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Authors: Jennifer Turner
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smoke. She’d commanded a following in Chicago’s club scene for almost a decade. But three years ago she’d been shot at, in public no less, then shamefully chased by a mere Fledgling Thug, who’d pursued her to the roof of a building downtown and brutally beat her before tossing her twenty stories to her death.
Luckily, she’d lived and no humans witnessed her fall. But instead of seeking out the armed assailant, Locke had punished
her
for defying his rule that no one hold sway over the police, aside from him, of course. He’d then forced her into the sun, and to top it all off, had forbidden her to heal the wounds for three entire days. The pompous ass had tortured her with unbearable pain and unbelievable embarrassment, simply for having two friends in the Chicago Police Department. After all, it wasn’t her fault they happened to be the helicopter pilot and his partner. And really, all they’d been attempting to do was rescue her from the top of the building.
She dropped her cigarette on the ground and stamped out the glowing end with the spiked heel of her boot. After suffering an agonizing fall, adding the horrible burns had been unfair, cruel and indecent. And to compound the situation even more, every demand she’d made for her attacker to be put to death, Locke had denied. Exile was the only punishment he’d seen fit to extend the little Spanish bitch.
Stryker laughed as one of Chicago’s Finest opened the back door of the cruiser waiting for her on the street. She slid across the worn vinyl seat then stared out the window. Soon, not only would Christian pay for his past transgressions with his life, but she’d delight upon hearing news of his death. And above all else, she'd take great pleasure in knowing the last thought the Lord of Chicago ever had… was of her.
Chapter 5
“By all means, please make yourself comfortable.”
Drake dropped down into one of the plush burgundy chairs in the lobby of the Legacy Suites then kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. “Don’t mind if I do.” He looked up at the desk clerk, Robert, who also happened to be Lord Locke’s personal Servio, and an all around good guy. “So how ya been, Old Man?”
“Very good, thank you,” he said as he tapped away on a silver laptop. “I’m having your room stocked with fresh food as we speak. A wonder this little box is.” He smiled as though he was rather proud of himself. “I can direct the staff using this strange messenger gadget. It sends my words directly to their cellular phones. It’s simply amazing. If you don’t already own one, I would highly recommend it.”
Drake chuckled. “I already have one, Rob. But it’s nice to see you catching up with the times.” He cast a glance over the ornate, cream colored marble floor and the dozen or so matching Romanesque columns adorning the lobby. “At least something in this place looks like it actually came from this century.”
“I’ll have you know that I designed this hotel down to the finest detail.” He closed the laptop and straightened the jacket of his charcoal gray suit. “And while it may have a luxurious yet antiquated feel, much like myself, we here at the Legacy Suites strive to seamlessly blend the simple elegance of traditional comforts with the stylish sophistication of modern amenities.” He cleared his throat as a huge grin stretched across his aged face. “And if I might be so bold as to say so myself, I think we’ve accomplished our goal quite well.”
Drake considered Robert’s distinguished features and silvered hair for a moment. Aside from the fact that his English accent made every word he said sound more important somehow, Drake was willing to bet every penny of the 14.5 million he’d made on the Detroit contract that Robert, even though he looked to be in his late fifties, could talk circles around every corporate shark in Chicago.
Twice.
Drake smiled up at him. “I wanna be like you when I grow up.”
Robert
Luckily, she’d lived and no humans witnessed her fall. But instead of seeking out the armed assailant, Locke had punished
her
for defying his rule that no one hold sway over the police, aside from him, of course. He’d then forced her into the sun, and to top it all off, had forbidden her to heal the wounds for three entire days. The pompous ass had tortured her with unbearable pain and unbelievable embarrassment, simply for having two friends in the Chicago Police Department. After all, it wasn’t her fault they happened to be the helicopter pilot and his partner. And really, all they’d been attempting to do was rescue her from the top of the building.
She dropped her cigarette on the ground and stamped out the glowing end with the spiked heel of her boot. After suffering an agonizing fall, adding the horrible burns had been unfair, cruel and indecent. And to compound the situation even more, every demand she’d made for her attacker to be put to death, Locke had denied. Exile was the only punishment he’d seen fit to extend the little Spanish bitch.
Stryker laughed as one of Chicago’s Finest opened the back door of the cruiser waiting for her on the street. She slid across the worn vinyl seat then stared out the window. Soon, not only would Christian pay for his past transgressions with his life, but she’d delight upon hearing news of his death. And above all else, she'd take great pleasure in knowing the last thought the Lord of Chicago ever had… was of her.
Chapter 5
“By all means, please make yourself comfortable.”
Drake dropped down into one of the plush burgundy chairs in the lobby of the Legacy Suites then kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. “Don’t mind if I do.” He looked up at the desk clerk, Robert, who also happened to be Lord Locke’s personal Servio, and an all around good guy. “So how ya been, Old Man?”
“Very good, thank you,” he said as he tapped away on a silver laptop. “I’m having your room stocked with fresh food as we speak. A wonder this little box is.” He smiled as though he was rather proud of himself. “I can direct the staff using this strange messenger gadget. It sends my words directly to their cellular phones. It’s simply amazing. If you don’t already own one, I would highly recommend it.”
Drake chuckled. “I already have one, Rob. But it’s nice to see you catching up with the times.” He cast a glance over the ornate, cream colored marble floor and the dozen or so matching Romanesque columns adorning the lobby. “At least something in this place looks like it actually came from this century.”
“I’ll have you know that I designed this hotel down to the finest detail.” He closed the laptop and straightened the jacket of his charcoal gray suit. “And while it may have a luxurious yet antiquated feel, much like myself, we here at the Legacy Suites strive to seamlessly blend the simple elegance of traditional comforts with the stylish sophistication of modern amenities.” He cleared his throat as a huge grin stretched across his aged face. “And if I might be so bold as to say so myself, I think we’ve accomplished our goal quite well.”
Drake considered Robert’s distinguished features and silvered hair for a moment. Aside from the fact that his English accent made every word he said sound more important somehow, Drake was willing to bet every penny of the 14.5 million he’d made on the Detroit contract that Robert, even though he looked to be in his late fifties, could talk circles around every corporate shark in Chicago.
Twice.
Drake smiled up at him. “I wanna be like you when I grow up.”
Robert
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