Read Jordan's Quest: Bad Boy Mafia Dark Romance book (The Generals' Sons 1) Online
Authors: Veronica Cane
Jordan's Quest: Bad Boy Mafia Dark Romance book (The Generals' Sons 1)
The Generals’ Sons
Jordan’s Quest
Veronica Cane
Thesios LLC
Orlando, Florida
Copyright © 2016 by
Veronica Cane
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Thesios LLC
PO Box 540375
Orlando, Fl 32854
www.thesios.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Generals Sons Jordan’s Quest/Veronica Cane
. -- 1st ed.
ISBN 978-0-0000000-0-0
CONTENTS
Ashley looked at the passengers walking through the sleeve into the plane and sighed.
Just her luck, another trip putting up with this guy's advances. Jordan Martinez, son of General Martinez, one of the closest men to the President, walked up as if he owned the whole place, confidence oozing from every one of his pores and his elegant and fashionable appearance only added to that.
Over six feet tall, muscled body, dark hair, green eyes and tanned skin, he was a woman magnet. The hardest part of resisting him, was that she really felt attracted by him, but she knew who he was, she had heard enough rumors about him and his family, to make her want him as far from her as possible. Besides, she had no intention of becoming his new sex toy, and she was sure that was what he was looking for.
"Miss Perez, always a blissful sight for tired eyes." He said with his devious smile as he entered.
"Welcome aboard, sir, I hope you have a pleasant flight." She answered, obviating any personal reference, keeping a professional tone and a polite smile on her face, as she signaled the corridor, already greeting the passenger behind him.
He smiled, and walked to the first class seats. But she knew that wouldn’t be the last of it. He seemed to only pick the flights she would be working on, just to make her life miserable. Of course, that was an exaggeration on her part, but it sure felt like it.
She had a reprise while the plane took off and got to a stable height, but as soon as she stepped in the first class aisle he raised his hand calling her.
Taking a deep breath, she flattened an nonexistent wrinkle from her skirt, and approached him. "Yes, Sir, how can I help you?" she asked with a polite smile on her generous lips.
"You could accept my invitation to dinner." He said, with his husky voice, as an alluring smile graced his face.
"I'm afraid I can't do that. It's against the rules, and besides, I will travel back to Caracas on the returning flight." She explained, always with a smile. There was no use in antagonizing the man. She knew just how powerful he was.
"What a pity, isn’t that right? Please bring me a scotch on the rocks." The smile had disappeared from his face, replaced by a frown and she sighed to herself.
She returned to the cabin and poured him the drink, hastening to serve him and keep him as pleased as she could.
The good thing was the flight was very short, and after giving him some snacks to accompany his drink, they would be ready to start landing procedures.
She was more than happy to see his back disappear into Margarita's airport.
"You'll have to say yes one of these days." Mara's voice startled her, from behind. She turned with an ugly grin.
"Oh, no baby, I won't go down that road. You know all the rumors about him and his family. I want nothing to do with it, and I sure as hell don’t want to become his little doll." She said, with disdain.
"But, just imagine how it must feel being pampered by a guy like him." Mara insisted.
"I doubt that man even knows the meaning of the word pamper." She replied, harshly. "Unless, of course, you're talking about the attitude he expects people to have around him."
Mara sighed. "You have to admit he's hot."
"Yes, of course, I'm neither blind nor dead, but that doesn’t mean I want to burn myself with his heat." She said, completely decided.
Mara laughed, and they started the preparations for the returning flight.
That afternoon, as Ashley left the airport, driving her old car, she sighed tired. She needed to find a place of her own closer to the airport. The daily trip to and from Caracas could be exhausting, especially when she got caught in heavy traffic, like that day.
While she waited for the cars to move, she took a moment to loosen her long, curly, light brown mane, from the tight bun she wore for work, sighing with relief. She loved her work and she was looking forward to get a position in the international branch of the airline she was working for, but she was aware that wasn’t an easy task. Most of her fellow workers that managed to get that position had to use either influent friends or their body to get it and she didn’t have the first and wasn’t willing to do the second.
By the time she arrived home, it was past eight o'clock and the parking lot where she usually parked her car was about to close.
Quickly, she parked her car, closed it and left the place, walking hurriedly to get to her house. Unfortunately, she lived in Caricuao, one of the most dangerous districts of Caracas, and although she had grown up there, and knew almost all of the delinquents since they were kids, she still preferred to avoid them and their obnoxious friends at all costs. Most of them did drugs and carried guns and that was the worst cocktail you could think of.
When she arrived to her little house, her mother was already waiting for her, at the door. "Too much traffic?" She asked, as she let her in.
"As usual. I really wish I could move to La Guaira." She said, kissing her mother on the cheek.
"Ah, but I would miss you like hell." Her mother said, with a sad smile. She had struggled all her life to put food on the table for her and her daughter, with no help from any other person. Ashley's father had done a vanishing act as soon as her mother told him she was pregnant, at the tender age of fifteen, and her parents had kicked her out of the house when she refused to have an abortion.
"You could come with me." Ashley said, even knowing the answer.
"My job is here, not down there, so we would only change roles."
Ashley sighed, sitting at the table, in front of the covered dish her mother had left her. "I know, I know, but days like today just make me wish I could change things."
"You will, soon, have faith." Her mother said, always encouraging her.
Ashley looked at her mother, a thirty nine years old version of herself, who looked as if she was fifty. Life had been a total bitch to her and you could see it in the shadows of her dark brown eyes, in every wrinkle of her pale skin, in her fallen shoulders, and her thin body. Ashley's biggest dream was to get her mother out of that god's forsaken place into a nice house in the southeast of the city.
She ate in silence, she had learned a long time ago it was useless to wish upon the stars.
"Where will you be flying to tomorrow?" her mother asked, taking a seat at the table in front of her.
"To Margarita Island again. I'll be covering that route for the rest of the week, morning and afternoon flights." She answered, sounding as bored as she felt.
"Well, it could be worst. You could be flying to Maracaibo." Her mother said, smiling, as she mentioned one of Venezuela's biggest cities where it was so hot you could fry an egg on your car's hood.
"I guess you're right. I just hope Mr. Martinez decides to take his private plane back to Caracas." She said sighing.
"Oh, he flew with you again?" her mother asked. She knew all about Jordan Martinez and his insistence in dating her.
"Yes, this morning. But he didn’t fly back to Caracas today. Let's hope he won't tomorrow either.
Her mother smiled, amused. But she could see she wasn’t very happy with the man's interest in her. He was a man too powerful, and surely, too dangerous. There were too many rumors about him and his family, regarding drug dealing, money laundering and god knows what else.
That night she went to bed with a sense of restlessness she couldn’t shake off, as if she sensed something bad was going to happen.
The next morning, everything that could go wrong went wrong. When she got to the parking lot to pick up her car, she discovered someone had stolen the car's battery during the night. Cursing to herself, she ran to the manager's office for help, but the poor man couldn’t help her. Acquiring a car's battery was a real ordeal in the country. People had to spend the night, in front of the battery's manufacturer, in order to try to get one in the morning. The worst part was, that you could get to your turn and be informed that the battery you require was no longer available.
Filled with rage and frustration she looked at her watch and decided she had to do something, or she would be late for work. She almost ran across the street praying her friend Will would be available.
"Ashley sweetie." He called out as soon as he saw her.
"Will, thank god, you're here. Can you take me to La Guaira today? Someone stole my car's battery." She asked, anxious.
"For you anything, sweetie, you know that." He answered with his best Casanova's smile.
She slapped him in the shoulder teasingly and grabbed the helmet he was handing her, hopping behind him on the motorcycle. He was what people called a mototaxi, a motorcycle taxi. With them, you would avoid most traffic jams and get to your destination faster. The ride could be a bit dangerous, since neither cars nor the bikers showed any respect for each other or the rules, but she was in a hurry, so she couldn’t get picky.
He took her to the airport, where half an hour later she drew a deep breath and hopped off the motorcycle.
She paid him his fee and kissed him on his cheek. "Thank you, honey, you're a lifesaver." She said before she ran inside, arriving just on time.
Fortunately the flight was uneventful and she started feeling a bit better.
Jordan looked outside his office window, running his fingers through his hair, but his eyes weren’t seeing the blue sea or the golden beaches in front of him. His mind was focused on the job he had in hand for this morning. His father had specifically asked him to handle this shipment with extra care. They had lost a significant cargo a couple of weeks ago thanks to the sloppiness of the two nephews of General Marquez. The drugs had been seized by the National Guard, to put up a show, and tell the world the government was fighting drug traffic, but, usually after the show, they would recover the drug and send it to where it was destined. The problem was, the drugs were nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time and he was starting to get suspicious.
"Boss, it's all set." Wilson's voice, his most trusted man, took him out of his reverie, as he entered the office.
"Good, let's head to the airport then. I don’t want anything screwing this up." He said, turning to leave the room. "Have you contacted the National Guard?"
"Yes, they are aware of our arrival and they have cleared the area." Wilson informed, as both men walked out of the house to their car.
"Good, I'm not up for any nasty surprises today. All is ready in Miami to receive this shipment and I'll be damned if anything goes wrong." Jordan ranted. If he had been the boss, General Marquez nephews would have paid for the losses of their mistakes, but he wasn’t, not yet. "Where's Garcia?"
"He's already at the airport with the National Guard making sure everything goes according to plan." Wilson informed, quickly, not wanting to be the object of Jordan's rant. The man looked just like any playboy with more money than brains, but Wilson knew that behind the façade was hidden a man with a will of steel, and the heart of a rock. Nothing seemed to move him.
"Good."
Ashley was preparing everything to start boarding the passengers for the flight back to Caracas, when Mara called her. "Ashley, the National Guard is calling a passenger for a luggage check. Can you get that?"
"Now? Really? Half an hour before boarding?" she protested. Those checks were 99% of the times useless and a waste of time.
"What can I tell you? You know how they are. If you don’t get down there when they call you, they will stall the flight."
Ashley snorted, but went to the waiting area and called out the passenger. They went down to the luggage clearance, on the ground floor, where the National Guard checked all the luggage before sending it to the planes and every gate had its own, and direct access to it. But, once more the check proved to be a waste of time.
"Are we done here?" she asked Sergeant Hernandez, the guard, a hideous man, that she usually avoided like the plague. He reminded her of the typical villain from the old Mexican movies. He even had the moustache.
"Yes. Gutierrez, escort the passenger up to the boarding area." He ordered one of the other guards as he held Ashley's arm, preventing her from going after the other two men.
"Let me go, I have to start the boarding process." She asked, through gritted teeth.
"Come on, don’t be so prudish, I'm sure there must be enough fire inside you to set off this whole damn island." He said, pulling her closer to him.
"Even if I have, that's none of your business and it sure as hell never will be." She sputtered, pushing her arm hard and freeing herself from the hideous man.
The closest door upstairs was past the guard, so she just turned around and almost ran to the opposite door, on the nearest gate, as she heard his devious laughter. God, she really hated that man.
She was preoccupied ranting to herself about fate and life, and all the Sergeant Hernandez of the world, that she wasn’t paying much attention to where she was heading, or to the people gathered only a few meters from her. When she did, it was almost too late to stop herself and avoid them seeing her. She hid behind a truck parked nearby and took a peek. What the hell was going on there?
Jordan parked the car in a restricted area of the airport, close to the cargo area and quickly, Wilson and he grabbed the fake identity cards that gave them clearance to all areas in the airport and headed immediately to the cargo area. There, Garcia and a couple of guards waited for them. "All done here?" he asked, checking the suitcases that carried the product.
"Yes, Sir. We are ready to get them into the plane. The pilot and the crew are ready to take off as soon as you give them clearance." Garcia answered, quickly.
"Did you check them all? Are they of the expected quality?" he asked his man.
"Yes, boss, everything seems to be in order."
"How many kilos are we sending after all?" Jordan asked, in his coldest tone, after looking at the suitcases displayed.
"Six hundred kilos Boss." Garcia answered, oozing his nervousness through every word.
"Six hundred? What the hell happened to the other four hundred the Colombians had promised?" he asked, throwing ice droplets with every word.
"They said General Marquez had asked them for it, and that since we all work together they didn’t see any reason to say no." Garcia explained.
"Damn." That single word exposed all the contained rage and fury he was feeling at that moment. "Wait here, don’t do anything until I come back." He spat the order before he walked away from the others dialing his cell phone.
Ashley looked at the men, three civilian and two National Guards, checking some bags. Apparently, it all seemed normal, but she heard their conversation, and she realized she was witnessing a drug deal. One of the men's voices sounded familiar, but it belonged to the one with his back to her and she couldn’t figure out who he was, and as she was watching them, he walked away.
Cursing in silence her bad luck, she turned around to walk out of there as silently as she could, when she bumped into Sergeant Hernandez.
"Well, well, well, who do we have here?" he asked with a mocking tone.
"Sergeant, I was just going back up… the boarding…" she mumbled, trying to sound normal and not betray her nervousness.
Slowly, he raised the rifle all guards carried on their shoulder and pointed it at her.