The Love of Wicked Men (Episode Six)

The Love of Wicked Men

Episode 6

Brandon Shire

The Love of Wicked Men

Episode Six

Brandon Shire

Copyright © 2015 Brandon Shire

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the below publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, people, places, schools, media, incidents and events are either a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 9781310727948

How much mischief may be done by one wicked man! Yea, sometimes one wicked man, of slender abilities, becoming an indefatigable tool of the devil, may affect incredible mischief in the world.

– Essays to Do Good by Cotton Mather

About Wicked Men

THIS IS A WORK OF SERIALIZED FICTION

Sid Rivers and Jack Brown are two sides of the same coin. One is a lawyer with his own firm and dreams of money and power; the other is a criminal with a lengthy record and a quest for vengeance. When they meet, sparks fly. But was their meeting an accident? Or, was it planned by the billionaires who want to control their destiny?

The Love of Wicked Men is an erotic journey into the underbelly of the legal profession, the corporate culture of profit-at-any-cost, and the secret world of industrial espionage.

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Table of Contents

About Wicked Men

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Season Two?

Other books by Brandon Shire

About the Author

Chapter 1

Jack woke with a sack over his head. He wasn’t sure where he was, or how long he’d been out. His hands were behind his back, tied to a chair. It took a few moments to recall how he’d gotten there. Shane. He still couldn’t believe he’d let Shane get the drop on him like that.

Jack? Is that you? Sid asked tentatively.

Jack struggled against the rope, trying to free himself. He assumed from Sid’s tone of voice that he was tied and hooded in the same manner. It’s me. How long have I been out?

I don’t know, Sid replied. They injected us with something when they put us in the van. He paused. I hear the birds, so it must be Saturday morning. I think we’re in another warehouse, he added quietly.

It’s not a warehouse, the echo is wrong, Jack remarked after listening to the birds for a moment. But he agreed with Sid on the day. From the tension in his muscles, he was sure he hadn’t been tied more than a single night. Did they say what they want?

No, but it can’t be too hard to guess. Sid let out a breath. It was half a chuckle and half resignation to fate. How many places have you been tied up in to be able to make such a quick determination?

Too many to count, Jack answered. Sid mumbled in response, but Jack only caught Wessman’s name. These guys aren’t working for Wessman. Did you recognize any of them?

The one who tasered you was the same FBI agent who came to my office asking questions, Sid advised.

They’re not FBI either, Jack growled.

How do you know?

Well, we wouldn’t be tied up to start with. We’d be in a holding cell. Or at least I would. You wouldn’t even be here. Unless this is a black op.

Jack pondered the thought for a moment. It was certainly possible considering the scope of information he and his team had stolen over the last few years. But if it were the Feds, they would’ve taken the whole team down and put everyone in separate holding cells. He and Sid wouldn’t be having this conversation. He shook the thought off, not sure if he was relieved or more concerned. Whoever these people are, they knew enough about my team to pose as federal agents and make them disperse, he told Sid.

And it also meant they knew Jack was monitoring Rivers’ offices. They’d counted on his team’s flight to get him alone and unprotected. It almost sounded worse than another round with Wessman. But Shane was still the wild card, even in that situation. His presence at Sid’s house didn’t make sense. Fuck, Jack grumbled.

What? Sid worried.

Jack shook his head beneath the sack. Nothing.

Who’s Shane? Sid asked suddenly, as if he’d been reading his thoughts.

Shane?

The one who put the gun to my head, Sid answered. You were mumbling about him earlier before you came to.

An operative, Jack answered vaguely, hoping to avoid the subject. We… bumped into one another once before.

Did you fuck him? Sid asked after a moment of silence.

Jack swung his head towards Sid’s voice. What the hell does that have to do with anything?

Sid snorted as if he was too physically sore and exhausted to do anything else. Just curious. If I’m about to die, I’d like to know why. It seems there’s a lot more going on here than just my involvement in the Marn case, and most of it has to do with you.

Jack had to agree. There was more going on. But he didn’t know what, who was behind it, or what their objectives were. If he could just get free of this fucking chair… He struggled against it again but quickly realized the futility. If they were going to kill us, we’d be dead already, he told Sid. They want something else.

What? Sid demanded.

Muffled voices came from behind them and they fell silent. A door opened and the sound of two people walking across a wooden floor echoed around the room. One step was substantially lighter than the other. Jack guessed a man and woman.

Who the fuck are you? Jack barked when the man pulled the sack from his head.

Manard cuffed him with the back of his hand, bloodying his lip. Watch your language, he growled with a glance over at the woman.

He pulled the sack from Sid’s head as Jack looked around. They were on a large well-furnished sun porch. Jack counted twenty oversized windows looking out across a rolling hill of manicured grass. Whoever these people were, they had big money and apparently enough power to pull strings he couldn’t even reach.

Sid answered Jack’s question with a look of surprise on his face. Her name is Marion Henderson. He cast a glance at Jack, still not quite believing it as he inspected their surroundings. She’s Jeffery Marn’s sister. And from the looks of it, I’d guess we’re at her estate, which means we’re still in Alabama. I don’t know who he is, he added, thrusting his chin at Manard.

Jack looked Marion up and down, sizing her up. She made an immediate impression, carrying herself with what seemed to be a crisp regard to her regal southern upbringing. But she also looked completely out of place in any of the many scenarios his mind had conjured up as to what was about to happen here.

I don’t give a fuck who she is, Jack muttered as he struggled against the chair again. Manard punched him on the jaw for the indiscretion.

Manard, enough. Marion came closer, completely unafraid. She put her index finger under Sid’s chin, turning his head this way and that to look at his face. When she stepped away, she clasped her hands together and stood before Jack.

He’s right, she said, addressing Jack. I’m Marion Henderson. You’re usually more thorough in your research, Jack. I thought you would’ve recognized me.

Jack raised his brows, scrutinizing her. She apparently thought she was supposed to mean something to him. Have I done something to piss you off? he asked, glancing at Manard dismissively when Manard tensed to hit him again.

I knew your sister, Rachel.

Every gibe Jack might have considered was suddenly lost as he took her words in and tried to digest them. He stared at her, his mind a complete blank.

She crouched beside his chair, touched his face and looked into his eyes. She was a beautiful girl, so fun and full of life. She took a deep breath, stood and looked down at him, her face changing. I also know who killed her.

Jack blinked once. His entire body rattled with tension. His eyes hardened with his voice. Who?

She turned and went to the row of windows. Wouldn’t you like to know why?

Why? Jack croaked.

She leaned against the windowsill and looked back at him, a small sigh escaping her. Fracking.

What the fuck does that mean? Jack barked, struggling to get out of the chair.

She studied him for a moment. There’s a closely guarded formula the petroleum industry doesn’t want publicized because it’s so toxic. Rachel got her hands on it and they killed her to keep her quiet.

Jack’s body deflated with the news, then swelled with rage. He’d always held an