Chapter 1
Dotted with winding waterways snaking their way to the startling blue ocean surrounding the Naples-Marcos Island paradise, the lush green landscape was breathtaking. Jaxton Hughes had traveled the globe visiting extraordinary places heralded for their physical beauty. In the process, he’d frequented some of the most luxurious and most exclusive golf clubs in the world. Gazing over the acres of manicured greens, daunting sand-filled bunkers, tall trees, and shimmering water, he acknowledged it would be hard to beat the backdrop of their latest mission. That it was without question the most significant enterprise he’d led in a lifetime of challenging undertakings only served to underscore the mission’s incongruence with its stunning physical setting.
Glancing across the table, Jax exchanged an appreciative glance with Serge Stryker, his crack special operative and FBI hotshot. In his current role as police chief, Jax relied on his former agents to handle critical, off-the-grid assignments that were outside the purview of the San Jose police department. Stryker was known in the hideous underworld as the scourge of child pornographers the world over.
As impressive as the Coronado Club was, neither Jax nor Serge were neophytes in the world of the rich and famous. Even so, the fact that Jax could identify a minimum of ten major CEOs, in addition to a healthy sprinkling of billionaires from the worldwide financial pages, made their upcoming luncheon meeting noteworthy. With an ironic grin, Jax thought the makeup of the luncheon crowd was not surprising given that a membership in the elite club started at a cool half mil—which no doubt tended to keep the riffraff out. Undoubtedly, in this stratospheric financial environment, megamergers and billion dollar deals confirmed over chip shots and long putts were not uncommon.
All of which underscored the surprising fact that their luncheon companions, who had yet to arrive, were two of the most despicable men who walked the earth. In Jax’s opinion, the sheer evil of the duo made Typhon, the big daddy of mythological Greek monsters, seem like a sniveling pussycat. He blew out a hard sigh, gratified that two days from now, the monstrous men would be begging for a quick death rather than the lifelong hell that Jax and his men had planned to ensure that the rest of their lives was as tortured as they had made so many others.
Jax rose to his feet, studying the two men striding toward their table. The shorter man in the lead was physically indistinguishable from the middle-aged, graying men populating the posh dining room. A balding pate, narrowed, bespectacled eyes, and a tanned complexion speaking to hours on the rolling fairways of the extraordinary golf course were seemingly de rigueur for a good many of the club’s members. Recognizing Gus Moore, one of the malevolent pair they were targeting, Jax tucked the unprepossessing-looking man’s curriculum vitae into the folder in his brain. He’d focus on Moore later. At the moment, he was concentrating on the much bigger man bringing up the rear. The ruddy-complexioned fellow stopped by half the tables, glad-handing the elite diners sitting at them. His boisterous voice and corpulent frame that long ago had gone from muscle to fat made for a notable entrance in the otherwise sedate environs. While taking stock of the chap’s physical characteristics, Jax looked for the evil that was no doubt lurking close to the surface. How could it not be, as the jocular man was none other than Sherman Davis, his lover Viviana Moreau’s first “step-father”?
For a split second, a calculating gleam darkened the rowdy man’s eyes as he approached Jax. It was quickly replaced by a cheerful grin. Donning his well-practiced bonhomie, Davis extended his hand, the meaty paw grasping Jax’s manicured one. In a loud voice, he said, “You can only be Lucas Dubois.” He added with a chortle, “You Frenchmen don’t have to utter a word. Your elegant presumed superiority says it all.”
Jax allowed a tight smile to curve his lips. He had to give it to the accomplished charlatan. Clearly, without breathing hard, he could transform from his good ole boy persona to a shrewd businessman accustomed to dealing with the rarified elite. Nodding to him, Jax said pleasantly, “May I presume that in your opinion, elegance is not a bad attribute to have? Particularly if it is well-earned.”
Davis barked a hearty laugh. “If by ‘well-earned’ you mean in the financial sense, it is most welcome.” He added with a smirk, “I can even tolerate superiority if it is ratified by a positive balance sheet.” Turning to his less imposing colleague, Davis said, “As I’m sure you have thoroughly scoped us out, as we have you, may I formally introduce my colleague, Gus Moore.” He added unnecessarily, “And I am your host, Sherman Davis.”
Jax bowed slightly and said in his French-tinged accent, “Enchanté, Mr. Davis. I’m pleased to meet you.” Nodding to Moore, he added, “And you as well, Mr. Moore.” Turning to Serge, he said pleasantly, “As I’m confident you have surmised, this is my partner, Magnus Harris.”
Waving a big arm, Sherman gestured to the table. “Enough formalities, Dubois. Please sit down. My partner and I have been looking forward to meeting you.” As he sank into the closest chair, he added with a tight frown, “Particularly if you come as advertised.”
Jax responded with an easy smile. “May I assume that will not be an issue? It is unlikely you would invite my partner and me to dine with you in this auspicious place if you had not thoroughly vetted us.” Allowing his smile to fade, he added, “Transactions like the ones we intend to embark on do not allow for sloppiness. Agreed, Mr. Davis?”
Color flooded the big man’s countenance as if Jax had insulted him. He added grimly, “Let’s just say while I may be accused of any number of personal peccadillos, sloppiness is not one of them.” Making an obvious effort to lighten the strain that had settled over their conversation, he said, “But please, Lucas, if I may call you that, let’s go to the heart of the matter before us. What would you like to drink?”
Jax smiled and nodded in agreement. “Yes, to both of your suggestions. Please call me Lucas, and perhaps a Bunnahabhain would be a fitting way to christen our budding relationship.”
Sherman guffawed. “Hell, how could a couple-grand bottle of limited edition, forty-year-old single malt Scotch whiskey not be an auspicious start to a profitable relationship?” He added with a snort, “I gotta say, Lucas, you come as advertised. And please skip the Mr. Davis crap. Considering our intended relationship, familiarity is a given. I’m Sherm and Gus is Gus.”
Again, Jax nodded in agreement. Both his and Serge’s ersatz pedigrees were firmly in place and had been relayed to the two unsuspecting men at the table. Jax had chosen to assume his French alter ego Lucas Dubois, an exceedingly wealthy entrepreneur. Dubois’s supposed ties to the unsavory international playground made him an ideal customer for the products Sherman and his despicable cohorts purveyed. Jax particularly liked his Dubois guise because it was the one he’d assumed in the prescient Belize mission that had changed his life forever. That was where he’d met the incorrigible detective Viviana Moreau, the woman he loved more than life itself and was hell-bent on vindicating in their current endeavor.
In preparation for the mission, Serge had connected with his incarcerated pedophilia and pornographers’ network. With promises of, if not lesser sentences, at least somewhat less challenging prison circumstances, the vicious convicts provided Jax and Serge with hideous credentials sure to impress Sherman and his fellow villains.
At that moment, Viviana Moreau entered the dining room accompanied by Greg Bannon, who was Jax’s VCU commander, and Detective Mick O’Reilly, Viviana’s long-term partner.
Glancing at the three of them, Jax was impressed that the law enforcement professionals, under his careful tutelage, easily meshed with the rarefied assemblage. Leading them to their table was Peter Wilson, a member of the tony golf club, who in a past life had been a high-level CIA operative. He’d mentored Jax, who had then been a young, aspiring special operative warrior. Wilson had quickly agreed to his former protégé’s request to lend his impressive credentials to help bring the hideous criminals to ground. Peter’s task was to vouch for the status of the beautiful woman and her colleagues to the impressed members of the elite country club.
Nodding to the gray-haired gentleman who’d pulled out a chair for her, Viviana assumed her seat. Studiously ignoring the group several tables away, she smiled up at her host and said pleasantly, “Thank you, Peter, for inviting us to lunch. I understand that in addition to being a golfer’s paradise, this gracious club has an extraordinary menu.”
Wilson nodded in agreement and said with an ironic smile, “As it should, madam, given the filthy lucre required to sample so much as a carrot stick in this snobbish utopia.”
Viviana did her best to paste a genuine smile on her lips at her host’s obvious attempt to lessen the pressure he had to know she was feeling. Her being here was a challenge. Even Greg’s and Mick’s hovering presence couldn’t ease the anxiety threatening to overcome her. In the abstract, while planning the mission, Viviana was able to focus on the details. She’d managed to put aside her shock that Jax and Serge had not only located two of the hideous men who had abused her as a child, but they’d also found her aunt, Jasmine Reynolds, her dead mother’s sister. The witch who’d turned Viviana over to Child Protective Services, indicating that her pre-teen niece was incorrigible and unmanageable. When Jasmine told the CPS that she couldn’t afford to take care of the unruly girl, she hadn’t mentioned that her niece was also the heiress to her sister Courtney Reynolds’s significant estate.
Designing the operation with Jax, Serge, and the others, Viviana had almost been able to treat it as a foray into a world that didn’t affect her personally rather than the hideous realm she’d spent a lifetime trying to forget. Encouraged by the team’s belief in her ability to assume the challenging undercover role and knowing that Jax would never be more than steps away from her, Viviana had convinced herself that she could pull it off. At least until she entered the dining room and saw Sherman Davis and his co-pedophile, Gus Moore. For one horrendous moment, Viviana became a terrified eleven-year-old girl. Involuntarily, the accomplished detective and hard-bitten investigator put up her hands as if to ward off the assault of the hideous man sitting three tables away. The man who was salaciously eyeing the blood-red porterhouse steak he was about to attack. Only Jax’s fierce gaze willing Viviana to call on her courage kept her from shattering. That and the firm pressure against her knees by the intrepid cops flanking her.
With supreme effort, Jax managed to paint a bored expression on his face and quell his agitation. He was only too aware that he could blow their entire operation if he reacted to the flash of sheer horror he had seen in Viviana’s eyes. Fortunately, in seconds, Viviana’s expression hardened, and he saw both Mick and Greg move protectively closer to her. When she’d entered the dining room, her short, black, spiky hair and stormy, almost black eyes ensured that no one would believe the infamous blonde, azure-eyed Sergeant Viviana Moreau had joined them. Only her voluptuous body could have given her away. Seeing the attention of the room focus on the gorgeous woman who was taking her seat, Jax forced an uninterested glance in her direction.
Turning to his host and target, Jax acknowledged her presence with a shrug. “I can understand why a woman who looks like that may turn a few heads.” He added with a dismissive sniff, “But to me she is a little too obvious. Frankly, I’ve learned in years of experience that men like us are targets for unscrupulous women. To be specific, women on the make.” He continued softly, “I prefer less practiced women.”
Sherm nodded his agreement and said with a grimace, “Let’s call a spade a spade, Lucas. In my experience, as you inferred, women who look like that are obviously gold-diggers.” Not waiting for Jax or Serge to agree, he said, “As voluptuous as her body appears to be, we all know how unlikely it is that it’s real.” He snorted. “Hell, I’d bet a round of golf it’s augmented by copious amounts of silicone applied by a skillful nip-tucker.”
Pausing as if realizing that he had crossed a boundary, he focused a hard glare on Jax. “My taste runs to less ‘realized’ womanhood, if you will. One that is nubile, in the beginning stages of development.” Meeting Jax’s gaze, he said tightly, “But then, that is why we are meeting, isn’t it, Lucas?” At Jax’s shrug, the clueless man said, “Given that, I’d be honored if you and your partner would join me at my estate tonight. I can assure you it will be a portentous evening.”
Jax nodded. “Agreed.”