is going to be pretty. The stakes are higher than high, and this will be the most dangerous game that you’ve ever played yet, Isabella. Once you pit father against son, be prepared for the dire and dangerous consequences that will follow.”
“If we’re trapping two slithering snakes at once, I’m prepared for the consequences. The whole point is to make this world a better place in the end, even if it’s not on a grand scale. If it means saving one soul from human trafficking or drugs, that makes everything worth it.”
“That’s why we need you. If there’s anyone that won’t lose sight of the mission, it’s you. While most women will succumb to Jameson’s charms, we know that you won’t. You are the consummate professional. You will get the job done.” He paused in careful consideration. “We appreciate and value your dedication to the agency. If anything, you’ve proven your worth or else we wouldn’t even be standing here.”
“We will win this war, Rowell. I stake my life on it,” she said straightforwardly and meant it. “I’m assuming that
I’m to resume my duties as an exotic dancer at Sinful Shades? After my little disappearing act, that’s my only viable pathway back into Vitali’s life.”
“The bastard’s smitten with you, and I’m sure that it won’t take much to get back in his good graces,” Rowell acknowledged with the slight shake of his head. “But, I want you to be careful around all those heathen drunkards. Things can spiral out of control quickly at a joint like that.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.” She frowned in thought. “And Junior---what’s my inroad to him? Any good pointers or sage pieces of advice?”
“We’ve done the hard part. Next week, there’s a meeting staged to take place between Vitali, Jameson, and other high-ballers at Sinful Shades. On that night, you’ll make your return debut to the stage. After that, the ball’s in your court, and somehow you have to make a connection to Jameson. That connection has to be a close and intimate one. It’s the only way to gain personal information into his private world.” He looked at her hard again. “Isabella, you have to be ready for this---or you will end up paying for it with your life.”
“Trust me. I don’t plan on losing it.”
She returned her attention to the file.
Even under the dim light, Braden’s Jameson’s photo glistened.
The handsome face of a vile criminal…
A total oxymoron in itself…
“If that’s it, Rowell, I’m going to be on my way.” She stood again, and even in the canvas shoes, she stood tall at 5’7”. Along her curvy figure, the joggers and tee molded along her every feminine point. “It’s been a long and exhausting day.”
Rowell pushed away from the table before standing as well. Then, he gave her another pointed look. “Let’s meet back here in a week---same time. Oh, and keep the file on Jameson. Maybe you’ll find something that I’ve overlooked.”
She nodded and shoved the file into her large tote. “Will do. If I discover anything new or interesting, you’ll be the first to know.” Then, she gave him a tight smile before spinning on her heel and heading for the door. After meeting it, she whirled around to face him again. “I suppose that’s it, then.”
“We will win this war, Isabella. When we do, you can finally lay Gage’s ghost to rest.”
“With God’s grace, I hope that we can, and its way past time,” she replied softly, and suddenly her throat seemed too tight. “And just so you know, after all of this is over. I’m done. I’m leaving the agency for good. When I do, I’m never looking back.”
With those words, she stepped out into the dead of night.
Chapter 2
A week later…
The night was young.
11:41 pm to be on point.
But, as always, his mind was heavy with some insane shit.
He frowned in the darkness.
Would he ever embrace mental peace?
Not if his personal demons had a say…
As the disturbing thought rose, he increased the stereo volume, and now the rap song played at an insanely high level in the vehicle. Then, focusing on the lyrics, he stayed on cue and sang along with the rapper. “Taking all my enemies and foes…Wrestling them down until they know…Being real with all my shit…All the muthas gone know I’m legit…”
Minutes later, his agitation continued to grow.
His gaze shot to the rearview mirror for the umpteenth time.
Without a doubt, someone was on his ass.
At first, a few miles back, he hadn’t been paying particular attention to the black SUV until it’d nearly swiped another vehicle. When he’d crossed onto Mulberry Lane and cut onto the interstate, the mysterious vehicle had kept on track with him. For the past 30 miles, it’d marked his direct route. But, perhaps, he was being slightly paranoid, he mulled again. Since his little stint in NYC months back, he’d been so.
Yet, there was a simple way to test his theory further.
Quickly, making a gut reaction, he whipped onto Exit 212 abruptly.
Just as expected, the SUV followed suit.
Surprisingly, on this Saturday night, West Point was nearly deserted. A half or so dozen vehicles crawled down the street way, and a few people were out and about. On most nights, the area was usually over-crowded. Yet, there weren’t that many people milling about at the shopping center and various eating joints.
At the traffic light, he quickly cut a sharp right.
Now, the two-lane street was a straightway again.
With incredible ease and precision, the Bugatti accelerated to 150 mph.
To no surprise, the SUV sped up.
He frowned in the darkness again.
The game of pretense had been shattered.
He had a tracker.
The car ripped down the roadway.
While it did, the bright street lights shone inside and illuminated the black leather seats. Every now and then, at intermittent points, the light would splay on him and fall against the side of his hair-roughened jaw line.
The intense bright light in the rearview mirror was nearly blinding.
At once, his niggling irritation ignited to full outright anger.
The black highly customized SUV was tagging too close.
That was because he was allowing him to, he frowned in the darkness.
Shit, with this baby---his special, elite, and high-tech grey-tinged Bugatti---he could’ve left his ass in the dust miles back. Hell, he was being generous by playing this immature cat-mouse game of tag.
When the Ten-Point Miles gas station fell into view, he purposely slowed down. Now, in the small metropolitan area, too many people were milling about for their little road rage game. While he was seeing red, it wasn’t justifiable that innocent people were hurt.
So, enough with the game…
“Time to find out who you are.” The bitterness tinged him as he glanced in the rear view mirror again. Once more, the glaring sight was unbearable. “And just what it is you want.”
He sped past the rows of gas pumps and drove towards the store’s far left side. Apart from the dumpster, nothing else was there. When he met the side of the building, he braked and came to a full stop, but kept the engine idling.
The SUV made a full loop.
He tensed as it parked on his right.
Quickly, he popped the console before extracting the 45 magnum.
Then, he waited.
The next 20 seconds were intensely tight.
Finally, his tracker made the first move.
Through the tinted window on the passenger’s side, he caught movement from the inside of the other vehicle, and he could make out a shadowed form. In the darkness, his gray eyes narrowed as he awaited the great reveal, and now the adrenaline was pumping through his veins like rapid fire.
Who knew what’d happen next?
With a subtle click, the SUV’s driver’s door popped open. As the trouser clad leg extended through the opening and the booted foot touched the pavement, his tension increased ten-fold. But, as soon as the mysterious driver’s identity was revealed in full open view, he released a fast expletive. “What the hell?”
He killed the motor quick and sprang from the car.
His movement was fast as he placed the loaded gun under his waistband. Unsurprisingly, the cold steel made the black suit pants more uncomfortable.
He made a steady approach towards his potential assailant.
Who else would it be but him?
Akumu…
His estranged father’s most faithful and loyal lapdog…
Standing at 6’5” and packing at least 350 pounds, the Hawaiian-born goon seemed like an over-stuffed teddy bear. Yet, there was hardly anything cute and cuddly about him, he surmised, sliding a fast glance over the goon’s brightly colored top and white trousers. In fact, Akumu was a cold-blooded killer on steroids when provoked or given strict orders. There were no limits to his range of gory-filled violence. Decapitation, hangings, acid baths…those were just some of his cruel acts of
vengeance. In short, the man’s chest cavity was devoid of a heart.
When only a few feet separated them, he stopped walking.
“No time, no see.” The goon passed a malicious smile, but then stiffened upon realizing that he was packing heat. “How’s it going, Titan?”
His own smile was tight. “As if you really give a damn.”
Across the short distance, they eyed each other.
It was apparent.
Neither of them trusted the other.
Though their previous encounters hadn’t led to any bloodshed or violence, there was no point in being weak or playing stupid. At any point, their tentative non-violent associations could change in a heartbeat.
“Ah, come on, don’t be like that. No point in all of this hostility, now is it?” In the darkness, the man’s black eyes shone like onyx. Again, the coldness in them was off putting. “You’re your father’s son. So naturally, I have a soft spot for you.”
“Bullshit,” he snapped fast and forced his rising ire back. Then, he released an impatient breath. “Enough with the camaraderie---just get to the point. Why in the hell are you tailing me?”
“What’s with this game of clueless, tonight, Titan?” Akamu scoffed with an angry glare. The lamplight shone on his black hair which was sleeked back and tied in a ponytail. The ends of it brushed against his collared shirt. “The grand meeting of criminal minds is on hold because of you. Pops said that you backed out and weren’t coming---”
“Pops?” he interrupted with an icy smile. “Well, well, at least someone’s willing to place a paternal label on him, as sick, pathetic, and ridiculous it may be. Unsurprisingly, loyalty such as yours only comes from those that lack blood ties to him.” He met the man’s eyes dead on. “What does he have on you? How much do you owe him? Bet he has your balls so tied in a knot that you can’t even piss straight.” His smile was so icy tight now that his face seemed bound to crack. “It’s a given. When you owe Vitali a debt, it never gets paid off.”
“What can I say?” Akumu shrugged with an uncomfortable look, and it was obvious that he’d struck a nerve. “He’s been good to me. I owe him a lot.” His slightly shaken look turned to one of impatience. Then, to emphasize his changing mood, he cracked his beefy knuckles while eyeing him closely. Of course, it was one of his first typical scare tactics. “Enough with the chatter---it’s time to bounce. Get your ass in the truck. I’m taking you in.”
Rise of the Titan Page 3
