by Meghan March
House of Scarlett
Meghan March
Contents
House of Scarlett
Also by Meghan March
About House of Scarlett
1. Gabe
2. Scarlett
3. Legend
4. Scarlett
5. Legend
6. Scarlett
7. Scarlett
8. Scarlett
9. Legend
10. Scarlett
11. Legend
12. Legend
13. Scarlett
14. Legend
15. Scarlett
16. Legend
17. Scarlett
18. Scarlett
19. Legend
20. Scarlett
21. Legend
22. Scarlett
23. Legend
24. Scarlett
25. Legend
26. Scarlett
27. Legend
28. Scarlett
29. Scarlett
30. Legend
31. Scarlett
32. Legend
33. Scarlett
34. Legend
35. Scarlett
36. Legend
37. Scarlett
38. Scarlett
39. Legend
40. Scarlett
41. Legend
42. Scarlett
43. Legend
44. Scarlett
45. Legend
46. Scarlett
47. Legend
48. Scarlett
49. Legend
50. Scarlett
51. Legend
52. Scarlett
53. Legend
54. Scarlett
55. Legend
56. Legend
57. Scarlett
58. Legend
59. Scarlett
60. Legend
61. Scarlett
62. Legend
63. Legend
Sneak Peek of Black Sheep
Also by Meghan March
About the Author
House of Scarlett
Book Two of the Legend Trilogy
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Meghan March
Copyright © 2019 by Meghan March LLC
All rights reserved.
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Editor: Pam Berehulke, Bulletproof Editing
www.bulletproofediting.com
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Cover photo and design: © Regina Wamba, Mae I Design
www.exclusivebookstock.com
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No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Visit my website at www.meghanmarch.com.
Also by Meghan March
Magnolia Duet
Creole Kingpin
(March 2020)
Madam Temptress
(April 2020)
* * *
Legend Trilogy
The Fall of Legend
House of Scarlett
The Fight for Forever
(January 2020)
* * *
Dirty Mafia Duet:
Black Sheep
White Knight
* * *
Forge Trilogy:
Deal with the Devil
Luck of the Devil
Heart of the Devil
* * *
Sin Trilogy:
Richer Than Sin
Guilty as Sin
Reveling in Sin
* * *
Mount Trilogy:
Ruthless King
Defiant Queen
Sinful Empire
* * *
Savage Trilogy:
Savage Prince
Iron Princess
Rogue Royalty
Beneath Series:
Beneath This Mask
Beneath This Ink
Beneath These Chains
Beneath These Scars
Beneath These Lies
Beneath These Shadows
Beneath The Truth
* * *
Dirty Billionaire Trilogy:
Dirty Billionaire
Dirty Pleasures
Dirty Together
* * *
Dirty Girl Duet:
Dirty Girl
Dirty Love
* * *
Real Duet:
Real Good Man
Real Good Love
* * *
Real Dirty Duet:
Real Dirty
Real Sexy
* * *
Flash Bang Series:
Flash Bang
Hard Charger
* * *
Standalones:
Take Me Back
Bad Judgment
About House of Scarlett
Gabriel Legend is unlike any other man I’ve ever met.
He came into my life like a hurricane, shattering all my assumptions and preconceived notions.
I wasn’t prepared for him. I wasn’t prepared for any of it.
But life doesn’t wait until you’re ready.
Whatever happens next, I know one thing for certain.
I will never be the same Scarlett I was before I met him.
* * *
House of Scarlett is the second book of the Legend Trilogy and should be read following The Fall of Legend. Scarlett and Legend’s story concludes in The Fight for Forever.
One
Gabe
Twenty-five years earlier
The storm siren screamed in the distance as I shook Ma awake. “We gotta go. They said we gotta get to the shelter.”
Ma must have found a bottle she hid, because I’d already poured out everything I could find. But there she was, passed out on the couch again.
“Just a few more minutes,” she murmured. “I’ll go to work.”
If I wasn’t so worried about the storm coming, I would have snorted. She hadn’t had a job in over a year, and the little money she did get . . . I swallowed hard. Don’t wanna think about that.
“The whole park’s evacuating. We gotta go.”
Living in the middle of a bunch of tin cans in Biloxi meant that when the winds got to whipping up and the TV was sending reporters down to video stuff, we had to go somewhere safer.
“Go without me. I’ll be there later.” She patted my hand absently from the couch, and I clenched my teeth. “Good boy.”
Being nine sucked. I wasn’t strong enough to get her off the couch and out of the trailer; not yet, anyway. Someday I would be, though. Then no one would be able to tell me what to do, and those kids who stole my stuff on the way home from school wouldn’t be able to touch me.
I balled my hands into fists and dropped onto one knee. “Ma, wake up. We’ll get you another bottle at the shelter.”
Both bloodshot eyes popped open, just like I knew they would. “There’s a hurricane party?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
There wasn’t, but I’d say whatever I needed to say to get her moving. She wasn’t the best mom in the world, but she was all I had. And she loved me. She did. If it came right down to i
t, she’d pick me over the booze. I knew it.
“Okay, okay. I’m coming. Let me freshen up first. Need to fix my lipstick.”
She rolled off the broken couch, but there was no way I could let her look in a mirror. We’d never get out of the house. Her lipstick was smeared halfway up her cheek, her eyes were doing a good impression of a raccoon, and I didn’t want to think about the man who dropped her off last night with black tears streaming down her face. The second she stepped foot in the trailer, she was tearing it apart, looking for liquor. I went to bed, thankful she was home safe. I’d learned to block out the noise to get some sleep, but no one could sleep through the sirens. They were way too loud.
“You look great, Ma. Let’s go.” I hoped she’d forgive the lie, because we didn’t have time.
“Okay, okay. I’ll get my handbag.”
I grabbed it off the coffee table, which was piled with unpaid bills and ads for groceries we couldn’t afford because Ma drank the check that came from the government, and handed the purse to her. It was a miracle she actually paid our rent this month. I hated it when Tony, the park manager, came and threatened to kick us out and called us white trash.
I shouldered the backpack I’d loaded with all our important stuff—eighty-seven dollars she didn’t know I had from weeding and doing odd jobs for the neighbors, her inhaler that was down to its last few puffs, our birth certificates, and the pocketknife I found when the couple from Lot 18 ran off in the middle of the night without paying their rent.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.
Someday, things will be different . . .
One day, I’d be old enough to get a job and pay the bills. No one would be able to throw us out because the rent would never be late. There would be food in the fridge, and maybe even some Nutter Butters in the cupboard.
Before I got lost in my head, thinking about all the ways things were going to change when I was the one taking care of us, Ma tucked her handbag under her arm and straightened her shoulders. She was still pretty for a mom. Long blondish-brown hair—same as me. Bright blue eyes that were the color of mine. But hers were too pretty. Because she got herself in trouble every time a man noticed her.
“Let’s go, kiddo. Time to party.”
There was going to be hell to pay when she realized there was no liquor at the shelter, just people who were terrified of losing everything if the storm got worse like they said it could. But I’d deal with that later.
As soon as we stepped out of the broken screen door, all I heard was yelling. Mary Jo, the nice lady from next door who always made sure to save me a cookie and paid me for chores, was hollering at Carl, her boyfriend, to hurry. She jammed her hands into her hair, messing up all the black waves. But when she saw me, she smiled.
“Make sure you get Gabe to the high school, Lauralee,” Mary Jo called out.
“Mind your own fucking business, bitch.”
Ma flipped her off as we walked by, and my stomach twisted into a knot. I gave Mary Jo a weak smile to apologize for my ma, but she was already shouting at Carl again.
“That fucking cunt thinks she knows everything. Well, she don’t have no kids. She’s got a man to take care of her. She don’t know shit.”
Ma wasn’t really talking to me, but I threaded my fingers through hers anyway and squeezed.
She glanced down at me and looked at our hands. “You’re too old to be holding my hand, aren’t you, boy?”
Something burned behind my eyes, but I shook my head. “I’m the man of the house. I can hold your hand if it means keeping you safe.”
Her face softened, and she blinked a few times. “You’re a good kid. I did a damn fine job with you.”
Around us, trailer doors slapped in the gusty wind while people rushed out to cars and pickup trucks, and shoved armloads of stuff inside them. But we kept walking. We’d get to the shelter before the storm hit, and if I was lucky, there’d be sandwiches and juice boxes like last year when they said we were getting hit with a hurricane but didn’t. Those sandwiches were even better than my school lunches, which were about as good as it got.
Even with the storm, today is a good day.
We were out of the trailer park and cutting through an empty lot across the street when I heard glass breaking.
“Shit. Looters are out,” Ma said, dropping my hand and looking around to see where the mob was.
I’d only seen looters once before, and it was on TV. They burned cars in the street and the police had to stop them. But the only siren I heard was the one warning us about the storm.
“Hopefully, the police will get them,” I said, moving toward the sidewalk that would take us up to the crossroad that led to the high school where we could take shelter. And hopefully get sandwiches.
My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten since lunch at school yesterday.
Weekends were the worst. I usually tried to save the bun from my Friday burger to eat on Saturday before I sneaked into the church up the street and stole doughnuts and juice to get me through Sunday. But this week, stupid Pat and his crew knocked the bun out of my hands as I was leaving the cafeteria, and it rolled under the trash cans. I couldn’t get it without Mrs. Evert seeing me, and she already asked too many questions about Ma and how things were going at home as it was.
I took a few steps before I stopped and looked behind me. Ma wasn’t following me anymore. She was heading the other way. Toward the mob tearing apart Charlie’s Liquor.
Crap.
I changed direction and broke into a run. “Ma, no. Wrong way. We gotta go this way. The storm’s coming.”
She looked over her shoulder at me. “And it’s bad manners to show up to a party empty-handed.”
“There’s no party! Ma!” The whipping wind stole my voice and sent her blond hair flying around her head. “Ma! Please!”
I reached out and grabbed her hand, yanking her to a stop.
Her face was completely different the second time she turned around. “You think you’re big enough to boss me around? Not yet.” She shook off my hand. “You want to go to the shelter so bad because you’re scared of the storm? Then take your own ass up there, and I’ll see you when I see you.”
I stood there, frozen in place, as she spun around and jogged toward the chaos.
She left me. To loot Charlie’s. With a mob.
I looked up at the sky, which was a wall of angry black-and-gray clouds. The wind swiped at my face, and something wet hit my cheeks. I didn’t know if it was rain or tears, and I didn’t care.
She left me.
In that empty lot, my eyes stayed locked on her until she disappeared inside.
Then the other sirens started. The police ones.
No! I have to warn her!
But I couldn’t. As soon as the mob heard the sound, they spilled out of Charlie’s into the parking lot. People were running every which way, with as many bottles as they could carry. A woman clutching something to her chest collided with a man, and they both went down.
The first police car pulled up, blocking one entrance to the street. The crowd shifted and went another way. Everyone was yelling. The police were pouring out of their cars.
Where is Ma?
Not even aware I moved, I fought through the crowd, getting whacked and shoved with every step.
More cops. More screaming. Bullhorns.
I couldn’t see. Someone ran into me and shoved me to the ground. I wrapped my arms over my head as someone’s shoe whacked my forearm hard enough to leave a mark.
“Ma!” I screamed for help, but rain lashed me from the sky and the wind screamed.
I crawled away, until someone grabbed me by the backpack and lifted me to my feet. I turned around, relief rushing through me, but when I saw the face in front of mine, the relief disappeared just as quickly.
It wasn’t my mom. It was a cop.
“Come on, kid. You need to get out of here.”
“But my ma—”
“She in the
store?” he asked, reaching for the radio hooked to his shirt.
“I don’t know. We were going to the shelter. We . . . got separated.”
“Go sit by the car. I’ll come back for you. Don’t go anywhere.” He shoved me toward the front of a squad car as a SWAT truck rolled up with a paddy wagon behind it, just like in the freaking movies.
I huddled against the bumper, getting pelted by rain, as the SWAT team controlled the crowd and handcuffed one person on their knees after another.
Ma was nowhere to be seen.