Master of Lust

Chapter - 267

The voice on the other end darkened, the laughter gone. "Calm down, Mr. Smith.

We're not playing games. Unlike the police, we work in the shadows. We see everything that happens in the darkness. And we know you're the one who tried to have your son killed."

Smith's breath caught in his throat, and his body went stiff. "What… what do you want?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper now, terror setting in.

The voice continued, "We've got more than enough proof. You met Jed in that bar, showed him Rick's photo, paid him. And don't forget the supermarket. We've got photos of everything. Rick's car, you and him tampering with it—everything."

His terror turned into full-blown panic. His mind raced, every word from the voice dragging him further into a pit of fear. His pulse pounded in his ears. What the hell do they want?

Rick's father sat frozen in his hospital bed, gripping the phone tightly. The voice from the other side had shifted from eerie authority to outright command, sending cold shivers down his spine.

"We don't know what your issue is with your only son, Mr. Smith," the voice began, almost mocking, "but you've sunk low enough to try to kill him. Let me be clear: for now, Rick's death in any way is... inconvenient for us. So, keep up appearances. Keep your son alive. Do you understand, Mr. Smith?"

The words cut through him like ice, commanding him as though they had the right. Something inside Smith snapped. The fear that had been pulsing through his veins was suddenly drowned out by the fire of his deep-seated hatred for his son. How dare they? Who were they to tell him what to do?

With trembling rage, he lashed out, his voice rising despite the dryness in his throat. "I don't know who the hell you people think you are, calling me, accusing me of trying to kill my own son, and now… now you want to give me orders?"

He paused, his breathing erratic, then spat out, "Yes! I want to kill my son, and I will do it as soon as I can! Who are you to stop me? What are you going to do about it?"

A heavy silence followed his rant. He was panting, chest heaving, his heart racing. Then the voice returned, its tone much darker now, chilling with every word.

"Mr. Smith," it began, slow and deliberate, dripping with menace, "if you're going to continue with this reckless plan of yours, we'll ruin you. First, we'll notify the police, give them every piece of evidence linking you to your attempts on Rick's life. Then, we'll stop your pathetic plot ourselves, save Rick, and make sure you suffer for it."

His heart skipped a beat. The voice's calm threat sank into him like a hook dragging him into the depths of fear again. His defiance began to falter, replaced with confusion and dread. In a trembling voice, he stammered, "I... Is Rick... working with you? Is he related to you?"

A mocking, cold laugh erupted from the other end of the line, cutting him off. "No, Mr. Smith. We're the exact opposite. We are Rick's enemies. But his death, right now, would point the police in our direction. So, if you have any sense left, you'll wait until we tell you it's time. When the moment is right, we'll help you. And unlike your clumsy, idiotic attempts, we'll make sure Rick suffers and dies in a way that leaves no suspicion. But you need patience, Mr. Smith. Do you understand?"

Before he could respond, the call abruptly cut off. The silence that followed was deafening. The nurse immediately snatched the phone from his hands, casting a glance his way before walking off.

He sat there, his mind racing. Who were these people? How did they know so much? A shiver of terror washed over him as he realized someone knew about his plans. Someone who was watching him. Controlling him. His hatred for Rick flared again as the thoughts of Rick and Jemimah being alone together gnawed at his gut, twisting him in rage. But now... now, he had no choice but to follow their orders.

He was trapped.

------

Sharon's Harley came to a slow stop in front of Rick's father's house. The low rumble of the engine faded as she turned it off, but her focus was immediately drawn to the cluster of large black SUVs parked haphazardly along the curb and driveway.

Sharon leaned back, tilting her head toward Rick with a faint smirk. "Well, look at that. Your friends came over. Didn't know you were the SUV type."

Rick frowned, his eyes narrowing as he took in the unfamiliar vehicles. "Those aren't my friends," he said firmly, his voice tinged with unease. His gaze flickered toward the house; its front door slightly ajar. His chest tightened. "Something's not right."

Sharon crossed her arms, her smirk faltering as she caught the sudden tension in his voice. "You're sure about that?"

Rick, shaking his head, "No idea who they are, but this doesn't feel like a casual visit.", his pace quickening with each step. "Stay here," he called over his shoulder, though he doubted Sharon would listen.

"Stay here?" Sharon muttered, "Sure, I am the fucking cop and I will stay here, while you a normal civilian will approach the matter."

Rick burst through the front door, the sound of his hurried footsteps echoing through the hall. He stopped short, his eyes widening at the scene before him. The living room was in chaos: burly, muscular men tore through drawers, cabinets, and closets, scattering items across the floor as though searching for something specific. Their sheer presence filled the room, their movements deliberate and forceful.

Behind him, Sharon stormed in, her gaze instantly sharp and assessing. Her hand instinctively hovered near her sidearm.

"What the hell is going on here?" Rick shouted, his voice cutting through the ruckus.

One of the men barely glanced up, his expression cold and dismissive. "Stay the fuck out of this," he growled before returning to his search, ripping open another cabinet with brute force.

Rick clenched his fists, anger bubbling to the surface. He took a step forward, but Sharon was faster.

"What the fuck is going on here?" she barked, her voice firm and commanding as she whipped out her badge, holding it high. "Lieutenant Sharon Vintner, police. You've got five seconds to explain yourselves before I start making arrests."

At the sight of her badge, the men froze for a brief moment, exchanging glances. Then, chaos erupted. Like a well-rehearsed retreat, the men scrambled, overturning furniture as they rushed toward the door.

"Hey!" Sharon shouted, lunging forward to grab one of them. Rick, still trying to process the scene, instinctively moved to block the front door.

It was then he caught sight of something that made his blood run cold. Among the fleeing men, one of them had Jemimah slung over his shoulder. Her arms and legs were tied tightly, and she struggled fiercely, her muffled cries barely audible through the gag covering her mouth.

"Jemimah!" Rick yelled, his voice raw with panic. Without hesitation, he charged toward the man carrying her.

Sharon, momentarily stunned by Rick's outburst, followed his gaze and saw Jemimah. Her expression hardened, and she reached for her gun. But before either of them could make a move, two massive men stepped between them and the door.

"Move!" Rick roared, throwing a punch that connected with one man's jaw, sending him crashing to the floor. He spun and landed a quick jab to the second man, who grunted in pain and staggered back. Sharon joined the fray, her movements precise and efficient, trying to subdue another one of the fleeing men.

The man carrying Jemimah, however, didn't stop. He slipped through the chaos and out the front door, heading straight for one of the black SUVs.

"Sharon, they've got her!" Rick shouted, his voice desperate as he pushed past the second man blocking him. He bolted toward the door, but by the time he reached the driveway, the man had already loaded Jemimah into the SUV.

The engine roared to life, and the tires screeched as the vehicle sped off, leaving Rick standing there, breathing heavily, his fists clenched in helpless fury.

Sharon emerged a moment later, her expression a mix of anger and confusion. "What the hell was that about? Who are these guys, Rick?"

Rick didn't answer. His gaze remained fixed on the disappearing SUV, his jaw tightening as his mind raced. Jemimah was gone, and he had no idea who had taken her—or why.

******

[Author's Note: Do check out my New story, The Revenge of the Fallen]