Divine Domination Read online

  Goodbye and good luck.

  The note was typed with no signature, nothing to point to Mason. Ian wasn’t surprised. Mason was as careful as he was greedy and had enough money to hire a small army to protect him. If Ian tried to take his revenge now, it would be a suicide mission. It would take time for his former friend to drop his guard, time that would be best put to use in planning and preparation.

  Ian was a patient man. He was also a determined one.

  He might have lost the battle, but he would win the war. By the time he was finished with Stewart, cheating a Hawke would be his greatest regret.

  And now, just days from his sixty-fifth birthday, his moment had finally arrived. He’d failed once before, but now he had his hands on the only things Stewart truly cared about.

  He had one of Mason’s daughters locked away in a remote location in the Florida Keys and he had the other on his private plane looking up at him with frightened blue eyes the exact shade as her father’s.

  “As for what I want….” Ian settled onto the small leather couch next to Hannah Mason’s seat, close enough to smell the grass and perfume scent drifting from her body. “I want your father to pay his debt. If he does, you will be allowed to live.”

  Hannah swallowed and her taut features relaxed, making it obvious she had no clue that he was talking about so much more than money.

  No amount of money could right Mason’s wrongs. There was only one way to even the score. Mason would pay his debt with the blood of his children, the keepers of his legacy.

  What good was an empire, after all, without someone to pass it on to? Money could be replaced; not so little girls.

  And Hannah and Harley were the last living Masons of their generation. Ian had already taken care of their cousins, those tragically unlucky men and women he’d orphaned when they were so very young.

  “I think he’ll choose you, anyway.” Ian smiled at the pretty thing peering up at him, not surprised his son was smitten with her.

  Hannah was beautiful, with a sweet heart that shone in her eyes and a brightness of soul found only in the very young and very breakable. She was one of the fragile, gullible, victims of the world fools like Jackson couldn’t resist taking under their wing. He had assumed Jackson had learned the dangers of caring too much after the other sister had ruined his life, but apparently his son was a glutton for punishment.

  “You’re the good girl, aren’t you?” Ian continued, knowing that she was. He knew everything about her, from the hobbies she’d enjoyed as a child to her grade point average when she graduated from college. “The one who always did as she was told? I understand your sister was his favorite once, but when he realizes he can only keep one daughter, I suspect he’ll see the wisdom in sparing your life instead of hers.”

  Ian paused, watching the color drain from Hannah’s face and her hands begin to shake. She seemed to be getting the message loud and clear, a fact she confirmed when she bent double and was sick all over the floor.

  He watched, taking pleasure from her pain, determined to relish every moment of his hard-won, long-awaited revenge.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jackson

  Jackson had killed before—in combat and once when negotiations with a Mexican drug cartel had gone awry and he’d had no choice but to kill or be killed—but he had never experienced anything like the blood lust pulsing through his veins as he steered the abandoned golf cart he’d found at the airstrip back toward the villa.

  When he got his hands on the men who had kidnapped Hannah, he was going to rip their hearts, still beating, from their chests and stuff the organs down their throats. He was going to pull them limb from limb and toss the pieces of their mutilated bodies into the sea. Or maybe he’d leave them out for buzzards to pick at and maggots to writhe inside.

  Every fate he imagined for the men was more horrible than the last, but no amount of terror, pain, or desecration seemed sufficient punishment for the sin of taking Hannah away from him.

  And if Dominic were correct, and the men intended to kill her…

  Jackson swallowed hard, forcing down the gorge rising in his throat.

  They would beg for death by the time he was through with them. They would beg for it. Jackson had no doubt he could deliver enough suffering to make Hannah’s kidnappers sorry they’d ever heard her name, but that wouldn’t bring her back. Once she was gone, she would be gone forever—and his heart and soul along with her.

  He had to get to her before it was too late for both of them.

  He parked the cart by the lanai and took the steps up to the villa two at a time. He found Eva and Dominic in the kitchen talking animatedly in Spanish, but their conversation cut off abruptly when he entered the room.

  “I was too late.” Jackson aimed himself at the phone, where Hannah had called her aunt nearly every day for the past month, trying not to think about the way her sweet laughter had filled the room as she chatted with the woman who was like a mother to her.

  He would hear that laughter again. But first he would hear the screams of the men who had taken her away from him.

  “They left on a small private plane,” he continued. “The jet is still here, but I can’t fly it. I’ll have to hire a charter and see how fast they can—”

  “We can take my jet,” Dominic said. “I’ve already put in a call to the pilot in Moorea. He should be landing soon. And I’ve got a tech team hacking into a surveillance satellite orbiting the area. Hopefully, they’ll be able to get a visual and tell us where the plane is headed.”

  Jackson slammed the phone back into the receiver before turning to shoot Dom his most threatening look. “Who are you? Who are you working for and why should I trust you when you knew Hannah was in danger and failed to protect her?”

  “I’m working for her father, Stewart Mason,” Dom said, as his mother angled her body in front of his, clearly intending to protect her son from Jackson, even if her employer was twice her size. “I’ve been working for Mr. Mason for years, trying to keep Hannah safe from those who mean her harm.”

  Dominic paused, eyes narrowing as he shook his head back and forth. “And then you showed up. At first, I thought you were part of it. But you really have no idea, do you?”

  “No idea about what?” Jackson growled.

  “About your father,” Dom hurried on, clearly sensing Jackson’s mounting frustration. “He’s the one who killed Hannah’s cousins. He’s trying to take out all of Stewart Mason’s heirs.”

  Jackson’s brows drew together so sharply it sent a flash of pain through his temples. “My father is a real estate developer. He’s a cold hearted bastard, but he doesn’t kill people.” He frowned harder. “And even if he did, why would he give a shit about Mason’s money or his heirs? My father is a wealthy man. The last thing he needs is more money.”

  “Story too long,” Eva piped up, waving a hand at Jackson before turning back to her son. “Is too long and Hannah in trouble. You work together. Help her. Then you fight.”

  The seemingly sincere concern in the older woman’s voice reminded Jackson of his other source of information, the one person he trusted wanted nothing but the best for Hannah. “I’m calling her aunt.” He snatched the phone up with one hand as he pointed at Dom with the other. “Get my cell from the floor in Hannah’s room. As soon as I’m finished with this call, I have to place another one. Then we’ll talk.”

  He should probably call the Titan group first. He doubted Alexander Titan would initiate an execution based on a text message—especially since they’d never discussed the price for murder on demand—but Hannah was his first concern.

  He would do what he could to keep Harley safe, but only after he found out who had Hannah and was on his way to getting her back.

  Sybil answered on the third ring, saying, “Hello, darling, is everything all right?” in a sleepy voice.

  A glance at the clock above the stove revealed it was nearly midnight. Jackson had been so terrified he hadn’t even noticed
the time.

  “No, Sybil, it’s not. This is Jackson, Hannah’s friend,” he said, wincing at the last word. He was so much more than her friend, but her aunt had never met him or seen him and Hannah together. She might not trust him enough to open up about their family secrets, but he had to try, for Hannah’s sake. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but something terrible has happened. Hannah’s been taken. By two men, one of whom I thought I could trust with my life.”

  “Oh my God,” Sybil whispered.

  “I realized she was missing and followed them, but it was too late,” he continued, knowing he didn’t have time to waste explaining all the finer—and crazier—details of Hannah’s abduction. “I got to the airfield in time to see their plane take off. My plane is still here, but I don’t have a pilot so I couldn’t follow them.”

  “Hannah’s been taken,” Sybil said, speaking to someone on the other end of the line. “And her friend can’t fly the plane. Do you think—”

  “There’s a man here who claims he works for Hannah’s father,” Jackson broke in. “He says there’s a plane on the way that we can use to go after her, but I don’t know if I can trust him.”

  “Well, you don’t really have a choice, do you?” Sybil’s voice was surprisingly strong and steady. “You have to get to her as soon as possible, Jackson. If they took her alive, she won’t be alive for long. I’ve already lost three brothers and four nieces and nephews to this nightmare. I can’t lose Hannah, too. She’s like a daughter to me.”

  Jackson leaned against the kitchen counter, fear prickling across his skin. Could Dominic be right about his father?

  “The man here said that someone is killing the Mason heirs,” he said, deliberately keeping things vague to see if Sybil would confirm Dom’s claim. “Do you know why? It might help me figure out where they’ve taken Hannah.”

  “It has something to do with my brother, Stewart,” Sybil said after only a moment’s hesitation, evidently deciding to trust him. “Over the years, he’s received threats from an old business partner. But when I’ve pushed for more information about the threats or the partner, he refuses to speak about it or to go to the authorities for help. He has deliberately kept the assassinations of our family members a secret while concealing the other man’s identity and I… Well, I believe I know why.”

  “Why?” Jackson pressed, his thoughts racing.

  Was his father the old business partner? It was easy to imagine Ian bending the law to crush a rival, but murder wasn’t part of the tax code. As far as Jackson knew, his father had never even had a parking ticket. He was a decorated Marine, a self-made man who had married into one of the oldest families on the eastern seaboard. He wasn’t a mob boss for God’s sake.

  You were a decorated Marine, and look how far you’ve fallen. Maybe you inherited more from dear old dad than height and the color of your eyes.

  “I think Stewart had something to do with what happened to our brothers,” Sybil said in a pained voice. “He’s always been different and they bullied him terribly when he was small. I was the only one who was kind to Stewart and I am the only one who didn’t meet with an unfortunate accident in the fall of 1975, just weeks before our father’s will was set to be read.”

  She sighed, the sound making it clear how heavily her suspicions had weighed on her. “I’ve had too much time to think to believe that’s a coincidence. I was spared because Stewart told the person he’d hired to kill the others to let me live. But then, I assume something must have happened to make the killer turn on him.” She paused before continuing in a haunted tone, “And now Stewart has spent the past forty years defending his family from a nightmare that he set in motion, knowing his connection to the murderer would be obvious if anyone ever learned the man’s name.”

  “You could be right,” Jackson said, his throat tight. “I’m going to look into a few things, Sybil. I’ll call you back.”

  “I’ll come to you,” Sybil said. “My friend Hiro is a pilot. He says he can borrow a plane and get us both there in ninety minutes. When you figure out where they’ve taken Hannah, we’ll come with you.”

  Her friend, Hiro. Jackson was tempted to tell the woman her trust was grossly misplaced but resisted the urge.

  Hiro had been his spy, but he’d also said he cared about Sybil and sounded like he meant it. If there was one thing Jackson had learned from his time on the island, it was that people could change. Even the hardest heart could soften in the hands of the right person. Hannah had transformed him, given him back his soul and a reason for living. If Sybil had done the same for Hiro, Jackson wouldn’t do anything to ruin the happiness they’d found.

  But he would do what it took to keep Sybil safe. It’s what Hannah would want.

  “No,” he said. “Pack what you need for a week or two and have Hiro fly you somewhere no one will think to look for you. You can give me his cell number and I’ll call you as soon as I have any updates on the situation.”

  “But I—”

  “I know you want to help find Hannah,” Jackson interrupted gently. “But the people who have taken her are dangerous. Hannah loves you more than anything. If I brought you into a situation that would put your life in danger, she would have my balls for breakfast.”

  Sybil’s laugh ended in a soft sob. “Sounds like you know her well. Most people think she’s a pushover. They don’t see how strong she really is.”

  “I see her,” Jackson said roughly. “And I love her and I swear to you I will get her back or die trying.”

  “Don’t die,” Sybil said. “There’s been enough death and Hannah needs you. She loves you very much, too, Jackson. And I’m sure she knows you’re doing everything you can to reach her.”

  “I hope so,” he said, falling silent as Sybil gave him Hiro’s familiar number and he pretended to write it down.

  He hoped that Hannah believed he loved her. Or that he’d at least have the chance to explain that he hadn’t given the kill order she must have seen on his phone.

  He didn’t care enough about Harley to want to kill her. Not anymore. His hate had faded to a two-dimensional emotion, one that could be folded and put away in a box inside of him and left to quietly decompose. The only passion he felt now was for Hannah, for her safety, her love, and the chance to build a life with the woman who had made him believe in miracles.

  She was his miracle, his savior, his heart, and he was going to find her. He couldn’t be too late. He couldn’t have come so far out of the darkness only to lose his light.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Hannah

  The first thing Hannah felt was the sun warm on her face, then the cool breeze blowing across her bare arms and the gentle rocking of the boat beneath her.

  They were lovely, lulling sensations, but none of them were the source of the desire pooling in her belly, making her blood feel hot and sticky. The source was the tongue swirling around her belly button, sending sizzles of awareness rushing through her and setting a hungry pulse to throbbing between her legs.

  “Hmm…” She hummed lazily, opening her eyes to see Jackson’s dark head bent over her stomach as his mouth made love to her navel with a singular focus that made her nipples bead tight beneath her damp bikini top.

  “Are you finally awake?” he asked, his voice vibrating against her sun-warmed skin.

  “I didn’t know the belly button was an erogenous zone,” she answered, reaching down to thread her fingers through his thick hair. She loved his hair. Its softness, its sealskin color, the way it slid silkily through her fingers unless she fisted it in her hand and hung on for dear life.

  “Silly woman.” His tongue thrust deeper into the soft flesh, summoning an answering twinge low in her body. “In the right hands, all of your zones are erogenous zones.”

  She bit her lip, breath catching as Jackson’s hand smoothed up the inside of her thigh. “Is that right?”

  “Take your clavicle for example.” Jackson kissed his way up through the valley
between her breasts to the skin just below her neck. He kissed the place where her throat became her collarbone before letting his tongue trace a path across it to her shoulder. “If I wanted to, I could make you come just from kissing you here, again and again.”

  “Fascinating,” she said with mock awe as she shivered, feeling his tongue in a hundred different places as he traced a line back the way he’d come.

  He hadn’t kissed her in any of the ways she usually associated with making love, but she was already wet and aching for him. Despite a healthy anti-foot-fetish, if Jackson told her that he could make her come from nibbling on her toes, she would believe him.

  But that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun to tease…

  “But I have to confess I have doubts about clavicle-induced orgasms,” she said, as his tongue circled the hollow at the base of her throat, making her already tight nipples sting with the need for contact. “Are you sure you aren’t being hyperbolic, Mr. Hawke?”

  “You know I hate that word.” He nipped at her neck, the feel of his teeth against her skin ratcheting her desire up another notch. “I’m many things, sunshine, but I’m not a liar.”

  “Hyperbole isn’t a lie.” She fought the urge to squirm as he turned his attention to the other side of her collarbone and fresh heat pooled between her legs. “It’s an exaggerated statement never intended to be taken literally.”

  “I appreciate the grammar lesson,” he said, dryly. “But I wasn’t exaggerating. Do you want me to prove it?”

  “No,” she said, tightening her grip in his hair. “I’d rather you fuck me, sir. If that’s all right with you.”

  He laughed softly as he moved on top of her, spreading her legs with a nudge of his knee before settling between them, pinning her against the warm wood of the deck. “I think I could be persuaded to fuck you. If you’re a good girl.”

  “Or a bad one?” She lifted her hips, grinding into the hard, hot ridge of his cock, still trapped behind his swim trunks.