by Jarica James
Damaged Goods
Cruel Crimes Book One
Jarica James
Copyright © 2020 Jarica James
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations in book reviews.
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Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This is a Reverse Harem Dark Romance and is not suited for those under the age of 18.
Cover by: A.J. Macey at Inked Imagination Designs
Formatting by: Inked Imagination Author Services
Editing By: Michelle with Inked Imagination Author Services
Developmental Editing by: Cassie with Inked Imagination Author Services
To My Brother
My heart isn’t the same without you here. Love you, forever.
Thank You
To Michelle, Suki and Cassie for going above and beyond to help make this book the best it can be.
To AJ, for being an amazing bestie. <3
You guys are all amazing!
Contents
Trigger Warning
Prologue - Eros Priamos
1. Otsana
2. Otsana
3. Keir
4. Otsana
5. Kyrell
6. Otsana
7. Otsana
8. Otsana
9. Otsana
10. Otsana
11. Otsana
12. Otsana
13. Otsana
14. Otsana
15. Otsana
16. Hector Adrostos
17. Otsana
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Also by Jarica James
Trigger Warning
This book contains material that can be triggering for some readers. There are mentions of violence, assault, trafficking, and on page dub con, violence, and gore.
If these things are not for you, please do not read this book.
If that made you even more excited to read, then dive in! ;)
My eyes locked on my granddaughter as she walked out of my office, begrudging pride radiating in me at the calm and collected power she held in her words. No other member of the family had ever thought to bargain with me, let alone demand their way through it.
Five years. Those were her terms. She wanted five years to live a normal life, and then she’d come back and let me choose her partner and her path. Now, I wasn’t naive enough to assume she wasn’t planning to try and get out of this, but I thought of it as a true test of loyalty, one I’d ensure she’d pass. It wouldn’t just be years of complacency. I’d send challenges to remind her what we’re capable of. Her entire life, I’d prepared her to inherit her rightful role, forcing her to survive horrible situations so she could withstand the pressure of running this Family. She wasn’t weak; she was calculating and emotionless, two things that would serve her well in the Family, but not in the real world.
“Vincent,” I barked out, the man in question walking up in his slow, purposeful gait before bowing his head respectfully as he stood across from my desk. “My granddaughter leaves in two days. I need her to be untraceable to our enemies. Name struck from everything, new accounts, the works.”
“Yes, Boss,” he said, stepping back and tapping away at his phone, likely already executing my orders. My son was a loyal man and would see it done or kill those standing in his way.
“Little Tony!” I called out, and one of my younger nephews stepped up. I pretended not to see the slight shake to his hands as I gestured for him to come closer. He obeyed without thought, yet another sign of my firm-handed leadership.
“Yes, Boss?” he asked, not making eye contact, which amused me to no end. The power I held over the members of this family was heady, and I drank it in every chance I got. They were right to be wary. Staying inconsistent with my punishments and orders kept them on edge and just scared enough to not fuck with me. And Little Tony? He was weak, and if it weren't for his penchant for strategy, he’d have been eradicated a long fucking time ago.
“I want you to organize a number of our hitmen. I want someone tailing her at least twice a week and no less than one attempt on her life per month. She can’t forget who she is. Oh, and Vincent… Tony? The hitmen are an unfortunate risk to security, but a necessary one. But, if anyone outside of us three hears about her location or anything else, I will kill you both. Understood?”
“Understood, Boss,” Vincent called from his post next to the door.
“Understood, Boss,” Little Tony mimicked, taking up his post in the corner of the room. A moment later, he was clicking away at his own phone, likely to call a meeting and take care of his side of things. My men had quickly learned that any directive, no matter how small, was to be carried out immediately. It had been a fun few weeks training them in the efficiency I required.
“Great, let’s see how our little Sana makes it without us,” I said, chuckling to myself as I pulled up our surveillance program. My technologically-inclined lackeys had created it, allowing us to have a further reach, literal eyes and ears anywhere I went. We mainly kept it connected to businesses in our territory, but I easily extended the parameters to include Haverden, California. I’d have my eyes on her for every moment of those five years until I brought her home. Sana was the only one I wanted to run this family after me, the only one who was ruthless enough to have a solid place in this family. Yes, this was perfect.
Good luck, Princess.
Two years of freedom left.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I ran through the streets of Haverden. For a city of its size, the streets were fucking empty at one in the morning, leaving me open for an attack. I should have fucking known that Grandfather Eros would send fucking hitmen after me. He’d never let one of his own forget that he was truly the one in control. The annoying part was that they’d come, every few weeks, the entire time I’d been here… and I was fucking tired of it. Never matters how many men I kill. He just keeps sending more.
The next gunshot whistled past, barely grazing my ear as I ducked down, the bullet embedding in the brick wall behind me. Rushing forward, I slid into an alcove and grabbed one of the many daggers stashed on my body, this one from my left boot. Waiting until I heard boots moving across the loose gravel of the alley before ducking out of my hiding spot, I threw it with precision, landing the dagger right in his thigh with a sickening, wet thud. His scream of pain was feral and promised retribution, but I was already out of sight, running as fast and discreetly as I could. Any man hired by Grandfather Eros was a professional, so I had to leave behind as few traces as possible if I wanted to stay in the lead.
“Open a game store, they said. Do midnight release parties, it’ll get more customers, they said,” I grumbled, pausing behind a parked van to get a breath and think through my escape. He had to die, or he wouldn’t stop. These fuckers were like fucking bloodhounds.
When I’d moved to town, my first priority had been to map out eve
ry possible blind spot and escape route. For the average person, a job would have been first on the list, but I’d never been accused of being average. The ability to move like a ghost would be what kept me alive, and nothing was more important than that.
“There you are. Eros sends his love, darling,” the man’s gravelly voice whispered in my ear, and I cursed myself for letting him get the drop on me.
“You can tell Eros to go fuck himself,” I growled, slamming my elbow into his stomach and breaking his hold enough to turn and snatch my knife from my hip holster. With a kick thrust, I shoved it into his side, sprinting away as he screamed in surprised pain once again. When he groaned, I made the mistake of glancing back. He smirked at me in a way that no man ever should... especially while he was bleeding from the two knife wounds I’d gifted him.
“Oh, feisty, I think I’ll just have to tame you a bit first. We can surely involve knives if you want, Princess.” Blinding anger hit me at the nickname, one I’d heard since I was a child. Princesses were cute and girly and pampered, none of which fit me. There had only ever been one exception to that nickname, one I refused to think about anymore.
“Fuck you!” I screeched, dodging into the back door of a twenty-four hour convenience store, thankful they had it propped open in the sweltering heat. Yells of protests rang out from the employees, but I ignored them and sprinted through the storage rooms and into the store itself. The jostling of the holsters secured to my body kept me grounded as I made it to the front, barely slowing down enough to let a crowd of shoppers cross before I hurried around to the side of the building. I crouched down between the recycling cart full of cardboard and a broken cooler, trying to slow my breaths.
“Come out, Princess. I just want to fuck you and kill you, that’s all. Be a good girl, now,” he taunted, his hoarse voice echoing down the small alleyway. Between his quiet steps and the rebound of his words, I couldn’t tell where he was yet, and that unnerved me despite my need to keep my focus.
Reaching for my handgun and silencer, I attached them, watching and waiting for him to get closer as the moment stretched on for what felt like forever. Movement at the end of the alley caught my eye, and I flattened my body against the brick wall. When he moved within range, I clicked off the safety and lined up the shot, the dark of the night not hurting my meticulously practiced aim.
I waited for him to see me, a lesson Eros had painstakingly instilled in me. A way to truly connect with each kill, to remember it, to savor it. Just as he turned to face my way, I pulled the trigger, his eyes locking onto me and going wide before the bullet made contact.
That was the funny thing about guns... It almost felt like the world slowed down as you pulled the trigger, giving you that moment of peace to appreciate your kill, that quick moment of realization the victim had before collapsing into a pool of their own blood. It was powerful and heady.
When the man dropped, I clicked the safety on, pulled off the silencer, and tucked it back in my holster. Thanks to the running, my forehead was covered in sweat and my hair was sticking to it… not cute or inconspicuous. Taking a calming breath, I tried my best to quiet my rapid heartbeat and fix my appearance before walking out of my cover. For a split second, my gaze drifted to the unfortunate hitman lying in a pool of blood nearby, my amusement causing me to chuckle. The fact that these assholes pledged allegiance to such a sadistic man was laughable. They were nothing but sheep that he gladly sent to be slaughtered. In fact, over the three years I’d been here, he was number thirty-six. My months ran like clockwork: pay the utilities, curse that I’d gotten my period while polishing off a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, and kill the latest hitman my grandfather had sent to “keep me sharp.”
“You ruined my chances for a quiet night, you fucker,” I growled, turning on my heel and walking out of the alley, keeping calm and composed. I’d chosen that alley because it was obscured from the parking lot and had no cameras on this side or at the entrance, so I’d be untraceable when the police came to investigate. This wasn’t my first run-in, and it wouldn’t be the last. “I asked for five fucking years, Eros,” I ground out, like he could hear me from halfway across the country. I’d had enough of this cat and mouse game… Those weren’t my fucking terms, and I now had three years of pent up rage.
When I made my deal with the devil, I knew there’d be an unspoken catch, but I’d been trained to be prepared for anything, so it hadn’t deterred me. What I should have expected, but didn’t, was for him to try to kill me. In my family, you were only worthy if you could prove you were strong enough to survive. Because nothing says love like trying to kill each other, right?
Pulling out my phone, I dialed Grandfather Eros and waited, the phone barely even ringing once before his quiet and slow voice answered as purposefully as everything he did.
“Princess, I’m shocked this is the first you’ve called me,” he said, his mock surprise barely believable given his obvious amusement.
“Really… hitmen still? You haven’t grown tired of losing your lackeys yet?” I challenged. “How is this part of the deal?”
“Ah, but of course it was. You thought I’d let the future head of our family go for five years and allow her to get rusty and useless? How could you think so little of me, Princess?” The taunting fake hurt made me want to shoot something else. Eros had never had a true emotion in his life. He’d only learned to replicate them, but my grandfather and I had spent so much time together that I knew every nuance and tell to give away his insincerity.
“I knew something was coming, but I didn’t think I’d be committing murder in the streets once a fucking month,” I grumbled.
“Well, I suggest you be more discreet then,” he said with a cackle, the phone going silent as he hung up. Okay, then, I guess we’re done for now. Everything was always on his terms. I let out a sigh of frustration, tucked my phone away, and made my way home. I knew he’d handle the body as he always did. Try to kill the "crown princess" of the Priamos family? No big deal. Make her clean up her own kill? Nope, we couldn't have that.
Thanks to the fucking assassin, I was keyed up now and likely would be dead tired in the morning.
The front of my ancient apartment building wasn’t welcoming in the dim light of the streetlight, the paint peeling and brick crumbling, but it was the only place that let me stay on a month-to-month basis without requiring a lease or contact information. I liked the extra security of being untraceable in some aspect. The store was my permanent address, and even if Eros had likely found my apartment building by now, it wasn’t listed anywhere in association with my alias, giving me a semblance of safety.
Keying in the code, I waited for the buzzer and yanked open the door, putting everything I had in it to counteract the rust. Trying to avoid running into nosy neighbors, I bolted for the stairs and literally ran up them, stopping on the second floor landing and tiptoeing down the hall. The snap of a lock had me running again, barely closing my door before I heard theirs open.
Now that I was safe from socialization, I kicked off my shoes and dropped the keys on the counter, walking into my tiny shoebox of an apartment and flopping on the couch. Now that I was comfortable, the adrenaline faded away to exhaustion until I gave in to sleep.
Every nerve-ending in my body was on fire as I walked into my favorite coffee shop the next morning, something that always happened for a few days after a kill. Once I stepped inside, I took a deep breath, the smell of roasted coffee hitting me and relaxing my shoulders. If nothing else, the smell reminded me that yesterday was behind me. In an effort to make today a better day, I’d put on my favorite flowing white V-neck, skinny jeans, and knee-high boots.
“There she is! My hot chocolate missed you,” Larry called out, his bald head and grin both shining in the bright lighting. He’d gone for a modern look, so everything was white, silver, and black. Not the usual for a coffee joint, but still nice.
“I missed it too, and I’m gonna need an extra large today,” I said, pulling out
my wallet and handing over my card. He swiped it and handed it back along with my hot chocolate, with extra whipped cream on top and a splash of milk to make it a drinkable temperature. I took a long pull and sighed, the world seeming right again. I swear that bald-headed barista infuses magic into his drinks.
“Go, go! You’ll be late!” Larry ordered, tossing me a brown paper bag with a wink. I caught it and gave him a grin in return. I’d been here six days a week, every week, for three years, and he never failed to spoil me on Friday mornings.
“Thanks, Larry!” I called, turning and walking for the door. I dodged a lady coming in before something solid slammed into me, my glorious hot chocolate raining down on the both of us and painting the sidewalk brown. “No! You fucker!” I screeched without thought, looking up and dropping my cup when I took in the familiar face in front of me. It was like seeing a ghost, every memory slamming into me at once.
Killian?
He might have been a triplet, but I’d never mistake which brother he was. His rich chocolate eyes were still the same, framed in lashes any woman would envy. He was older now, just as I was, but he had gone the classy route, apparently, wearing a dark suit that made him look refined. His dirty blond hair was styled and combed back, not a single slight curl defying him. The well-kept mustache and beard were just the icing on this already delicious cake.