by King, Bella
Olesya rolls her eyes, looking toward me again. “I’m sure Zella did all the work.”
I smile. “You’re goddamn right I did.”
Diavolo smiles, but that quickly turns into a serious frown. “We need to get off this island. Olesya, are you able to walk to the shore with us?”
She nods. “Yes, but I’m not the only one here. There are others at the factory.”
“And more guards, I’m assuming.”
“Yes,” she replies, “But only two or three of them. It shouldn’t be difficult to catch them off guard.”
“Alright,” Diavolo says, looking toward me. “Zella, take Olesya back to the ship and make sure she gets something to eat. I’m going to grab the rest of them from the factory.”
“Don’t you need my help?” I ask, a pang of worry striking me.
He smirks, the cockiness in him showing loud and clear. “I can handle this. Just get to the ship, and prepare the place for the crew. We’re bringing the Devil’s Kingdom home again.”
Epilogue
Zella
As it turns out, Javelin’s Pleasure Island is a lot nicer when it’s not housing prisoners and trying to rip off Diavolo’s signature Black Sugar. In fact, it’s something close to a paradise, especially now that I’m sharing it with Diavolo.
“I haven’t taken a real vacation in five years,” I say, taking a sip out of a can of hard seltzer.
Diavolo lowers his sunglasses, looking over me as I lie nude on a recliner, save for a little triangle necklace. “I’ve never taken a vacation.”
“I have an idea,” I say lazily, staring out at the open ocean.
“Yeah?”
“Let’s never leave.”
He chuckles. “That’s not a vacation. That’s retirement.”
I chuckle with him. “Okay, but what’s wrong with that?”
“You don’t think you’d get bored?” he asks.
“Bored of having sex with you all day? Nope.”
“You’re right,” he says, relaxing back into his seat. “I don’t think I’d get bored of having you either.”
“So, let’s never stop,” I say, taking another sip of my drink. “Unless we really do get bored, then I guess we could do something for the hell of it.”
“That’s going to be a long time if it ever does happen,” he replies.
A small gust of air sweeps over the beach, bringing the smell of palm trees and ocean water with it. I love it out here, with nobody around to judge us, and no threats within a hundred miles of our inherited island.
Eventually, we will need to leave, if not only to check and make sure that operations are still running smoothly at the Devil’s Kingdom. Currently, Olesya is in charge of that, diligently returning to her role after five years. I told her she never had to look at another once of Black Sugar again, but she seemed more interesting in returning to the life she originally chose more than anything.
In a way, things have returned to the way they were before she disappeared. I’ve reclaimed my true self, although I can’t say I’m the same as when my adventure started. I’ve gained so much character, but I’ve also gained a man who I trust with my life.
I’m in love with Diavolo, and he’s in love with me. It’s an unlikely union, but who says that the devil doesn’t need a wife?
Diavolo takes a puff from his cigar, glancing over at me until I look back at him. The first thing I notice is a huge erection between his legs, then the grin on his handsome face.
“You need some help with that?” I ask, getting up from my recliner.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
The End.
Preview of The Cartel King
Marybeth
In mid-July, the heat reaches its peak, and not even all the cacti survive the cruel gaze of the glaring noon sun. There’s nothing hotter than a Texas summer, except for maybe the savage cartel boss who’s been staring me down from ever wanted poster in town. He went to jail months ago, but they still haven’t taken the signs down.
As the daughter of a pastor, I don’t reckon it’s right to find such a ruthless criminal attractive, but perhaps I take after my mother. She ran off with a crook when I was just three, and nobody has seen her since.
I can’t say I blame her, seeing how rigid and unforgiving my father is. He’s not the charming type, but he has money from the church, so he’s stable.
Many women make that mistake – marrying a man who’s stable, safe… and boring. I can’t say I care to do the same.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead with a red bandana. The color used to match my red and white checkered shirt, but it’s picked up so much dust that it’s more of a rusty brown now, just like everything else in this god-forsaken desert town.
I tuck the bandana into the back pocket of my jean shorts as a car pulls up, the window already rolled down to speak to me. A bead of sweat drips from my eyelashes even though I just wiped my forehead. Today is going to be a long day.
“Two cokes and a burger,” a man grumbles out the window of his car before I have the chance to step up to take his order. He holds out a twenty-dollar bill, worn and tired from its years of use.
I lean in, taking the money from his hand, and repeating his order back to him. “Would you like to add fries to that for ninety-nine cents?” I ask in a voice that’s much happier than I actually am. Smiling faces get the best tips.
“No,” the man answers bluntly.
I can’t see who’s in the car, but I assume it’s the typical sort of customer I get in the middle of the day. The younger folk aren’t much happier out here, but they’re a little better, coming out in the evening when it’s cool enough to walk. The only problem is that I get off work when they come around, so I never get to serve them.
I carry the limp twenty-dollar bill back toward the drive-in restaurant where we prepared the food hours ago. If I were in charge, I would cook everything to order, but the boss insists on having everything premade in case there’s a rush.
There never is. This town is just about as dead as the tumbleweeds that blow through it.
The bell rings as I push the door to the drive-in open, and I take a deep breath as the cold air hits my sweaty face, bringing my body temperature back down to something that doesn’t border on a heat stroke.
The slower parts of the day are much worse than when we have customers. One would think that running around in the sun would be brutal, but standing still outside in the blazing heat is much worse. At least when we have customers, I get to go inside.
I hand the money to the cashier, Eddy. He gets to stay inside all day, but he also doesn’t get tips. They only ever put the women out to deliver food to the cars because more people come that way. It’s an outdated practice, but things don’t get very progressive in a small town hugging the southern border. I don’t really mind it because I get all the tips, but lord is it hot.
“He wants two cokes and a burger,” I tell Eddy, leaning against the metal table in the tiny room.
“What kind of burger?” he asks, keying in the codes for the drinks.
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
Eddy scoffs. “You need to ask him, Marybeth. Really, you act like you haven’t been working here for the past two years.”
“Three,” I correct him.
“I don’t care. I just want to know what kind of burger this fucker wants.”
“Just do a regular one. That’s probably what he meant,” I say, trying to smooth it over. It’s not a big deal, but everyone in this town makes life so dramatic. Not a damn thing has happened here in the past twenty years, and it takes its toll on people’s attitudes.
“And what size cokes does he want?” Eddy asks, looking up at me from the register.
“Medium,” I reply, making it up on the spot.
He squints at me, trying to read whether I’m telling the truth or not.
I look away, trying to hide my face from him. Unfortunately, I’m easy to read, and that gets
me in trouble more than I like. I have no issue with the occasional white lie, but other people don’t like it.
I look out of the foggy floor-to-ceiling window at the car sitting in the drive-in spot. The blue paint is peeling and cracked, and the tires look like they need air.
Maybe I will get a good tip from him. People with nicer cars seem to tip less. I’m not sure why.
“Here,” Eddy says, nudging me with his arm as he holds out a fist full of change and a receipt.
I hold my hand under his, letting him drop the crumpled bills and coins into my palm. I don’t like touching Eddy. We used to date as teenagers, and he always gets weird if I show even the slightest sign of affection toward him. I can’t say that I blame him, considering how small the dating pool here is, but I still don’t like it.
“Order up!”
I flip one of my dirty-blonde braids over my shoulder before grabbing a red and white checkered paper bag filled with food from the cook. I want to be fast because I’m more likely to get tipped, but at the same time, I dread returning to the summer heat.
So, I linger at the door for a moment, allowing some of my sweat to dry, leaving my skin cold and clammy. Besides, one of the things that I’ve learned at work is that people don’t want their food straight away. If they get it too fast, then they’ll know that it was made before they got there. They want the illusion of you making their food to order and bringing it out to them fresh.
It’s a balance between being fast but not impossibly fast.
I leave the building once most of my sweat is dry, returning to the old blue car waiting alone in the empty parking lot. The window rolls down again, cleaning off a fresh layer of dust from the glass, and a veiny hand emerges from it.
“Here is your food, sir,” I chirp, thrusting the bag into the man’s hand. “And here is your change.” I hold out the pile of coins and a few wrinkly bills.
The man grumbles a ‘thank you’ and takes the money, handing me a dollar back. It’s not much, but tips like that add up during the day, and my manager overlooks reporting it with our wages. If he didn’t overlook it, I think people would stop working here. Minimum wage isn’t enough to pay my rent.
I flash a final smile at the man in the blue car as he pulls away, and I walk back toward the building. I’m not supposed to stand too close to it because my manager wants people on the street to see that we have people ready to serve them, so I stand just close enough to the tan brick building to steal some of its shade.
I let out a sigh, scanning the empty road all the way to the hazy orange horizon. Life in Texas can be boring, especially on days like this. There’s nothing to do, not even your job, when there’s barely any customers.
I want a better life than what I have now, but that comes with a price higher than I can afford with my meager paycheck. I don’t even have a car yet because I am spending so much on rent. If I could go back in time, I would get a roommate, and then maybe I’d be out of this mess already.
But six months ago, I made the mistake of getting a flat with one bedroom and a year-long lease. I can’t break the lease because I can’t afford the annulment fee. I’m trapped until my lease is up, and by then, I’ll have to spend more money on Christmas with my father. I may never leave this place.
I look over at the empty parking lot, wondering when things will pick up. I doubt that I’ll have many for customers for the next few hours, so I relax and try to let my mind wander for a bit.
I like to play games with cars that pass by the drive-in. I have one where I count the colors of the cars, giving myself more points for specific colors and subtracting points for others. For example, white ones get one point because they’re so common, but yellow ones get five. If I see a brown one, I subtract three.
It’s a pointless game, but I’ve been doing it ever since I was young. We never had an Xbox or anything like that growing up, so you had to come up with your own games to play.
But no cars pass me as I stand alone outside the drive-in. The blue car that parked here before was the only one in the past hour, and that’s only two points.
I look back at the building, peering through the dirty glass to get a glimpse at what’s going on inside. I can see Eddy and the cook talking to each other. They look like they’re having a good time, laughing and waving their hands around. I bet they’re talking about girls.
I look back to the road as I hear tires slowly crackling along the dusty pavement. A new car rolls up to the dine-in. This one is a bright red Mustang from the early seventies, with paint so glossy that it looks like it’s still drying.
Heat rises from the hood of the car, twisting the air and warping it in a display of power. The driver has either been out on the road for a long time or was pushing high speeds recently. With a car like that, I’d bet on the latter.
I step back into the sun as the Mustang rolls to a stop and a window comes down on the passenger’s side. I don’t know why, but I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach as I walk up to them, preparing to take their order.
I take a quick peek at the white plastic watch on my wrist. It’s almost time for my break, and this will be the last person I serve before lunch. I don’t feel like eating a greasy burger for the fourth day in a row.
Maybe I can get a ride to the corner store from the driver of the red Mustang.
Finish reading The Cartel King now!
More Mafia Please!
His Target: A Dark Mafia Romance
She only exists to satisfy me. After that, it’s lights out.
Zeno
She was cast to the streets the day she came of age, left to starve in a city full of junkies and violent criminals.
I took her in, gave her shelter, safety, and food, but it wasn’t out of the kindness of my heart.
I have no heart.
Instead I have a plan: Marry her, dispose of her, then make off the with the inheritance she doesn’t know that she has.
It’s ruthless, but then again, I never claimed to be a saint.
I’m a bratva hitman, and I’m about to score the ultimate target.
His Target is a dark standalone mafia romance packed with action, and drenched in sinful submission.
Get your copy of His Target now.
* * *
Wedding Sin: A Dark Mafia Romance
On the day of our wedding, he humiliates me in front of a thousand people.
Seven days later, I’m on my knees, begging him to punish me again.
I never thought I’d find myself craving the cruel touch of a mafia boss, but I am, and it might just end in my death.
Kazimir.
His name means destroyer of peace.
It fits him well.
Behind his devious smirk is a black box of secrets. The reasons why he married me.
His tongue weaves lies just as well as it creates wicked pleasure, and he revels in doing both.
He’s a bad man and he knows that, but he doesn’t want to change.
He wants to twist me into a cruel reflection of himself, and I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to stop him.
I’m going to hell with him, and I’ll be soaked in guilty sin the entire way down.
Wedding Sin is an explosive standalone start to a mafia series so real and dark, you won’t be able to put it down. As always, it has a HEA and absolutely no cheating.
Get your copy for Wedding Sin now!
* * *
Claimed for Life: An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance
They killed my father, so I married a madman.
Honey
He’s twice my age, ridiculously handsome, and filthy rich.
It sounds like I found my happily ever after, except that I didn’t.
I don’t really know him, but that’s beside the point.
He’s my husband now, and he expects me to serve him like a king.
But I’m not that easy, and I’m not going to drop to my knees at his command.
It’ll take a lot more than an ar
ranged marriage with a mafia boss to break me.
Carter
She thinks this is about her.
It’s not.
I have better things to do than fool around with a younger woman.
I need to own her, to control her, and to use her to my advantage.
That’s what she’s here for.
That’s why I married her.
The cards are in my hand now, and I’m about to make the gamble of a lifetime.
I just pray it doesn’t end with one of us dead.
Claimed for Life is a heart-pounding dark mafia romance built on twisted desires, lies, and vengeance. It’s not for the faint of heart, and it’s certainly not for those who blush at graphic and intense scenes. Enjoy!