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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 8

"Your temper would be your undoing," Lance said as he got up from the floor with as much dignity as he could muster, which was not much of anything as his chin was smeared with the blood he wiped from his mouth earlier and he had a fresh bruise coming up.

"One more sick word from your uncouth mouth and you would see just how much damage my temper could be to you even before it became my undoing, which would not be your call anyway"

Yeah. it irked Lance that it was not his call, at least not when they wanted the arrogant bastard. He would like to be around when he finally did himself in though. Oh yes, he would love to see him suffer and beg. He looked around furtively and raised his hand as if he wanted to snatch a fly in the air. That was the signal he had given the dickhead to leave the surrounding, he had no idea if he had seen him but he was not about to let Jordan find out.

Jordan narrowed his eyes when he saw the suspicious way the inspector raised his hand and his hand instantly went to his gun belt.

Lance saw his movement and thought of how he should learn to be more cautious with his movement as he gave a grotesque smile with his split, swollen lips "Are you contemplating shooting me, Seargent?"

"Oh, I am doing more than contemplating. I wouldn't mind shooting your balls off if you so much as pull any sick prank, not that you have any. I wouldn't put anything past you nor would I hesitate to take you down even if that means going to jail. You motherfucking son of a bitch"

Lance's smile faltered as he saw the hatred that burned in Jordan's eyes at him. He knew he wouldn't want to be in a dire situation with this man. Lance was sure that the Seargent wouldn't hesitate to let him sweat. He hardened his voice and drew himself up to his full height which was still no match for Jordan's 6 ft and said "You are going to find yourself in serious trouble for this, Seargent. You have no right to lay your hand on a superior and you have no right to be so impertinent when you are addressing one!"

Jordan looked around like he was looking for something then he turned to Lance "Where is the superior? You?" he snorted "You and I know that you are not fit to even be a corporal, all you are is a nobody who gets to put on a uniform because you are a lapdog for somebody while more honourable men who could fit your position and do something monumental with it had no access to it because of an oaf like you"

"You…you bastard!" Lance sputtered as muscles ticked in his neck at how close to the truth Jordan was. Of course, he knew there were others at the station who thought of him this way and they were right too but none of them had ever faced him to say such a thing. Not even the ASP who had received the order from above to promote him to the position of inspector. The man didn't like him, Lance could tell. Yet he did what he was ordered to do without question. Who was this inconsequential man who thought he could talk to him anyhow? Who had been challenging him with his work ethic and the way he went all out for his tasks. Not to talk of how other officers revered him like he was the inspector, the type of respect that was not given to Lance himself was given to this man who was so arrogant that he was not even fazed even when Lance had had some officers say it in his hearing that Inspector Dickson was not to be messed with?

"Your lips look unattractive, Inspector. I wonder what your legion of women would think of your look right now. Some of us do not stay around doing nothing all day, so you'll have to excuse me, sir" he said with a mocking bow as he turned to leave.

"You have not been excused, Seargent" Lance shouted anxiously even while making a show of being in control.

"Oh, would you prefer another accidental collision of your face with my hand, Inspector?" Jordan asked with a grim smile. What was he doing standing around and talking with this scum when he had other things to attend to? Yet his anger at the bastard's participation in what just happened to his friend made him want to slam his fist over and over on the face that was beginning to turn different shades in front of him. After dropping Eric's body at the morgue the night before, he had not gone home straight. He had an interesting conversation with the dispatched paramedics that came with the ambulance that he had called for. Somebody had diverted them from the address given.

He had an interesting conversation with the officers on duty the night before. Surprise upon surprise, there had been enough officers on duty that were twiddling their thumbs. As much as Jordan would love to take out his ire on the inspector in front of him. He knew that the bastard was nothing but a puppet. One who would get what coming to him in no time.

So he turned away from the hateful man with a derisive look to proceed downtown to the station. There are consequences to be dealt with, he knew and a very important thing to do. Eric was right.

"Get back here officer. I am talking to you!" the whiny voice of Dickson went unheeded as Jordan thought of what he needed to do.

"I could be lenient with you if you listen to the offer I have for you! Lance shouted anxiously when he saw that Jordan paid him no heed. That should stop him, he thought.

Jordan who already knew what his offer would be simply raised his middle finger at the superior officer as he continued on his walk without a backward glance. He would do this his way, not on the term of any bastard. He thought.

Lance Dickson looked at the retreating back of Jordan and he swore feebly before he winced at the pain in his mouth. He had told them it wouldn't be easy. Hadn't he?

He smiled as he remembered that he had an ace up his sleeve. The bastard would come running to him to beg soon enough.

He went to his car and brought out his phone "Hello, where are you? Meet me at the joint" he said into the receiver and disconnected the call before the other person could say a thing.

He looked uncomfortably at the white and blue house as he pulled out and remembered the face of a grieving woman who looked at him like he was scum.

It couldn't be helped, he justified.