by Linzi Basset
“I thought you were . . . weak and needed rest,” she finally managed to whisper when she caught her breath.
His chuckled rasped into her ear, followed by passionate kisses on her nape.
“What better way to energize a man than a hot, wet pussy, my love; especially one as sweet as yours.”
“Ethan, no! Your wound! You have to slow down,” Paige cried when he flipped her on her back and slowly licked his way down the center of her body.
His quirky smile was too endearing for her to resist. She reached up and traced his lips.
“The day I have to slow down in enjoying your charms, is the day I’ll be six feet under, my sweet. Now . . . about deep cleaning my tool . . .”
Paige shrieked when he spread her legs wide and buried his face between her thighs.
“Your tool has just been cleaned very properly,” she gasped when he lapped at her clit with the flat part of his tongue.
“Ah no, my lovely Paige. You got it wrong. It’s this tool of mine that needs deep cleansing,” he said and with a growl pushed his tongue deep inside her pussy.
For the next hour the only sounds Paige managed were moans, groans and cries of rapture as Ethan blatantly took advantage of her concern for his ‘wound’ to gorge on her sensual body.
Chapter Sixteen
“You cannot go in there, Sir! I am calling security.”
Paul Burgess frowned as his PA’s voice rose through the closed door of his office at the headquarters of Crown International, the primary base where he operated under an assumed name. He was in the process of rising when the door slammed open and banged against the wall. Paul didn’t blink.
“Call off your yapping dog, Burgess.” Prince Khalid’s voice boomed so loud the windows shook.
Paul nodded his acquiescence to his PA. She glowered at the large man who simply plunked down in the sofa, followed by his cousin, Borak.
“Please ensure we’re not disturbed,” Paul instructed as he walked around his desk to join the two men in the informal seating area of his office. The view of Central Park was magnificent, which was the reason he had chosen this location. He kept his expression impassive even though he was fuming inside. How the prince had found his offices worried him, especially as he ensured such details were kept from all their associates. He always held meetings in remote locations where his identity as well as the Sixth Order’s would remain intact. This irresponsible action could easily expose them to the ever-watchful eyes of the FBI.
“How did your horses fair in The Kentucky Derby, Prince Khalid?” Paul enquired politely.
“I got first and third,” he replied through pursed lips. His chest puffed out in pride. “I am going to take the Triple Crown this year; I have no doubt about that.”
“A crowning achievement, I’m sure,” Paul said blithely. The prince’s narrowing eyes warned him that he hadn’t missed the thinly veiled insult.
“I don’t appreciate being stood up, Burgess,” Khalid barked. He grunted as he shifted his large body around to find a comfortable spot. “I abhor these hard leather seats,” he grumbled. “So?” He pinned Paul with a mean-spirited glare.
“And you weren’t. You were met by our very capable operations manager.”
Khalid’s jaw began to tick, cheeks turning red with the anger burning hotly under his collar.
“I told you I wanted to meet with you. Not your second-in-charge. It’s an insult. Or did you forget who I am?” He bellowed as he surged upright, saliva spitting from his mouth.
"Sit down, please Prince Khalid. I don’t appreciate my domain being infiltrated without prior notice either,” Paul said with suppressed anger. “I’m surprised that a man of your status doesn’t understand that.”
His anger didn’t slip past Khalid, who sneered at him. “Surprised? You shouldn’t be, Burgess. Just because I’m from the Middle East doesn’t make me stupid or uncouth. We have just as much access to up market technology as you do—if not more so. I know more about you than you can ever imagine. I can sink you, Burgess, don’t ever forget that.”
“There is a saying, Prince Khalid, that says, don’t burn your bridges. It would be in your best interest to remember that. You might think you know me but I know a little more about you.”
“Are you threatening me, Burgess? You should be really careful. It’ll take no more than a snap of my finger for Borak to shoot you between your eyes.”
“Will he? Are you prepared to take that chance, Prince Khalid and lose out on the most lucrative and richest vein of merchandise you’ve ever come across?”
“You’re not the one in charge of the—”
“Mention that name here and I’ll be the one shooting,” Burges interrupted him sharply.
Prince Khalid nodded, suddenly aware of the danger he had put himself in by charging into Burgess’ office.
“Yes, Prince Khalid, you are now in my turf. Best you remember that and the fact that you are royalty in your country, means nothing here. You’re as vulnerable as I am. No one would blame our government if you met your maker in a—”
“No need for that, Burgess. I got the message,” Khalid snapped. He pressed back into the sofa. An irritated sound escaped his lips.
“So, tell me why you weren’t satisfied with the arrangement our new operations manager discussed with you?”
“I didn’t discuss shit with him. You are my contact on the ground, Burgess, not some stranger who didn’t even have the decency to bow before me.”
Paul had difficulty keeping his smirk at bay. Trust Khalid to be so childish.
“America doesn’t have royalty, Prince Khalid. Here everyone is equal, therefore you shouldn’t see it as an insult,” he pacified him.
“Is my shipment ready?” Khalid asked rudely instead. He was reaching the end of his tether with the constant disrespect from Americans toward his status.
“As mentioned before, we don’t believe it’s safe to transport the shipment from the country right now. You might have some clemency but when you leave the country, your plane will be subjected to a detailed search.”
“That is for me to be concerned about, Burgess. I’m not an idiot. I know what I’m doing.”
Paul sighed heavily. He was irritated and more than ready to kick the contemptuous prince out of his office on his ass.
“You forget that you’re jeopardizing our entire operation at the same time, Prince Khalid and that we can’t allow. We’ve worked hard to reach the level of respect we have in this country and—”
“Respect? You’re a fucking crime syndicate. It’s all about power and money. Don’t, for one moment, forget what and who all of you are—hypocritical criminals.” Khalid trembled with anger at Burgess for not capitulating to his demands. “I am taking the merchandise home with me when I leave tomorrow, Burgess, is that understood?”
Paul simmered quietly, the muscles in his jaw clenched and his mouth flattened in a grim line.
“Without payment? I don’t think so,” he scorned the prince, not bothering to hide his anger.
Khalid snorted and nodded at Borak who opened the briefcase he’d carried in with him. “Do I make the deposit into the usual account?” He asked as soon as the laptop had powered up.
“You are planning on making the transfer now?”
“Yes, Mr. Burgess,” Borak said politely. “Don’t be concerned. Every transaction we do is encrypted in multiple layers. No one will be able to trace the origin or the receiver.”
“Then, yes,” Paul said shortly. “As long as you realize that you’re taking the risk of being caught red-handed at the airport.”
“As I said, it’s not your concern. I have everything under control. You just make sure my shipment is delivered at that private hangar at noon tomorrow. Not a second later. And warn them to be quick. Any time delay will be seen as a setup to get us caught. And that will be dealt with severely, of that you can be assured,” Khalid said snidely. His lips pulled back from his teeth as he sneered and got up with
a laborious grunt. “I can’t say it was a pleasure doing business with you this time around, Burgess. I hope you will endeavor to meet my demands without this haggling with the next shipment.” He caught Borak’s eyes. “I’ll wait for you in the car. My mouth is parched,” he said with a searing look at Burgess.
Paul shrugged it off, unconcerned that he was being shamed for not offering them anything to drink. It wasn’t needed. Not when he wanted to get them out of his office and the building as fast as possible. Borak didn’t linger and left as soon as the transaction was complete. Paul sat down behind his desk and dialed Dexter’s number from the burner phone in his pocket.
“Prince Khalid is a bigger problem than we anticipated,” he snapped the moment he answered.
“I suppose he didn’t agree with the changes we suggested?”
“He isn’t even aware of them. He refused to discuss anything with William and cut me off when I tried. They made the full payment, so we have no choice but to bow to his command,” Paul asserted.
“I don’t like it, Paul. No one tells us how to operate our business. Not even a future king of a country.”
“I agree and I have an uneasy feeling about this too.”
“What do you propose?”
“I’ll arrange with William to use lackeys from the streets to do the delivery.”
“Clever move, Paul. That way William and all of us can’t be linked to the delivery.”
“Make sure you have additional eyes on the exchange. If anything goes wrong, have them take out both the Sauds. We can’t afford either of them cracking under FBI or CIA interrogation and ratting us out.”
“You do realize something like that could strain the relations between the US and the Arab countries. It’s tenuous as it is.”
“That may be so, but that would open more doors for us, Paul. Who knows, the government might just need someone like us with connections in those countries.” He was quiet for a moment. “Borak Saud is more of a danger to the Sixth Order than the prince, Paul. Make sure your assassin is aware of that.”
He felt it prudent not to inform Burgess that he had been colluding with Borak on the side to set up a separate vein of human trafficking into the Arab country without his cousin’s knowledge. It meant sidelining Burgess and more money into Dexter and his partner’s pockets that they didn’t have to share with him or the rest of the syndicate. But, it also endangered them, seeing as they had privately met with Borak and if Burgess ever found out, they could be exposed as underhanded to their subordinates. Dexter wasn’t too comfortable that Borak wouldn’t spill the beans should he get caught.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not your concern. Just make sure he’s the main target if the need arises.”
Paul stared at the phone in his hand when Dexter cut off the connection. He hated secrecy, especially in this business. He’d thought that both Dexter and Mr. Z, as his other partner was known, trusted him enough by now not to keep any information from him. It was clear that there had been further discussion with the prince’s cousin that Paul hadn’t been privy to. He didn’t like it. Not one bit. It put him in a precarious position.
“I have to find out what that is. I haven’t worked this hard and given up so much in my life to be a sitting duck. There’s only one of two ways forward for me. Either I sink the Sixth Order and claim all the glory or I take over as the leader and become the glory.”
His voice rang in the room. Paul Burgess knew there was no contest. Claiming the glory for sinking the Sixth Order would be short lived and soon forgotten by all. There was only one direction he was aiming for and that was up; all the way to the top of the Sixth Order.
“As soon as I find out who the fuck they both really are.”
* * * * * * * *
“Any luck, Max?” Rhone asked into the headset. They were in a banged-up van around the corner of Crown International, listening.
“Nothing, Rhone, sorry. It’s as he said, it’s sending us on a wild goose chase all over the globe. We’re working as fast as we can but at a guess, the transaction will be over before we get a hit. Fuck, we’re out,” Max clipped out his frustration.
“Find everything you can about Paul Burgess and Crown International. I want a list of every company they’re associated with. I even want to know what he ate this morning. Leave no stone unturned, Max. You have to dig deep. I have a suspicion that Paul Burgess is a fake identity which means the company is a setup to cover him. In some way or the other, he’s managed to keep his true identity hidden. I want you to find it. This is the closest we’ve ever come to someone at the top of the Sixth Order,” Rhone said.
“How sure are you it’s them? It could be any other syndicate for all we know,” Keon wondered aloud.
“My gut tells me we’re on the right track. Max, see how far back you can trace his movements and whether you can hack into his phones and clone it virtually. Alex, are you there?” Rhone barked out the orders.
“Listening, mate,” Alex White responded in his usual calm manner.
“Can you get a team out to Burgess’ house as soon as Max has the address and rig it? The more eyes and ears we have on him, the better our chances of finding his cohorts.”
“Will do and I’ll get them into his office as cleaning staff this evening as well,” Alex responded.
“Good. At least we know where they’re delivering the shipment.”
“Do we?” Jack asked with his brow furrowed in thought. “We know where they landed but we don’t know if the plane is still at JFK.”
“I’ll check into that,” Richard interceded. “Give me a couple of minutes.”
“They’re on the move,” Lance reported and with a jerk, the van pulled off. “Fucking hell, where did you get this piece of junk, Jack?” He complained as he shifted the gears with a grating sound.
“You said inconspicuous,” Jack defended himself.
“This rust bucket is anything but inconspicuous,” he mumbled but continued to follow the black limousine at a safe distance. With the tracker in Khalid’s carry all, they didn’t need to keep them in sight.
“Shit!” Richard exclaimed. “The plane took off an hour ago. I’ll see if I can trace the flight plan. I suppose it would’ve been too easy to think they’d stay put at JFK.”
“No, it would’ve been stupid if they did. Any vehicle entering the private hangars is searched and they knew that. Fuck!” Rhone slammed his fist against the side of the van. “Find that plane, Richard. We can’t afford to lose our advantage now.”
“On it,” Richard said in a low drawl.
“At least we still have the tracker and will be there at the same time they arrive,” Keon muttered.
“Yeah, but it’s not ideal. I want to get into that plane and see why he’s so confident no one will detect his merchandise. We can’t afford to slack now. I want to be one step ahead of them, Keon,” Rhone’s voice cracked like a whip in the confines of the vehicle. “No one steals one of our kids and gets away with it. No fucking one. Not even royalty.”
“Anything on the conversation between the prince and his cousin?” Keon asked Jack who was listening intently to the Arabic conversation they were still privy to between the two men ahead of them.
“You can be glad you don’t understand what he’s saying. That man whines like a little baby,” Jack snorted. “Nothing of importance, Keon. Except that he’s annoyed at the disrespect of Americans toward him as a future king.”
“A crown which he no doubt didn’t earn,” Lance mumbled. “They’re heading back to the hotel, Rhone. Want me to stop in the supermarket parking area across the street?”
“Yeah, we might as well get something to eat. We need to take turns to get in a little shut eye. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.” Rhone rubbed his eyes that felt gritty from lack of sleep. Since they’d arrived in New York, they’d been on the prince’s tail and none of them had had much sleep.
“More than you can imagine,” Jack
interjected. “They’re planning a night out at Club Paddles in Brooklyn.”
“I pity the subs that fall prey to him,” Keon said. He settled lower into the seat and closed his eyes. “Keep your yappers closed, mates. I’m taking a nap.”
“As if anything can keep you from sleeping,” Rhone teased. It was well known that Keon had the ability to shut out the sounds he wanted and could be fast asleep, but he could also wake up from the softest noise.
Keon didn’t respond, his breathing already slow and deep.
“I want to learn that trick,” Jack said as he watched Keon over his shoulder.
“Still battling with insomnia, Jack?” Rhone asked.
Jack shrugged in response. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had more than three hours of sleep during a night. Not with the guilt that continued to ride him hollow that he could have prevented his sister ending up in the hands of human traffickers. If only he’d gone home instead of indulging himself for the third time with a very entertaining sub at the Crystals BDSM club in L.A..
He glanced furtively at Rhone. “I can’t shake the feeling that somehow Joanne ended up in one of the shipments to Saudi Arabia, Rhone. One way or the other those two men are connected with her disappearance.”
“Let’s hope not, Jack,” Rhone responded quietly. “You know as well as I do, if that’s the case, she could be anywhere in the desert in an Arabic sheikh’s harem or a sex slave in a nomad tribe.”
“Yeah, and likely impossible to find,” he admitted with a doleful expression.
Chapter Seventeen
“JAX! You’re back!” Beckie shrieked and tore around the island in the kitchen to fling herself into the surprised teenager’s arms. He smiled at her continued chatter and returned her hug.
“Enough Becca,” he said and untangled her arms from around his neck. He stepped back from her to avoid another clinging embrace. Jaxon appeared distressed and uncomfortable for the first time since Paige had met him. She watched with interest as he ran his hand over his short hair.
