His Devil's Desire

by Linzi Basset

  “And yet, you still fucked me,” she said accusingly.

  He brushed his fingers over her cheeks and stroked her hair, his expression enigmatic. He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her face and throat, ending with an indolent brush of his lips across her nipples.

  His evil laugh shattered the sensations his tenderness had evoked and tumbled her into a maelstrom of confusion. “I told you, Samantha. It’s a fuckhole and I needed to vent. I don’t have to want you or like you, to fuck you.”

  He began walking in the direction of the club.

  “Let’s go. You’re going to have to think of plan B to get rid of me. I’m onto you now and you won’t have another opportunity.”

  Samantha was devastated. His words were cruel and uncaring. He was too angry to listen and the words that formed in her mind to tell him that Bulldog had been there, died on her lips. She realized it was worthless to try and reason with him now. Once he’d cooled down, she might be able to challenge his accusations. Force him to corroborate it with her movements during the race.

  People should be careful with words, she pondered as she followed him. Words lifted people up, or tore them down. They could be destructive as much as they built.

  Where does a lie end and the truth begin? She sighed. God, do I even know?

  Words from Hitler moved a nation, and plunged the world into a horrific war with millions of deaths. Rhone had used his words as a weapon and they were aimed to destroy.

  Chapter Ten

  “But Dad!”

  The teenager stamped her foot in vexation.

  “I said no, Dixon.” Senator Kevin Douglas asserted firmly. He was in his early forties but the political arena had aged him before his time. His hair shone with silver streaks in the overhead lights.

  “It’s not fair. Everyone is going. I’ll be the only one in the entire school . . . Daddyyyy, please,” she resorted to pleading as fake tears fell from her eyes.

  Kevin looked at his daughter. He’d stopped trying to understand her mood swings. Since last year she’d become uncontrollable. A rebel. Not even his wife, Ellie knew how to handle her.

  “Stop acting, Dixon. You’re not fooling me. My answer is final and I warn you, if you try and slip out, you will be grounded until the end of the school year.”

  This elicited a furious shriek that echoed through the house until she disappeared upstairs into her bedroom. Kevin sighed and shook his head.

  “My apologies, Rhone. She has turned into a hellion lately. The timing couldn’t have been worse.”

  Rhone studied the senator. There were bags underneath his eyes—a sure sign that he had not been sleeping well.

  “Have there been any further threats, Senator?” Keon asked. His expression was solemn. He, more than anyone, knew the effect threats to one’s family had on a man.

  Rhone realized how difficult it must be for Keon; to witness the interaction between father and daughter; something he had been deprived of for six years. Six years of his daughter’s life—missed—while she’d been alive and well somewhere.

  I need to find out who the fuck Bulldog is and get rid of him. No, better yet. We need to get Beckie out of there.

  His face clouded. He’d been wrong to keep it from Keon. He had the right to know. He won’t endanger his own daughter. He was too levelheaded to just barge in and steal her back.

  “Yes,” Kevin affirmed. He pulled a paper out of his desk drawer and handed it to Keon.

  He glanced at it before passing it on to Rhone. It was another threat against Dixon, this time with a very graphic photo of a young girl submitting to a gruesome sexual act.

  “How has your daughter taken to her long lost ‘Uncle’ Jack’s reappearance?”

  The senator chuckled and nodded in the direction of the stairs. “You see how Dixon is. I pity Jack. He’s been at the receiving end of all her moods swings. But, I have to admit, he seems to handle her well. Much better than either Ellie or I’m capable of.”

  Kevin rose and paced the study. “I’m worried about this school party. Knowing her, she’s going to try and slip out.”

  “Is the party legit?” Rhone queried.

  His brows knit together in thought. “I hadn’t given it any thought until now.” He picked up his cell and dialed a number. “Headmaster Clover, this is Senator Douglas.”

  Keon and Rhone glanced at each other, listening to them exchanging pleasantries.

  “This party the school is arranging has been rather sudden. Can you tell me more about it?”

  He listened intently. His voice was brusque when he thanked the headmaster and ended the call.

  “I’m wary. He said it came as a surprise to him as well, but by the time he heard about it, all the arrangements have been made. The kids were all so excited about it he couldn’t find it in his heart to cancel it.”

  “Who arranged the party?” Rhone’s gaze sharpened while different scenarios played around in his mind.

  “A substitute teacher, who was around for only two weeks.”

  “That’s a red flag. It’s a setup to get Dixon from under your security and any supervision they believe there is in place to keep her safe.” Rhone stated earnestly.

  “My thoughts exactly.” Kevin commenced his pacing. “Maybe I should just give up on that bill. It’s too risky and the danger is mounting. Even if stave them off for now, what about retribution after it’s been passed? Once they realize just how vast the impact would be for illegal prostitution.”

  “Let me ask you this, Senator.” Rhone caught his gaze with a stern look. “What made you decide to embark on this bill in the first place?”

  “It’s something that has been on my mind for years. There are too many young kids forced into sexual slavery or prostitution for the sole purpose of riches. It’s not just the big cartels and the mafia, there are also the street corner pimps; people who don’t give a shit about destroying a child’s life.”

  He stopped pacing to serve Rhone and Keon some coffee that his wife had silently brought in and placed on his desk. He took a sip from his cup, deep in thought.

  “I’m aware of the controversy about the prostitution laws. The women don’t trust the Government to look out for their rights and their best interests. That is what I want to change.”

  “You want to give them a voice in the legislation.” Keon stated.

  “Yes, or rather a voice in the debate on setting up the legislation. We can’t deny that prostitution is one of the oldest vocations in our existence. It’s been around since the beginning of time. Also, we can continue to harp about the morality of it, but as long as it’s not legalized, the sex workers will always be on the short end. Used and abused, while others continue to fatten their pockets; facing danger or diseases or death every time they step outside their own doors. There have been too much sex worker abuse and deaths over the past couple of years to continue turning a blind eye to this cause.”

  “What has the reaction been from the sex workers?” Rhone wanted to know.

  “Extremely positive. For one thing, they see it as a move in the right direction, especially as a means to make a living, instead of others benefiting from using them.”

  “Which is the main reason the crime syndicates want to prevent it from being passed. They will lose all their workers if they can legally set up their own businesses,” Rhone concluded. He looked at Keon. “It’ll be better to allow her to attend the party than her giving us all the slip thereby ending up an easy target. Jack will have to sharpen his guard, especially on Friday night. Additionally, the rest of us will be on the standby. We can be at the party, covertly; just in case she manages to give him the slip once inside the gymnasium.”

  “It does make sense,” Kevin agreed after giving it some thought.

  “Whatever they’ll try it won’t be inside the gymnasium and we’ll be on guard outside all the time. Jack, Lance and Max will be with her inside―without her knowledge―and Keon and I with two additional teams outside. Dixon w
ill be safe, and we’ll bring her home at the first sign of trouble―hopefully without her knowing about it.” Rhone explained. “She’s your daughter and you know her best. Ultimately, you’ve done your best to keep her ignorant of what’s going on and allowing her to continue as normal has worked till now. But, it’s your decision. Just let us know in advance.”

  Keon glowered at him but refrained from saying anything. He did, however, on their way back to their office.

  “Why the devil can’t the backup team handle the party? I had plans with the delectable sub who won me in the hunt on Saturday.”

  “Because it’s our responsibility, Keon. I’m not going to take any chances. Not with the life of a young girl. Not again.”

  He glanced at Keon. “Besides, it’s a school party. It should be over by ten, eleven at the latest. Plenty of time for you to have fun with your sub.”

  They laughed conspiratorially.

  “And yours? You and Samantha have been joined at the hip. I expected you to drag her with us today.”

  Rhone’s expression remained impassive but his gut clenched in reaction.

  “I locked her in our room.”

  Keon’s head snapped around. “You what?”

  “You heard me.” Rhone was still struggling to overcome the anger he felt toward Samantha, so he continued being distant toward her. “And, yeah, she was totally pissed when I chained her to the bed. She’s able to reach the bathroom but that’s pretty much it.”

  “What the hell for? Don’t tell me you’ve turned her into a slave?”

  Rhone cursed himself. He was so used to Keon knowing everything that went on in his life that he’d forgotten that he wasn’t aware of the reason why she had moved into his house.

  “She pissed me off. It’s punishment. She hates being contained.

  “Still, to chain her? Your house is like Fort Knox. There’s no way she’d be able to escape.”

  Rhone’s snort was derisive. He parked the Hummer in his underground parking bay and got out. They took the stairs to the second floor.

  “Believe me, mate, that woman has skills most men only dream of.”

  “I thought she was a carpenter,” Keon said in confusion as they walked into the ops room.

  “Now, yes, but before—”

  “Rhone, there’s something I need to show you.” Max interrupted him, glancing at Keon.

  “Sure.” He looked at Keon. “There’s something I need to tell you. Why don’t you join us—”

  “Rhone, I really need to discuss this with you in private. It’s a matter of urgency,” Max barked sharply.

  “Do you have a secret op I’m not aware of, Rhone? What the fuck is going on?”

  Rhone caught the warning look in Max’s eyes. He glanced askance at Keon and rolled his shoulders.

  “It has to do with my sub, Keon. I’ve asked Max to do a background check on her. An intensive one. Give me a couple of minutes, please.”

  Keon walked away muttering under his breath. Rhone turned to Max.

  “What’s up?”

  Max tapped on his iPad’s screen. “This.” He pointed to the picture. It was Beckie.

  “What is it?” Rhone squinted at the silver bracelet on Beckie’s wrist. He zoomed on the picture on screen to get a closer look. His body turned to stone when he noticed the barely noticeable red flicker on the side of the centimeter-wide bracelet.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He ground out through clenched teeth. Max didn’t have to tell him what it was. He had worn similar bracelet when he had been captured and had been forced to lead a frontline attack against a group of vigilantes in Pakistan.

  “I’ve managed to decode the signal it sends out and with the satellite program Quinlan and I developed last year, I downloaded the schematics of the bracelet. It’s kinda like an X-ray, which allows me to see the components it contains. It’s an improved version of the ones you wore eight years ago.”

  “What are you saying, Max?”

  “It packs enough power that expands into blue energy once exposed to oxygen. It’ll rip her entire body apart.” He swiped to a second photo. “Bulldog wasn’t lying when he said he’d kill Lauren if Samantha approaches her. She wears one as well.”

  “It’s probably how he kept Lauren under control all these years.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Max glanced at Rhone. “You want to tell him, don’t you?”

  Rhone contemplated the question. “I do. He has the right to know. Now, with this . . . fuck,” He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I just don’t know.”

  “For what it counts, I agree with you. He has the right to know but there’s something else you should consider before you do that.”

  Rhone didn’t speak; he already knew what was coming.

  “Samantha. What do you think his reaction is going to be when he finds out who she really is? Ace, the sniper he believed killed his wife and shot him, in case you’d forgotten. He’s liable to strangle her with his bare hands, Rhone. You have to take that into account.”

  “I’m aware of that, Max. Fuck knows, I am, but Keon is like my brother. I don’t know her from a bar of soap and now . . . I don’t trust her. He’s more important to me than she is.”

  Max frowned. “Have you changed your mind? I mean, do you think she lied and that it was her who shot Amelia and Keon?”

  Rhone had been asking himself the same question over and over since he’d been shot at, on Saturday night. He discounted her denial and reaction when he’d confronted her with it. He expected her to respond the way she did.

  “At this point, I don’t know. Either she is telling the truth or she is one hell of an actress. I just don’t know.” He walked toward the door. “Use that new program of yours to see if there is a way we can remove the bracelets safely. Keep up the surveillance on them, Max and let me know of anything suspicious.”

  Rhone hadn’t told anyone about the hit he took during the treasure hunt. He’d concocted a story that he’d scratched himself on one of the hedges.

  “One way or the other, I need to get the truth out of her,” he said sotto voce as he walked into his office where Keon waited. He sat down in the sofa facing him with his elbows on his knees.

  “I’ve been struggling with this for over a week, Keon and to be honest, I still don’t know if it is the best thing to do.”

  Keon straightened.

  “Spit it out, Rhone. I’m a big boy. Nothing can be worse than we’ve gone through before.”

  Rhone lowered his forehead to his fists to gather his thoughts. This was more difficult than he’d anticipated. He just hoped and prayed that he didn’t give his friend hope of a reunion that might end up in more pain and death.

  “Rhone, talk to me, mate,” Keon prodded him gently.

  “It’s Beckie, Keon.”

  Keon’s body turned to granite. His face portrayed the sadness he hid inside him most of the time. They had agreed never to mention Amelia and Beckie’s names. It was just too painful. The fact that Rhone did so now, warned him he was about to hear something he wasn’t ready for.

  “What about her,” he croaked.

  Rhone swallowed back the lump in his throat. “She’s alive.”

  Keon didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe. He just sat there, staring at Rhone, disbelief in his eyes.

  “What kind of fucking joke is this, Rhone?”

  “It’s no joke. I’ve seen her with my own eyes.”

  “When? Where? Fuck, Rhone! Talk to me,” he demanded. His hands were clenched in tight fists on his thighs.

  Rhone quickly told him how they’d come across the information.

  “Bracus knows and he didn’t tell me?” His voice sounded fragile, pained.

  “We decided to keep it from you until we could confirm if it was really her. We didn’t want you to have hopes and then have them shattered. You have to know how hard it’s been for us, keeping this from you, Keon.”

  “But it is her. You saw her. Where? Where i
s my daughter, Rhone?” He jumped up and bore down on him. He gripped his shirt and yanked him up from the sofa.

  “Calm down, Keon. No! Fucking listen to me. It’s not as easy as walking up to her and fetching her. That’s the main reason we didn’t tell you. She’s not safe, Keon and she will die if you come within fifty feet of her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Rhone told him about Samantha’s sister and the trigger on their wrists.

  “Samantha? What does she have to do with Beckie?”

  Rhone hesitated. “Samantha Frazer used to work for the NCS, Keon.”

  “Yes, and?”

  “She was enlisted in the Silver Sting division as a sniper.”

  Keon went gray.

  “Don’t fucking tell me . . . Jesus, that’s it, isn’t it? Ace. She’s the one who killed Amy!”

  “She claims differently. Where are you going? Keon!”

  He was deaf to Rhone’s shouts and by the time Rhone chased after him, he’d already disappeared down the stairs.

  “Fuck! And she’s chained up. She won’t stand a chance.”

  Rhone dialed his house phone number while he charged down the stairs. He could only hope he’d be on Keon’s heels when he got there. He was capable of killing in this mood.

  “Enzo, I need you to go upstairs and free Samantha.” He listened impatiently. He got into the Hummer and pulled away with screeching tires. “Yes, I’m sure she’s been screaming your ears off. Listen carefully. The spare key to the ankle cuff is in the top drawer of my desk in the study.” Rhone explained how he should open the coded lock. “And be quick about it, Enzo. Hide her in your cottage until I arrive. If she’s still chained by the time Keon gets there, she’s a dead woman.”

  “Shouldn’t I phone the police?”

  “Just do as I told you. I’m on my way,” he snapped and sped up to try and catch up with Keon.

  * * * * * * * *

  Enzo tsk’ed at Samantha when she hurled an empty teacup at his head the moment he opened the door. He ducked and cringed when it shattered against the wall, inches from his face. He could feel the sharp edge of a shard of porcelain cut the back of his neck.

  Enzo Bonheur was the middle-aged chef who lived in a cottage at the edge of the estate. He grew up in France and immigrated to the United States after his wife of twenty years passed away. He’d been grieving her ever since. They’d grown up together and had been the purest love anyone could hope for. To this day, ten years later, he still kept her memory close at heart and had no interest in finding another wife.