Fiery Jordan: The Stiletto PI Series, #2

By Linzi Basset

My name is Jordan Sutton, a highly educated forty-two-year-old spinster. I have to tell you… I freaking hate that word but… it is what it is, no use busting my balls over it. Either way, it doesn't matter. I can hold my own among any chick half my age… and I'll have you know— I'll do it wearing my fave stilettos!

 

I've been a co-owner of The Red Reign PI Agency but as an ex-army ranger and an expert strategist in counter terrorism, here I am, stuck back in Iraq. Yeah, I allowed the FBI to suck me back in to catch one of the most notorious terrorists on their hit list. And wouldn't you know it … I ended up caught and chained up by the very asshat I went to find in Iraq.

 

But it's no sweat, I don't break and can crawl through mud and live fire with the best of them and yet, there's this delusional Black Ops muscle head who believes I need him to save me.

 

It's time he faces reality.

 

My name is Brock Carter. I'm a forty-six-year-old widower with my path littered with the conquests of sexy kittens. I must admit that there is one left— a black-haired tauntress with an unusual carnal flavor known yet untasted that has provoked my appetite and inflamed my libido.

 

Anyway, I'm co-owner of a covert Black Ops group called, The Cobras. We're on the trail of the most feared Mafia Boss the U.S. has ever encountered and it's a case that requires all our attention. Now, because of the Red Reign kitties strong arming terrorists, our attention is divided… something we can't afford.

 

Not to mention that seductress I told you about… yeah, the little naiad had to go dune surfing in Iraq and got herself captured.  It's time to set her straight and convince her that a pretty kitty should be purring… preferably in my bed. I haven't found the right words yet to beckon her, but when I do, I'll be looking for that lightning left hook she's got.

 

Even so, it's time she faces reality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linzi Basset
• Release date: Mar 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215711927

Linzi Basset

“Isn’t it a universal truth that it’s our singular experiences and passion, for whatever thing or things, which molds us all into the individuals we become? Whether it's hidden in the depths of our soul or exposed for all to see?” Linzi Basset is a South African born animal rights supporter with a poet’s heart, and she is also a bestselling fiction writer of suspense filled romance erotica books; who as the latter, refuses to be bound to any one sub-genre. She prefers instead to stretch herself as a storyteller which has resulted in her researching and writing historical and even paranormal themed works. Her initial offering: Club Alpha Cove, a BDSM club suspense series released back in 2015, reached Amazon’s Bestseller list, and she has been on those lists ever since. Labelling her as prolific is a gross understatement as just a few short years later she has now been published forty-one times; a total which fails to take into account the three other published works of her alter ego: Isabel James who co-authors—nor does it include the five additional new works marked for imminent release. “I write from the inside out. My stories are both inside me and a part of me so it can be either pleasurable to release them or painful to carve them out. I live every moment of every story I write. So, if you're looking for spicy and suspenseful, I'm your girl... woman... writer... you know what I mean!" Linzi believes that by telling stories in her own voice, she can better share with her readers the essence of her being: her passionate nature; her motivations; and her wildest fantasies. She feels every touch as she writes, every kiss, every harsh word uttered, and this to her is the key to a never-ending love of writing. Ultimately, all books by Linzi Basset are about passion. To her, passion is the driving force of all emotion; whether it be lust, desire, hate, trust, or love. This is the underlying message contained in her books. Her advice: “Believe in the passions driving your desires; live them; enjoy them; and allow them to bring you happiness.” Follow Linzi everywhere: https://linktr.ee/LinziBasset

Book preview

Chapter One

A hidden compound in the hills on the far North border of Mosul, Iraq ...

Your time is up, whore and so is my patience. Let’s see if you’re still closemouthed about the company you keep and where the cowards are hiding after my men fuck you stupid.

Men? All I’ve seen in this hellhole are a bunch of mice. Agh! The woman’s raw scream slammed against the sandstone walls of the dungeon she’d been locked in as the man viciously slapped her across the face. He glared at her where she was strung up with her feet off the ground in the chains hooked to the rafters. She had lost feeling in her arms long ago but her hands kept cramping from the effort to hold onto the chains to alleviate the strain on her wrists as her body weight kept pulling her down.

Ten days of hell, humiliation, pain, and hunger.

And still, her spirit hadn’t been broken.

Jordan Sutton was a fighter. One of three women who had completed army ranger training, she had deployed with the 75th Ranger Regiment in Iraq as an expert in counter terrorism strategies. She didn’t break easily— something the leader of the terrorist group, Daesh, was about to find out.

He was also the reason Jordan was in Iraq— now, ten years after she’d walked away from the military.

You’re a fiery woman. A hedonistic laugh cackled from his chest. And very beautiful. He scraped the dried blood from her cheek with his nail, unconcerned that he scratched her skin. I have to warn them not to damage your face too much.

Even strung up as she was, he towered over her. There was bulk on him. At first, she’d thought it was a sign of overindulgence, a love for rich food but she’d learned the opposite. He might be overweight but he was strong with wiry muscles beneath the traditional kaftan and baggy trousers he always wore.

He pressed his face into hers. Jordan didn’t show fear as the full lips flattened but her eyes sparked in recognition of the greed that glimmered in his onyx-colored gaze.

You’re going to make me rich. I know just the sheik who would pay big money for an American sex slave like you. You shouldn’t have stuck your nose into my business, bitch! Now, all you have to look forward to in your future is pain.

Fuck you. Jordan snorted up a glutinous ball of spittle and fired it into his eyes. Her head cracked to the side as his fist connected with her chin. Her vision blurred but she willed herself not to pass out. Keep going, you bastard. Your tally is adding up. She squinted at him in the dim light shining through the slitted opening high against the one wall. You’re gonna squeal like a pig before I’m done with you.

Take the whore out of my sight. Tell the men I want to see her bleed. He smirked as he looked into her glowering eyes. She’s going to plead for my mercy soon enough.

Jordan didn’t waste her strength fighting the two muscled guards, strong-arming her out of the dungeon and upstairs to the soldiers’ barracks. She would need it to fight when the time was ripe.

But I’ll be back for you, you bastard!

Ali Mohammed Fadhil had been on the FBI’s most wanted terrorists list since June 1996 in connection with a list of actions against the United States longer than her arm, which included conspiracy to use weapons of mass destruction and bombs resulting in American deaths. He’d been the mastermind behind the Khobar Towers bombing in Saudi Arabia— an eight-story structure housing members of the United States Air Force's 4404th Wing at the time— primarily from a deployed rescue and fighter squadron. In all, nineteen U.S. Air Force personnel were killed and four-hundred-and-ninety-eight of many nationalities were wounded.

He’d been at large ever since. Recent allegations that in coalition with a Lebanese militant group, Hezbollah Al-Hejaz, meaning Party of God, Fadhil was rumored to be involved in the resurgence of ISIS in Anbar, Diyala, Kirkuk, Saladin, and Mosul in Iraq. Their presence had once again started to spread to the United States.

For the umpteenth time since she’d been captured during an attack by terrorists on the temporary U.S. military camp a couple of miles from Mosul, Jordan cursed her decision to assist the FBI to find the elusive and most sought after terrorist. On the other hand, it was with her insight that she’d led them to his hiding place, giving them the perfect opportunity to capture him— the closest they’d come in years. It didn’t excuse the FBI agent in charge of the operation and the commander of the platoon for lying to her though. If not for that, she wouldn’t have been at the camp and become easy prey to the radicals which landed her in the hands of the bastard himself.

Ten years, Jordan. You’ve been at peace and have been safe for ten years! But no, you had to go and fuck it up by allowing the FBI to sweet talk you into coming on this mission.

She stopped walking as they neared the stairs. Her feet dragged behind her, which forced her captors to carry her.

Jordan was an expert at hand-to-hand combat but the regiment she was in hadn’t expected to be betrayed by one of their own. They had been caught unaware during dinner when they were attacked. She’d woken up zip-tied, then starved and tortured for days. It was time to lock in her mental reserves and regain her strength to fight for her freedom.

You better recharge quickly, Sutton.

She fought the fear in her mind as they reached the hallway awash with the sound of rowdy militant soldiers. The thought of rape had never occurred to her since she’d woken up in chains and came face-to-face with the terrorist. It wasn’t Fadhil’s MO. Being whipped to shreds, yes, but he had shown no desire to defile her. Now, the reality of what was about to happen, crippled her. Once they took her inside that room, she’d lose any advantage to escape.

Trying to take out the two guards would be a waste of energy. They were too strong and in her weakened state, she didn’t stand a chance to overpower them. If only she could find a way to detain them... to delay the inevitable and give herself the opportunity to conjure up a plan.

Ugh... gah! She started to retch and spit out the bile she was forcing into her throat.

Fucking bitch! Look what you did to my shoes, the guard grumbled, clearly irritated.

Water, she croaked. I can’t... my throat... dry.

The brute shoved her forward with a grunt, playing right into Jordan’s plan. She stumbled and dropped to her knees.

Enough. I’m not falling for your shit, slut, the second guard sneered and reached for her while the other turned away to wipe his boots clean.

Jordan’s senses spiked, flooding her mind with the fight or flight instinct. She knew that running was the best option to save her own hide. First, she had to gain some advantage. Adrenaline coursed through her system, activating her sympathetic nervous system. Her heart beat faster, diverting blood to her muscles and away from her gut.

I’ll be damned if I run without causing some damage to these fuckwits!

She kicked backward, hitting him in the tender spot where the sternum ended, paralyzing his diaphragm. He bent over, gasping for breath. With a new boost of unchecked energy, it was time to throttle up balls to the wall. Years of training guided her every thought and move.

Get some, motherfucker. Jordan rapidly closed quarters with her adversary. With lightning reflexes, she clapped onto the back of his head with both hands and slammed it down to meet the forceful, upward thrust of her knee, effectively driving the cartilage of his nasal septum backward into his brain. It was lights out. Permanently.

What the fuck! The second guard spun clockwise to meet a savage left hook. The impact dropped him hard onto his knees. Now lifeless as a ragdoll, Jordan drove both her thumbs into his eye sockets to mash them against his cranial vault.

You bitch! Now you’re dead! The third guard’s warning came ahead of his large body charging at her.

Jordan down!

The graveled voice slammed inside her mind with the demand for immediate abeyance. She hit the deck. The popping sound of a silencer zinged in her ears. The guard’s big body flung backward against the wall. The surprised look on his face was supplemented by the round bullet hole between his eyes.

Let’s go, Sutton.

Hard hands hauled her to her feet and dragged her along. She stubbornly dug in her heels.

I’m not going anywhere. There’s one bastard I need to take care of.

Brock Carter turned on her like a raging bull. She could swear steam rose off the top of his head.

There’s no time. His eyes searched her bloodied and torn clothes. Cursing, he pushed a gun into her hands. Fuck, he growled as he took off his camo shirt and handed it to her. Put it on.

What are you doing here? Jordan finally managed to wrap her mind around the fact that the second-in-command and co-owner of The Cobras Black Ops Group had come to her rescue. It was a relief but knowing them, they’d hightail her ass out of Iraq to safety without any thought of letting her complete the mission. Knowing what Ali Mohammed Fadhil was capable of, she had to do what she came here for. How did you even know where to find me?

We have to get out of here, Jordan. Leave the questions for later.

I told you, I have something to—

She swallowed her words as he stepped closer with eyes of cold fury.

Do the fucking math, Sutton. Including you, there are only eight of us. There’s over a hundred of them. His voice sliced into her thoughts. We’re leaving ... NOW.

Eight? Don’t tell me—

Yes, the Cobra team and the Red kitties are also here. He smirked at the sharp look she cast for calling the Red Reign PI team, kitties. Let’s go. You can rip into me once I get you to safety.

Not before I do what I came here—

I don’t have time for this shit, he mumbled.

Jordan’s eyes rolled back in their sockets as Brock snapped the side of his palm in a Dim Mak move against her carotid baroreceptor, the sensitive area at her lower neck, with just enough force to render her unconscious.

His expression was grim as he caught her in his arms. Knowing her, she was going to give him a proper tongue-lashing once she came to.

Shit. Brock’s curse echoed through the atmosphere as movement from a doorway down the hallway drew his attention.

Stop! Who the fuck are you?

He ignored the three men charging towards him as he lifted Jordan over his shoulder and sprinted down the hallway, zig-zagging to avoid the spray of rounds exploding past his head. He tapped his ear twice to activate the comms.

Coming in hot. I need some suppressing fire asap! Be ready for extraction in five minutes. Don’t be fucking late!

Jordan came to with fists flying. She found great pleasure when one connected with a strong jaw. If the bastard terrorist leader thought she was easy meat, he was in for a surprise.

Jesus, woman! I expected a different form of appreciation for saving your ass, however cute it might be.

The deep voice was all too soothing under the circumstances. Surprisingly, it forced her over-eager muscles and frayed mind to relax as she squinted around in the dim interior of the helicopter.

Hey there, girlfriend.

Knox? she croaked. A frown creased her brow at how pathetic her voice sounded under the hum of the chopper’s rotors.

Yep, we’re all here, Kezlin Bates, the youngest on the Red Reign PI Team, said to her left. She glanced around and noticed that Jared Bates, Cruz Parker, and Tanner Hogan, who made up The Cobras, were all watching her with concern. 

She cringed as her gaze collided head on into the furrowed brow of her best friend and co-owner of the Red Reign PI Agency. Paxton looked pissed. Jordan couldn’t blame her. She had promised to contact her at the first sign of danger.

Don’t look at me like that, Paxton. I could hardly tell the bastards to hold on while I made a Sat phone call before they clobbered me. She froze as she felt a pair of arms tightening around her.

Arms? He’s holding me... Hell no! I’m sitting on his goddamned lap!

Jordan struggled to break free but Brock had other ideas. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Settle down. The grating tone delivered evenly belied the urgency of the warning. It annoyed the living daylights out of her that his deep drawl resonated deep inside her and toggled at the submissive inside her to obey.

I’m not angry with you, Jordan, Paxton said. I’m furious at the FBI and the platoon you were with for their slackness in attempting to rescue you. You were assured this was a safe mission and only your expertise in locating the terrorist group was required. You weren’t even supposed to be in that camp.

Yeah, I’d like to know how you ended up there too. Brock leaned back to stare at her.

Why do you care? Jordan darted a quick glance at the man still holding her in place. Strangely enough, she was being comforted by his protective gesture— not that it meant she was any less annoyed with him putting her out of commission.

The only reason any of us conceded to you coming to this war-ravaged country on your own was because of the assurances the FBI gave us that you would be safe in a guarded hotel room in Mosul at all times.

Jordan sat up like a Jack-in-the-box. "You conceded? You, Brock Carter, have no right to concede to anything as far as I’m concerned. I’m a grown woman and I don’t need your permission to do anything I put my mind to. More than that, I’m a professional goddamned Army Ranger and capable of kicking your ass if I choose to do so."

I’d like to see you try.

Jordan rolled her eyes at Paxton then slowly turned to look at Brock.

Really? Well, aren’t you the tough guy? Christ almighty.  Memorized word-for-word, Nancy boy and still using it like a magic mantra, too. How many times did we all hear that exact response on the playground when we were kids? I’d expect nothing less from a puffed-up, dumbass, pencil-dick like you. Jordan extended her pinky finger and waved it around. I’d be more than happy to bloody your ugly mug, you pompous little shit. I suggest you never turn your back on me because when I strike, you won’t know what hit you. For now... she twisted in his arms and took hold of his face. It would be remiss of me not to thank you for coming to my aid.

In true Jordan fashion, she acted on impulse as she leaned in and kissed him, passionately with a sensuality that rocked the large man to the bone.

Well, it wasn’t an impulse really. She’d been wanting to smooch his full lips since the first day she’d met him. He did things to her libido that no other man had come close to achieving. And all it took was to cast his charcoal gray eyes in her direction to set her loins aflame.

She was done wasting time, especially since she was already a forty-two-year-old spinster and had learned over the past couple of years that wasted opportunities could never be regained. It was high time the usually morose man realized his bachelor days were numbered. When he didn’t push her away but returned the kiss with equal fervor, his fate was sealed.

Jordan Sutton was going in for the kill— and he was her prey— all six-feet-two inches and two-hundred-and-thirty pounds of steely muscle!

He didn’t stand a chance.

And now you can turn this chopper around and head back to Mosul, Commander Bates, she said to Jared who was flying the chopper. I signed up for a special ops mission and I have every intention of seeing it through. Jordan folded her hands primly on her lap as she turned back to the group, ignoring the surprised looks from her team and the leering smiles of Brock’s team.

She couldn’t really blame them. As an ambivert, she wasn’t known to draw attention to herself in public, least of all to initiate intimacy. To have done it so blatantly must’ve been a big surprise to her friends.

Reconnaissance first, Jordan, Jared said curtly. His tone warned her that it was not up for debate.

Look, you don’t understand. It’s imperative that I get back to Mosul. Now that we confirmed my intel was correct and have the bastard Fadhil’s location, we have to follow through. I guarantee you, if we don’t, he’s going to disappear underground again and the U.S. can tattoo it on their foreheads if they think they’ll ever find him again, she urged.

You heard the Commander, Jordan, Brock’s gravelly voice vibrating so close to her ear teased the vellus hair at the nape of her neck to rise among a patch of newly stimulated goosebumps.  You might as well stop harping at us. We’re not turning back until we know exactly what we’re dealing with and how to eliminate all the risks. You, little kitten, aren’t going back to that shithole alone.

I don’t need you to protect me, Carter. I can—

I’m afraid this time I am in agreement with Jared and Brock, Jordan, Paxton said in a crisp tone. I’m not going to allow any of you to rush ahead blindly ever again, not after my own stupidity that resulted in Kezlin being kidnapped not so long ago. There will be no more solo operations.

I wasn’t alone. I came here with an entire platoon of highly seasoned and combat-hardened soldiers.

Yes, and where are they, exactly? Kezlin said in an earnest voice. Not one of those fucking assholes bothered to come to your aid. Goddammit, Jordan, look at you. You’re bruised, bleeding, dehydrated, probably starving and still you want to rush back to that hellhole? No fucking way.

What she said, Knox mumbled, morosely. She had been listening quietly but the concern for Jordan’s welfare was painted on her face.

We either do this together, or we all go home. You choose. Paxton crossed her arms over her chest and stared her down.

Oh, hell’s fire! Fine then. Have it your way but don’t entertain, even for a second, the thought that I won’t be going back in with you. I am and will and that, folks, is final. Jordan asserted as she settled against Brock’s chest. I might as well catch up on some sleep then.

Eat this first. Brock handed her a protein bar. He brushed a gentle finger over her nose. I’m sorry.

She frowned as she ripped open the bar and took a bite. What for, she mumbled around the decadent chocolate flavor that made her stomach rumble in appreciation.

I should’ve realized you were hungry.

Jordan stared at him. She knew he was a Dom. Hell, the entire Cobra team was but it was the first time she was the recipient of his care and protective nature that came natural to real dominants. It felt good and strengthened her decision that Brock Carter was going to be hers. Her husband and her Dom.

The sooner, the better!

Chapter Two

A private residence on the banks of Tigris River in Cizre, Şırnak Province, Turkey— one-hundred-and-five miles from Mosul...

I’m going to take a bath, Jordan muttered the moment they walked inside the cool, airy interior of the double story stone house. Please, Paxton, not now, she stopped her at the foot of the stairs. I just need to relax for a bit.

Alright. Your luggage is in the last room on the left. Take your time. We’ll have a hot plate of food ready when you’re done.

Paxton stared after her with a concerned frown and then walked into Jared's embrace. I’m worried about her. It’s too similar to the last time she was captured. That was the reason why she decided to leave the military.

Not quite, Brock said brusquely. By the time they found her then, she was half-dead. At least we got to her in time.

How the hell do you know about that? Knox glared at him with suspicion as she overheard the comment. They were more than The Red Reign PI team; they were very close and extremely protective of each other.

I made it my business to find out. The dark look warned Knox not to pry any further but she wasn’t the kind to be put off easily.

Why?

Knox, let’s just—

No, Paxton, I want to know. What gives him the right to dig into her personal business? We all know how she hates opening up to strangers. She stabbed a finger in his direction. "And he is just that."

Far be it for me to point this out, but the kiss she gave him on the chopper speaks loudly of something else, Cruz chimed in.

No one asked your opinion, Cruz Parker. Knox said pointedly Well, Carter? I’m waiting.

Jordan and I have at least one thing in common, you petulant little snip. In any event, it's none of your goddamn business, so butt out. With that, Brock walked out onto the patio, ignoring the slights chasing after him.

So, you’ve got something for Jordan?

Brock didn’t immediately