by Linzi Basset
“Ah, I suppose the delightful Jordan is to blame for that?”
Jack snorted as they walked into the operation’s control center. “What’s up?”
“Hey, Jack,” Richard greeted him as his fingers continued its staccato rap over the keyboard. He pointed to the picture on the wall monitor. “Do you recognize this man?”
Jack looked intently at the photo of a tall, muscular man in his early forties with a neat square haircut. There was something eerily familiar about the way the man held his frame. Tall, proud, and with a confidence that exuded from every inch of his body.
“Hm, no, although somehow it feels like I should. Who is he?”
“I wish we knew,” Max said as he typed a few commands on his iPad. More images flashed on the screen. “As you can see, he obviously knew Paul Burgess. We found these on Paul Burgess’ private laptop which Alex had confiscated after his death. They seem to be at a restaurant—”
“It’s the private dining room, at the Komi Restaurant at Dupont Circle. I’ve been there a couple of times,” Jack said contemplatively. “Brad obviously didn’t trust his cohorts if he kept a hidden camera in a posh restaurant like that.”
“Not cohorts, Jack. We believe this man is one of the leaders of the Sixth Order.” Max rocked back on his heels as he stood next to Jack. “Based on the date stamps, it’s evident that they met a couple of times a month there.”
“Did you run a trace on him?”
“Yes, I ran facial recognition but I can’t find anything,” Richard said. “Which led us to believe that, like Flint, he’s also not who he appears to be.”
“Fuck. Another bastard hiding behind a prosthetic mask.” Jack didn’t bother to hide his irritation.
“It’s the only explanation. I had hoped that something might trigger—”
The buzz of Jack’s phone cut Max’s response short. “Sorry, I have to take this. It’s Kevin, the security detail leader at Gideon’s house.” Jack swiped his finger over the screen. “Yes, Kevin.”
“Jack, I’m worried. Kane’s SUV is still in the driveway but I’ve been unable to get hold of him by phone.”
“Any sign of Jordan?”
“No. We saw Clark move around inside the house last night before they arrived but nothing since. All the blinds are drawn.”
“And no one else has come in or left the property since we were there over the weekend?”
“No one. Clark has been alone and kept to the inside of the house.”
“Don’t change your routine but keep a close eye on the house. If someone managed to get inside by some other means and is holding them hostage, we don’t want to alert them that we know. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Jack ended the call. “Richard, get a drone in the air. I want to know what’s going on in that house by the time we get there. Let’s go, Max.” Jack suppressed the urge to phone Jordan. If she was in danger, it would be foolish to alarm the abductors that they’d been made.
“After we get Rhone and the team,” Max said. “We’ll be there in eight with the Sikorsky chopper.”
Jack changed direction and headed toward Rhone’s office where they found him, Keon, Lance, and Bruce in a strategy session. He quickly filled them in. Within minutes they were in the air, heading toward Gideon’s house. Jack systematically checked his weapons, his face impassive. He deliberately kept his mind empty as he concentrated on the soft whir of the blades as they neared their destination.
He looked up. His gaze was caught by Max. His expression didn’t change, but Max knew. Jack had death in his eyes. If Jordan had been hurt, none of his friends would stand in the way of his retribution. For that matter, they would be right next to him, dishing out some of their own.
Rhone switched the chopper to stealth mode as they approached the property. He set it down in a park a block away. Once assured that everyone was wearing their tactical Kevlar vests, Jack cocked his rifle in readiness. The rigid line of his jaw was the only sign of his anger.
“Our aim is to rescue Jordan and her brother. If anyone points a weapon at you, shoot to kill. No one is going to lose a life today except those fuckers.” Jack took off at a sprint. “Let’s go.” Everyone followed silently. No one questioned him taking the lead. If the situation had been reversed, they would've done the same.
They moved in a close-knit tactical team format like it was a day to day occurrence but that was what happened when your best friends were like your family of black op agents. They had saved each other numerous times, but that had been the life they had chosen to live. They had accepted that for as long as the Sixth Order was out there they wouldn’t stop. They played well together as Masters at the club, but they were at their best when they focused on a mission.
They entered the premises by jumping the fence from the neighbors on the south side to meet up with the security detail.
“Still nothing,” Kevin updated Jack.
“Very well. I want your team to cover the outside of the house, we’re going in.” He pointed to the house and moved ahead, the team fell into format silently.
It was the first hostage rescue mission that closely affected Jack, but at the same time it sparked a silent anger inside him. The Sixth Order had proved how little life meant to them. They had become known for their cruel methods of dealing with enemies or anyone who opposed them. Jack did his best not to think about what they might find once they got inside. He hunched down as he scrutinized the house.
“Rhone, Keon, and Bruce, you are Echo One on the back door. Max, Lance, and I are Echo Two on the front. Kevin, your team as Echo Three will secure the outside perimeter of the house. My hunch is they’ll be in the basement below the stairs. Once we clear downstairs, we move up.” Jack glanced at his friends. “We’re going in fast and we hit hard. Our main aim is to get Jordan and Gideon out alive.”
“Roger,” they replied in unison.
“Richard,” Jack tapped his earpiece. “How far is that drone?”
“Still a couple of minutes out, Jack.”
“We can’t wait. Report as soon as it is overhead. Echo One, Echo Three, move now,” Jack surged forward. “Echo Two, it’s a go!”
Lance easily pried open the lock of the front door, allowing them a quiet entry. Jack stepped through first. He pivoted into the hallway, a movement to his right drew his attention. He didn’t hesitate and discharged two rounds from the suppressed barrel. It slammed into the center of the forehead of the young man before he did more than raise his gun.
“He’s dead,” Lance confirmed without having to check his vitals. They stepped over the body and continued down the hallway. The popping sounds that echoed from the back of the house indicated Rhone and his team had also encountered hostiles.
Jack’s fist lifted as he hunched down in front of the basement door. Max and Lance stood cover while he quickly fed a UDC fiber optics camera underneath the door’s threshold.
“Gideon is strung up in the middle of the room. I detect four players, two with M4s, two appear to be unarmed. We go in hot.” Jack straightened. “Be sure to aim for hostiles only. There’s nowhere to go down there. The room is bare and the only place to hide is behind Gideon.”
“We’re on your flank, mate,” Max said, bringing his weapon to bear.
“On my mark. Three, two, one … Go!”
They breached the doorway with guns blazing. Bullets slammed into the wall next to their heads. Lance was flung back as one found its mark. Jack and Max fired two rounds. Two bodies hit the floor.
They circled the room. Max and Lance prodded the bodies on the floor while Jack checked Gideon’s vitals.
“He’s alive but just barely.” He looked around. “There must be a fucking tunnel somewhere. There were four bodies in here and I see only two corpses.” He glanced at Lance who was bleeding profusely from the gunshot wound in his shoulder. “You okay, mate?”
“I’ll survive. Richard, where’s that fucking drone? We’re missing two bodies down here,” Lance barked as he le
aned against the wall.
“Checking,” Richard’s voice crackled in their ears.
“Jack, go. Find Jordan. We’ve got this,” Max urged when he noticed him glancing toward the basement stairs.
“You get those fuckers, Max. You hear me?” he growled as he ran up the stairs, not waiting to hear his response. He encountered Rhone, Keon, and Bruce at the door. “Lance got hit. We have two runners. Richard is checking for a tunnel.”
“We’ve got this. Bruce, you’re on Jack.” Rhone and Keon disappeared into the basement as the two of them ran upstairs. At the landing they went in opposite directions, silently searching the rooms.
Jack didn’t expect any further hostiles as he systematically went from one room to the next. He hesitated in front of the main bedroom. The door stood slightly ajar. She was there. He felt her. Her essence reached out to him. Before he stepped into the room, he could feel her despair. His jaw turned rigid at the sight that met his eyes. He had thrown the rifle to the floor and was kneeling by the bed without realizing he had walked closer.
His eyes moved over her body. In the bright sunlight that flowed through the windows the purple welts crisscrossing her legs, stomach, and between her legs, seemed to scream at him. The dark fingermark bruises surrounding her breasts threatened to break his control. It chastised and bombarded him with guilt, however undeserved. He could detect a bruise the shape of what must have been a thin leather belt on her upper thigh where it had wrapped around her leg, brutalizing the soft skin that should only be cherished and loved. His eyes saw the signs of dried semen on her mons and stomach but his mind refused to acknowledge its meaning. No one deserved such a fate. Jordan, least of all. Not his strong, bratty, and loving sub.
He’s a dead man. Whoever did this will die a slow and agonizing death.
Jordan’s eyes fluttered as he gently untied her legs. She came awake when he released her arms and did so with fists flying.
“Get away from me, you motherfucker!” Her screams sounded shrill in his ears.
He caught her hands and dragged her against his chest. “It’s me, love. Shh, it’s me, Jack. I’m here, baby.”
“J-ack?” Her breath puffed out in a whisper. Her body began to shudder as she tried to push him away at first and then clung to him. “I didn’t w-ant you to s-ee me like this.
N-ot you.” Dry sobs wracked through her body.
“You’re safe now, love. I’ve got you,” Jack said in a deep, soothing voice as he tried to wrap the sheet around her naked body.
“Nooo!” she shrieked and tore at the offending piece of material. “It’s filthy and it stinks. Of … of … h-him.”
Jack’s curse echoed to Bruce who silently stood watching in the doorway. Within moments Jack had ripped off his Kevlar vest and his tee-shirt.
“Clean. I need to get clean, Jack. Please, I have to t-ake a shower,” she insisted in a broken whisper when he tried to dress her in his shirt. Jack’s first reaction was to pick her up and walk toward the bathroom.
“No, Jack.” Bruce’s quiet voice stopped him in his tracks. He didn’t need to explain. Jack knew. It was imperative that they do a rape kit. The dried semen on her body was crucial evidence that might bring them closer to the Sixth Order than ever.
“We need to get you to the hospital first, love.” It was the hardest thing Jack had to do to deny her continued pleas to wash the dirt from her body.
By the time they got downstairs, Rhone and Keon had already taken Gideon to the hospital with the Sikorsky.
Jack held Jordan on his lap as Bruce drove to the Brodie Clinic on the border of Anacostia Park. Jordan had withdrawn into herself, holding stiff and unresponsive in his arms. He knew she was facing a long emotional recovery time. His arms tightened as an involuntary shudder shook her body. The mind was a cruel reminder at times. Especially of those things one would rather forget. Jack knew that better than most. She would face many nightmares that would yank her back into the same void of terror; reliving, refighting, hurting, and leaving her desolate, filled with emptiness.
Ethan was waiting for them and led the way to the examination room. Jack laid her on the bed. He tenderly brushed his lips against her temple. “We’ll get through this, love.”
“Will we, Jack?” Her voice sounded small and scared.
“I’m not going anywhere, Jordan. I’ll be right here by your side.”
“It’ll be better if you waited outside, mate,” Ethan asserted.
Jack hesitated, but the pleading look in Jordan’s eyes clinched the decision to step outside where the rest of the team was waiting.
“How is Gideon?” Jack asked.
“In the operating room but it’s not looking good. He was very weak when we arrived.” Rhone sat down next to Jack.
“And the other two? Did Richard manage to track them?”
“You were right. There’s a hidden tunnel, but by the time we found the hatch to open the door, they were long gone.” Max leaned against the wall. “Richard is scouring the surrounding traffic cams but we don’t know what we’re looking for, so it’s a long shot.”
Jack’s hands fisted around the sheet that had inadvertently made its way along to the hospital. He stiffened as his gaze encountered the dried stains. He surged upright. Everyone sat quietly watching him as he stormed out of the waiting room. His footsteps thundered in his wake.
“I hope there’s something left of the bastard once Jack is finished with him,” Bruce growled.
“If Jack finds him first? No chance, mate,” Max said quietly. His heart cried for his friend as much as it did for Jordan.
“Jack, this is a surprise,” said Lexie Calvert, the recently appointed chief medical examiner of Washington DC, as Jack walked into her office. She had met Jack and Max Shaw at a dinner her father had hosted a couple of years earlier. It had been a surprise to find that they were friends of Lance Talbot, who had become her parents’ neighbor recently when the Precision Secure team had moved to DC. She pushed the visual of Lance to the back of her mind. It usually brought thoughts of murder to mind―his.
“I need your help.”
Lexie’s gaze sharpened. She had become used to the impassiveness of the men who surrounded Lance Talbot. They were known not to wear their feelings on their sleeves. This time was no different. The only sign that Jack was tense was the tight hold he had on the plastic bag he carried with him.
“Is it legal?”
Jack’s jaw turned rigid. His voice droned as he briefly told her what had happened. She was pale by the time he finished. People believed that as a medical examiner she’d seen everything. Of course, she had, but it didn’t shield her from the horrors and ugliness of man.
“How is she?”
“Ethan is taking care of her. The bastard’s sperm is on this sheet. I want you to do a DNA profile on the sample. Would that be possible?”
“If there’s a match on the database, I’ll find him but it’s going to take some time.”
“How much time?”
“A normal genetic test can take twenty-four to seventy-two hours. If there is cross-contamination of the different DNA strands, a complete DNA profile of each can take up to fourteen days.
“Just get it done. I don’t care how long it takes.”
Lexie took the bag from him. “How many different DNA strands will I find on this sheet?”
“Probably no more than three. There’s also a vial with a sperm sample recovered from Jordan’s skin. Yes, I know that would be enough to identify him but I want you to test the sheet anyway. I want as much conclusive evidence as you can find.”
“Do you have an idea who you are looking for?”
“No, and until I’ve managed to talk with Jordan, I won’t know more. I’m not very hopeful that she’d be able to shed any light on his identity either.”
“I’ll do what I can to help.”
Jack turned to leave. “Oh, and Lexie, do not discuss this with anyone—and I mean anyone. Whatever you find, send
the results to me and destroy everything you have.”
“If I do that you won’t have anything to support a case in court,” Lexie stared at him. His face became even more closed off.
“There will be no court case.”
“Jack—”
“I’m serious, Lexie, for your own safety, if nothing else, just do as I say.”
She watched him walk away. Life took people on many twists and turns. At a guess, Jack had been through a wringer already. This incident had been a catalyst to unleash something dark inside him. The deadly glow in his eyes just now scared her. It was like she had been gazing into the fierce glare of a demon ready to pounce and rip apart, limb by limb, those who did him wrong or hurt the one he loved.
The brilliant glow of the sun and the cloudless expanse of the azure sky were offensively bright and cheerful. Her eyes followed the flight of a pair of glorious red feathered Northern Cardinals until they settled in one of the Cherry trees surrounding the church. The sound of their call filled the air with a joyful song. Jordan wondered if she would experience it again.
Joy.
Such a simple word that by some quirk of humorless association rhymed with destroy—like her spirit had been. First, by the cruel actions of a bastard whose only purpose was to... Jordan resolutely pushed aside the bleak thought. Secondly, by taking her brother from her. Her twin, the one person who had understood every emotion and expression of hers … because it had mirrored each of his own. She coughed as a sob lodged in her throat. Her heart felt empty. Without him in her life, she was a body without a soul. Her insides felt mangled, her entire existence as insubstantial as the shadows cast by the blooming trees surrounding them. She had demanded his wake be held outside. Gideon had loved nature. It was only fitting to say goodbye under the gentle sway of the blooming Cherry trees in the church garden. The sound of the minister’s voice rumbled monotonously in the background. Jordan didn’t hear a word he said.
It was too soon. She wasn’t ready to live her life without him.
Do you see what he did, Mom? You wanted us to forgive him and accept the hand he held out to us, however late it was. Well, are you happy now? Look what it brought us! Brad Flint shouldn’t have given us that fucking company. He should’ve forgotten we existed like he had done our entire lives. We should never have listened to you, Mom. It’s your fault!
