Jordan's Quest: Bad Boy Mafia Dark Romance book (The Generals' Sons 1)

by Veronica Cane

  "Do you think you can explain her disappearance without raising too many waves?"

  "Yes, of course." Hernandez assured.

  "Good. I'll take care of her, then."

  Ashley struggled in the man's arms, trying to free herself, almost collapsing as she heard the man holding her talk about her disappearance as if it was a meaningless topic.

  Jordan walked away from his men and the guards and called General Marquez immediately. He wanted confirmation of the Colombians story. "General, it's me, Jordan Martinez."

  "Jordan, my boy, how are you? It's been a while since we talked."

  "I'm alright, general, but this isn’t a social call. I've just been told you requested part of the shipment I was to send to Miami today." He went straight to the point, with no patience for politeness.

  "Oh, I have no idea, I've put Jonathan in charge of all that. I really don’t have the time to worry about those things." The old man said, and Jordan gritted his teeth. "You should get in touch with him."

  "I will, thank you."

  "And remember to go around the house, your godmother misses you. She was telling me the other day she hasn’t seen you in a long time." The other man said.

  "I will. You know I have been pretty busy."

  "Alright, son, take care."

  Jordan ended the call quickly and dialed Jonathan Marquez number. "Jordan, what's up?"

  "Did you request 400 kilos from my shipment?" he asked directly.

  "Oh, well, yes. I had that promised to the Honduran people, and I was sure you wouldn’t mind, since this shipment was headed to our own people in Miami." The barefaced hoodlum explained.

  "Next time, you check with me first. It's not my responsibility to cover for your mistakes." Jordan ranted.

  "Chill out man, we all work together." Jonathan said, on the other side of the line and Jordan wished he could smash his face to wipe off the mocking smile he knew was on his face.

  "Yes, we work together, so you'll check with me first." He repeated, in a threatening tone and ended the call, barely keeping at bay his desire of smashing his phone against the floor.

  He took a few deep breaths before he went back to where his men were waiting.

  When he was only a few steps from them, he realized something was wrong.

  "What's going on here?" he asked in a cold tone. "Wilson, who's that woman?"

  The man holding Ashley sighed, and slowly turned around.

  "Someone we caught spying on us, boss." Wilson answered.

  Shocked, Ashley looked at Jordan Martinez as he came in her line of sight.

  "No one of importance, I'll take care of her immediately." Wilson continued.

  But Jordan wasn’t listening to him. His eyes were locked on hers, and his had an almost devilish shine on. "Miss Perez… I can't believe my luck." He said with a mocking tone. When Jordan had seen his men holding an eyewitness, his first thought had been 'Damn, more trouble', but when he laid his eyes on the woman, his whole body tensed up in anticipation.

  "You know her boss?" Wilson asked, surprised, but once again he was ignored.

  "Eavesdropping? I never thought that would be your style." Jordan continued, closing the distance between them.

  She squirmed, desperate, caught in Wilson's huge arms, her pleas muffled by the man's powerful hand. She felt like a doll, manhandled by a giant.

  "Now, what should I do with you? Should I let Wilson finish you off? That would be such a waste, don’t you think?" he ran a finger down her chest, circling her breasts from the base, spiraling up to the top. "Or maybe I should take what you have been denying me for the last couple of months." With these words, he pinched her nipples hard, for a few moments, relishing on the pain reflected in her eyes. "Let her speak." He ordered Wilson.

  The man reluctantly moved his hand away from her mouth.

  Shivering, Ashley took a deep breath. "Please… I didn’t see anything… I swear…" she managed to say through raspy breaths.

  "Now, sweetie, you disappoint me. Where's the feisty spirit I thought you had?" he said with scorn.

  "Please…" she begged again.

  He grabbed her chin hard, pushing her head towards him, with an evil grin. Now, she was in his hands. "Your fate, my darling, has been sealed." His words had such a fatidic nuance that she sobbed, in deep despair. "Tie her up, and put her in a secure place. I'll take care of her later." He ordered Wilson.

  "Yes, boss, right away. You should send Hernandez to give an explanation for her disappearance." Wilson suggested, muffling Ashley's whimpers with his big hand again.

  "Can you do that, Hernandez?" Jordan asked.

  "Yes, Mr. Martinez, of course." The other man confirmed, eager to please.

  "Then do it now. We're all set with this cargo and I don’t want any more trouble." He returned to where the suitcases awaited, ignoring Ashley's struggle as Wilson and Garcia wrapped duct tape around her wrists, behind her back, around her ankles and over her mouth, before carrying her to a storage room nearby and throwing her on the floor.

  Chapter Five

  The men finished preparing the suitcases and putting them on a luggage carrier. Garcia took the driver's seat and Jordan sat next to him, and they left in the direction of the small private plane parked nearby waiting for its cargo to take off.

  Jordan insisted on escorting the drugs to the plane himself. He wanted to be sure everything went smoothly. But his mind couldn’t focus entirely on his job, every two seconds it would go back to Ashley Perez.

  Ashley closed her eyes, trying to get a hold of herself and calm down. She had to do something to get out of this situation. She had never been so scared in her life, as when Hernandez had pointed his gun at her, and when that Wilson guy had grabbed her.

  Trying to breath as normal as she could, she finally managed to sit down, her back against the wall. Now, she had to find a way to untie herself and get the hell out of there before they returned. She was still shocked with the confirmation of the rumors around Jordan Martinez and his family.

  In her mind millions of dreadful images swirled around and she was having serious trouble trying to stay calm and think. She looked around trying to see anything in the dark room, but she couldn’t, so finding something that might help her was out of the question.

  Then she remembered she had seen in a movie how the prisoner had managed to pass his hands through his legs. If she could do that she would be able to remove her gag and cut through the duct tape.

  She struggled and squirmed until she was able to do it. Tears of relief ran down her cheeks and she ripped the tape off of her mouth. Quickly, she started to tear off the tape imprisoning her hands and only seconds later she was removing the ones on her ankles.

  Free again, she got up and walked to the door. She hadn’t heard them locking it, so she was sure she would find it open.

  Before she opened it, she glued her ear to it, and when she was sure no one was outside, she slowly opened the door and looked around.

  There was no one nearby, but she could hear the Wilson guy, so they couldn’t be too far. She took off her heels, and with them in her hands, she started running in the opposite direction of where she could hear the men.

  She was about to reach the stairs that gave access to the departures area, when she heard a luggage carrier approaching. To her dismay, Jordan Martinez was in the passenger seat, and he spotted her immediately.

  Terrified, she let out a small cry and started to run faster, hearing him jumping out of the carrier and coming after her. She reached the door and opened it, running up the stairs, but her feet wearing nylon stockings made her slip and fall, and that was all it took for him to reach her, while she was still lying flat on the floor.

  With a victorious growl, he grabbed her by her bun, and pulled her up. His other hand wrapped itself around her neck, squeezing hard as he pulled her against his chest.

  “Going somewhere, Miss Perez?” he grunted in her ear.

  “Please… I won’t say a
nything…” she begged, crying desperately.

  He simply laughed at her pleas. Behind them, they heard footsteps as his men approached.

  “How did she manage to escape?” he asked turning to face them, in a very cold tone.

  “I… I didn’t think she would be able to free herself…” Wilson mumbled, obviously worried.

  “Don’t you ever assume anything. Make sure, be certain.” He scolded his man, dragging her out of the stairway. Go get my car. I want privacy to take care of this little slut.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Wilson ran out, while Jordan kept dragging her to a more secluded place.

  "Please…" she tried again, but he immediately covered her mouth and nose, and pressed hard.

  "I don’t want to hear a fucking sound from you again, cunt, so keep your mouth shut, do you hear me?" he threatened her, only letting go of her when she managed to nod.

  In just a couple of minutes a black hummer, with Wilson behind the wheel and Garcia in the passenger seat, stopped near them.

  Jordan pushed her into the back seat, and took a seat next to her. "Let's go." He ordered, and they left the place.

  He grinned deviously when she moved as far as possible from him. There was no escape for her, and soon she would learn that.

  Ashley dragged herself to the other side of the car seat, almost pressing herself against the door, refusing to look at him, making a huge effort pretending he wasn’t there.

  She considered the idea of throwing herself out of the car, but even without trying she knew the doors were locked and that she wouldn’t be able to open them.

  She couldn’t believe what was going on. How the hell had she fallen into this situation? What would this man do to her? Was he planning on killing her? Millions of possibilities ran through her mind, raising her levels of anguish to the roof.

  The trip must have lasted at least half an hour, but it felt like centuries for her. During this whole time, he didn’t do a thing, he just stayed there, staring at her with that hideous smile on his face that she was able to see out of the corner of her eyes.

  Chapter Six

  Finally, they entered through a huge iron gate, and seconds later the car stopped in front of the house's main door. The place was so big, it looked like a small palace.

  He hopped out of the car and barked a few orders to the other two men, and disappeared inside the house leaving her still inside the car.

  Scared with his absence, she looked at the other men, as they hopped out of the car. Wilson, with an evil grimace, opened her door, and dragged her out of the car, burying his fingers into her arm, as if he wanted to break it.

  "Let's go puta, we have to settle some accounts." He snarled at her, taking her inside the house. He guided her down the hall and then downstairs, to what looked like a basement, so fast she wasn’t even able to look around, and memorize the way. Garcia joined them, seconds later, carrying a bag, in silence.

  Wilson hauled her through a dark corridor, until they reach a door almost at the end of it. He opened the door and threw her inside, entering behind her and turning on a light. They were in a small room that looked exactly like a prisoner's cell, with a small bed, a sink and a toilet.

  Ashley turned to look at both men, shivering and Wilson knocked her down on the bed with a painful slap to her face.

  She let out a small cry, and covered her aching face with her hand, looking scared at the man.

  "I should kill you right here and right now, puta, for making me look bad in front of the boss." He ranted, closing the distance between them, and grabbing her by her hair bun, forcing her to draw her face near his. "But it seems he has other plans for you." His fist hit her stomach hard, expelling all the air from her lungs, as an explosion of pain ran through her whole body.

  "Please…" she mumbled.

  "Rest assure though, that the time will come, and when it does I'll make sure you pay dearly for it." He let her fall back onto the bed and stretched out his hand to Garcia.

  Garcia took some ropes out of the bag he was carrying and handed them to Wilson.

  Rudely, he turned her round over the bed and started tying her hands, behind her back, in box formation, wrists to elbows, making sure she wouldn’t be able to release herself. Then he tied her ankles together and pulled them back, making her bend her knees, and tying that to her arms. She couldn’t even move.

  "Let's see if you'll be able to get out of that one, slut." He challenged her with a dark laugh.

  They left the room, and this time she was able to hear the sound of the door being locked behind them.

  She buried her face on the mattress and started crying hopelessly.

  Jordan had spent the ride home looking at Ashley. He was eager to put his hands on her, but he wanted to have all the time in the world when he finally did so. When they got to the house, he had ordered Wilson and Garcia to lock her up while he finished the details regarding the shipment. He needed to call his contact in Miami and tell his father everything had gone alright, despite the fact they were short four hundred kilos of the purest cocaine.

  "Marcus, Jordan here. How are you?" he greeted his friend.

  "Jordan, my man. All great, as usual. Did you send me my gift?" his friend asked with his usual mocking tone.

  "It's on its way. A bit less than expected, but I'm sure you'll be able to fix that." He explained, still furious with the whole story. But there were many ways to render a kilo of pure cocaine and his friend knew them all.

  "What happened?" Marcus asked curious.

  "The Marquez happened. They requested 400 kilos from the Colombians, to cover for the cargo they supposedly lost." He had told his friend about his suspicions and unlike Jordan's father, Marcus shared his opinion on the Marquez family.

  "I see. You still don’t have any clues on that matter?" Marcus asked.

  "Nothing yet. But I'm sure we haven’t seen the last of it. Something tells me they will do it again, and more often now. They must be feeling pretty safe, since nobody seems to suspect anything." Jordan added, in a bitter tone.

  "I could take care of them for you. You know I have an excellent team here, and they never leave any traces." Marcus offered.

  "Yes, I know. But I need evidence first. I won't go against the rest of the cartel without proof. Anyway, I'll let you know."

  "As you wish. You know you can count on me."

  "I know."

  "Well, as soon as I get the cargo, I'll let you know."

  "Yes, please. You shouldn’t have much trouble, but you never know."

  "When are you going to pay me a visit?" Marcus asked. They always had a great time together, partying when they got together.

  "Soon, I have a few things to solve here." They chatted a little while longer before Jordan ended the call, and called his father.

  "Hello, father." He greeted the general.

  "Was everything alright this time?" his father asked, straight to the point.

  "Yes, but your friends the Marquez cut us short on four hundred kilos." He notified him.

  "I know, Jonathan just called me to tell me you called him to scold him." The cold tone in his father's voice, let Jordan know he wasn’t happy.

  "And what did you expect me to do? I was only notified of this change of plans when I got to the airport to settle the shipment." Jordan asked, trying to keep calm. His father could be very hard to please.

  "You have to remember the Marquez are our partners."

  Jordan sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, father. Other than that, all went well. The cargo should arrive to its destination in about four hours."

  "Good, keep me notified, and leave the Marquez alone. I don’t want unnecessary problems." His father warned him.

  "You should give that advice to your friends." After that he quickly said goodbye to his father and ended the call. Like in so many things, he just didn’t see eye to eye with his father.

  A few moments after he ended the call, Wilson and Garcia entered his office
.

  "All done, boss. The little wench is locked up." Wilson told him.

  "Good. I've warned Miami and my father, so we are all set for today. You can take the rest of the day off." Jordan told them, as he filed a few papers in his briefcase.

  "Have you decided what you're going to do with la putita?" Wilson asked.

  "Don’t worry about her. I will take care of her from now on." Jordan informed him, with a devilish grin.

  "I would be more than happy to take care of that for you, boss." Wilson offered, and Jordan looked at him, puzzled with his insistence.

  "Any reason in particular?" he asked, resting his hands over his hips, in a threatening position.

  Wilson noted he was swimming in deep waters and took a step back. "No, boss, none what so ever, I was just trying to be helpful."

  "She is mine, understood?" he informed him in a very cold tone. "Tomorrow, I want you to run a background check on her. I want to know everything there is to know about her." He ordered Wilson.

  "Yes, boss, anything you need."

  "Boss, now that I'm thinking about it… isn’t she the stewardess you have been after…" Garcia pointed out, unaware of the tension between the other two men.

  "Garcia, let's get out of here, I need a cold drink and a sweet whore in my arms." Wilson, cut him off, pushing Garcia out of Jordan's office, and closing the door behind them.

  "Hey, why did you do that?" Garcia protested.

  Wilson ran his hand through his dark face and sighed. "Sometimes, Garcia, I think you live in another dimension."

  "What? Why do you say that?" Garcia, a tall, thin, gawky man, in his early thirties was that kind of person that simply wasn’t able to see the nuances of the things happening around him.

  "Didn’t you notice how tense the boss was? And you say he has been after this woman, for a while now?" Wilson explained.

  "Yes, I'm sure it's the same one. She's the reason he has been flying on commercial flights." Garcia explained. He had been Jordan's bodyguard for some time now. "But, she has always rejected him."