by B. B. Reid
“Revenge before I take your family’s empire.”
“Not going to happen.”
“When you’re finally dead, I’ll inherit your power.”
“Not. Going. To. Happen.”
“I have your book. It will happen.”
“Then why do you need me dead? Why do I still sit on my throne while you hide and creep among my court like a coward?”
“Because fear creates a false sense of loyalty. Having the book isn’t enough. No one is willing to believe you aren’t smart enough to keep a copy. It seems I can’t do business unless you’re dead.”
“Whispers can ruin you.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t have a copy. I guess I’m not as smart as people think.”
“You’re lying.”
“Maybe. I would be smart to lie. But since I’m not…”
He exploded. “Enough with the mind games! Do you have a copy or not?”
“If you’re going to kill me, will it matter? Without me to refute it, you can make them believe anything you want.”
“Is that the same thing you told your mother the night your father died?” I watched his gaze move to Mian while he continued to speak to me. “Isn’t that why you want Theo dead?”
I felt the first crack in my control. “Shut up, Castro.” But it was too late. Mian’s ears were already wide open.
“A dead man can’t talk,” he continued. He had a death wish. I started to pull the trigger and unload on Castro until he was as dead as my father, but her voice stopped me.
“What is he talking about?” I didn’t answer. I didn’t look at her. She would never forgive me if I did.
“My dear, your father didn’t kill Art.” His cold gaze watched me as he delivered the final blow. “His mother did.”
I did pull the trigger then. Just as he glanced away to smile at Mian, my bullet pierced his skull, shutting him up forever. His lone henchman fired a shot, but before he could fire a second, I sent him to hell.
Eliana stared down at her father as blood poured from his head onto the concrete. I aimed and whistled to get her attention.
“Any last words?”
She dropped her gun and threw her hands up pleadingly. “Plea—” I shot her before she could finish.
Through it all, Mian kept her head down, and I knew it wasn’t fear that made her curl into herself. Even now, I could feel her pain. Her shoulders trembled, and I knew when I looked in her eyes there would be tears. I cut through the tape binding her and dropped the knife to pull her into my arms.
“Mian?”
She wobbled when I stood her up so I held her tighter. “Is it true?” Her voice was so small.
Suddenly, I was falling from a cliff and reaching for anything that would keep me from hitting rock bottom.
“Fuck.” My voice was shaking too.“We can’t talk about this here. Let me untie my mom and get you two somewhere safe.” It was hard letting her go, but I managed and turned to remove my mom’s gag when I stopped short. I couldn’t move, speak, or think. My mom’s eyes were open and staring down at the ground as her head hung, but there was no life in them. Blood poured from the side of her head. “Mom?” It was my turn to sound small. I barely recognized my own voice as I called out to her again.
“Victor’s guard killed her,” Mian answered when my mother didn’t. I couldn’t stop staring and waiting for her to move. She couldn’t be dead. “Angel,” Mian called more forcefully. I answered her demand by facing her. Tears poured down her face as she moved into my body, but I couldn’t bring myself to hold her. I was too numb.
“I know how you’re feeling,” she said into my chest. “I know how it feels to lose a mom and even a dad. I know how it feels to lose everything. That’s how you’re feeling, aren’t you?” I didn’t answer. “Everything I had lost was because of you and your family and your lie .”
A sharp pain in my stomach punctuated her claim. We both stared down, mesmerized by the sight of my knife in my stomach. “That was for my son.” I parted my lips, I heard the words in my head, but nothing came out. “I couldn’t fall out of love with you, Angel. Even when you refused to love me back.” I watched a lone tear trail down her face just as she drove the knife deeper into my gut. I struggled again to speak, but a pain filled gasp was all I could manage. She was tearing me apart inside in more ways than one. “But the man you hate is my father, and since the moment I was born, I also promised him I’d love him. This is for him.”
She let go of the knife as if it burned her and stepped back. I tried to keep my eyes from closing so I could see her one last time, but then she turned and ran before I could force more words past my pain.
“Sprite,” I whispered too late.
Chapter Sixty-One
Your secrets will eventually betray you.
ANGEL
Three Years Ago
I walked into my parent’s home and caught the weight of my mother after she flew into my chest and broke down. “I killed him. Oh, God. I killed your father, Angel.”
My father told me the day might one day come when I’d have to avenge his death. He even prepared me for it. He just hadn’t prepared me for my mother being the one to off him.
“Where is he?”
“Upstairs.” She hiccupped and burrowed her face back in my chest. I wanted to console my mother, but I needed answers. I knew I wouldn’t get any from her so I picked her up and carried her into the living room where I laid her down on the couch. She curled into the cushions and repeated, “I killed him.” Her eyes were empty as she stared up at me.
I forced my feet to move and headed for the stairs with heavy steps. For the first time in my life, I would meet death. I knew this wouldn’t be the last it came for me.
<<<<>>>>
Author’s Note
For those who missed the announcement and were still expecting a standalone, The Bandit was planned as a standalone. When it was time to write the ending, I realized how much I’d unsaid and unresolved with little time to unveil the rest of their story. When you sit down to write a story, it’s not always easy to predict where the characters will lead you. Even more so, life doesn’t care about deadlines. Some of you may be angry with me, and I won’t blame you. Some will just find excitement in getting more story. Whichever way you choose to swing, I am grateful you took a chance on The Bandit.
Please stay tuned for the second part of their story coming as soon as I can get it written.
Acknowledgments
FAMILY & FRIENDS – Once again I’ve brushed you aside to get through another deadline, and through it all, you’ve been understanding and had my back faithfully. I couldn’t ask for better people to share my blood or know me better than anyone.
ROGENA & AMI – Thank you for once again putting up with missed deadlines, dramatic breakdowns, and overall nuttiness. You must really love me. Just know I love you both back.
AMANDA SIMPSON – For once again making such an amazing cover and being so great about redoing it because I have issues.
SUNNY B. – I don’t think there is anyone I bugged more often about this book than you. My whiny, half-finished voice messages must have annoyed you a time or two…. Honestly, I don’t know why you’re still friends with me. What’s wrong with you, dude?
LISA P. KANE – You’re my voice of reason, and I love how you go with the flow no matter what nonsense or fuckery I throw at you.
LJ SHEN – Thank you for not being afraid to tell me to get a grip.
PENELOPE DOUGLAS – God, I don’t know how many times I’ve cried in your inbox, but thanks for patting me on the back when I needed it.
STREET MASTERS – We’re small, but we kick ass anyway. Thank you, ladies, for all the constant love. Long ago, I stopped thinking of you all as a team to promote for me and as a group of
friends who are always around to give me the support, a hand, or the kick I need. I LOVE YOU!
To the handful of special ladies who are not a part of my street team but promote me daily, THANK YOU! You know exactly who you are.
REIDERS – You are, without a doubt, my most loyal group of readers. You all keep me going and put up with my need to tease like champs. You even continue to read my words and stick around even though I’m a train wreck, and I love each and every one of you for it.
BLOGGERS – There are so many of you that I could never thank you all individually but never think I don’t know who you are and what you do. Without you, no one would know my name or read my books. I never have to bribe or beg for your support, and I love that most about the bloggers in this community.
5-1-4 – The support I’ve found in this company amazes me. Without the support of my leadership, this book wouldn’t have made it out on time. I’ll never forget it. Thank you!
Also by B.B. Reid
Broken Love Series
Fear Me
Fear You
Fear Us
Breaking Love
Fearless
The Bandit
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About B.B. Reid
B.B., also known as Bebe, found her passion for romance when she read her first romance novel by Susan Johnson at a young age. She would sneak into her mother’s closet for books and even sometimes the attic. When she finally decided to pick up a metaphorical pen and start writing, she found a new way to embrace her passion.
She favors a romance that isn’t always easy on the eyes or heart and loves to see characters grow—characters who are seemingly doomed from the start but find love anyway.