by Linzi Basset
“Dead? Ethan is dead? How?”
“I had him thrown in jail. He forced himself into my domain and dared to make demands.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He was under my personal guard’s, shall we say, intensive care for six months. By the time they were done with him, he could barely walk, so we left him in the desert.”
“Oh my god! That’s so cruel,” Delia gasped but swallowed her pity at the chilled look Khalid slanted at her.
“We found his remains or rather, what was left after the wild animals scavenged it, a month later.”
He lit a thin cigar and blew the smoke into the air with obvious relish. His gaze seared hers through the ribbon of fumes that twisted and swirled in the air.
“Tell him about his father’s demise, wife and do it soon. The council has finally accepted the story that Jaxon is my illegitimate son and that you and I met years ago on a trip to the US. He is now legally my son and successor and no longer a Brodie, but Saud. He is my heir, make no mistake about that.”
“But—”
“No buts, Delia. He will be the next prince of this country, whether he wants to or not, even if I must force him to see the error of his ways. I didn’t fight the council on this for the past seven years for nothing! One way or the other, he will accept his destiny.”
He opened the door, an indication that the meeting was over. “And henceforth, he will be called by his Arab name—Abdul Bari Saud, which means servant of the creator. Anyone who dares utter the name Jaxon again, will face my wrath.”
* * * * * * * *
“I’m sorry, Jaxon, but it’s the truth. Your father died in the desert three years ago.”
“I don’t believe you. It’s just another twisted lie to control me.”
Delia shook her head. Jaxon refused to believe the sadness in her eyes as real. He would know in his heart if his dad was dead.
“He won’t lie about something like that. Accept it, Jaxon, for your own sake.”
“No! He’s not dead and I will prove it to you, Mother. I will find him and no one is going to stop me. Least of all that dictator you married.”
“You will not talk about the future King with such disrespect!”
Jaxon simmered with anger. He found it inconceivable that she continued to side with Khalid. Did she honestly believe that he wasn’t aware of the way Khalid abused her?
“He’s no king. His people fear him. They hate him and he abuses you.”
“He does not. Sometimes he just . . . he just loses his temper with me.”
“He hits you black and blue, Mother! He doesn’t even care that others notice. Why can't you see him for the man he is?” Jaxon shook his head, his voice softened. He asked with a sad expression on his face. “Is money and status that important to you? More than your own self-worth?”
“It’s not about the money. I love him,” she defended herself.
“Bullshit! You only married him for his money.”
Crack!
The slap echoed through the room. Delia stared in shock at her son who was just looking at her unblinking, his face hard.
“Watch your language, young man. I will not tolerate you talking to me like that. I’m your mother and you will respect me for that. Your father is dead. Accept it and embrace your future here.” She stomped toward the door. Her voice cracked. “There is no escape from this.”
Jaxon watched her leave. His shoulders slumped. “He’s not dead. I feel him in my heart. I must get out of here and find him. I can’t live like this any longer. I want to be with him.”
Jaxon listened to his words echo back to him. He glanced around, as always irritated with the excessive luxury and riches surrounding him while so many people in the world suffered.
“Only that insufferable asshole would think locking me in here, for any length of time, would be punishment.”
Jaxon sighed and walked out onto the wide-open balcony. He sat on the stone ledge and stared out to the stables at the far side of the palace grounds.
He hated everything about Saudi Arabia. The city was modern, but nothing compared to what he could remember from home. The barren desert wasn’t a life he wanted yet had been forced to accept. Khalid Saud was already sharpening his teeth to be crowned king. His father had taken ill and the doctors had warned them he didn’t have long to live.
That was what concerned Jaxon. He knew that Khalid would announce him as his successor once he became king—forcibly if needed, and then there won’t be any turning back.
“And I have no fucking intention of bowing to his rule. Ever! I want to go back to the US. To Dad.”
His voice broke at the thought of his father. Of how much he missed him even after all these years. He’d heard some rumors a couple years ago about an American asking questions about ‘his’ son. That day, he’d known what he had suspected for years—that his father had never abandoned him.
Jaxon had been biding his time and worked hard to build his strength. Dad had trained him in Krav Maga since he’d turned five and he continued practicing until he’d perfected the moves. He’d smuggled in videos from trips into the city, which had helped him to advance even further.
Khalid made sure he was watched like a hawk. His cell phone had been blocked from receiving or making international calls. Even internet surfing was limited to certain sites and no matter how hard he’d tried over the years to find information about his father, Khalid found a way to block it. His outgoing emails were monitored as well. Jaxon’s life was effectively limited to whatever Khalid allowed.
Jaxon didn’t trust any guards allocated to watch for him. Not even Ahmed Hussain, his supposed confidant. Too many things that he’d told Ahmed in confidence over the years had reached Khalid’s ear. Now, Jaxon only told him things he wanted Khalid to know.
The one person he did trust, was the horse trainer who had been brought over from the US three months ago, to prepare the race horses for the annual racing circuits—the Triple Crown in the US, Royal Ascot and Longchamp in the UK and Melbourne.
Jaxon didn’t hesitate and standing up on the ledge, he took a deep breath, sprinted ahead and lunged through the air to land against the massive palm tree next to his balcony with precise aim. He grasped for the straps he kept hidden in the branches and used them to climb down the tree within seconds. He ran through a row of palms toward the stables where he knew he would find the horse trainer.
Steven Brown was a tall, dark blond, thirty-year-old man and as strong as an ox. He’d helped Jaxon in building his strength and had become his sparring partner.
Steven looked up from where he was busy rubbing down a prized stallion when Jaxon jogged around the corner.
“Hey, Jax. No tutoring today?”
“Done already. I was wondering . . .” Jaxon hesitated, wondering if he was making a mistake in trusting Steven. Everyone in this goddamned palace was under Khalid Saud’s power.
“Yeah, I’m listening,” Steven prodded.
“When are you going back to the US?”
Steven glanced at him searchingly. He’d detected the boy’s unhappiness the first time they’d met and had tried his best to make his life easier. He clenched his teeth in frustration. If only the governor would give him the go ahead. He’d have the young boy out of there in a flash.
But, like the Governor of Maryland had explained, whom he’d been reporting to for the past year, they needed proof to nail Khalid Saud for sex trafficking. More importantly, find the link between him and the crime syndicate, the Sixth Order, in the US. Governor Alex White was passionately against foreign states abusing the treaties they had with the US. There are too many innocent American women who fell prey to sex slavery in the Arabian countries. Khalid Saud was suspected to be at the forefront of the racket.
“I’ll be accompanying the horses to the Belmont Crown in a couple of weeks. Why do you ask?”
“I want to go with you. Please, Steven! I have to find my father.”
“I guess it’s not something your mo
ther and the prince agree to?” Steven asked. He handed Jaxon the brush and led the horse to his stable.
“Gmpf, you guessed right. He thinks he can force me to become his successor,” Jaxon snorted.
“Well, that’s quite a tall order for a youngster like you,” Steven replied noncommittally.
“Tall order, my ass. I’m not an Arab and the crown doesn’t belong to me. It should be going to his cousin’s son. He’ll be placing a fucking big red X on my forehead the day he declares me his successor. No thank you.” Jaxon paced the large open space in front of the stabled horses. “I never wanted to be here and I sure as hell don’t want to be a prince. All I want is to go home and find my dad.”
“How do you propose we get you out, Jax? You have a guard on you day in and day out.”
“I’ll figure something out but one way or the other, I will find a way to leave this country; with or without your help.”
“Easy there, Jax. I’m not saying I won’t help but you have to be sensible.”
Steven glanced at Jaxon with concern. He was far more mature and clever than one would expect from a fifteen-year old. He could see the hatred shining in Jaxon’s gaze as he stared toward the palace.
“I know that but I’m desperate, Steven. Please, you have to get me out of here.”
“What about your mother? You do know that once you leave here you might never see her again,” he asked gently.
“I remember my dad always said that we are all the masters of our own destiny. My mother chose her own path. Greed has been a driving force in her life. She doesn’t care about me. Not anymore. Now it’s time for me to find my destiny.”
Chapter Three
“Glad to see you’re back, Ethan,” Rhone drawled. “You look tired.”
Ethan slumped into the sofa across from Rhone, in his spacious office at Club Devil’s Cove. He leaned his head back.
“I’m beat. The conference was intense and to top it off, I had to present six sessions over four days.”
“Your research in the field of cancer studies has been ground breaking. No wonder you’re sought after.”
“Hm,” was Ethan’s only response. His body slumped deeper into the plush leather. Rhone heard his breathing turn deep.
“You’re an electric charge most of the times, Ethan. Four days wouldn’t have tired you out this much. What’s up?”
Ethan pushed back the temptation to tumble into a void of despair that he always struggled with around Jaxon’s birthday. The longing became more pronounced then.
“He turned fifteen last week, Rhone.”
“Fuck, I forgot about that. It’s been seven years. A lifetime to be without your son.”
“Yeah,” Ethan sighed and sat upright. “I wonder if the longing will ever stop. Not to mention the hate and resentment toward Delia and Khalid.”
“If you want to try again, Ethan, we’re geared up now to get in and out without being detected with the Sikorsky S-97 Raider chopper. And all the guys will support you. For that matter, so will Ruark and Bracus.”
Ethan didn’t respond. It was a tempting offer, one he would need to think over. His last attempt to reach Jaxon had been unplanned and impulsive, which was why he’d almost ended up dead. With the entire team and a proper plan, they might just succeed to bring his son home.
“What if he doesn’t want to come back?” The fear of rejection always gnawed at him. Delia may have poisoned Jaxon’s mind against his him.
“I don’t believe that, Ethan. You and Jaxon had a very strong bond from the day he was born. He was already eight years old when they left. He would know you didn’t desert him. That boy worshipped the ground you walked on, Ethan. No, I don’t believe for one second that he wouldn’t want to be with you. Especially knowing what kind of a fucktard Prince Khalid Saud is.”
“Are we going to fetch your boy, Ethan?” Keon’s guttural voice sounded from the doorway where he’d been listening quietly since he walked in a couple of minutes ago. He sat down next to Ethan. “The guys and I discussed it at the Dom-trainee session on Wednesday. They’re on board. Just say the word, mate.”
“Yeah, and we’re itching for some excitement,” Jack intoned as he, Max, Lance and Richard piled through the door. Suddenly the spacious office was crammed full of muscled bodies and testosterone.
“Give me some time to think about it. I don’t want all of you to end up in Khalid’s hands. If that happens, we’re all dead. There won’t be anyone to come and save us.”
“Gmpf, as if I would allow that to happen,” Samantha said from the doorway. She walked inside and sat on the arm of Rhone’s chair. Her sweet smile enticed him to lean closer for a hard, passionate kiss.
“Nor would I,” said Lauren, Keon’s wife who followed her sister inside.
“You, my dear wife, will keep your cute little ass right here in DC,” Keon growled but pulled her onto his lap into a protective embrace.
“You don’t know the Francis sisters well if you think we won’t do everything in our power to—”
“It seems that you’ll be chained to the bed for an extended time should we decide to go,” Rhone interrupted Samantha with a warning glint in his eyes.
Samantha pouted but decided not to push him any further. He wouldn’t think twice before doing exactly that, like he’d done a couple of times before.
“Let’s not get ahead of us. I’ll give it some thought but for now, it’s Friday night and I have some energy to expunge.” Ethan smiled as Samantha visibly relaxed against Rhone.
“You’re on CM duty for the following hour, Ethan but I’ll take over. Go and reboot. There’s nothing like a hot, wet . . . ehm,” Max cleared his throat at the hisses from the two sisters, “I guess you know what I mean,” he ended with a grin.
Ethan laughed. The tension was slowly receding from his muscles. He got up and sauntered toward the door. “No need, Max but thanks for the offer. I’ll use the hour to find the perfect sub to ease my tension. An erotic whipping would be the ideal way to turn emotional stress into sexual bliss.”
“Just mention it in passing and every available sub will line up. Your skill with the flogger is well known,” Lance said. He accompanied Ethan to the entertainment area.
“I tried calling you a couple of times last week,” he said with a glass of bourbon in his hand, once they were at the bar. He searched Ethan’s expression as he sipped on the amber liquid. Of all the friends, he was the closest to him and had felt his suffering like it was his own when Jaxon had been taken away. He was aware how hard it was for Ethan this time of the year.
“You know how I get, Lance. I spent all my free time canoeing.”
Ethan flexed his biceps and winced. A week later and his muscles still pinched from over exertion. He’d paddled for hundreds of miles every day until he was drenched in sweat and so tired, his mind had shut off. It was his coping mechanism.
“Sometimes I wish I had died in the desert,” Ethan said. His mind was on a vision far in the past.
“Don’t say that, Ethan. Even if you decide not to go for him again, I believe that Jaxon will find a way to come back; even if it’s years from now.”
“It’s hell knowing he’s out there and I can’t get to him, Lance. I fucking hate . . . no, I promised myself I would let it go.” Ethan released a resigned sigh. “Khalid told his men to leave me for the scavengers, Lance. I’ll never forget the glee in his voice when he told them. I can’t take the chance with Jaxon’s life. Khalid is not to be trusted.”
He finished the remainder of his drink. “Wade, hand me a CM band, please,” he asked the club manager who was doing double duty as bartender since it was very busy.
“It’s a full house tonight, Master Apollo. Good luck,” Wade said with a wink. “I’ll see if I can find a volunteer to assist you and Mistress Pam in the dungeon.”
“Give me a band, Wade. Might as well do two hours now and have the rest of the night open to play,” Lance instructed. He pulled the bright red armband wit
h the black letters CM over his bulging bicep. “Well, let’s hope everyone is here to enjoy themselves and not overstep the rules.”
“Excuse me, Master Apollo,” July, a club coordinator, called as she rushed toward them. “One of the subs has interrupted Master Goliath’s scene and he’s furious. He’s threatening to whip her.” Her eyes were wide as she led the way for them.
“Let me guess, the sub isn’t backing down?” Ethan said enigmatically. The club rules were very clear and as a Senior Master, he expected every member to abide by them. Subs understood the repercussions of disobeying them but there were a couple of sassy ones who liked to push a Dom beyond his resolve. Master Goliath―Bruce Rickett―was Keon’s cousin and good friend to all of them. He was visiting from Los Angeles to celebrate Keon’s daughter, Beckie’s twelfth birthday. Master Goliath was a powerful and very experienced Dom who wouldn’t allow pertinence from a sub.
A loud shriek, followed by jeering laughter echoed from the Devil’s Nest chamber where all the fucking machines were kept.
“I better check it out.” Lance saluted Ethan and walked toward the cachinnation of male laughter and female cries.
“Catch up with you later, mate,” Ethan said. He lengthened his strides when Goliath’s furious bark echoed through the hallway.
“You aren’t going anywhere, sub. You deserve punishment for your impertinence,” Master Goliath’s voice thundered throughout the whipping chamber. His name did his huge frame justice. Most subs cowered before him when he was angry.
“Let go of me, you big bully,” the sub responded.
Ethan’s ears pricked at the husky voice. He couldn’t see her because she was hidden behind the hulk of the Dom, but that voice belonged to none other than the sub who’d won him in the opening treasure hunt—and his prude Clinic Manager, Paige Scott.
“July, please fetch me a collar with a leader chain from Dom Wade,” Ethan instructed. “Is there a problem, Goliath?”
Goliath turned around with the redhead still in his grasp, making her stumble into Ethan’s arms. Her eyes shot to his. They widened when she recognized him. Ethan watched with fascinated interest how the green speckles swirled in the charcoal gray depth of her irises.
