Awakened by Sin (Crime Lord Series Book 4)

by Mia Knight

  “What are we doing here?” she hissed.

  “The chicken wings are amazing.”

  “You can’t eat what they serve you! This place can’t pass a health code inspection!”

  A man rounded the stage with a large tray. He came straight to their table and placed two plates of chicken wings with a linen napkin on the table before he walked away without a word.

  “See, we were almost late,” Angel said as he shook out the napkin and placed it on his lap.

  It was hard to see the wings, but they smelled delicious. Her mouth watered, but she wouldn’t have eaten those wings unless she had gone without food for a week … and maybe not even then.

  “What the hell is going on, Angel?”

  He dug into his meal without answering her. No one moved except the girls on stage. Her skin prickled in warning. Something dangerous was going on here, but she couldn’t figure out what. No one made eye contact; they all stared at the stage as if these women were the best dancers in the world, which they weren’t. No one had a drink in front of them, and no one was eating except Angel. What. The. Fuck.

  The front door opened. She peered through the dim light as the man advanced through the bar and took a booth three down from theirs. There was just enough light to make out Eli Stark’s sharp, handsome features. The polished image he maintained when he was a cop was gone. Now, he had a five o’clock shadow that she had to admit looked good on him, and his broodiness was off the charts. She knew Eli from her stripping days. Back then, he was a regular cop who was called out to Red Diamond on a weekly basis. She’d witnessed him in action. He was a heartless bastard.

  “Eli Stark’s here,” she muttered.

  “What do you know about him?” Angel asked as he stared down at his plate instead of taking in their surroundings.

  “He’s cold and ruthless.”

  “Loyal?”

  “He has his own code of what’s right or wrong.”

  Angel nodded. “Sounds like my kind of man.”

  Several bikers came out from behind the stage and took up stools at the empty bar. They, too, stared at the stage as if they were watching an interesting show. Their guns were on full display.

  She gripped Angel’s arm. “We should go.”

  “Why?”

  She leaned in close to whisper, “Black Vipers.”

  “The what?”

  “The bikers at the bar. They’re the most violent gang on the West Coast. They don’t have loyalties to anyone.”

  Angel licked his finger. “They’ll behave.”

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  “I’m eating wings.”

  “Fuck the wings, Angel. What—” She broke off as the front door opened again.

  Another group of men filed in, but this time, they were well-dressed and definitely shouldn’t be in a place like this. An older man led them. George Wotherton handled most of the Pyre fortune and was an old crony of Uncle Manny’s. George knew all the loopholes to keep the Pyre’s money hidden and untraceable. Despite the fact that George was essentially on their side, she never liked him. He arranged all five of his daughter’s marriages and frequented The Strip with his sons-in-law, who worked for him and were currently occupying two tables in front of the stage.

  She gripped Angel’s thigh beneath the table. “That’s George Wotherton.”

  He tensed but didn’t stop eating. “Who?”

  “He’s Gavin’s banker.”

  “You trust him?” Angel asked without looking away from his chicken wings.

  “No.”

  “Why?” She hesitated, and he finally looked away from his plate. “Tell me why, Carmen.”

  “He’s a pervert, a leech. He has a fetish for unconscious women. His sons-in-law are no different. They all work at his bank.”

  Angel considered her words and nodded before he pushed away one plate and went for the other. One of the dancers stumbled, which got her attention. She focused on the two women who couldn’t dance for shit and examined them more closely. They were thin. Too thin. Their movements were jerky, awkward, and obviously untrained. When one of the women dared to look into the silent crowd, Carmen jolted.

  “She can’t be older than eighteen!”

  “She is,” Angel said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I asked the last time I was here.”

  She stared at him. “You’ve come here more than once?” She was appalled and totally turned off. Some guys had darker tastes when it came to sex, and it appeared that Angel was one of them. He made it clear he was attracted to her, so she thought he would want a strong woman, but if he liked watching what looked like young teenagers with no curves and that scared, submissive expression, maybe he was—

  “I didn’t come here for the girls,” Angel said. “But I asked about them because I thought they were underage, just like you. They turned eighteen this week.”

  “And they’re on stage?” It happened but going totally nude a week into your eighteenth birthday was hardcore, and the girls on stage looked far from the defiant, rebellious teens one would expect.

  “Apparently, that’s what they go for here. As young as legally possible, untrained, and amateur.”

  The girls on stage were getting worse by the minute. She couldn’t blame them. She doubted that this place was ever full, and within a half hour, nearly every table and booth was now occupied by a silent spectator. Two new dancers stumbled on stage, and the other two scurried off. These two were a little better than the first. They had a little more meat on their bones and fake boobs. They sent winning smiles into the crowd as they attempted to climb the poles and promptly slid back to earth.

  Carmen fisted her hands in her lap. She wanted to drag the girls backstage and lecture them on better clubs where they could make more money if they just had some training. She glared at Angel, who ate his wings as if he was at a five-star restaurant instead of a dumpy bar. She should make a scene and get out of here, but her damn curiosity kept her in place. Something big was about to go down; she just didn’t know what.

  More people filed into the bar. She eyed each of them in turn. Some she recognized, and some she didn’t. The ones she did recognize sent a wave of dread through her. She couldn’t resist leaning into Angel to warn him about the more notorious characters. Nothing made an impression on him.

  The crowd in The Pussy was one of the most eclectic and confusing she had ever seen. Wealthy bankers and politicians sat next to gang leaders and criminals while police officers and other government officials rubbed shoulders with bikers and CEOs. She assumed they were here for Angel, but he seemed more concerned with finishing his wings than addressing anyone, and no one paid them any mind. She knew the upper echelon guys, the ones she and Vinny rubbed shoulders with at fundraisers and obligatory parties. She recognized the gangs and bikers from their tattoos, patches, or colors. Her dad would shit a brick if he knew she was within a quarter mile of any of these guys, much less in a room full of them.

  She was trying to place a vaguely familiar face in the crowd when she spotted George Wotherton disappear down a hallway beside the stage. She tensed. There was probably a bathroom back there, but … she elbowed Angel.

  “Move,” she hissed.

  “What?”

  “Move. I have to check on something.”

  He held up stained hands. “I’m almost done. I’ll go with you to the bathroom.”

  “It may be too late—move!”

  Angel stood with his hands in front of him. She grabbed her purse and walked down the middle of the room to avoid the Black Vipers. She wasn’t sure if the current leader, Maddog, knew that her father killed his over fifteen years ago, but she wasn’t taking the chance. As she rounded the stage, she reached into her purse and felt the reassuring weight of her gun. She flipped the safety off and paused in a hallway that was just as filthy and damaged as the rest of the place. The lights flickered. A minute later, a door at the end of the hall opened, and Ge
orge Wotherton appeared, dragging one of the nude dancers under one arm. He raised his head and noticed her standing there.

  “Carmen Pyre,” he said with a jovial smile and continued toward her.

  She pulled out her gun. “Put her down, George.”

  “Why?”

  “What’d you do to her?”

  “Just a little roofie. She agreed. I gave her one hundred dollars.”

  Carmen blocked the entrance to the bathroom. “Give her to me.”

  George frowned. “She’s willing.”

  “No.”

  George Wotherton wore gold spectacles, a signet ring on his finger, and an oatmeal-colored suit. One could mistake him for a civilized gentleman if it wasn’t for the unconscious naked woman he had tucked under his arm like an old jacket.

  George focused on her breasts. “You took out your implants? That’s a shame.”

  Just being near him made her skin crawl. Between wife two and three, George approached her at a party and asked if she would be interested in a mistress or wife position for ten million. She had been too stunned to respond appropriately. His utter gall left her speechless then and now. “Fuck you, George.”

  “I wish. You know I’ve always wanted you. Have you fallen on hard times?” he asked hopefully.

  “No!”

  “Damn shame.”

  George scanned her with a leer. “Still a knockout, I see.”

  “Give her to me.”

  “I paid for her.”

  He sounded like a spoiled child. He was talking about fucking a person as casually as if he wanted the last cookie on a plate. A chill ran up her spine. “Give.”

  George glared at her. “What are you gonna do about it?”

  “George.”

  Angel’s voice carried over the relentless beat of music that matched her heartbeat. Angel’s voice was harder, deeper than it had been when he spoke to her a minute ago. George tensed as Angel looked from him to the unconscious woman in his arms.

  “Put her back, George,” Angel said.

  George’s rat eyes darted from Carmen to Angel and then to the woman in his arms.

  “George.” George ducked his head as if Angel yelled. “Now.”

  George nodded and turned to take the woman back to the room at the end of the hall. He muttered under his breath as he went. Carmen stared at the girl’s feet which flopped from side to side as George dragged her. She put her gun in her purse as Angel went into the bathroom to wash his hands. She counted under her breath. Just as she started down the hall, George appeared in the hallway, wiping his face. It took her only a moment to figure out what he’d done.

  “You dirty old fuck!”

  George scowled at her. “I left her the hundred.”

  “But you licked her.”

  He shrugged. “She would let me do much worse.”

  “You—”

  Angel grasped her hand. “Fuck on your time, not mine, George. We clear?”

  George’s hands wove through the air. “You were eating and…”

  “And it’s still my time. You think I would have delayed the festivities until you finished fucking?”

  “You’re right, Roman. Quite right. I apologize.”

  George scurried ahead of them as they walked down the hallway, back to the bar.

  “Angel,” she began.

  “Not now,” he said quietly.

  They walked into the bar, and this time, she felt every single eye on them. As Angel made his way through the crowd, the music abruptly stopped. She tensed, but Angel gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he stepped aside to let her slide in the booth. The dancers gave dazzling smiles before they teetered off stage. Angel’s plates were gone, and now that the music stopped, a foreboding, buzzing silence filled the room. Her skin prickled. The strobe lights shut off, and normal lights around the bar came on, flickering and fucking with her eyes. All heads were turned in their direction, and as she eyed the men, she realized that this hole in the wall bar was filled with the most dangerous and influential men in the city. Anyone with ties to the underworld was here. Enemies, former allies, and the many, many questionable ones who flip-flopped sides on a whim. Whatever happened in Hell had brought even the Black Vipers out of the woodworks. Lecherous, greedy, soulless eyes focused on her. She resisted the urge to pull out her gun.

  Angel leaned back against the table and looked around the room. “I’m Angel Roman, but you all know that. The war between Gavin and Vega is finished, but you know that as well, which is why you’re here.” Angel grinned. “Some of you came to plead your allegiance, others are here to assess whether they can take me, and the rest of you …” He scanned the room slowly, taking his time, letting the tension increase with each passing second. “The rest of you are here to see what I’m going to offer for allegiance.”

  A soundless murmur went through the crowd, but she couldn’t make out any words or where it was coming from. Angel clapped his hands together. If she wasn’t holding herself so still, she might have flinched. Two lawyers and one of George’s sons-in-law jolted. The Black Vipers gave them disdainful sneers.

  Angel spread his hands wide. “I’m not offering you shit for your loyalty.”

  Maddog, the leader of the Black Vipers, stirred. He had a bald head with a thick goatee. “You expect loyalty for nothing in return?”

  “Yes.”

  The bikers weren’t the only ones who muttered under their breath. There were infinitesimal shifts as the occupants glanced at one another. Angel pushed off from the table and began to walk around the room. She wanted to grab the back of his jacket to keep him by her side, but she stayed where she was. Any show of weakness would tip the scales. She slipped her hand into her purse and gripped her tiny gun and maintained an “I don’t give a shit” expression that she hoped passed muster. Her senses were dangerously elevated due to the danger saturating the room. She was sure the guy at the next booth could hear her heart racing.

  “Why would any of us agree to that?” Maddog asked.

  “Because you don’t have a choice,” Angel said without looking directly at him. He clapped a man on the back who sported two black eyes and a split lip. “Tommy, I’m glad you made it.”

  Angel weaved through the tables, almost as if he was counting heads.

  “What happened to Pyre?” a lawyer asked.

  “He’s out.”

  “Why?”

  “Family.”

  “Pussy whipped,” someone muttered.

  Angel stopped in his tracks and turned to face a table of three. He slid his hands into his pockets as he surveyed each of them in turn. The way the men sat at the table spoke volumes. They weren’t in uniform, but she recognized them as a unit. She recognized one as a cop, but she was sure the other two were military men from Nellis Air Force Base.

  Angel put one hand on the table and leaned toward the largest man who looked like he had a steel rod strapped to his spine, his posture was so straight. “General Leeward, is it?”

  If it was possible, he sat up even straighter. “Yes.”

  “Funny you mention pussy whipped.” Angel tapped his fingers on the table. “Don’t you have a sixteen-year-old mistress?”

  A loaded silence filled the room. She willed Angel to ease back, but he didn’t. He stayed less than a foot from a man who looked like he could have been a professional wrestler. She didn’t have to be as close as Angel to know the guy was furious.

  “You’re waiting for her to graduate, isn’t that right?” Angel winked at General Leeward. “Talk about pussy whipped. Gavin found a woman worthy of our family name. Lyla has kills under her belt unlike your … What do you call her? Girlfriend, daughter?” Angel waved his hand. “Well, that’s neither here nor there. Lyla didn’t make Gavin weak; she made him stronger, and if you think I’m wrong …” Angel pulled his phone out of his pocket and slid it across the table to the general who didn’t move a muscle. “Call him and tell him yourself.”

  Holy fuck. Angel was insa
ne. A bead of sweat trickled down her back as she waited for all hell to break loose. She waited … and waited.

  “That’s what I thought.” Angel grabbed his phone and pocketed it. “You wouldn’t be where you are today without Emmanuel’s help, and you know you wouldn’t win against Gavin financially, politically, or physically, so take my advice, General, and shut the fuck up unless I tell you to speak. Got it?”

  Carmen held her breath. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. This was it. He’d gone too far …

  The proud, wizened general gave him a minute nod of agreement. Angel nodded and turned his back on him. She waited for him to reach into his jacket and pull out a gun or toss a knife, but he sat there, seething. Angel was making enemies of some of the most powerful men in the city. Holy shit.

  “This is what I’m talking about,” Angel said as he continued to meander through the tables of motionless men. “I think there’s been a lot of miscommunication about this position. None of you has ever gotten close to being kingpin, so let me tell you how it goes. I take; I don’t ask. I speak, and you do what I say. Rebel and your life is forfeit. There are rules, my rules, and no other. Are we clear?”

  “No.”

  Heads turned toward Maddog, the leader of the Black Vipers, but she kept her eyes on the crowd. The tension in the room made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand. A man at a table to the left of the general reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife. She rose and withdrew her gun, but Eli got there first. He grabbed the knife from the man before he could toss it and slit his throat with an efficiency that said he’d done this before. The man’s table companions shot to their feet as blood splattered everywhere.

  Eli’s eyes met hers for a split second before he wiped his hands on the man’s coat and retreated to the edge of the room where he leaned against the wall, cool as you please. Carmen turned her head and found Angel watching her with a calculating expression as she lowered her gun. She was breathing hard as if she ran a marathon.