by Marie Harte
JD’s eyes turned hard. “No one is untouchable. I learned that in the Army. All it takes is the right intel and the right team and you can get to whomever you want. No one is that insulated. Not forever.”
He shrugged. “You want to risk the club over this? Our entire investigation?”
“Depends on him. How far is he willing to go to rescue this girl? If we say no and he goes after her, his involvement could unravel all the work we’ve already put into this. If this girl ran away from her family, there’s a chance she might have some information that might help us. Plus, we could use his skills. And the fact he doesn’t have an inked target on his back like the rest of us, means he could be very useful.”
“You thinking undercover work?”
“We need to do something. So far our investigation into those missing girls hasn’t got us shit. A man on the inside would be worth something. A lot of something.”
“And likely get him killed in the process.”
“That’s the risk we all take everyday. You think he didn’t risk his life in the Corps? You’ve seen his jacket. He may have been taking most of his targets out from a mile away most days, that didn’t mean he was safe.”
It boggled his mind how much information JD could get his hands on. Telling him something was classified was a useless waste of time. If there was information to be had, he had a contact to get it for him.
“He severed ties with us a decade ago. What makes you so sure he’s going to come back now? Even for her?”
JD smiled. “The club is in that boy’s blood just like it is yours. The Corps may have given him an adequate substitution while turning him into an adrenalin junkie, but that ended the day that IED hit him. The Corps don’t give a shit that he’s mostly functional. On paper he doesn’t met regs, that means he’s out. I’ve seen this bullshit a hundred times. Someone like him is going to need an outlet. We can give him that.”
Axel wasn’t so sure. Houston cutting them out of his life had been a betrayal in his eyes. He didn’t fully understand why the Pres wanted him back so much. The club was flush. Business was going great and they had more recruits than they could handle. Babysitting someone he wasn’t sure he could trust did not sound remotely like a good time.
JD clapped him on the shoulder. “Stop thinking so hard, son. The decisions been made. Make the offer and go from there. If he wants our help then you make sure he’s in. All in. Otherwise he’s on his own.”
Hardening his jaw, Axel nodded to his Pres before turning away. Fuck it. If the rest of the club was on board then so be it. He’d make sure there were eyes on him at all times until he was convinced. He jerked the pack of cigarettes out of his cut and yanked one free. He and Houston had a lot to talk about. It seemed unlikely his old friend would take the deal just to save some snatch he barely knew.
Axel pulled the game room door open. They’d left Houston on ice in this room while key members of the club discussed the situation. Just because they voted to help him find the girl didn’t mean it was going to be easy.
“Hey.”
Houston pressed the off button on the television. “Hey,” he said.
“Looks like this is your lucky day or unlucky depending on what you think of the deal.”
Houston neither flinched nor cracked a smile. Fucker kept his face blank making it impossible to read. He did however smell like whiskey.
“You sober?”
“Sober enough. What’s the deal?”
“Club has a spot for someone with your skills and training. You know how this works. The club is already indebted to your family for life and we’re here to back you up as much as we can, but we won’t risk going to war for you unless you sign on permanently. And make no mistake, getting involved in Mazzeo business for no good reason other than pussy means war.”
Houston nodded his head. “Done. I figured as much before I even turned wheels onto the compound. I’ve already made peace with the past.”
Axel tried to keep his calm. He wasn’t sure his ass of an ex best friend was taking his commitment as seriously as he should. Peace didn’t come in two God damned days. “That ain’t fucking all asshole.”
The other man stilled, narrowing his eyes. “What else.”
“Sit down. There’s some things about the organization you need to understand.”
“Axel, come the fuck on. I know this club. I grew up in it same as you, remember?”
“I remember you walking away just as fast and vowing never to come back. You seriously think shit don’t change in ten years?” He was losing his patience.
“We’ve got the rest of my God damned life to go over business. Time is not on our side right now when it comes to Izzy. We’ve got to find her soon.”
“Pussy that good? Seems crazy to be so wrapped up in this girl so fast.”
“Don’t. Go. There. You’re starting to piss me off and I don’t know how much longer I can hold my temper. So unless you want your head bashed in I suggest you stop before it’s too late.
Axel really wanted Houston to swing the first punch. Whatever was up his ass needed to be removed. Air needed to be cleared. “I’m going to give you a pass on threatening me just this once. Do it again and the service end of my pistol is getting shoved in your face. You got me?”
Houston’s face turned red, but he managed to keep his mouth shut.
“JD and the rest of the crew have already left for Seattle.”
“What?”
“He got a quick meeting with Frank Mazzeo who happens to owe us big time for some shit that went down a couple of months back. Don’t know what’s going to happen but if anyone can strike a deal with him JD can. Him and Frank go way back.”
“I remember,” Houston muttered. “We should be there too.”
“No. You and I are hanging back with Tel. That brother can work some fucking magic on a computer and he has a better than good shot at tracing the van that grabbed your girl. But he needs your help to get it started.”
“Great. Lets go.”
Axel held up his hand. “Hang on. I didn’t finish giving you the deal. This club is taking your back in this in a big way. Probably going to get bloody before it’s over. We’ll need something specific from you in return.”
“I already told you whatever you want it’s done.”
He pulled a folder out of his cut and handed it to Houston. “Then you’ve got some homework to do.”
“What’s this?”
“A case we’ve been working on that’s hit a wall.” He lit the cigarette he’d been holding in his hand.
“A case? I don’t understand what you mean?” Houston started flipping through the papers.
“Like I said. Clubs changed. No more drugs running through here, and the only guns we deal are our own. We kept the gambling cause it’s a damn lot of fun and makes a fuck ton of money. We also branched out into some legitimate businesses. Got us a legit distillery next to the compound for our Reaper Shine, and one of the old ladies convinced us to invest in a chain of topless coffee huts across the state.” Axel shook his head. That had been one hell of a meeting when that shit came up. Everyone started fighting. “The club was struggling though. The old members missed the money from the more profitable illegal shit and tempers were flaring daily. Then one of the townies came out here asking us to help him. Said he’d pay a shitload of cash if we found out who broke into his house and murdered his wife.”
Houston closed the file and met his gaze. “You’re mercenaries now.”
“You can call it that if you want. We fill a gap when it comes to justice, which happens to go really well with the original charter plans.”
Houston nodded. “You reap what you sow.”
“You’re God damned right.”
“So what does that have to do with me?”
“Like I said, our case has hit a wall. In order to fix this we need to go deeper. That’s where you come in. We need you to go undercover in the Mazzeo organization.”
; “Which is why you and I stayed behind.”
He nodded. “We couldn’t take a chance anyone would recognize you. We need this operation to be as clean as possible.”
“What’s the end game here?”
“Tel will go over the case details with you. In a nutshell. Someone’s been kidnapping women from the colleges. They disappear without a trace and we’re left holding our dicks and looking like assholes when we can’t find them.”
“This sounds like a case for the police or maybe the FBI.”
Alex snorted. “If we’re left standing around looking like assholes, what do you think law enforcement tied up with red tape look like? Fuck them. Inefficient motherfuckers can’t do shit without approval that requires a mountain of paperwork that’s only useful to wipe their asses with. Why do you think our services have become so popular?”
“Bottom line it, Axel.”
He narrowed his eyes, feeling dangerously close to punching his best friend in the face. “Bottom line is. We’re going to get your girl free of this shit and then you’re going in. Immediately in. We’ve got some pretty worrisome deadlines on finding these girls too. What happens after that is going to be completely on you. We can’t provide much back up without blowing your cover or starting a war.”
“Fine. I get it. My survival is in my own hands. Got it. Now let’s find Izzy.”
When Houston tried to shove past Axel, he grabbed his arm and yanked him around. “I don’t think your getting this through your thick skull. What we’re asking you to do is likely to take months. Maybe longer. You have to be committed to that and in order to do that, you’ve got to forget about everything and everyone else.”
Axel saw the moment the light came on for his new brother.
“And what happens to Izzy?”
“If we get her out she’ll be taken care of. She’ll become club property. You, however, will walk away from her. No explanation, no goodbye. You just disappear.”
“Fuck tha—”
“It’s the only deal. We can’t risk anyone knowing you’re with us.”
“But—”
“This isn’t a fucking negotiation. That is the deal. Take it or leave it.”
They stood there facing each other for several long minutes, anger coming off Houston if vicious waves. Axel really wasn’t sure which way this decision would land and he wasn’t sure he cared. Yes, they needed to find those missing girls and soon, but using Houston to do so was a risky move. While he wasn’t risk adverse, he definitely preferred to have the odds stacked a little more in his favor.
“Fuck you, Axel. You know I’m going to do it, but you’ve got to promise me one thing.”
“I don’t have to do shit. But I’m listening.” He couldn’t wait to hear this.
“She doesn’t become a club whore. She’s not like that.”
“Jesus fuck, Houston. You think we force girls into that shit? Every woman here is here because that’s what she wants. They all know the score and they don’t care. They like fucking Wrath or they just like fucking. Your girl will be no different. I can’t promise you anything because what happens to her will be one hundred percent her choice.”
“Except she won’t be able to leave.”
“Only because she will never be safe. Because of her family someone will always want to get to her. That’s her burden of birth and no one can change that, not even us.”
Houston slumped his shoulders as if some of the fight left him. “Please don’t let her choose to be a whore. I need that.”
Axel knew he couldn’t make that promise, but he promised his Pres to get him on board. “I’ll do my best, brother. I’ll do my best.”
They shook hands.
Chapter Twelve
Isabella
‡
One week later
WITH MY BACK to the headboard and my legs thrust out in front of me I stared at the tiny tick marks I made on the wall. Each one represented another day of hell. I wasn’t sure if they served as a cruel reminder of the torture I had endured or if I should was supposed to be proud I survived this long.
When the two men grabbed me at the hotel I had no time to do anything to get away or warn Houston. I don’t know how they found me there. I only assumed they were hired by my father and I was being returned to him and my gilded prison.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
As I looked down at the various bruises and cuts that marred my arms, legs and stomach a lone tear tracked down my swollen cheek. Everything hurt. My head, my body and especially my heart.
The day of my wedding I ran. I couldn’t accept the fact my father arranged for me to marry one of his business associates as part of some deal. What I didn’t know at the time could fill a book. I wasn’t part of a simple arranged marriage meant to bring two families together in a show of solidarity. Far from it.
I was sold for a million dollars.
I know this now because every time he comes in this room, he reminds me—with his cruel words and his fisted hands. The bastard plans to earn his money back with pounds of flesh.
My only escape is my mind, but I fear it won’t last much longer. The good memories with Houston were so brief they are beginning to fade. So far those twenty-four hours with him have kept me somewhat sane. But he has no idea where I am or who I am and I have no hope of escape.
I want to roll over and bury my face in the pillow and I can’t. Every move brings a fresh wave of unbearable pain. There is literally nothing that doesn’t hurt.
On the second day of my capture, he removed the cuffs and chains and told me to fight because it made his dick harder.
I fought—to get it over with.
Now all I can do is sit here and wait for the next time. I told him I wanted to die, but he said death was too good for a woman like me. I have to learn my place.
The door to the room rattled, causing me to moan. With the taste of blood still in my mouth from the last time, I wasn’t ready. I drew my legs up to my chin and hugged them as my captor entered the room. His visits were becoming more frequent.
I looked again at the marks on the wall. I don’t think they’re a way to keep track of time. I only see them as an inevitable conclusion. The countdown to my death.
The End
Thank you for reading INNOCENCE BURNED the prequel to the first full-length novel in the SULTAN’S OF WRATH series. To read more about the upcoming novel featuring the complete story of Houston and Izzy, please visit my website at:
http://www.elizagayle.net/coming-soon/
Mission Control
Desiree Holt
‡
Dedication
To my always faithful beta reader. Margie Hager, who introduced me to a fantastic group of people at breakfast who invited me to be part of this group. Mission Control is only the beginning.
Krista (Kris) Gauthier and Mason Rowell are like oil and water from the moment they meet. He never expected the team from Mission Control, the security agency made up of former military, to send a woman to lead the team he hired to fix his problem: find out who is helping smugglers cross his land from the border. Their antagonism is only heightened by the sexual attraction that keeps blazing out of control. Neither of them is happy about the fact they keep falling into bed together and Mason, who values his unattached existence, can’t wait for the team to be finished and Kris to be gone. But when the bad guys are identified and caught and Kris is wounded in the process, the thought of losing her nearly destroys him, and makes him take another look at their relationship.
About the Author
Referred to by USA Today as the Nora Roberts of erotic romance, Desiree Holt is the world’s oldest living published erotic romance author. A graduate of the University of Michigan with double majors in English and HIstory, her earlier careers include agent and manager in the music industry, public television, associate vice president of university advancement, public relations, and economic development.
She is three times a fi
nalist for an EPIC E-Book Award (and a winner in 2014), a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award winner for best BDSM book of the year, and winner of the Holt Medallion for Excellence in Romance Literature.
She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today, The (London) Daily Mail, The New Delhi Times, The Huffington Post and numerous other national and international publications. She is also the Authors After Dark 2014 Author of the Year.
“Desiree Holt is the most amazing erotica author of our time and each story is more fulfilling then the last.”
(Romance Junkies)
Learn more about her and read her novels here:
www.desireeholt.com
www.desiremeonly.com
www.facebook.com/desireeholtauthor
Twitter @desireeholt
Pinterest: desiree02holt
Also on
LinkedIn
and
Google+
Chapter One
‡
“THANKS FOR THE update. Yeah, I’ll be sure they check in when they get here.”
Mason Rowell disconnected his call and leaned back in his desk chair. Heaving a sigh, he rubbed his hands over the scruff on his chin. He hadn’t bothered to shave that morning. He’d only gotten back from rounding up the strays a few minutes ago, leaving two of the hands to repair the cut fencing. This was getting to be a damn fucking habit, and he was sick and tired of it.
“Nothing this whole year has gone right,” he muttered. “First that damn woman, then the lost cattle, and now the fucking smugglers.”
He had the feeling a cloud had opened up and rained all over his life.
And, yeah, it had all started with that woman. That female. Both of them half-looped in the hotel bar. Each of them searching for something—her for a way to ease back into civilian life after too much time in Afghanistan and Iraq, him to erase the memory of another woman who’d screwed him over. Badly. A woman he’d believed himself completely in love with. It had turned out fidelity wasn’t in her vocabulary. He wasn’t even sure at this point he’d recovered from the beating his heart and his pride had taken.
