Jordan's Redemption: Bad Boy Mafia Dark Romance book (The Generals' Sons 2) (8 page)

The man stopped and looked at her with his ice cold eyes. "Do you enjoy being punished, slave?" he asked in a very calmed tone.

"Please… you can't do this." She insisted, tears finally rolling down her cheeks. "Let me talk to Jordan, I'm sure there has been a misunderstanding."

"No, there isn’t." he grabbed her chin and towered over her. "You better accept your destiny, or things will be worse for you. In the end, I win. I always do. The only difference will be the path you choose: an easy one, of acceptance, or a painful one, where you struggle every step of the way. For me, either one is the same."

Ashley sobbed, terrified, as millions of terrible images swirled wildly through her mind. "Please, I'm begging you. Let me talk with Jordan one last time." She tried once more, through sobs.

"No, there's nothing more to talk about." He answered, unshaken. "Accept that he doesn’t want you anymore and embrace your destiny. If you play your cards right, you might even enjoy it. Now, let's go."

Tears stained her face, as he dragged her out of the house and into an SUV that took them to the airport where a private jet was waiting for them. In just a few minutes the plane was flying away from Miami, leaving behind Ashley's crushed heart.

Chapter 12

Back in Honduras, Jordan was ready to surprise the Marquez boys. According to Jude's men, they were already inside, with three more men, all armed. One of them was Hernandez, and Jordan made sure to point him out to Jude. He wanted that son of a bitch down. No one played with him and got away with it.

Wearing a bulletproof vest, a hidden camera, and microphone, he was ready to go in. He was looking forward to seeing how this would play out.

Silently, he entered the warehouse and followed the voices to the back. Nicholas was the first one to see him, from the chair where he was leaning back.

"Jordan!" he shouted, almost falling out of the chair, as he got up. The other four men, that had been inspecting the cargo, turned to see him walk in as if he owned the place, with their guns pointing at him.

"Well, well, well… you guys look very busy." He said in a sarcastic tone.

"Jordan, what a hell are you doing here?" Jonathan asked, barely hiding his rage.

"You see, Jonathan, it came to my attention that there was a new Venezuelan drug supplier in the international market, and that was quite a surprise to me since our cartel handles all of the drug that comes out." Jordan explained, faking a calmness he didn’t feel. His wish was to destroy them all, but he needed evidence and he was going to get it.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." Jordan belied the facts. "This cargo belongs to the cartel."

"Yes, Jonathan, indeed it does. Or should I say, it did? Because we both know the stuff you have there, is the drugs you two lost a few weeks ago." Jordan stated, sarcastically. "And now, I discover it has appeared miraculously, in your power."

"I… I have no idea what you are talking about." Jonathan insisted.

"Of course, you do." Ignoring the guns still pointing at him, Jordan closed the distance between him and the drugs and picked up one of the original packages. "You see, I suspected your little game for some time now, so I decided to set up a trap. With the help of our Colombian friends, I had them mark the drugs you and your cousin would be handling. As I expected, you guys lost another significant part of the cargo, that you weren’t able to recover. It was just a matter of time and patience for me to find out where you were taking the drugs to sell them. And here we are. And here are the drugs." Jordan explained, showing the tiny mark on the package he was holding.

"No, you've lost your mind. You have always hated Nicholas and me, and you have been looking for a way to get rid of us. This… this is the part of the drugs that wasn’t stolen." Jonathan replied, with a pleased smile, over his way out of this problem.

Jordan shook his head. "The drugs that weren’t stolen were sent directly to Miami. All the packages are in the hands of Marcus, so you better look for a better excuse."

Seeing himself lost, Jonathan dropped his mask. "You will never be able to prove any of this, taking into consideration the remote possibility of you getting out of here alive."

"Are you adding murder to your list of sins, Jonathan? Along with theft and kidnap? Before I end all this I want to know whose idea was it to kidnap my woman."

Jonathan looked at him as if he had lost his mind, but Nicholas became very pale, as well as Hernandez, who had moved discreetly to the back of the place.

Jonathan looked at his cousin with a smirk of despise. "You kidnapped his whore? You endangered all our operation over a cunt?"

"I have no idea… what he's talking… about. The woman is still with him." Nicholas stammered.

"Yes, she is, because she outsmarted you and managed to run away from your stupid minion." Jordan ranted. "I should simply but a bullet to your head, here and now but I believe it's only fair to let the cartel handle your fate."

"Always so arrogant, Jordan. You always considered yourself better than everybody else." Jonathan said raising his gun and pointing it at Jordan. "You're the one who will end up with a bullet between your eyes."

"I don’t think so."

The bastard really pulled the trigger. Fortunately, Jordan was fast, and the bullet only grazed his arm, but the shot unleashed hell, and Jude's men, along with Marcus and Jude himself, stomped inside the place, firing.

When they finally controlled the scene, Nicholas and Hernandez were dead, the other two men were also dead, but Jonathan was missing, along with one of the smallest suitcases with the drugs. On their side, they had had one single casualty, amongst Jude's men.

"Damn, damn. How the hell did that bastard escaped?" Jordan asked.

"He used Hernandez as shield and ran out the back door. The man is a scoundrel." Marcus explained.

"I'll find him. Don’t worry about that." Jude assured, obviously furious with Jonathan's escape and the loss of one of his men. "We need to clean this place up before the Honduran cartel shows up."

"Yes, go ahead." Jordan agreed.

"You better go take a look at your arm. You seem to be bleeding too much." Jude advised.

Jordan looked at his own arm, and saw the red stain of blood on his white shirt.

"It's just a scratch, nothing to worry about." He dismissed the other man's concern. "I just want to get back to Miami, as fast as possible."

"This won't take us long. Why don’t you go back to the hotel with Marcus? Take the drugs with you, we'll stage the scene to look as clean as possible." Jude suggested.

"Yes, that would be the best. Did you get it all recorded?"

"Of course, loud and clear. The cartel will have no doubts about what happened here, you can be sure of it."

"Good. Marcus!" Jordan called out to his friend that was standing next to Nicholas Marquez body. "We need to get this stuff out of here."

"Sure thing. The Copan cartel is already waiting for it, in one of their secure houses, near the hotel." Marcus informed. He was a man of action, taking care of things immediately.

"Excellent. I want to get back to Miami as soon as possible." Jordan insisted. He needed to see Ashley. He wanted to crawl on his knees and beg for her forgiveness, offer her heaven on earth in exchange for her pardon.

"Of course." Marcus ripped a piece of his shirt and walked over to Jordan. "Here, let me stop that bleeding or you'll leave DNA evidence behind." He efficiently wrapped the strap of fabric over the wound on Jordan's arm, before they picked up the suitcases with the drugs and took them out to the SUV waiting outside. Soon they were heading to meet the Copan Cartel and handing them the drugs they had recovered.

The only thing still bothering Jordan was that Jonathan had escaped, and that he wouldn’t be easy to catch. But he had faith in Jude Black. The man was a professional, he had orchestrated a clean operation, and he was sure they wouldn’t have any problems after.

They settled the deal with the Copan cartel and went back to the hotel to wait for the others. As soon as they got to the hotel, Jordan grabbed the phone to call Ashley, but last night's conversation dissuaded him from doing so. He needed to talk to her in person.

Jude's group returned one hour later and they left for Miami. Jude had shipped Marquez and Hernandez bodies back to Venezuela and left those of the Honduran's for the police to find. They would assume gang disputes and wouldn’t look much into it, for sure.

The flight back to Miami seemed to last an eternity and the sting on his arm, had Jordan in a very bad mood. He wanted to get to Ashley as soon as possible.

He was so impatient he got behind the wheel of the SUV and drove like a maniac back to Marcus house. It was a good thing the police didn’t catch him.

He almost jumped out of the car when he finally parked in front of the main door.

"Jordan! Calm down man." Marcus advice fell on deaf ears as he ran downstairs to find her.

When he saw the opened door to the cell his guts told him something was wrong, really wrong. "Wilson! Wilson!" he shouted, as he ran upstairs.

"Boss… I didn’t hear you guys arrive." Wilson appeared, coming in from the pool, wearing only swimming shorts.

"Where is she?" Jordan asked, approaching Wilson.

"You mean, the slut? Ivan came by and took her with him."

"What?! Are you insane?" Jordan jumped over Wilson and punched him in the face knocking him down to the floor.

Marcus ran inside the house as he heard the noise. "Hey, what's going on here?"

But Jordan was too busy leaning down and punching Wilson repeatedly. "Where did he take her? I'll kill you if he has harmed her."

Marcus managed to pull Jordan back, with the help of one of his men, while another one helped Wilson up, his face nothing more than a swollen, bloody mass.

"What the hell is going on here? Wilson?" Marcus shouted, imposing himself over the chaos.

"Ivan Korsakov came by, and I thought it would be good for him to take that cunt away. He would never make the decision, she has him completely hooked up." Wilson explained, kneading his bruised chin.

"You had no right to do what you did, you bastard." Jordan ranted, trying to jump at Wilson again, and being held back by Marcus and the other guy.

"I only did what you said you wanted to do." Wilson protested, defending himself.

"I was furious, not thinking straight. Damn, let me go!" he struggled, to free himself from the two men holding him.

"She's no good, you know that."

"SHE is innocent. SHE wasn’t escaping from me, Hernandez and Nicholas Marquez kidnapped her from me." Jordan yelled back. He rubbed his face, trying to calm down and think. "When did he take her away?"

"This morning." Wilson's face now showed horror and disbelief. "Are you sure, boss?"

"Garcia called Jordan. He found the taxi driver and was able to find out the truth, and that rat Nicholas admitted it before he died." Marcus explained.

"Did he come by plane?" Jordan asked.

"Yes, he must be back in New York."

"Marcus, call him. Stop him. I want the plane ready to fly there." Jordan ordered, barely containing his fury. He walked over to Wilson. "And you better pray he hasn’t done anything to her, because if he did, I'll make you wish you had never been born, do you hear me?"

"Boss, I'm sorry, I thought I was helping you, I swear." The man replied, really repentant of his actions.

Jordan snorted and walked out of the house.

"Jordan! My plane isn’t here. Remember you can't fly yours all the way to New York, there's no registry of your entrance." Marcus ran after him, stopping him. "I already called my plane but it will take him an hour to get here."

"Damn… this can't be happening."

"Besides, you need to take care of that arm and change clothes." Marcus advised.

"Stop babysitting me and call Ivan." Jordan growled.

"I'm trying, but he's not answering."

"Call one of his men. Call his mother… I don’t care who you call, just get him to stop." He ran his fingers through his hair, desperate. "Do you have any idea of how he trains his slaves?"

"Jordan, this is useless. You're not doing yourself any good imagining the worst scenarios. Please, go get yourself cleaned up while the plane gets here."

Jordan sighed, but decided to follow his friend's advice and stomped off to his room. But he just couldn’t stop thinking about all she might be going through. He already had made her go through hell, ever since she had fallen in his hands, and now this. She would never forgive him, and he couldn’t blame her.

After taking a shower, he put on some antibiotic ointment over his wound and wrapped a bandage around, as best as he could. He put on clean clothes and decided to go wait for the plane on the landing track.

When he returned to the living room, Wilson had also changed clothes and cleaned up his face. "Boss, I want to go with you." He asked, his face somber.

"No. I don’t want you near her again." Jordan answered, cutting.

"Please, boss, let me help you get her back. I know that I screwed up, but I really didn’t mean to hurt you." The man insisted, twisting his hands, admitting his nervousness.

"I should throw your poor ass out in the streets, that's what I should do. The only reason I'm not doing it, it's because I believe you were trying to help me." Jordan stated, his face showing all his pain and anger. "But I don’t want you near her."

"Boss, I need to convince you that it was all my doing." Wilson insisted.

"Just take him with you. He's been whimpering ever since you left him on the floor." Marcus meddled as he walked in. "I still haven’t been able to contact Ivan." He handed Jordan a piece of paper. "Here are his address’ in New York and the ones of his closest men, as well as their phone numbers. I'll keep trying to reach him."

"Thank you."

"My plane is about to land in a small, private airport, nearby. You'll be able to departure from there, and reach the airport Ivan always uses."

"Let me know as soon as you have news. I hope to be back as soon as possible." Jordan told his friend. "Do me a favor and called my father and explain what happened. Let him know I'll call him as soon as possible."

"Sure thing. The bodies must have arrived in Caracas by now."