The Pawn (Shattered Series Book 1) (22 page)

              “Your problem, not mine,” he returned, giving an abrupt laugh as he straightened. “If this is all the bullshit that you plan on spewing tonight, I’m out of here.”

              Tugging at his necktie, Duke straightened, but still, his posture was rigid. “I suppose my mistake has been allowing Matt to handle business matters with you on this end. The boy can be a bit incompetent, unfortunately, at times. Now, considering where we are tonight, I see that this incompetency is costing me dearly.”

              “How is Junior by the way?” he asked coldly, not able to resist the jab. “Still nursing that cold dead heart of his?”

              “Don’t you dare make a mockery of my son’s grief. Olivia Lange was never good enough for him, but he loved the bitch in spite of it,” Duke spat. “I suppose that I should be happy that she is dead.”

              “Watch it,” he said coldly, bracing his hands against the table again. “I don’t take kindly to men insulting a woman like that.” Especially the woman that he lo---He cut the thought off midstream. “I’m sure the fact remains that she was too damn good for him. Thank goodness she was spared from becoming his wife.”

              “Hmmmm….” Duke mulled out loud, studying him closely. “And you say those words with such vigor and passion. Are you her white knight in shining armor, daring to do anything to protect her honor? Just why you’re so eager to defend a woman that you don’t even know is puzzling to me.”

              “If you can work a damn jigsaw puzzle, figure it out,” he snapped, rising to his full height. “And put the pieces together.”

Duke shook his head. “Enough about that bitch---I could care less about her. She’s no longer an issue anyway---she’s dead,” the criminal spat, taking a side seat on the table. “Now…I know that you have my money tied up in some offshore account and I know that you know where the drugs are. You seem like a negotiating man, and luckily for you I am willing to negotiate. Again, what’s your price, Sabatino?”

“What makes you think that I have a price?” he quipped tightly, sweeping a subtle glance around the room. As suspected, the guards were already on edge and had their hands closed on their weapons. He looked to the criminal again. “Not everyone can be bought.”
              Throwing his head back, the criminal laughed. “Of course, they can. And it doesn’t always have to be of monetary value. It could be diamonds, designer clothes, mansions….people that you love. There’s always something that can break a man and bring him to his knees.” A poignant silence hung. “And weren’t you taught that valuable lesson long ago? You were schooled in the lesson of losing something that you loved dearly. Apparently, you learned nothing from it. Perhaps it’s time to issue that same type warning again.”

“Is that a threat? I’ll warn you now that things won’t play out like they did before,” Jarrod said lowly, clenching his jaw tight, and again, he fought to control his naked rage. The disgust played in his voice as he spoke. “You’re a coward in three piece suit, and you’re only good for absolutely nothing. You tell lies, cheat, murder, steal…You’re not above doing anything to feed your incessant greed.”

“If anyone dares to get in my way, that’s the unfortunate price that he’ll pay,” Duke sneered. “Nothing and no one stands between what I want.” Then, the criminal blew an exasperated breath. “In this case, however, I think that it’s crucial that we reach some type of agreement. What’s your problem, Sabatino? That little shipping venture of yours is still intact. While I did cause some damage to it, it wasn’t totally irrevocable.”

“You played me for a fool---used some blanket company that I thought was a legitimate one and bought shares into mine. Initially, I didn’t know that it was really headed by you and was just a cover to your illegal operation. When there were rumblings of your illegitimacy, I acted at once. But, it was too late, wasn’t it? Once you were in, you didn’t waste any time spreading your dark magic. Right under my nose, you turned my shipping company into a port for your illegal drug trade.” He paused as if far away in thought. “Still, that wasn’t enough for you and your crimes began to stack high against me. Embezzlement, fraud, extortion, blackmail…the list goes on and on. Because of you, I almost lost everything financially. If I hadn’t regained control when I did, there’s no telling what else you would’ve done.”

“Aren’t you being a bit petty? There’s no reason for you to be so sore about those things, in my opinion,” the criminal shrugged, raising an arrogant brow. “The wrong thing for any businessman to do is take things personally, and that’s what you’ve done. You’re too emotionally involved. I recommend that you take a step back and assess things like a rational man.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Let’s stop tap dancing around the obvious. If you tell me where the stuff is, I’ll give you a little slice of revenge.”

“You’re boring me, Addison,” he said, shaking his head. “Actually, you’re beginning to sound a bit desperate.”

“What is it that you want me to do, beg you, motherfucker?” the criminal spat, whirling in a full circle and braced his hands against the table again. “What is it that you want from me?”

“I want you to have
nothing
. I want you to wake up everyday and suffer in agony,” he said coldly. “I want your soul to bleed until you feel nothing. I’ve come for you, Addison, and I won’t be done until I’ve seen you meet your end.”

Enraged, the criminal gave a furious scream. “To hell with you, Sabatino!”

From the corner of his eye, Jarrod saw the guards as they raised their weapons, but they didn’t fire. A cold smile snaked across his face. “Don’t tell me that you’ve gotten to the point of letting someone else fight your battles, Addison. That’s low even for you.”

“Put your fucking guns down,” Duke snapped, shooting his henchmen an angry glare. The criminal faced him again. “If it’s war that you want, Sabatino, you’re going to get it. No one plays me for a fool, and you’re not about to start. Use your pitiless words and play your childish games. I’m coming for you. You better watch your back.”

“I’m not watching my back because I’m coming at you full frontal.”

With those words, he turned from the criminal and strode away.

“You’re going to regret this, Sabatino,” Duke warned from across the room, giving a maniacal laugh. “Mark those words and carry them with you.”

Still, he said nothing as he opened the door, and Marc followed.

The silence lingered as they entered the SUV once more, and the drive was even more fraught with tension. Afterwards, they’d both drowned their thoughts in whiskey at a local bar. Hours later, as the plane lifted from the Atlanta City airport, and the southern city was left behind and twinkled like tiny dazzling lights, he was still absorbing the gravity of the situation.

“Sir, can I get you anything?” the flight attendant asked, smiling down at him. “Anything at all, just let me know.”

“Bourbon,” he muttered, staring out the small squared window.

As the plane zoomed through the weightless clouds, his thoughts were heavy.

No doubt about it.

The war had just entered the next phase.

***

         As the week passed by, her time had entailed engaging in playtime with Meghan, learning how to cook mouth-watering recipes with Rosa, and the evenings had gone towards painting. While she strove to keep busy, hollowness still rang.

        Nothing was the same without Jarrod there.

        Though he’d called daily, they hadn’t spoken at all, and it’d hurt that he had gone out of his way to avoid her. Apparently, their almost encounter just added more strain on their tentative relationship.

         And this urgent business trip---she’d hoped that it wouldn’t last longer than a week, she thought with disappointment. But, now, it was Sunday, and he still hadn’t came home.

         Returning her attention to her work, she put the final touches on the current painting in her
Falling For You
collection. After wiping her wet hands across the smock, she stared at the painting of Jarrod.

        This image was rare, she realized, studying the portrait. A real smile actually lined his handsome features, and she’d captured it as he’d chased a squealing Meghan down the beach weeks ago. One of those rare occasions where he was unguarded, she thought, tearing up. The real Jarrod Sabatino…

        “I miss you so much,” she whispered tearfully. “Are these mental images the only way that I’ll capture you?”

        A swift knock at the door made her jump.

        She frowned.

        It had to be at least 11:30 pm, and the only way that Rosa would disturb her at such a late hour was if something were terribly wrong. Not only that, she made sure to never leave the main house until Meghan was abed for the evening. Leaving the balcony, she passed through the bedroom onto the leaving area. The lights were dimmed low, but still, she could make out the furnishings. After reaching the front door, she wrenched it open with a breathless gasp. “Rosa, what’s wrong----”

        “Can I come in?” Jarrod asked huskily, hair unkempt and windblown, and cradled a bottle of white whiskey in his free hand. Barefoot, wearing an expensive dark blue suit with a loosened tie, he was the epitome of sexiness. “Or is this a bad time?”

        The words were so stuck in her throat that she feared that she couldn’t speak. Finally, she stammered as she stepped aside, “N-no, it’s not a bad time, come in.”

        “Thank you,” he muttered with a tired smile, moving past her. “The flight was a long one. I just need to wind down.”

        She closed the door with unsteady hands.

        Of course, she looked like a complete horror!

        A paint splattered smock that covered nothing but a t-strapped undershirt and denim shorts, not to mention her paint-smeared toes, and it certainly wasn’t nail polish either! And her hair was twisted in nothing more than a disheveled ponytail.

        Taking a shaky breath, she pasted a smile on her face, but as she faced him, he took her breath away. There it was, she mulled, mesmerized, one of his most unguarded moments yet, and it seemed that he wanted to sweep her up in his arms. But, in the blink of an eye, his look of desperate need and want had dissipated, and again, all she received was a cool and aloof look.

        Rather than give into the angry hysteria at his rebuff, she raised her chin and asked instead, “When did you get in?”

        “About 45 minutes ago,” he said roughly, unscrewing the cap from the whiskey bottle before taking a long swig. “And let’s just say that it was one helluva ride.”

        “Did the plane hit some kind of turbulence?” she asked with concern, stopping at his side. “I know that there were reports of a storm brewing---”

        “That and the fact that I wanted to be here with you----” Jarrod said huskily, and then cut the words off. After taking another long swig, he gave a fast laugh before he swept a gaze along her dirty smock. “I can see that you hold the same fervor and penchant for painting. I pity the poor easel and paint, for they’ll never get any rest.”

        “Thank you for giving my gift back to me,” she said softly, holding his gaze. “I will never be able to repay you for such a heart-filled and warm gesture.”

        “Heart-filled and warm?” he scoffed. “Those are two terms that I never thought would ever apply to me.”

        “You’ve been drinking,” she accused, casting a look at the half-full bottle. “Just how much?”

        He shrugged. “I had a few before I boarded the plane, a couple of hits on the plane,” Jarrod said proudly, holding the bottle in midair, and after a closer look, she saw that his eyes were red-tinged. “And now this is about to hit the right spot----”

        She yanked the whiskey bottle from his hand. “Give me that!”

        “What in the hell are you doing?” he asked in stunned disbelief. “I’m a fucking grown man! No one tells me what to do or how much to drink---”

        “Well, somebody should, and it may as well be me,” she said firmly, pursing her lips together, and placed it on the nearby table. “The last thing that Meghan needs is to see you stumbling around drunk.”

        He gave a humorous laugh. “Is that what this is? You think that I’m drunk?” he challenged, stepping closer to her. “I may be drunk, but it’s not on whiskey and wine.” He traced a finger along the edges of her chin. “What if I were to say that it was you that I was drunk on, that you drove me to this drunken stupor, my little Jane Doe?”

        Could that actually be true, she thought foolishly, and the hope rose in her. Of course, it was crazy to even entertain the thought that he was broken up about her!

        “I’d say that you were a stone-cold liar,” she whispered instead, grasping his wayward hand. But, still, the sensations from his innocent touch lingered and seared her to the core. “And whatever’s bothering, you shouldn’t allow it to affect you so much. Come on, you just need to sleep some of it off---”

        “What if I said that I missed you?” he said huskily, gripping the front of her smock. In a few flicks, he’d loosened its buttons, and now, it hung open. “Would you believe me?”

        “That depends,” she admitted, closing her hands on his, and to her surprise, felt their shakiness. “Am I dealing with the real Jarrod Sabatino or this ghost of a man?”