Chapter 18
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
AIDEN
When Brodie was alive, I don’t think I truly appreciated his attendance at meetings for The Order. We were two hours into what was turning out to be a day-long meeting. And I was this close to stabbing someone.
This meeting was for council members only, which meant that the biggest assholes of The Order were all seated at one table.
Adrian, Cole, Ryder, Ashton, and Sarah were all in attendance, with Anthony seated at the head of the table and me to his right.
It’s amazing that, with the amount of ego in one place, we didn’t blow the roof off this building.
Brodie was right, though, when he said it was all a bunch of talk with very little action, much like what he imagined large board meetings were like for corporations.
Which was ridiculous, given we were a goddamn secret society that broke laws on a daily basis.
How hard was it to come to the conclusion, go there, threaten them, and if they don’t agree, shoot to kill or drag the body back for a good torture session?
Don’t even get me started on the fucking paperwork.
Since everything was encrypted with code, filling out a stupid form was like writing in another language.
We needed to get some grunts in here to do it for us.
Maybe a secretary of sorts, someone like Jenn.
I would bring this up at the next meeting because like hell was I going to extend this one.
I will say that my first decree or whatever as leader of The Order will be that meetings happen in a comfier location if they were going to be multiple hours long.
My ass muscles were screaming at me sitting in this old-ass wooden chair around a large dark wood circular table.
Who the fuck were we, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?
This was the twenty-first century, and we had endless wealth; we could have meetings wherever we damn well pleased. A five-star resort or even my bedroom would be better than this stuffy-ass office.
While Ashton droned on about research results and financing his next big idea, something about cellular breakdown, I decided to focus on my most recent fascination.
Arianna.
Scrolling through my phone, I look at our most recent morgue date, unsure of how else to classify them. There hadn’t been any more fucking, but I know she wants it. I can see it when she watches me; the yearning sort of radiates off her.
Yeah, morgue dates… probably not everyone’s cup of tea, but it was borderline romantic to me watching her tear through someone. I would wait a little longer to make my next move.
I stop scrolling on one of the pictures from last night.
Ari had gotten the bone saw out, my bloody little venom.
The saw is resting against her shoulder, dirty and dripping, and she has blood sprayed across her face as well as her white teddy.
Why the woman chooses to wear lingerie to a torture-zone, I will never know, but damn, it makes my dick hard seeing it all bloodied up.
She’s smiling in the photo, and I think this might be the first time that I have seen the real her since Brodie died.
She is reveling in the freedom that the morgue gives her.
Feeling what I feel every time I step through its shiny doors.
A loud cough ruins my train of thought, and when I glance up, everyone is looking my way when Adrian opens his big mouth, “Are we interrupting you, Aiden?”
This asshat. “Yes, you are.”
Anthony grunts and kicks my chair. “Shut the fuck up and pay attention.”
Adrian clears his throat and continues, “We still suspect the Cartwrights are involved somehow.”
Ahh. Brodie’s death. There was still little to no evidence about what happened the night he was shot; cameras had loops, credit cards tied to fake identities were used for rental cars and the purchase of bullets.
Shade, our resident hacker, had been digging deep for the last four months and still had come up with next to nothing.
Anthony was on the verge of killing them, and I was a little surprised it hadn’t happened yet. He probably couldn’t find them anywhere.
“We need someone to get close to a Cartwright, infiltrate, and feed us information,” Anthony mused as he sipped on a ten-thousand-dollar bottle of whiskey at eleven in the morning.
Well, the weakest link, if they had one, was Dylan Cartwright. He was the nephew of Jameson Cartwright and set to take over for him when Jameson retired, since he had no children himself. While The Order was focused on pharmaceuticals, the Cartwrights had their claws in real estate.
Their idea was that if you owned everything, you had more control. Control over businesses and people. Land as a commodity was power itself.
However, the true passion of the Cartwrights lies in their casino investments.
Casinos were the places that people let their inhibitions loose and their desires run wild.
Secrets and lies were the power source of all gambling dens, and the Cartwrights used that to their advantage.
Leverage against some of the most powerful people in the world opened doors you couldn’t even begin to dream of, or so they said.
And Dylan was set to take over. That Cartwright spawn was over at Bishop University across town.
The cesspool for the elite that didn’t get invited to attend VanHuss.
Some of the most vindictive vermin ran that school, and Dylan was the head.
The sociopathic head of vermin—not a title I would want to hold, but Dylan seemed to thrive.
I scoff. “Dylan is easy to control, Adrian, if you would stop and think with your cock.”
Adrian gives me a dark look. “Excuse me,” his voice like acid.
“I bet Dylan would spill his secrets for a good fuck,” I say matter-of-factly. Pillow talk was the easiest way to get a weak man to let loose. A good orgasm for a sex-deprived twat, yeah, that could work.
Adrian was about to flip his shit, but I could see him actually considering what I was suggesting. He was a man after all, and even though he was perpetually single, he knew the power. “Do we know Dylan’s sexual preferences?” Adrian muses.
I shake my head. “No, but we could send a couple of options over there to Bishop U, put them in some of his classes, see who bites.”
Anthony nods his head. “I’m actually a little impressed. Don’t fuck it up.”
If this man ever gave someone a compliment, I would need to check his pulse because he would be dead.
Adrian agrees, “Yes, ok, round up a few recruits and send them over. And get a tail on him; maybe his activity would give us insight on how best to break him.”
“Ok, I will talk to Gage once this incessant meeting is over,” I confirm, but can’t stop myself from letting them know that this council business is for the fucking birds.
Sarah rolls her eyes and reminds everyone that we need to vote on this.
Watching her bleed out is looking better and better.
A formal vote on sending some people over to Bishop U to get into the pants of Dylan Cartwright.
People wouldn’t believe me if I told them the bullshit that went down at these meetings.
I glance back down at my phone and think of a loose plan for the next date with Ari. Satan knows she will add her own personal touch to any form of torture, and any plan I make will go up in smoke.
Hmm… I haven’t done anything with my darts recently. That could be fun.
With that settled, I sit back and focus on the meeting.
When I take over, we are moving this to a spa at least. Let’s have formal votes while we all sit naked in a steam room.