Chapter Eight
Jacob Stone was seriously fucking pissed. It was rare that he let his temper get the better of him. After spending almost all of his career as a politician, he was nothing if not restrained and polished. He’d had one of the best mentors possible in Hal Blake—the senator who had treated him like the son he’d never had. He felt a twinge of guilt at how things had played out there. He’d hated betraying the man, but it was all for a greater good.
The world was struggling, slowly destroying itself with infighting and posturing among the superpowers, which would continue until one of them called another’s bluff and blew them all to hell. Terrorism—domestic and abroad—was at an all-time high, making the citizenry feel that there was nowhere they were safe. And divisiveness over pretty much every issue imaginable was becoming increasingly hostile and confrontational. The vitriolic rhetoric coming from those who were supposed to be leading their people was merely feeding the flames of hatred and acrimony.
The Alliance was determined to work from within, to guide the world out of this present darkness and usher in the kind of accord that would eventually heal the wounds that had battered the world and left it bleeding, curled up in a little ball, whimpering on the floor. They weren’t willing to take control and eliminate any who disagreed with them. Oh, no. They were all about empowerment and diplomacy and using violence as a last resort.
Fucking pussies.
Jacob had thought the Illuminati were on the right path, that they were determined to assert their authority and drag the various world powers out of their ineffectual stupor, kicking and screaming if necessary, and forcing them to quit acting like petulant children and accept the rule of those who knew better and could enforce peace with a firm hand. And if any serpent reared its head in retaliation against the Illuminati? Then that head would be severed.
How wrong Jacob had been.
The Illuminati—his grandfather chief among them—had no idea what it was going to take to rescue the world from itself. They were just as cowardly and ineffective as the Alliance when it came down to it. There needed to be one man, One True Master, who would force the world to see that he knew what was best for them. There would be resistance, certainly. But eventually they would welcome Jacob as their savior, accept him as their benevolent ruler.
The Faithful already understood this. They were willing to die for him, for their cause. And it was these true servants that he called upon now. They would not abandon him when he needed their loyalty most.
The man who’d been notified of Jack’s presence in Boston had failed to take him out. He no doubt would continue pursuing his vendetta, but Jacob wasn’t going to take any chances. He’d already missed the opportunity to obtain the data that bastard Antonovich had offered up to the highest bidder, but he wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Even if Kozlov took out Jack, there were others in the Alliance who would come up behind him, take his place like good little soldiers and try to fuck Jacob over again.
He couldn’t take that chance. Not now when his own future hung in the balance. The Illuminati leadership had abandoned him. He would have to persevere on his own with the resources available to him.
Unfortunately, he’d reached the end of those resources and was now forced to call in the help he’d dreaded. Brothers Demetrius and Stefan Shepherd were two of the Illuminati’s most feared assets, called in only for missions that required a certain . . . skill set. And, luckily for Jacob, the brothers were willing to offer their loyalty to whomever paid the best—if it suited their own agenda.
The man before him was as deadly as anyone Jacob had ever known and had the added benefit of lacking a conscience. That said, Jacob didn’t entirely trust him. The way Stefan’s eyes glittered with delight at the prospect of killing made Jacob realize the man was barely hanging on to his sanity. But most only saw the polished veneer and charisma that Stefan presented to his flock—idiots so desperate for hope they hung on his every word, making him a superstar on the dark web. He believed himself to be some kind of modern day messiah who would usher in a new era.
Jacob grunted inwardly. He seriously doubted that if there was a second coming it would be kicked off by a delusional serial killer with a God complex. But Stefan served his purpose. He was useful, a means to an end. And when Jacob reached that end, the Stefan problem would be eliminated. It wasn’t Jacob’s fault the man was too much of an idiot to recognize he was expendable.
Stefan’s brother Demetrius was an entirely different matter. He couldn’t have been more different from his elder brother. Stefan’s long dark hair and dark eyes made him look like some kind of rock star—perhaps that was by design. From what Jacob had heard, the man was like sexual catnip to members of all genders. But Demetrius’s hair was pale blond, cut short and styled to make him look like he was meant for the silver screen. He was an enigma to Jacob—and probably to most everyone else he met.
Demetrius was shrewd, intelligent, andsane. He clearly had ambitions of his own, which made him dangerous. But Jacob trusted him far more than Stefan. Demetrius played along with his brother’s little game, but Jacob could see that the man was only feeding his brother’s delusions, biding his time. But for what, Jacob couldn’t discern.
They were quite the triumvirate, the three of them. And Jacob knew that when it came down to it, they would each turn on the others without a second thought. Their only bond was a common enemy. And once that enemy was removed . . .
Well, Jacob would deal with that when it came to pass. For now, they were his allies.
“What can we do for you, Mr. Stone?” Demetrius asked, his voice smooth, cultured. “I assume you didn’t ask us here to contribute to your campaign, seeing as how your political ambitions have . . .stalled.”
Jacob forced a smile. “I assure you, Mr. Shepherd, my ambition is the same as it ever was. I have merely adjusted my goals to suit my present circumstances.”
Demetrius offered a smile that bordered on mocking. “Of course. And how do my brother and I factor into your plans?”
“I need to make a statement,” Jacob explained. “An old friend is trying to obtain data that I need to threaten the Alliance and force the Illuminati to recognize my abilities.”
Stefan narrowed his eyes, his lips twitching with amusement. “Don’t we seem a bitoverqualifiedfor pilfering data?”
Jacob leaned back in his chair, careful to keep his voice even and his manner unconcerned. He wasn’t about to let the brothers rattle him. They were just pawns in this little game. “One of our Illuminati brethren from Russia will no doubt eliminate my friend Jack Grayson—they have a long-standing debt of their own to settle. However, there’s a woman named Claire Davenport who’s currently in possession of a flash drive with said data. I want the data retrieved and Ms. Davenport eliminated.”
Demetrius lifted a pale brow. “You have called my brother and me here merely for ahit, Mr. Stone? You could hire any garden variety hitman to handle something of that nature. As a matter of fact, it sounds like you already have. That Russian you mentioned is the assassin who survived Jack Grayson’s rampage, yes? Kozlov, is it?”
“Kozlov serves his purpose,” Jacob replied, trying to hide his surprise at the depth of the man’s knowledge. Was there anything Demetrius Shepherddidn’tknow? Well, he could wear his smug superiority like a crown, but Jacob wasn’t about to be intimidated by the golden-haired bastard.
“Seems a bit like overkill—if you’ll pardon the pun,” Demetrius drawled.
“A recent endeavor of mine didn’t go quite as I’d planned,” Jacob admitted, figuring Demetrius already knew all about his failure to steal the Templars’ treasure. “Failure is not an option this time, Mr. Shepherd. So, please don’t be offended by the fact that I am taking a multipronged approach.”
Demetrius gestured with his hand with a bored shrug. “I have no interest in your schemes, Mr. Stone—as long as they don’t interfere with our own. So if you’d like our assistance with this little matter of yours, we will send someone to handle it.”
Jacob inclined his head with a smile. “I’d like Ms. Davenport’s death to send a message, if possible. And if she’s not the only casualty, so be it. I’m certain Jack will be hovering somewhere nearby. If you get to him before the Russians, then my problem is resolved either way.”
