Angel: An SOBs Novel

by Irish Winters

  Her room faced east as if Karma were one step ahead, giving her a final view of the beautiful Caribbean where she’d most likely die. But first things, first.

  Suede had only hours to procure a weapon and a boat for hire. She showered and wrapped her wet hair in a braid, then wound it high and tight to fit under Chance’s cap while she prowled the streets and back alleys. She had one shot at killing Mitch. She intended to make him love her first. Well, at least lust for her.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Sunrise spread across the Caribbean like a tropical cocktail. The soft rosy hint of a Cosmopolitan began in the east, then spread west like a Banana Daiquiri splashed over a top-shelf, strawberry margarita. Finally, the all-too-brief lightshow ended with the vivid hues of an orange Screwdriver drowned in the wide-awake blue sky of Curacao, on the rocks, a hint of Pina Colada at the rim. In other words, the day was too pretty to spend on murder. But by sunset tonight, murder she would.

  The loveliness of the sky combined with the fresh sea breeze off Suede’s second story balcony where she stood looking down at tourists, surfers, bare-chested college boys on their way to the beach or coming home from a late night party. Life unfolded slowly here, even the traffic moved slower. She’d ordered room service for breakfast, a glass of orange juice and a plate of focaccia with marinated vegetables, but her stomach refused to settle enough to allow her to eat.

  Despite the natural splendor on her horizon, her mind had awakened in Montana with the promise of Chance Sinclair’s strong male body at her back, his nose in her hair, and his hand on her hips, maybe between her thighs. His other hand cupping her breast. Or splayed to her belly. If she were home now, she’d be covered in warmth and the scent of her fully aroused man. He’d wake her gently, teasing her body to play, and she’d be willing, wet, and ready. A delicious orgasm would break over her like a waterfall, triggering his release as she shattered in his capable hands. God, I love him.

  Yet here she was. Alone again. Her nose twitched, full of the scents of the island, but missing the ones she loved best. Peppermint. Pine. Chance.

  Her heart ached with missing him, but today was the day she saved him and his brothers. The only day.

  Her newly acquired pistol rested at the bottom of the bag she intended to take to the island with her. In less than an hour, she’d betrayed the man she loved in order to kill the man she hated. The rented boat of the frat boys she’d met last night waited at the dock. The clock was ticking.

  Yet Suede stayed at the rail of that balcony a moment longer than she’d planned, wondering for the first time if Chance drank alcohol. She knew Pagan did, but she’d never seen Chance with a can of beer or a glass of wine in his hand, and for some reason, she very much wanted to know the answer to that question.

  But that was life for you, wasn’t it? Full of unrealized expectations at every turn, giving nothing back it couldn’t rip away from you in a heartbeat like the eternal trickster it was. Leaving you not only bereft, but humiliated, plundered, and sometimes morally bankrupt. Desperate for true love. Lonely.

  “I do love you,” she told Chance, “but I have to do this. I hope you’ll forgive me someday. I hope you’ll understand.” I hope you’ll love me anyway…

  Enough. She had work to do. Suede strolled out of the hotel and down to the dock like a tourist, checking out the street vendors and their colorful wares as if she had all the time in the world. The smells of pineapples, oranges, bananas, and a myriad of other fresh produce filled the air, but this was a day for work, not play. You’d never know it to look at her. Suede had transformed herself back into the snooty diva she’d been with York. A lace wrap-around angled over her hips, covering just enough of her black string bikini that didn’t cover much of anything. The truest kohl eyeliner accented her charcoal smudged eyes. Deep red tinted her naturally lush lips and gloss made them shine. She hadn’t done much with her lashes, not as thick as they were, but added mascara and a hint of blush to finish the package. Men needed to want her, at least they needed to want to fuck her. Like Franks and York had.

  Sparkly flip-flops slapped at her feet and her toenails were now as glossy red as her lips. The too-big-for-her face, black-rimmed sunglasses completed her disguise. A bag hung loosely off one shoulder as if she simply carried sunscreen and a towel in it, stuff that most women her age would take to the beach.

  Like she knew they would, her frat buddies whooped and wolf-whistled when they saw her coming. They wanted her because, well, that was what men did. They wanted what they couldn’t have.

  “Not today, boys,” she told them as she dropped over the side of their boat and took the bench near the back by the engine. They didn’t argue, not at the price she’d promised to pay them. They were to drop her off on a specific island off the coast, then return to the hotel where an envelope waited for them. In the envelope, a check with five digits in front of the decimal point. Was she desperate that she’d pay them so much for a simple boat ride? Yes, but that was the only way she could be sure they’d deliver her safe and sound to—Franks.

  It took less than forty minutes of wave-bumping salt spray in her face to arrive at her point of destination. By then her mouth had gone dry and her heart thumped, but adrenaline did that, didn’t it? Recklessly, she jumped off the landing dock at the rear of the boat and into the water, her bag held high over her head so her weapon stayed dry.

  One of the boys called, “Good luck!” before the wake of their getaway rolled over her, lapping at her chin.

  Suede strolled to the sandy beach, dripping wet. Tossing her wrap around over a nearby bush, she set her bag at her feet, then took stock of her last stand. Giant palms stood like sentinels along the sandy strip of white sand. Sea shells glistened like lost treasures on the isolated shore where waves rolled in relentless rhythms of give and take, Mother Nature’s way. She’d never given much to Suede though, had she? That was a sad thought on a sad day, to know that the one thing Suede treasured most, she’d lose before the sun set.

  But her life was worth the trade. Chance needed to live. If Patrone was in deep with Mitch, then all roads led here. To this beach. To this island. To this one last—Chance.

  “Let’s get it done,” Suede murmured, forcing her mind off what she’d done to the man she’d left behind. Dropping to one knee, she lifted the pistol from her bag and chambered a round. Even as small as it was, the pistol was too heavy to conceal in her swimsuit. It stayed in the bag.

  The beach was bare of any signs of human visitation, but a path wound under the giant palm at her right and into the heart of the island. A dog yipped up ahead, so she donned her wrap-around to hide the scar on her thigh and followed the noise. The path led her straight to a plantation style home, complete with a wide veranda, baskets of palms and fuchsias dripping over the railings as if some genteel southern boy lived here instead of a monster.

  A standard-sized Schnauzer sat at the top of the two-steps to the porch, his bright, black eyes following her every move, his ears perked forward. Like Gallo’s.

  The sight of that faithful companion stabbed a place in her heart Suede hadn’t realized existed before. Pain on top of pain washed over her. Man, the collateral damage—to her—was stacking up. She loved that furry baby she’d left behind.

  By now Gallo had to be wondering where she’d gone, and why she hadn’t taken him with her. She’d given him one last hug and told him, but her sweet boy’s big brown eyes had been full of smiles right up to the moment she flipped the switch in the electrical panel to kill the power to the circuit. He’d growled when she’d opened the heavy security door once she was sure the alarm wouldn’t sound, a questioning kind of grumbly growl that had seemed to ask, ‘Why are you leaving me behind? I’m your best bud! I should get to go too!’

  “Because I love you, too,” she’d told him now. Those words didn’t convince her heart though. Love did hurt, but this pain was different than the version of parental love she’d grown up with, even worse than York’s. This was a
bittersweet wash of guilt and regret for destroying something precious and rare. For not trusting the only man in the world who’d trusted her with his brothers. His dog. His heart.

  Chance had to be hurting as much as she was at this separation and that realization was eye-opening. Her heart pounded with what she now knew to be true. No one had ever loved her like Chance did. With every step, the sweet love she’d found in Montana tugged at her to turn around and run, to not do this despicable thing. To return to the cabin where she belonged.

  But that wasn’t happening. Not today.

  All at once, the Schnauzer bounced off the steps, wagging his nub of a docked tail and happy to see her. Didn’t that throw her killer instincts off? Suede dropped to one knee to pet the neatly trimmed and very polite fellow. She almost felt welcomed, until Mitchell Franks opened his screen door and stepped into view. Dressed in a cream-colored, short-sleeved shirt, khaki shorts that came to his knees, and boat shoes, he looked just as she’d hoped. Relaxed and unsuspecting.

  Fine-boned, and maybe five feet nine inches tall, she’d never realized what a short man he was until now. How feminine he seemed. He’d seemed so much bigger the nights he’d raped her. She swallowed hard, fighting memories when she needed to focus on the job ahead.

  With his light brown hair combed on the right, his face clean-shaven, and his fingernails no doubt manicured and spotless, he hardly looked the part of an evil mastermind. His head canted to the side, his eyes gobbling her up like they always did. “Suede? What are you doing here?”

  Lifting to her feet, the strap of her bag securely over her shoulder, she shrugged. “Where else should I be? I have nowhere else to go. Isn’t this what you wanted? Me to come here? Me to be with you?”

  He said nothing, just watched her approach with his dog trotting at her side.

  Suede let her gaze sweep over the neat patch of freshly mowed grass. The well-cared for beds of pink, purple, yellow, and orange flowers beside the steps where he stood. The two stately palms. The elegant arbor off to her right that led to what looked like a well stocked koi pond. “I remembered you telling me that your parents left you this island. Nice place. So close to where York did business, too.”

  Franks’ hands perched on his hips. “Nice try. I saw you on television.”

  Of course you did. “So?” She stopped her casual stroll. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  One perfectly trimmed brow lifted. “It means I know you’ve got a boyfriend who’s a Navy SEAL, and who most likely killed York. That’s why he isn’t answering my calls.”

  “Tell me another lie, Mitch. You’re the reason York nearly died when you cancelled the chopper that was supposed to retrieve him, so don’t tell me you’ve been trying to reach him. Did you also plan for no food to be in that rig? Did you hire that for him, too?” She had him there and she knew it.

  Both Franks’ brows lifted then. “It seems I underestimated you.” His hand swept backward, beckoning her up his stairs and into his home. “Why don’t you come inside and tell me what else you think you know?”

  Removing her dark glasses, she wrinkled her nose, hesitating. Appraising the situation. Entering his house would get her—perish the thought—up close and personal with her target. But could she go through with this crazy scheme?

  Again his gaze scrolled down her long legs to her painted toes and back up again, stopping at her ample cleavage before they lifted to her eyes. A crafty smile twitched his thin upper lip. “The Suede I see now is an amazing beauty and an intelligent woman. Come. You must be thirsty after your...” His eyes darted behind her. “How did you get here?”

  “By boat. The town’s full of college boys eager to please, if you know what I mean.”

  A smirk pinched one of Franks’ cheeks. “That shy-girl act still works for you, doesn’t it?”

  She let the strap of her bag roll off her shoulder, the bag landing in the sand at her feet, needing him to believe she’d brought nothing but ‘shy-girl’ stuff with her. “Yeah, but you knew that years ago. Sex is my drug of choice now.” With Chance, not you, you pervert.

  Her ruse must’ve worked. His back stiffened as if he’d just gotten hard and knew he could have her, if he could only get her inside. Franks tried a different tactic then. Taking a seat on the top step, he called his dog. “Here, Meine Liebchen. Let the lady alone.”

  Obediently, the dog pranced to his side and dropped to its haunches.

  Meine Liebchen? What a stupid name for a cute dog. “Nice dog. I like her,” Suede said pointedly as she folded to the soft sand, cross-legged and wanton, playing this game of one-upmanship to the bitter end. She gave him a peek at what he could have—in his dreams—before she draped the warp-around over her scant bottoms and covered herself. “Is your dog German too? Like that Wilhelm guy in Colombia? Like York?”

  Her dead mother’s personal assistant nodded, but the smile on his thin lips didn’t reach his cold, gray eyes. On hand settled on top of Meine Liebchen’s round head. “This bitch is straight out of Stahnsdorf, Germany. I have a friend there who raises them. The breed makes the best companions in the world. You should get one.”

  “I used to be your best companion,” Suede murmured. “I believed you when you helped me file for emancipation. I thought you wanted to help. Why’d you dump me on York?”

  Franks folded his hands in front of him, his elbows on his knees, and that poor innocent but loyal dog at his side. “You’d gotten unstable, Suede. Surely you knew that. You were prone to inventing stories that never happened, telling lies—”

  “Like you raping a minor? A child?” She bobbed her head, going for sarcasm. “Was that just a story?”

  His brows narrowed. “I only gave you what you wanted, what you still want. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Possibly…” She trailed a long red fingernail in the sand near her bag, drawing a heart for the man she might never see again, for Chance. “But why kill my mother?” My Mom. Lifting her hand, she coughed into it to hide her sudden emotion, her throat gone dry at the thought of him strangling Vera Tennyson, then dumping her body into the ocean. Her heart seemed determined to break for the woman Suede was positive had never loved her. Why this intense awakening of a family connection now? What purpose did it serve anyone?

  He stretched one leg down the steps, shaking his head. “Vera never had any use for you. You know that. Why do you care now?”

  Suede didn’t. Not really. Did she? “Just wondered.” But I do care. I just don’t know why. “Not like it matters now. She’s gone and Dad’s going to prison.”

  That dropped Franks’ gaze to his shoes. “Since you’re here…” He drew in another breath. “Oh, what the hell. I might as well tell you. Your mom always was a pushy bitch, Suede. You knew that. Hell, the world knew that, but lately she’d gotten nosy. Nosier.” His gaze arrowed past Suede to the trees and the ocean behind her. “She found something she had no business finding, then she made a federal case over it. She made personal accusations that hurt. Hell, she’d turned into a fuckin’ Rottweiler, hell-bent on ruining me.” His hand went to his chest as if he had a heart in there.

  Suede kept her eyes on him. The man seemed genuinely sad, but she knew better. “I get it. You offed her just like you offed York when you didn’t need him anymore. No big deal.”

  “Ah, but I didn’t ‘off’ York as you so eloquently put it. Where is he? Do you know what happened to him?”

  “You’re right. I killed him,” she lied. “That SEAL you saw me with on TV taught me how to climb that mountain of his, and he taught me how to shoot. Only I didn’t need a gun to end Lion. I shoved him off the same cliff he shoved me over. Guess he’ll never do that again.”

  “Then what?” Franks asked, his voice soft and low, leading her on. “Did you kill that SEAL too or do I have to worry about him showing up to rescue you?”

  She hadn’t thought this far ahead, but whatever it took, she was in this game to win it. “Yes-s-s-s-s,” she hissed, her head d
own and her eyes closed at the thought of harming Chance. “I had to kill him. He thought he owned me…” Chance, please forgive me. “I hate bossy men. I hate most men, but you…” It was her turn for regret. “You’re different.”

  “Look at me, Suede,” Franks ordered.

  She tipped her chin up, wiped her eyes, and obeyed despite what she’d just said about bossy men.

  He sat there staring at her, patting the step at his side. “Come here. Let’s finish what we started five years ago.”

  Five years. He made it sound like she’d willingly entered into a tryst with him that night he’d snuck into her bedroom and assaulted her. Revulsion crept up her throat at the thought of what he’d done to her tender body, how he’d trussed her up like a prize before he taken her hard and fast. The pain of that awful invasion still burned like a coal at her core.

  Was this man insane or had he really, in his demented way, thought he’d loved her? Was that what had driven him to toss her to a wolf like York? Had he done that to punish her because she’d spurned him? Somehow, it all made creepy, scary sense.

  As if tempted to obey, she lifted to her feet. She would’ve gone to the bottom of that step… She would’ve taken her bag with her and drawn her pistol on him and blew his brains out. She would’ve, but—

  Two strong arms snared her just as she stood. Some guy with a heavy Spanish accent asked, “This the girl?”

  Suede jerked to get away, but he held her fast. “Let me go!”

  “Why yes, Viktor. That’s the high and mighty Suede Tennyson. It’s damned time you showed up.” Franks tipped his head to the man. “Where are your boys? They were supposed to be on guard.”

  “She’s alone if that’s what you’re worried about. Check this out.” Viktor ran his hand up her thigh, revealing the nearly healed scar. “This gal’s got spunk.”

  Franks waved an impatient hand dismissively. “Whatever. Bring her in. I don’t want blood on my doorstep.”