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LAST MAN STANDING

Jordan Alarick is a self-trained inventor with a mission of inventing something vital that could stop all the crimes in his country, Baleria. Jordan’s father sent him out of the country at a young age to avoid being part of all the fiasco in the country. Now Jordan came back to Baleria to find answers to his suspicion about his father’s death and to continue his father’s lifelong mission. Saving Baleria from the crime rings. In his journey to finding answers, he employed Valencia as his personal assistant. Valencia is the estranged daughter of person who wanted Jordan dead the most. What will happen to these two in this fast paced story of betrayals, unrequited love and crime?

Aleem_Kabirat · Urban
Not enough ratings
17 Chs

CHAPTER 10

Lance Dickson mopped off the sweats that beaded on his face and winced as he touched his cut lips. He couldn't focus on the pain though as he knew that he would feel more than that or he wouldn't even be able to feel anything again if he made the mistake of giving a wrong answer or making a wrong comment to the man who was speaking unhurriedly to him over the phone. He was just thinking of what he could have done differently about the situation that he found himself in at that moment. That bastard Jordan had proven stubborn to the end. What was he to do now? How was he supposed to know that he wouldn't take the offer he had been preparing?

After going to the ASP's office to file his complaint with the ASP, not that he needed the man's consent anyway but he had to go through the pretence of protocols anyway. He knew the man favoured Alarick but in the end, it didn't matter. Lance had gone back to his office to wait for the moment when Alarick would come to his office to beg for leniency. Oh, he had relished the memory of that as he waited not so patiently for when Alarick would come over. He would sneer at the bastard or even ask him to punch himself in the face too. Yes, that would be the thing.

After that, then he would have told him of the offer he had for him if he wanted to keep his job in the station or anywhere in the Baleria Force. He had waited and waited.

Lance couldn't understand what was causing the hold-up and he was forced to send someone to go verify the whereabouts of Alarick, only for him to hear that the man applied for resignation. What? That had not been part of his plan. As he thought of just how much Alarick had managed to refute his plans and put his efforts to waste time to time, he went to the ASP's office, half expecting to meet Alarick there even its been hours since he learnt that the man had ordered Alarick into his office.

A few minutes later, he was back in his office, pacing at the slightly taunting, nonchalant attitude of the ASP.

"Why did I accept his resignation? Because I could see no reason to keep him here against his will. That is why." was all the man had told him. He couldn't believe it.

What he thought would make Alarick succumb to him and finally accept him as his superior ad all been in vain.

Lance touched his thumb to his lips as if to remind himself of the pain he had deliberately caused to be inflicted on himself. People who knew him knew that he didn't joke with his face. He had deliberately instigated the bastard just so he could get him where he wanted him, all for what? For nothing! Not only had the insolent man hit him so hard that his face felt like it had been run over by a truck; he managed to wiggle out of the many punishments he had planned for him after which he intended to deliver the message they sent him. How was he supposed to know that Jordan would wiggle his way out again? He intended to find out if the ASP had given him any punishment, but as for now? He had bigger fish to fry.

Lance knew that the main reason for his agitation was not because his plan had failed. It had more to do with the deadline he had, the deadline to bring Alarick on board. He already put his phone on flight mode, even though he knew that wouldn't stop them. He had to do something at least. Anything to stall the rebuke he would certainly get.

Damn Alarick!.

His office phone rang and his eyes widened. Could it be? No, he assured himself. They have always called through his line, it couldn't possibly be them.

Still, he picked up the call with shaky hands as he thought of the fact that they could do whatever they wanted. They have before, so what would stop them from doing it again?

Lance let out a sigh of relief when he heard the voice of the front desk officer, Candace.

"Hello, Inspector Dickson. You have a call here for you. Should I transfer it to your office?"

"Www…what call? Did the person mention his or her name?" he asked as he berated himself for his lack of composure.

"Didn't mention a name, sir. The man merely said I should help inform you that your man is on the line for you"

His man, damn. "Yes, transfer the call," he said and waited with apprehension as he realised that he had breathed the sigh of relief too early.

There was a dial tone sound as Candace transferred the call and Lance could hear breathing on the other side but the man said nothing.

He never talked first. That had always been his code and Lance knew better not to hurriedly acknowledge his presence.

"Hello?" Lance spoke, hating the fact that he could feel his voice tremble. If he could hear it, that meant the man could as well. One of the things the man hated the most are the people he called weaklings. A trait that Lance was showing at the moment. Lance wished the conversation, not that it could be called that. Well, he wished it could be over. Before he peed his pants

"Hello, my man" the raspy voice replied "Am I to believe that you deliberately made your phone unavailable so I couldn't get through to you?"

"No! No, that is not possible. It…it must have been the network. Yes, that could be the issue" Lance replied hurriedly.

"You wouldn't want to lie to me now, would you? What is this I heard about you bungling the plans, Dickson?" he asked without waiting for Lance to reply to his initial question.

Minutes later, when Lance Dickson wiped his face with his now-drenched handkerchief as he dropped the receiver haphazardly, he knew that he had to up his game, if not he would be screwed.

Badly.