Awakened by Sin (Crime Lord Series Book 4)

by Mia Knight

“No.”

  They stared at one another. She didn’t know what to say. She assumed he would fall in with her plan. She hadn’t expected him to decline or reprimand her for a weekend trip.

  “I thought you understood how important my job is to me,” he said.

  “Of course, I know how important it is.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not just a job for me; it’s who I am. You know why.”

  He was talking about his background, which so few knew about. “I get that, but the job will still be here when you get back.”

  “I wasn’t born into it like Vinny. I have to work to keep my position.”

  She went cold. “You think Vinny didn’t work to be COO?”

  He frowned and then ran a hand down his face. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just … All my life, I’ve been working to be where I am today. I don’t want anything to jeopardize that. I like everything just the way it is, and I don’t want anything to interfere with my career.”

  She felt as if she walked into an invisible wall. He liked everything the way it was, including their convenient relationship, which apparently didn’t include trips together.

  “Gotcha,” she said and ignored the mortification twisting her stomach into knots. “Will do.”

  She leaned toward the mirror to apply more lipstick. He stood behind her, watching silently. She hoped he didn’t notice her shaking hand. When she headed toward the bedroom, he stepped in front of her. When his hand cupped her face, she resisted the urge to pull away. She confused his affection with something deeper and more meaningful. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  “You understand, right?” he said gently. “Work is all I have.”

  Everything in her turned to ice. He couldn’t have said anything to hurt her more. He just put her in her place. They agreed to friends with benefits. He was keeping his end of the deal, and she wasn’t. She was doing that stupid girly thing, complicating their relationship with emotions and vacations, and even went so far as to talk to his boss, and he didn’t like it.

  “Carmen?”

  She could hear the worry in his voice.

  “I thought we understood one another,” he said.

  There was something in his eyes, a wary concern that made her feel even worse.

  Humiliation consumed her. What he once healed, ripped, and bled, but she didn’t acknowledge it. She steeled herself and gave him an over bright smile.

  “We understand each other perfectly. We’re going to be late.” She went up on tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Come on, let’s do this.”

  He moved aside, and she slipped past. She grabbed her clutch and walked through the house. She slipped into the Aston and tensed when Marcus knocked on the window.

  “I thought we could ride together,” he said.

  “I know this meeting will go long, and I haven’t driven in a while. I’ll follow you.” She kept her voice light even though she was dying inside. He had no choice but to let her go as she reversed out of the garage.

  Mickey started up the SUV and followed as she put the Aston through its paces. Her chest was so tight she could barely breathe. Sex didn’t mean anything. She, of all people, should know that. What the hell was she doing? She was treating him like a boyfriend, and he wasn’t. He had made that abundantly clear, despite living together, his possessiveness, and his gift, which now felt like a noose around her neck. That expression on his face—confusion and a hint of pity—made her insides writhe with shame.

  She wasn’t sure how she made it to the casino because she didn’t remember a thing about the drive. She handed her keys to the valet and rushed in as if it was a hospital and she was there to check on a loved one. She needed to get herself under control ASAP.

  “Carmen?”

  She turned from the bar to find Mickey and Marcus standing behind her. She downed her Cosmopolitan and took a deep breath.

  “Sorry, I was thirsty.” She slipped her arm through his. “Let’s do this.”

  Marcus led her through the casino. She didn’t feel anything. Not the brush of bodies or the liquor running through her. She’d taken a crippling emotional blow and didn’t have time to get herself together.

  “Carmen, you remember Khalid?” Marcus asked.

  She’d been so in her head that she didn’t register Marcus leading her into a private dining room in an exclusive restaurant in the casino. The room was dimly lit. There were about twenty men in the space, most lounging near the private bar. Servers circulated with appetizers on gold platters. In the middle of the room was a table set for dinner with over-the-top arrangements and the finest china.

  “Yes,” she said and gave Khalid her hand.

  He grasped her chilled fingers. “You’re more beautiful than I remember.”

  Neither the smoldering look he cast nor the compliment penetrated. Oh, God, she didn’t want to be here. The last thing she wanted to do was mingle and be polite when her insides were bleeding. She felt as if her chest had been raked with razor sharp claws. She needed time to pack her wounds.

  “Thank you.”

  Khalid registered her dismissive tone, and his eyes narrowed. Marcus gripped her waist.

  “Come, let’s get a drink,” Marcus said, and they trooped to the bar. He leaned in close. “Can you handle this?”

  Pride saved her. She straightened her spine and buried her pain. Marcus didn’t mean to hurt her. She was the one who forgot the rules. Casual sex and they were supposed to remain friends. He kept up his end, and she would do the same even if it killed her.

  “Yes,” she said and patted his hand. “I’m fine.”

  She was introduced to every man present. They were all tied to Khalid in some way and most from Dubai. Marcus sat at the head of the table with she and Khalid on either side of him. Khalid’s companions spoke in multiple languages. The man next to her didn’t bother to engage her in conversation, which suited her just fine since she wouldn’t have been able to feign interest. Instead, she focused on the food, kept her expression polite, and occasionally contributed to Marcus and Khalid’s talk of the city. She sensed a distinct sexist undertone in the air, which wasn’t surprising. Her attire could be a factor in their opinion of her, but if they wanted to do business in Sin City, they better get used to women who dressed like her and were still intelligent.

  When the first man stood from the table, she was the next on her feet. The men passed around cigars and planned to visit the tower tomorrow. She gravitated to the bar and asked for a shot of tequila, which made the bartender’s brows rise, but he didn’t question her. She was knocking it back when she felt someone come up behind her.

  “You didn’t call me.”

  She so wasn’t in the mood to be nice to the billionaire Marcus admired. The loaded glances he cast her throughout dinner made her want to stab him in the eye with her fork. She didn’t have the capacity to be civil or flirty, which left only blunt honesty.

  She turned to face him and saw Marcus in the middle of a huddle of Khalid’s cronies. The room was filled with servers clearing the table, and a haze of smoke hovered in the air. Khalid was handsome, urbane, and rich. That was enough for most women but not her.

  “I’m not interested,” she said.

  She felt a spark of satisfaction when his eyes flared. Apparently, he wasn’t used to honesty. Well, they were both experiencing a novel experience tonight. He was having a woman turn him down, and she was being told she needed to stay in the friend zone. Perfect.

  “Excuse me?”

  She raised a brow. “I think you speak enough English to know what that means.”

  He took a step closer. With her heels, they were the same height. She was itching for a fight, and it seemed Khalid would oblige.

  “Do you know who I am?” he hissed.

  “No, and I don’t care. You should step back.”

  “You should know your place.”

  “My place …” She tasted the words and cocked her head to the side. “E
xactly where is my place?”

  “At my feet.”

  Rage made everything else fade away. “I don’t know who told you American women bow at men’s feet, but here, we carry guns, asshole.”

  “I heard you’re sleeping with the new and improved COO.” His dark eyes were filled with lust and malice. “You never fail to make sure you’re screwing the most powerful men in the city. I’m next.”

  Carmen kneed him in the balls. As he sank to his knees, she belted him across the face with all her might. He reeled backward and knocked into a waiter carrying a tray full of drinks. Both of them crashed to the ground. She wasn’t aware of anything but making sure he suffered. She was about to stomp his head with her stiletto when an arm locked around her waist and lifted her off her feet. She screamed in rage at being denied her prey. Marcus hauled her kicking and screaming into a hallway off the private dining room and dropped her so hard, her heel nearly snapped. She opened her mouth to shout, but he beat her to it.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Marcus roared.

  He was angrier than she had ever seen him, but she didn’t care.

  “Do you know what he said to me?” she shouted back.

  Marcus crowded her against the wall. “I brought you here tonight for support, and this is what you do? Assault a potential business partner?”

  “He said—”

  He slammed his hand against the wall inches away from her face. “This isn’t the place for your antics! These are civilized people. You don’t assault people, especially not a man as powerful as Khalid.” He ran his hands through his hair. “You need to leave, and I have to do damage control.”

  He started toward the private room. She stared at his rigid back.

  “Marcus, he said—”

  He whirled back to face her. “I don’t care what he said! Nothing justifies you humiliating him in front of everyone. I don’t know what world you live in, but using your fists and causing a scene isn’t the way most things are handled. You’ve embarrassed me enough tonight. Get out of here.”

  She stood there, trembling with rage and pain as the servers carried out platters and averted their eyes. He would tend to that asshole and leave her standing here like she was nothing? Tears pricked her eyes, but she’d be damned if she let them fall. She walked into the kitchen, which went silent when she entered. Apparently, word already spread. She was being introduced to an all new level of humiliation tonight. Fantastic. Eyes followed her as she slipped into the bustling restaurant filled with candlelight, live piano music, and tiny food portions.

  She was almost out of the restaurant when a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her backward. She whirled with an angry yell and swung her fist. The punch was deflected by Mickey, who wrapped his arms around her to stop her from beating him up.

  “Hey, hey. It’s okay,” he said.

  “Let me go,” she hissed.

  He obeyed, and she continued to the exit, aware that she was now making another scene. No doubt Marcus would never speak to her again after this, but she didn’t give a fuck. She started off at a fast trot. By the time she reached the casino, she was practically running. She elbowed her way through the throng until she reached fresh air.

  “I-I need my keys,” she said to Mickey who appeared at her side.

  He produced her clutch and handed both of their tickets to the valet.

  “Carmen, what—” he began.

  “Don’t talk to me.” She wrapped her arms around herself as she trembled. Khalid accomplished an amazing feat—he made her feel cheap and sullied in less than five minutes. She knew what everyone thought—that she was an expensive whore—but they didn’t dare say it when she married Vinny. Of course, now that Vinny was gone, they saw her relationship with Marcus as her trying to nab another wealthy man. She was a fucking millionaire in her own right! Fucking sexist bastard.

  This was the moment everyone had been waiting for. When Marcus, the straitlaced businessman, had enough of her antics. If he thought she wouldn’t attack someone who slandered her, he didn’t know her at all. She killed to defend Vinny’s memory. Her mother and Angel expected no less, but Marcus expected her to turn the other cheek. Fat chance. She had always let emotion lead. It had never steered her wrong until she convinced Gavin to allow Vinny to take his place. After that, it seemed she had been wrong about everything. She sucked in a breath as pain spread so deep her bones ached.

  Her car pulled up, and she started forward.

  “Carmen, let me drive. You’re upset,” Mickey said.

  “I’ll drive myself.” When he tried to grab her arm, she wrenched away. “Stop, Mickey!”

  Valets and guests turned to stare. Mickey stepped back, and she climbed into her car. She threw her clutch in the passenger seat and slammed her foot on the gas. She narrowly missed running over a pedestrian who dashed across the street without looking. Her tires screeched as she slammed on the brakes and screamed at the top of her lungs. She navigated through traffic, even riding the sidewalk at one point because she didn’t have the patience to wait for the fucking light to change. She ignored the blare of horns as she drove.

  Civilized. The word knocked around in her brain. No, she wasn’t civilized. She was a daughter of the underworld. She was taught to take what was hers and defend at all costs. She didn’t fight fire with fire. She fought fire with explosives that would leave craters in her wake. After Steven Vega, she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot first and ask questions later. They lived in an uncivilized world, so a certain level of savage was necessary to survive.

  The restlessness she had been trying to ignore reared its ugly head. She wanted to race, to tear something apart with her bare hands. Needs tumbled around in her chest and whispered dark temptations in her ear.

  She stopped at a light. She opened her mouth to scream, to let her emotions go, but nothing emerged. The scream was internal and full of a sorrow so deep that if she released it, she would never recover. Loneliness and misery flooded her. The thought of going back to his house was unbearable.

  Angel’s words drifted through her mind. I recognize another restless soul when I see one.

  The urge to throw herself into the deep end, to clash with someone who was as primitive and raw as she was drummed through her. If anyone could match her dark recklessness, it was Angel Roman. One wild, dark soul recognized another.

  Even as her conscience told her this was a bad idea, she slammed her foot on the gas. She and Marcus were just friends. He made that abundantly clear. It was time to move on.

  She pulled up to Angel’s property and pressed the buzzer at the gate. There were at least ten cars in the front drive. Mickey pulled up behind her and flashed his lights. She was impressed he’d been able to keep up. The video monitor lit up, and Eli Stark stared at her with his cop gaze.

  “What are you doing here?” Eli asked brusquely.

  “I’m looking for Angel.”

  “How do you know where he lives?”

  “He brought me here before.”

  Eli stared at her for a long minute. She wasn’t in the mood to wait around.

  “Is he here or not?” she snapped.

  The video cut out, and a moment later, the gate began to swing open.

  “Hallelujah,” she said and pulled up beside the fountain.

  Mickey pulled up behind her and was at her door before she could close it. He had his gun out and reached for her arm but stopped when she gave him that look.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  Eli opened the front door, and Mickey cursed.

  “Carmen,” he said in a low voice, but she ignored him.

  She walked toward the front door and would have sailed past Eli, but he pulled her to a stop.

  “How well do you know Angel?” Eli asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How. Well,” he bit out.

  She scowled. “Better than most. Why?”

  Eli released her. “I hope you know what to do.�
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  She was too deep in her own drama to decipher his meaning. The mansion was no less breathtaking at night. The grand chandeliers gave off a soft, welcoming glow. She glanced at herself in one of the mirrors in the grand entryway and was relieved to see that her inner turmoil didn’t show on her face.

  She followed Eli between the double curving staircases to the massive living area, which was filled with men. Something was wrong with the massive backlit waterfall, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She registered the silence and a small army of silent guards before she spotted a naked man pinned to the wall by two swords through his abdomen. His body was coated with blood, which trickled across the floor to the pool, which explained the salmon-colored waterfall. She thought he was dead until a dagger embedded into his pelvis. He screamed and jerked against the swords. The nauseating sound of wet flesh tearing as he tried to get free.

  Angel stood about ten feet away holding eight knives that were each about a foot long. He was back to being badass James Dean in black jeans and T-shirt. He shook his hands, which were dripping red. His gaze was on Eli, and he didn’t look happy.

  “Didn’t the police academy teach you how to guard a door?” Angel asked.

  “I thought you’d be happy to see this visitor,” Eli said.

  She spotted five bodies floating in the pool. A quick glance around the room told her that Angel had been at this for a while. There were spectacular red splatters around the room that she was sure hadn’t been done by an artist. What the hell was going on?

  “You think she’s going to stop me? I’ve been waiting for this,” Angel said with relish.

  To punctuate his point, he tossed another dagger without looking at his target. The dagger landed in the man’s shoulder. His piercing cry made the hairs on the nape of her hair rise.

  “I’m sorry, Carmen.” Angel spread his arms wide. “As you can see, I’m entertaining tonight. You should have called.”

  “What did he do?” She was proud that she sounded calm despite the circumstances. Maybe her upbringing in the underworld was good for something after all.

  “Does it matter?” Angel asked.

  “Yes.” She knew Angel was dangerous. He was a Roman, after all, but nothing could have prepared her for this. She felt as if she was coming out of her own skin. Everything in her demanded she turn around, walk out of the house, and act as if she never saw anything. Instead, she stood there like an idiot, waiting to hear his reason for torturing a man to death.