Read Online No One Lives Forever by Jordan Dane - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jordan Dane
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wouldn't give Raven the option. He loved her too much.
For much of his life, he felt alone even in a crowd. Raven tempered the feeling after Fiona had been sentenced to prison, giving him a reason to look forward to each and every day. A miraculous gift. But with the possibility of losing her now, the hollowness of being lonely, once again stretched across his horizon—an endless, familiar chasm.
He couldn't face such a bleak future—not now. Somehow, he'd make it up to her, become the kind of man she deserved. With great effort, he cleared his mind, dismissing the guilt and the emptiness.
He started to compile lists in his head, things he would need. Plans took shape. As it was, he'd be up half the night, packing and making arrangements. Only the mission to rescue Charboneau would take center stage now.
But aligning himself with Jasmine would be tricky. With the holes in her story, he might bring down the wrath of Charboneau's syndicate on his head. And the dangerous tri-border area of Brazil would be no place to outrun a well-funded criminal organization. With his main operation in Chicago, what the hell was Charboneaii doing in Cuiabá, Brazil? Maybe he could pull something off the Internet. One more item to add to his growing list of things to do. Yet the answer to that question might be the key.
His mind conjured up images of a face he'd never seen—his father. "You look just like him," Jasmine had said.
If he would ever see Raven again, he'd have to dig deep and rely on his discipline and training to steer clear of trouble. He glanced into the rearview mirror, seeing his face wavering in and out of shadows. Given his distrust of Jasmine and the corrupt world of his notorious father, he found his only ally staring back.
You better trust yourself, Delacorte. 'Cause you 're on your own, pal.
CHAPTER 5
Dunhill Hangar, Chicago
7:47 a.m., Day five
He smelled foreboding in the air like impending rain. A steel gray morning cleaved to an ominous night sky. Clouds darkened the horizon, masking the downtown Chicago skyline. He imagined the storm carried its usual rumble, but the incessant drone of airplane engines flying in and out of the private airstrip muffled the distant thunder. The ground crew had worked efficiently as they prepared the Dunhill jet for departure, but now the flurry of activity on the tarmac dwindled. Christian knew it was only a matter of time.
Put up ... or shut up, Delacorte. No turning back, hero. With their imminent departure, he knew they'd beat the onslaught of rain once they reached cruising altitude. Still, the dismal morning made it tough to shake the blues.
Raven's dark eyes haunted him without mercy.
Slow and deliberate, Christian sipped his black coffee. Holding the steaming mug close to his lips, he stared out the window of the small waiting area, letting the heat linger on his skin. He half expected to see her.
"You looking for someone, boss?" A familiar voice drew him back. As he looked over his shoulder, he heard the Dunhill man say, "We've got the jet loaded. Waiting for anyone else?"
A faint smile crossed his lips. "I'm not your boss anymore, Coop." When the man shrugged and returned a grin, he added, "And no, not expecting anyone else."
Christian turned back toward the window, his eyes on the front gate of the hangar. The cyclone fence gaped open. No sign of Raven. A part of him felt grateful she remained behind and would stay safe, but a nagging selfish side of his nature prayed like hell she'd drive through those gates, ready for round two. No such luck.
"How's Mrs. Dunhill?" Cooper asked.
"Holding up . . . considering. Thanks for having the balls to ask about her. Everyone's been walking on eggshells around the subject."
Fiona being in prison, serving time for an age-old murder for hire scheme, had become the elephant standing in the middle of the room that everyone chose to ignore. Cooper's candor struck him as refreshingly honest by comparison.
Once he'd
For much of his life, he felt alone even in a crowd. Raven tempered the feeling after Fiona had been sentenced to prison, giving him a reason to look forward to each and every day. A miraculous gift. But with the possibility of losing her now, the hollowness of being lonely, once again stretched across his horizon—an endless, familiar chasm.
He couldn't face such a bleak future—not now. Somehow, he'd make it up to her, become the kind of man she deserved. With great effort, he cleared his mind, dismissing the guilt and the emptiness.
He started to compile lists in his head, things he would need. Plans took shape. As it was, he'd be up half the night, packing and making arrangements. Only the mission to rescue Charboneau would take center stage now.
But aligning himself with Jasmine would be tricky. With the holes in her story, he might bring down the wrath of Charboneau's syndicate on his head. And the dangerous tri-border area of Brazil would be no place to outrun a well-funded criminal organization. With his main operation in Chicago, what the hell was Charboneaii doing in Cuiabá, Brazil? Maybe he could pull something off the Internet. One more item to add to his growing list of things to do. Yet the answer to that question might be the key.
His mind conjured up images of a face he'd never seen—his father. "You look just like him," Jasmine had said.
If he would ever see Raven again, he'd have to dig deep and rely on his discipline and training to steer clear of trouble. He glanced into the rearview mirror, seeing his face wavering in and out of shadows. Given his distrust of Jasmine and the corrupt world of his notorious father, he found his only ally staring back.
You better trust yourself, Delacorte. 'Cause you 're on your own, pal.
CHAPTER 5
Dunhill Hangar, Chicago
7:47 a.m., Day five
He smelled foreboding in the air like impending rain. A steel gray morning cleaved to an ominous night sky. Clouds darkened the horizon, masking the downtown Chicago skyline. He imagined the storm carried its usual rumble, but the incessant drone of airplane engines flying in and out of the private airstrip muffled the distant thunder. The ground crew had worked efficiently as they prepared the Dunhill jet for departure, but now the flurry of activity on the tarmac dwindled. Christian knew it was only a matter of time.
Put up ... or shut up, Delacorte. No turning back, hero. With their imminent departure, he knew they'd beat the onslaught of rain once they reached cruising altitude. Still, the dismal morning made it tough to shake the blues.
Raven's dark eyes haunted him without mercy.
Slow and deliberate, Christian sipped his black coffee. Holding the steaming mug close to his lips, he stared out the window of the small waiting area, letting the heat linger on his skin. He half expected to see her.
"You looking for someone, boss?" A familiar voice drew him back. As he looked over his shoulder, he heard the Dunhill man say, "We've got the jet loaded. Waiting for anyone else?"
A faint smile crossed his lips. "I'm not your boss anymore, Coop." When the man shrugged and returned a grin, he added, "And no, not expecting anyone else."
Christian turned back toward the window, his eyes on the front gate of the hangar. The cyclone fence gaped open. No sign of Raven. A part of him felt grateful she remained behind and would stay safe, but a nagging selfish side of his nature prayed like hell she'd drive through those gates, ready for round two. No such luck.
"How's Mrs. Dunhill?" Cooper asked.
"Holding up . . . considering. Thanks for having the balls to ask about her. Everyone's been walking on eggshells around the subject."
Fiona being in prison, serving time for an age-old murder for hire scheme, had become the elephant standing in the middle of the room that everyone chose to ignore. Cooper's candor struck him as refreshingly honest by comparison.
Once he'd
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