by Linzi Basset
Pamela’s eyes narrowed on him. “Forget it, buster. I don’t share, and if you for one moment think I’ll allow you to fuck another sub with me watching, you don’t know me very well.”
His soft rumble brought a rosy tint to her cheeks. She loved his earnest laughter. “Now there’s the sub I remember.” He brought her hands to his lips. “Rhone kinda caught us all by surprise with his unexpected proposal tonight, but I want you to know, I’ve planned this long in advance.”
Pamela felt her heart miss a beat as she gazed at him. The surgical patch-type dressing had become part of him and she didn’t even notice it when she looked at him anymore. He still managed to take her breath away with his boyish, yet roguish look that made him one of the popular Doms at the club.
“I’ve loved you for a long time, and I don’t want to waste any more. I want you to be my wife, Pamela. Now, not in a couple of months and I pray you feel the same. Will you do me the greatest honor of all and be my wife?”
Pamela kissed his knuckles; her smile could turn on a thousand candles all by itself. “You beat me to it, my love.”
His eyebrows rose. “Meaning?”
Pamela reached between her breasts and removed a smooth, broad band platinum ring.
“Seeing as I messed up so much, I believed it was my responsibility to do the asking. So,” she got up and sank onto her knees in front of him. She took his hand in hers. “I love you more than words can say … and because I get paid to talk, that says a lot. There are so many things I wished I hadn’t done, but we both know regrets always come too late. One thing you must never doubt, Alex, is that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Her smile turned tender. “Will you do me the greatest honor of all and be my husband?”
“God, you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. Come here,” he growled and pulled her on his lap. The kiss was one of fervent passion, of shared emotions, but most of all, of embracing their love.
“Yes, Pamela Seeger, I’ll marry you. As long as it’s in two weeks.”
“Two weeks! But that’s—”
“Two weeks and it’s not debatable.” He held out his hand and winked at her. “So, aren’t you gonna put my engagement ring on my finger?”
She laughed gaily and slipped it on. He looked at it for a long time. “It’s perfect, honey. Thank you.” He hugged her briefly. “Back to your seat, Madam. It’s time for dinner.”
“But …” she stared at him with expectation.
He frowned. “But what? We came here to have dinner, didn’t we, and I’m kinda hungry … ohh, yes! The ring. I guess you want yours too.”
“Alexander White, that is not funny.”
He laughed and reached into his pocket. His gaze was serious as he looked into hers and pushed the ring on her finger.
“With this ring, I pledge my love to you. To love and to hold until death do us part.”
“Oh, Alex,” she lilted, caught his face in her palms and kissed him deeply. “And I … oh, my!” she exclaimed as her eyes caught the ring for the first time.
It was a light pink marquise shaped diamond encircled with the brilliance of white diamonds. She instinctively knew he chose a pink stone because it was her favorite color.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Not as much as you. Now, almost Mrs. White, can we please eat? I’m starving.”
“Typical male. Always thinking of his stomach.”
“Well, actually, I’m thinking of the energy you need for what’s coming later.” He winked at her. “I have big plans for tonight.” He turned serious and brushed back her hair. “There has always only been one path for us, Pamela. Our destiny … a future entwined with the strength of our love.”
“Yes, my love. Forever and a day.”
The Sauna House, the Sixth Order’s new underground operation hub in the Michaux State Forest in Pennsylvania.
“How strong was that sedative you injected him with on the plane?” Dexter prodded the prone body of Michael Flores where he was tied spread eagle against the wall, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts.
“Strong enough. We couldn’t afford him waking up mid-flight. He’s a strong fucker,” Zee rasped as he stood in the door of the nine by five-foot square room. It was one they had strengthened with steel walls, and a sloped floor surface for fluids to run into a drain in the corner. A perfect torture chamber.
“What if he doesn’t tell us anything?”
Zee shrugged. “He’ll talk, especially once I start carving the little whore’s skin from her body.”
They glanced at the woman on the bed, also still out cold.
“Why would he care? It’s not as though he knows her.”
Zee stared at the beautiful woman. “Call it instinct or chivalry, but mark my words, he’s going to fold.”
“Not before I have some fun. He’s riled me up more than enough over the past couple of months.” Dexter glanced at his watch. “It’s been twelve hours. He should’ve woken up by now.” He walked closer and splashed the content of the water bottle he held in his hand into Michael’s face.
His head jerked back and his eyes opened. Immediately alert and homing in on the two men facing him. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye but didn’t move his head. He recognized it as a woman and instinct told him it was Jordan on the narrow bunk against the wall. He didn’t look around but took in the surroundings nevertheless, no windows with steel walls.
We’re fucked. Totally fucked.
“Cozy,” he croaked, his throat dry. He glanced at his arms and legs. He smirked, “Why do I get the impression you’re scared of me?”
“You’re in our territory now, you bastard, and I for one have been waiting a long time to do this!”
The right hook cracked against Michael’s chin. His face barely moved. His mocking laughter spurred Dexter on and he continued to pummel his face and body with his fists.
“No more quirks?” Dexter snorted as he wiped his hands on his pants. His chest heaved from exertion. He ignored the fearful gasps of the woman who had awakened at some point during the beating.
Michael spat the blood that pooled in his mouth at Dexter’s face as he stepped too close. He jumped back and feverishly wiped it off with his shirt.
“If that’s the best you can do, I suggest you wear some gloves because your hands are gonna break long before I do.”
Dexter swung a left at his ear and followed up with a straight punch into his mouth. He frowned as he looked him over.
“Bastard isn’t even bleeding,” he growled with rising irritation. He pulled a knife from his belt. “Let’s see how well you fare against my blade, you fucker.”
The reflection of the bright overhead light flashed ominously within the cool steel.
“God, stop,” Jordan gasped as she watched Dexter drag the knife along Michael’s chin.
“What the fuck!” His curse slammed against the walls back at them. “Zee! This bastard is a fake. It’s a prosthetic mask.”
Zee walked closer and his curses echoed alongside Dexter’s as they viciously ripped off the human-like mask, blond hair included.
“Oh no! Oh god no!” Jordan's raw cry bleated through the steel encased room. “Jack,” she whispered and started to cry. The chain that bound her ankle to the bed clacked loudly in the astounding silence that followed the revelation.
Jack smiled tenderly at her and blinked the blood out of his eyes, which hadn’t been visible under the mask. His one eye was almost shut swollen.
“It's okay, love. I'm fine.”
Jordan had never heard a more beautiful sound as his loving deep voice that soothed her soul. At the same time fear coursed through her. She’d just found him and now they might both die.
Dexter stared at him in shock. His voice turned thin, “You! You fucking died in that explosion.”
Jack's swollen mouth turned into a smirk. “I guess it’s just another one of you two useless bastard’s fuckups. Face it. Your time is up.�
��
Dexter laughed hysterically. “I don't believe this.” He beamed at Zee. “It's like manna from heaven, buddy. My chance ... I finally get my chance.”
“I suggest you take it, you fucker. Your time is running out,” Jack continued to taunt him.
“So brave, but no one will find you here, Blackmore. This place is twice as secure as the Massage Parlor.” Zee barked out a laugh. “No one will find you. You don't even know where you are.”
Jack quirked an eyebrow. “Pennsylvania has never been a favorite of mine. The Michaux State Forest is quite nice though this time of year.”
They gaped at him, totally flabbergasted. “How the fuck did you know.”
“It doesn't matter how he knows.” Dexter approached him. “He’s here and he’s going to sing like a canary.”
Jack's voice deepened as he growled low in his throat. “Why don't we end the pretense?”
“What are you on about?”
Jack’s eyes turned cold, his eyes glowed with hatred akin to a devil on a rampage.
“You didn't know who was beneath Michael Flores’ mask, not with the chip changing my voice. Much like the ones you’re wearing.” His eyes seared over both of them with a flare of disgust in their depths. “I wasn't as negligent as you.”
Dexter stepped back cautiously. “You're grasping at straws, hoping we'll fall for another ploy.” He gestured toward Jordan. An excited glimmer appeared in his eyes. “In an effort to spare your little whore. Well—”
“Oh, make no mistake, you bastard, I know who you are.”
“How? We stay out of the public. It’s been years, no one has ever been able to get close to us,” Zee sneered. “No, Jack, you’re lying. You’ve got no clue who we are.”
“Don’t I? You forget who you’re dealing with. I never leave any stone unturned and I always take precautions.” He turned to Dexter. “You are the Achilles heel in the team of two losers. You couldn’t keep your cock in your pants and that was your downfall.” Jack laughed at their expressions. “Yes, I had another sample of your sperm analyzed, you useless prick.” He glanced at Zee. “It was easy to connect the dots on who you are.”
Zee's lips pressed into a thin line. He glared at Dexter.
“Well, I for one don't give a fuck that you do. It just makes what's coming so much easier,” Dexter snapped. He looked at Zee. “He knows, so what does it matter? Neither of them is walking out of here alive.”
He struggled to remove the mask without damaging it. Zee followed his example but with slower movements. They straightened and stared at Jack. The mutual hatred hung in the atmosphere like a stifling mask of doom.
“Oh my god.” Jordan's gasp told of the horror of discovery.
Her gaze swung to Jack, acceptance of never having their happy ever after reflected in his own. His lips twisted into a wry smile.
“I made you a promise, Jordan. Come hell or high water, I’ll keep that vow.”
The End
Excerpt: His Devil’s Rage
There’s someone in the house.
Bruce Rickett’s build-in warning system triggered, and his senses were on immediate alert the moment he stepped into the house through the interleading door from the garage into the kitchen. The alarm system had still been activated upon his return, there wasn’t any obvious sign to indicate the intruder, except for the ingrained sense of danger he’d honed over the years as an undercover Black Ops Commander.
He drew his weapon and started a systematic search. He walked on the balls of his feet, silent like a jungle cat. It was after one in the morning and the entire neighborhood was silent. He’d been in charge of the Sunday swinger’s night at Club Devil’s Cove and stayed until the last couple left an hour ago. He’d shunned the desire to stay over at the club, knowing he had an early Monday morning session at his home-based Phycology practice. A trip that took him close to forty-five minutes to the Equestrian Estate he owned on the outskirts of New York City.
How the hell did they get inside the house with the alarm system still activated?
His steps slowed as he neared his study. His muscles solidified. Since the Sixth Order Syndicate had increased their attack against Precision Secure with the blatant bomb attack during Max Shaw and Ethan Brodie’s weddings at Jack’s house, they’d all been walking on tender hooks.
In here. They’re in here.
He pressed his back against the wall, next to the doorframe. He closed his eyes and allowed his senses to infiltrate the silent room, envisioning the outlay in his mind. One body, he sensed only one body. The sound of silent breathing was only a sense he felt but he found it behind the huge cherry oak hand crafted desk.
The two steps that took him inside the room coincided with flipping the switch. Light from the three lamps on small tables across the room, broke through the darkness, cascading over the female body curled up in his large leather chair in the soft glow from the business lamp on his desk. The light shimmered softly on the dark red tresses that trailed over her shoulders.
“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice boomed across the room, giving the sleeping woman such a fright, she promptly tumbled from the chair to the floor. Bruce stomped closer, watching with a dark frown as she gathered her legs and pushed into a sitting position.
She glowered at him, ostentatiously unperturbed by his frightening and very large presence.
“What the devil did you have to shout at me for? Don’t you know the danger such a big scare can have on a person’s heart?”
Bruce’s lips flattened. His eyes narrowed into slits as he watched her struggle to her feet to fall back into his chair with a distinct lack of feminine grace.
“What? Have you suddenly gone mute? First you thunder at me at the top of your voice and now you stand there glaring at me with a mouth full of teeth.”
Bruce could imagine her small foot stomping her frustration had she been standing. One eyebrow did a cynical foray upward.
“Well? Aren’t you gonna say anything? Like … I don’t know,” she shrugged, “it’s nice to see you again, Morgan.”
“I prefer to refrain from lying.”
Her chin tilted upward in a defensive gesture, but Bruce didn’t miss the slight vulnerable twitch of her lips.
“Don’t tell me you’re still sour that I walked out of our last session? I told you I didn’t need any more mumbo jumbo chit-chat that didn’t lead us anywhere. No offence to your skill as a psychologist.”
“None taken. My ability to assist a person is limited to those who wish to be helped. You proved you didn’t, so I ask again. What are you doing here? Now after almost six months.”
“I came to warn you.”
Bruce walked around the desk and without her noticing him move, she suddenly stood next to the desk and he was sitting on the chair she’d fallen asleep in two hours earlier.
“Now that was creepy,” she huffed as she walked around the desk and sat down in one of the visitor’s chairs. “Impressive but creepy.”
She pulled her feet up under her, a move that Bruce had seen every time she’d come for a session after she’d escaped, along with Joanne and other women, who had been kidnapped and kept in a secure compound in Yabreen in Saudi Arabia as a sex slave. Of all the women, she’d been the strongest, the most resilient and scoffed at his efforts to get her to open up and talk about her ordeal.
“It’s late and I want to get to bed. Say what you came to say and leave.”
“Are you always this grumpy this time of day?”
“No, I’m annoyed to walk into my house and find it invaded.”
“Jeez, lighten up, big boy. You’ll thank me later.”
“Get to it, Morgan. Like you just said so eloquently, I don’t have time for this mumbo jumbo chit-chat.”
“Well, now, isn’t that impressive. And here I thought you didn’t listen to anything I’ve said since you got here.” She studied him with her head turned sideways. “Okay, okay!”
She held up her hands
in defeat. Why she always acted like such a brat in his presence, she had no idea, except that it loosened something deep inside her when they sparred with each other. A trickle of heat low in her stomach that she’d believed she’d never feel again. Not after … She dogmatically pushed the unwanted thought to the back of her mind. It was a time in her life she preferred to forget.
Except in her sleep. Then she had no control over the recurring dreams that had come back to hound her the past two months.
“I’m waiting.”
His brusque voice yanked her back to the present. She squared her shoulders.
“You’re in danger. You and the rest of the Precision Secure team.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Okay, Mr. Smartass, this is serious.”
“And how would you know, Miss Know-it-all? You’re an artist. I’m sure you don’t move in the circles where we are the main topic of discussion.”
“I don’t paint anymore.”
“Why? Your paintings were popular worldwide.”
She shrugged. “I lost my mojo after I returned from … you know. I had to find another source of income.”
“Don’t tell me you turned into an assassin?”
Her tingling laugh found resonance deep inside Bruce. He immediately closed his mind against the warm tingle it awakened in his heart.
“Of course not. I’m a bounty hunter.”
Her mouth pursed as he burst out laughing.
“Laugh away, buster, but I’ll have you know I’m the best bounty hunter out there. I close the more cases than anyone in the State.”
“Congratulations. I’m sure it’s a very satisfying occupation. So, is that the danger we’re in? From you?” An amused smile curved on his lips and Morgan just stared. She shook herself. It wouldn’t do to go all gaga over him, no man for that matter.
“No, Bruce. I came to warn you. There is a worldwide hit out on every member of the Precision Secure team and the rewards are massive.” Her lips twitched into a sour grimace. “Every assassin out there has you and every one of your friends in their vizier.”
