by April Lust
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.
Ruthless Ink: A Mob Romance (Hanley Family Mafia) (Devil’s Desires Book 4) copyright 2017 by April Lust. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
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Contents
Ruthless Ink: A Mob Romance (Hanley Family Mafia) (Devil’s Desires Book 4)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue I
Epilogue II
More by April Lust
Wild Ink: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Devil’s Horns MC) (Devil’s Desires Book 3)
Reckless Ink: A Motorcycle Club Romance (The Twisted Saints MC) (Devil’s Desires Book 2)
Lawless Ink: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Lightning Bolts MC)
The Enforcer’s Baby: A Bad Boy Mafia Secret Baby Romance (O'Donnell Mafia)
His to Protect: Midnight Riders MC
Forbidden: Berserkers MC
Forsaken: The Punishers MC
The Outlaw’s Bride: Skullbreakers MC
The Biker’s Bride: Bloody Saints MC
The Devil’s Bride: Hell Brothers MC
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Ruthless Ink: A Mob Romance (Hanley Family Mafia) (Devil’s Desires Book 4)
By April Lust
I put a baby in her belly just to mark her as mine.
A weaker man might have just had her killed.
But I had a better idea.
I spared her life…
Just so she could spend her nights satisfying my every twisted need.
LUKE
Lily learned who I truly am in the harshest way possible.
She saw the gun in my hands…
The blood spattered on my sleeves…
And in that dark alleyway, she realized that I am far more than just her boss.
I’m a ruthless mafia don, and my business extends to every shadowy corner of the city.
There is nowhere she can run to escape me.
So when I tell her what she must do next, she has no choice but to obey.
I can’t have an eyewitness tattling on me to the cops.
But she’s too beautiful and innocent to put a bullet in her skull.
I decide to let her live.
All I need is a way to make sure she understands that she’s my property now.
So I have my men bring her to my penthouse, and I let her know the deal.
She’ll keep her mouth shut…
Her legs open…
And she’ll stay the night until she’s carrying my child.
Chapter 1
Lily
All the coffee in the world can’t keep me awake.
I’ve tried to stay awake, but I’m failing miserably.
Still, I’m dumping the old, burnt leftovers from mid-afternoon, rinsing the glass pot, filling a new filter with the ground coffee, and turning the machine on, all while attempting to not doze off while waiting for my latest cup.
The dripping isn’t helping. I’m being lulled to sleep.
Drip, drip, drip.
No, I’m not falling asleep. I’m only resting my heavy, achy eyelids. I’m going to wake up once the pot’s done, and I’ll speed through organizing the final few contracts, close shop, and head home.
My plan drifts to the back of my mind, my head bobbing forward. I jerk awake and then close my eyes again, head lolling back too far and startling me upright. Back and forth I play this game until the pot of coffee is ready.
I prepare my cup and I leave the pot on the burner in case this goes on longer than I planned. This morning, I came into work like usual, figuring I’d be home by this time. Instead everyone’s files were dumped on me courtesy of the boss’s surprise performance review.
Turns out that despite their record high sales and customer service approval, the entire sales team has been running a conspiracy against me. I don’t mean that literally. But it feels like it now, at fifteen past eight, my overtime pushing well past the two hours I’d initially predicted when accepting this mammoth task of organizing a half year of files for all thirteen sales representatives at Hanley Auto.
I’m down to the last of those thirteen idiot men who let their sales files run amok. All that confidential and very important client information floating around, with very few indications as to whose file linked up to what sale. It was atrocious.
An hour later, I have the files in better shape. I still have to go through and confirm sales with each of the reps and school them on the wonders of password-protected files, but other than that, I have something to be proud about here.
“You did good, Lily,” I murmur, catching the blurry reflection of my fatigued smile in my computer screen. I power through, finishing up the last file, labeling it with the sales rep’s name and adding it to the other twelve I have on my USB drive.
I take the USB drive and tuck it in my top desk drawer, locking the drawer and powering down my computer. Taking a moment to stretch my arms up, I push out of my seat and grab my emptied mug, ready to call it a night.
Once I’m done in the small kitchen, I head past my desk, my kitten heels digging into the plush carpet before clacking onto the gray natural stone flooring of the showroom.
Some of the backlights are on. They shouldn’t be. They’re usually turned off by one of the sales reps, but since I offered to stay later, I guess was left with that task as well. Shutting those off, I clack back in the semi-dark, passing shadowy silhouettes of our cars on the way to the office section of the dealership.
I mentally prepare to be free from work. My desk is in sight. I need to grab my coat and purse and then I’m out. But I pause and backtrack a bit in front of the only area I’m not well acquainted with at work.
The boss’s office.
Translation: off-limits.
I get the sense it’s even more of a restricted area without him being there, like snooping around someone’s house on the way to their bathroom. Only I can’t be blamed if I’m curious. There’s a light on in there, and I know I’m the only person that’s here.
Or should be here.
I can't recall if the light had been on earlier. My brain is coffee sludge at this point. I’ll be lucky to remember where my apartment is, let alone knowing if a thief snuck in—which, if true, I’d be more worried for the thief.
My boss can be a frightening man. Think a slimmer Bruce Wayne only with golden blond hair, but all the wealth and animal magnetism. The man barks and everyone near him rolls over.
Before I call the cavalry, I decide to take a peek.
It’s going to be hard with the door shut, but as I twist the handle, turning it slowly, I find it's unlocked. Opening the door wide enough to poke my head and upper torso through, I find it empty.
I see the light is coming from his desk lamp. The boss mus
t have been in a hurry to leave both the light on and his door unlocked.
Pushing into the room, I only mean to turn off the light, but I stop and take a look around the space.
It’s small but packed with the necessities of any office. There’s a metal file cabinet with locks keeping the contents safe. There are two cushioned seats for guests across from the boss’s desk. The framed photos on the wall are of cars, perhaps laudable sales in the past, or the boss’s cars.
I wouldn’t know. I hardly speak to the man. But I know enough to realize if I’m caught in here, it will spell trouble for me.
As I round the desk to pull the sleek steel lamp’s chain cord, my gaze alights on a framed photo on his desk. It’s the only one that’s focused on people and not a car, though there is a car in the background.
It’s a picture of Luke Hanley, my handsome, blond, Batman-esque boss, with an older, graying, thicker version of himself—his father, Floyd Hanley. Together, son and father co-own the family car business.
Luke’s green eyes are sharp in the photo. His hair is cropped short, his grin wide, cheeks stretching from his happiness. Instead of his typical suit, he’s wearing a plain white tank and faded blue jeans. Dressed similarly, only instead of a tank, a white t-shirt, his father has an arm thrown over his shoulder as they pose in front of a vintage, cream-colored Cadillac.
I don’t remember ever seeing the car on the showroom floor, but then again this photo had to have been taken at least two years ago, if not three—before I started working here. Luke’s hair isn’t that short anymore.
I’m not sure when I’ve lifted the photo to my eyes, but I blink and there it is, in my hand, my nose and lips practically brushing the glass.
I settle the photo frame right where I picked it up from and shut the desk lamp off before I head out of the forbidden office.
Returning to my desk, I draw my coat off the back of my chair and shrug it on. I scoop my bulky purse from off the floor under my desk, and I take a look around the space one last time. Clicking my lamp off, I prepare to leave when I hear my phone vibrating.
I check my caller ID, groaning and answering my friend’s call.
“I forgot,” I say, leaping into a pitiful apology. “I got swamped with work, so, so, so, so much work, and I just—do you hate me, Kerry?”
“I’m fighting not to.” Kerry laughs, reassuring me. “I’ll live knowing I spent an hour at a bar alone, surrounded by strangers, most of whom were alone too.”
“That’s sounding positive.”
“Positive are the numbers I got from two different guys. Both are very cute contenders for my lonely heart.” Kerry’s enthusiasm and her luck eases my guilt for standing her up on our girls’ date night.
Remembering to keep moving, I head for the exit, eager to get home. Kerry keeps me company on the way out.
“I was going to give you one of the numbers, but you’ll have to convince me now that I know you’re not coming,” she tells me. “Woo this number out of me, girlfriend.”
“I don’t want to though.” I try not to whine.
Kerry is wonderful and I love her not only because she’s the first friend I made when I moved to this town, but because she’s smart, sexy, and a thrill-seeker. Everything I’d want to be if I wasn’t so shy.
But Kerry is matchmaking again, and she’s not bothering to be sneaky about it. One of the things I cringe about the most is my best friend’s desire to see me riding happily off in the arms of my very own Prince Charming. She fancies herself a godmother minus the fairy dust and singing.
But I’m no Cinderella. Just the opposite, actually. I’m a city girl who blew a little off course and rooted down in a run-of-the-mill town.
“You haven’t seen what these ones look like,” Kerry urges. She’s good at taking a commanding tone and forcing me into listening.
“I promise you, Lily, they’re adorable as far as men in Potentia go: medium town, meh potential. That should be our new motto. Memo the mayor.” Kerry’s voice is weaving in and out, drowned out by the bar’s music on her end. I have the phone pressed tightly to my ear, following along with affirmative hums.
I have to show I’m listening though I have no desire to go on a double date with these men, regardless of how she well she spins them.
I’m passing through the scary-dark showroom, glad for the company, even if she’s on the phone.
It’s the only way to access the side door to the building, and it’s the shorter way to the parking lot reserved for staff out back.
My decade-old sedan should be sitting in the lot alone on the far end. No matter how early I arrive, the spaces fill up. As awful as they are at organization of their files, one thing the sales team at Hanley Auto isn’t are slackers. Each one is up early, ready to start the day, metaphorical guns blazing.
Working here for nearly three years now has kept me on my toes. I might be the only woman working here, and the only administrator the dealership has, but I’m the best they’ve got. And they’re the best I have in Potentia.
Like Kerry, I owe the Hanley men a lot.
A job meant I could live here, clear my head, and pick up the pieces of my then shattered life. Luke would never know that though. I can’t imagine revealing that much to such a paradox of a man, both enigmatic and larger-than-life.
Putting Luke Hanley out of my mind, I dig through my cavernous purse for my car keys. It’s a cat and mouse chase as I hear them rattling around in there, banging against my compact mirror.
“They work you hard,” Kerry is saying. “A little too hard, those Hanleys. The darlings of Potentia.”
I snort at that, imagining Floyd and Luke in tiaras and rocking sashes with the Hanley Auto logo. “Funny. And I love that you care, Kerry, but I like working here and I get, what, once or twice a year of these late nights. Give the Hanley men a break.”
“All right. Backing off, officially.” Kerry chuckles. “Who knew you were such a fan? You want me to call the Hanley fan club and ask for a membership form?”
“You’re a riot. Letting you go now. I’ll call you when I get home.”
Kerry and I click off with that promise. Dropping the phone in my purse, I hold it open wider and finally find my car keys. I zip my purse and hoist it up my shoulder. Turning the corner, I stop and stumble back, shoulder smacking the wall.
Hanley Auto is a squat, aged red brick building occupying a vast property, much of which is vacant. Vacant like a lot of the buildings around here. Potentia might have a population of twenty-some thousand, but it was Hicksville, Missouri for someone born and raised in St. Louis.
The side door I used forks to both the front of the building and the back, and I need the back to get to my car and drive home. That was the plan. Now I’m pressing against the wall, inching to take another look through the glass door at darkly-clothed figures in the parking lot.
I can see my car, exactly where I left it, glass intact, no dents signaling vandalism. The men, and I figure they’re men because of their heights and bulky weight, are standing at the back of one of two other cars.
The trunk open, they’re standing awfully still, and my ears are straining to catch whatever they might be saying. My feet begin aching in my heels, and my side strains from twisting and leaning in, a crick starting in my neck. If I keep this up, I’ll be stuck like this.
So when one of the suspicious-looking men finally moves, I’m relieved.
Expecting they’ll be on their way soon enough, I continue watching, on the lookout for when I can safely head to my car. One of the men lifts their arm. I switch position, turning so my belly is facing the cold, hard brick, my hand curling over the corner, head peeking around.
Then there’s a crack through the air, much like a whip, only louder. Another whooshing bang has me moving.
I startle from the wall from the sound of gunfire, my purse slipping down my arm and right into the glass door. The dull thud freaks me out a second time. My hands clap over each other on my mouth
, squeezing and silencing the scream crawling out.
The men turn sharply as one, like they rehearsed their reactions. Only one of them is raising his hand though, stepping closer with his gun.
Even if the distance is far enough for me to scurry away, I can’t risk it. Running in heels for help—I don’t see that ending well.
I’m also the kid who didn’t jaywalk in school, not when all the cool kids were doing it. And I never forged a sick note to play hooky in my life. I didn’t cut corners and I didn’t butt ahead in line, and I kept my nose clean and my head down, especially to some of the goings-on at Hanley Auto.
A few of our wealthier clients have graced both local and national newspapers and not for being meritorious citizens. I haven’t admitted to myself, for reasons that would primarily have me wondering where my loyalty lies really, but the Hanleys are involved in criminal activity of some kind.
It’s a hush-hush topic, but Kerry told me when I was interviewing for this office administrator position that the Hanleys are running a double business.
The whispered word around Potentia is they’re loan sharks, and premium ones at that, and Luke is rich. Though business is good, I doubt that all his money is coming solely from the dealership. But my life hasn’t crossed his in that way, not until tonight. Not until now.
I start backing away.
The man holding the gun stares at me through the glass door. He lets the gun’s safety click off, the sound resonating louder than it should, like he’s standing right in front of me ready to spray me in the chest.
Chapter 2
Lily
My ears are picking up all the sounds, the fear sharpening my world in a way I can’t explain and, if I survive this, I’ll never explain. I’d take it to my grave...hopefully not right then.
The other man, slightly shorter, falls in line with his accomplice. “Put that down, fool, before you hurt someone.”
“That’s the point,” the one holding the gun snaps. Both are wearing hoods, and once they’re a little closer to one of two lamp posts in the back lot, the orange light reveals black scarves over their mouths.
No wonder they sound a little funny, their voices are muffled by the scarves.
“Put it down,” the shorter one repeats. Then he pulls out his own gun, safety clicking off. It happens too fast. Like it poofs into his hand. This guy is either a magician on the side, or he’s a professional.