by Lane Hart
“I don’t see why that would be an issue. We actually need another body in that office anyway. I’ll go ahead and start the paperwork for your transfer from Atlanta,” he says, without putting up any argument.
“Great. Thank you, sir,” I tell him with a smile.
“And I’d love to meet this attorney of yours. Maybe I can stop by and say hello the next time I’m on the coast visiting my niece.”
“S-sure,” I agree, hoping he doesn’t really mean that he would come by our place. Even if he does, I feel confident that Dalton and I can handle it.
Maybe I’m making the biggest mistake of my life, but right now, in this moment, I’m more certain than ever that I want to be with Dalton, come what may.
Epilogue
Dalton
A year later…
Tonight, I left my bike at the clubhouse since I didn’t want to mess up my suit. It’s still the only one I own, the one Peyton first fell for me in. I’d hate to fuck it up other than the scuffed knees.
Folding up my cut and putting it away in the saddlebag before I left sucked, but I know for a fact you can take a Savage King out of his patches, but you can never take the patches off of a King.
The bearded skull is a part of me that runs deeper than the ink on my back. It’s in my blood and always will be. That’s why, every once in a while, I don’t mind throwing on some different clothes and playing the part my old lady needs me to play.
Peyton and I have found a way for our polar opposite lifestyles to mesh together. Sometimes she wears leather and sometimes I put on a tie. All that matters is that we know who we are under the clothes we’ve both chosen to wear in life.
“Honey, I’m home!” I call out after I park my truck in the garage and come in the side door that leads to our kitchen. I start to undo my tie while strolling carefree into the dining room.
“Oh hey, Henry. How was your day? Do you remember me telling you about Assistant U.S. Attorney, Stan Sommers?” Peyton asks when I walk into the room, introducing us like she didn’t give me the heads-up last week that he would be stopping by today, so we’d have time to prepare.
“It’s such an honor to meet you, sir. Peyton’s told me great things,” I say to her boss man as I hold out my hand and shake his.
We sit in the living room, shooting the shit for a while, talking mostly about the weather and sports. Turns out, we’re both fans of the Wilmington Wildcats football team.
“A few years back, I met two of their wide receivers. Great guys,” I say to him.
“You lucky dog,” Stan replies with a chuckle.
“Honey, could you help me bring out dinner?” Peyton calls to me from the kitchen.
“Absolutely, kitten. It smells delicious!” I say as I excuse myself and head that way.
In the privacy of our kitchen, I grab my old lady around the waist and kiss her so hard I nearly dip her backwards.
“I want you so much,” she whispers against my lips.
“You love Henry the attorney, don’t you?” I ask.
Grinning up at me, she says, “I love Dalton, the outlaw biker more. He’s a bigger freak in the sheets.”
“You don’t say?” I ask, giving her another kiss and then the amazing smells hijack my attention. Glancing over to the kitchen island, I see rows of dishes—an entire roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans. There’s even fresh bread. “Wow. How long have you been cooking all this? It looks great.”
“It’s all store-bought,” she whispers. “I put it in pots and pans to heat it up and make it look homemade. The containers are out in the garbage bin.”
“Damn, kitten. I love it when you pull your own cons. It’s so fucking hot.” I reach down to squeeze both of her luscious ass cheeks.
“I’m gonna con you out of your suit as soon as dinner is over,” she promises with a smile.
“Can’t fucking wait,” I tell her while slipping my hands up her skirt. When I feel the elastic string of her thong, I give it a tug that makes her panties drop to the floor.
“Dalton!” she whispers as she looks over her shoulder to make sure we’re still alone. I bend down to help her lift each of her heels to completely remove the blue lace.
“Knowing you’re not wearing panties will make this dinner with your boss even more fun,” I assure her, tucking the lace into my pants pocket.
“You’re so bad,” she tells me with a shake of her head when she turns to grab some plates from the cabinet.
“Yeah, and you fucking love it,” I remind her with a smack on her ass.
The End
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About Lane Hart
New York Times bestselling author Lane Hart was born and raised in North Carolina. She still lives in the south with her husband D.B. West and their two daughters. They enjoy spending the summers on the beach and watching football in the fall.
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Website: http://www.lanehartbooks.com
Email: [email protected]
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Devious
Book 1 of the Deviant Series
Angela Snyder
Copyright © 2018 Angela Snyder
Cover Art ~ Addendum Designs
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Author's Note
Devious is Book 1 in the Deviant Series and ends with a cliffhanger.
The books in this dark romance series feature adult content and touch upon some very serious issues and sensitive topics that could be considered as triggers for some readers.
Victorious: Book 2 of the Deviant Series is available for pre-order now. Find out how to get your copy on my website: https://authorangelasnyder.com
Introduction
When I meet Victoria, it's not for the first time like she believes.
Victoria doesn't remember me.
We met years ago when we were children. When we were innocent.
But my innocence and childhood were stolen from me by her father.
And now she's the key to finally getting my revenge.
I have a plan in place. A simple one. Make her fall for me, so that I can get back at the man who destroyed my life and murdered my family.
I'll use her. Take what I want. And not give a single f**k.
But the closer I get to Victoria, the more my old, locked away feelings for her start to resurface and bleed through my dark heart.
And when the moment comes to take my revenge, will I be able to pull the trigger if it means I could ultimately lose her forever?
Prologue
Victoria
I remember the fire…how bright and hot it raged on like an unstoppable force, illuminating the night and burning everyone I ever loved to ashes.
Gripping the locket tightly in my hands, I pray as hard as I can that Arlo made it out safely. Somehow, someway, I know he did. He could climb the tre
e in his backyard faster than a lemur. He runs the fastest at school too, always daring everyone to try to outrun him.
"He's fast," I whisper to myself. "He made it out. He made it out," I chant.
It's a cold January night, and fresh snow had blanketed the neighborhood sometime while I was sleeping. I don't know exactly what woke me up. Maybe the fire. Maybe intuition.
All I know is that, when I looked out my window, the Rossis' home next door was engulfed in flames.
Tilting my head up, I watch the snowflakes fall from above, only to be instantly incinerated by the heat of the scorching fire before they can reach the ground.
Some of the neighbors are gathered on the street with me, but they don't speak to me. They know better. My father would have anyone's head if they looked at me wrong. But I know enough from eavesdropping that someone called nine-one-one a while ago.
I can hear the sirens in the distance, but they’re not getting here fast enough. If they don’t hurry, everything will be gone, including the Rossis…including Arlo.
I take a step towards the house, half tempted to run inside just to see if I can help get someone out, but I wouldn't even know which path to take. Dark smoke billows out of every window, broken glass covering the ground.
I clutch my necklace tighter. The locket, which Arlo gave to me on my tenth birthday a couple of months ago, contains a picture of him and me.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try not to think about how that might be the last gift he ever gives me. He loved to give me gifts, even if it wasn’t a special day. He’s my best friend. My only friend.
"Please be okay. Please be okay. I can't lose you too," I whisper into my cold, clenched hands.
When the firetrucks finally arrive, the firefighters get to work trying to douse the flames with thick streams of water from their heavy hoses. But the fire has a life of its own, and it refuses to be tamed, crawling higher and brighter towards the dark sky as if being fueled by an underground demon.
An explosion sounds, and I barely have time to blink before I'm thrown to the ground from the blast. My nightgown feels heavy and wet as I hoist myself back up, afraid to look away from the fire, afraid to miss something important.
The Rossi family has lived next door to us since I was a baby. Arlo became my best friend when we were infants, holding hands in the crib, never wanting to let the other go. I know that because I've seen pictures of us together and because of the stories my mother used to tell.
But Mama is gone now. The car accident took her away from us only a few months ago. And Mrs. Rossi, who is like a second mother to me and comforted me through Mama's passing, might be gone now too.
Tears fill my eyes when I think of losing the Rossis. They have been more like a family to me than my own.
When Mama was alive, all her and Papa did was fight. I was always stuck in the middle. Always having to choose which one I loved more, but never wanting to.
The Rossis didn't fight. They seemed happy. The perfect family.
Arlo was lucky. His older sister Sara was lucky too. They just didn't know how much so.
"Victoria," my father's stern voice sounds from behind me. "You'll catch your death of cold standing out here in nothing but your nightgown."
I turn and look up at my father, and he seems unaffected by the fire. How is that even possible? Shivering, I ask him, "Did they get out, Papa? Are they okay?"
His face crinkles into an evil sneer as the flames reflect into his dark eyes. "Get back to bed. Now," he demands.
Never one to disobey my father in fear of the consequences, I rush back to our house and run straight to my room. But I don't get back in bed like Papa wanted me to. No, I draw the curtains back and watch the house next door burn to the ground.
And when the firemen have done their job and there's nothing left but rubble and ashes, I look for the raven-haired boy who owns my heart and soul.
But he's not there.
And I fear I'll never see him again.
Chapter One
Damon
I wake up out of a deep sleep from the sound of yelling coming from downstairs. My fists rub at my eyes as I try to make sense of what’s happening. It’s either really late or really early. I’m not sure which.
Climbing out of bed, I tiptoe and stand at the cracked door. Mama always leaves it open for me.
The yelling grows louder. And then there’s a moment of silence before a resounding slap followed by mama’s cries fill my ears.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ciccone?” I hear my father roar.
Giorgio Ciccone.
I know that name well. That’s Papa’s boss. And he’s also the father of Victoria, the girl next door with the pretty, blue eyes that I’m gonna marry someday.
Victoria is nice, but her father is mean like the monsters in my sci-fi books.
I’m ten years old, and I’m still afraid of monsters. Not the ones that live in the dark, though. But the ones who come out in the daytime. Like Mr. Ciccone.
“You killed my wife,” Mr. Ciccone’s gravelly voice accuses.
“It was an accident!” Papa pleads.
“You were driving! She wasn’t even supposed to be gone that day!”
“It was an accident! It was a horrible accident!” Papa sobs.
I’m confused as I listen to the two men yell back and forth. I never knew Papa was driving the car Victoria’s mother had the accident in. I always thought she was the one who was driving. At least, that’s what Victoria told me.
Oh man, if Victoria ever found out my dad was the one who killed her mom…she’d never forgive me. She might never talk to me again.
“Out on one of your joyrides most likely,” he says with a bitter laugh. “You know, I found the love letters you wrote to my wife. She kept them in her jewelry box…right next to her wedding ring,” he scoffs. “I know you two were fucking behind my back.”
I slap my hands over my ears. He just said a very bad word.
The rest of what they say is muffled until I finally remove my hands.
“You think you can fuck with me without consequences?” Ciccone asks. “Don’t you know who I fucking am?” he roars, and then I hear a sickening thud.
“Leave my Daddy alone!” a small voice screams.
Sara?
My older sister is downstairs with Mama and Papa!
I open the door and run to the landing to look down into the foyer where I see Ciccone and his men. Mama and Sara are being held by two huge men, and Papa is on his knees on the floor. His shirt is torn, and the side of his face that I can see is swollen and bloody.
I watch the tears streaking down my mother and sister’s faces, and my own eyes fill with tears. I’m frozen in place, too scared to move or even speak.
Something bad is going to happen.
I just don’t know what.
Pointing to Mama and Sara, Ciccone says, “Get them out of here. Sell them to the highest bidder.”
To the highest bidder? What does that even mean? Where are they taking them? I want to cry or scream out, but I’m too scared. I’m a coward. I’m a freaking coward!
“No!” my father cries out as they are forced outside. He stands and tries to attack Mr. Ciccone, but the other men tackle him to the ground and start beating him.
Then, Mr. Ciccone stalks towards the front door and says over his shoulder, “Burn this house to the fucking ground.”
“My son!” Papa cries out. “Please! My son is upstairs sleeping!”
Sneering, Mr. Ciccone turns back and glares at him. “Do you think I give a fuck about your family? This is called retribution. You took something from me, and now I’m taking everything from you.”
“No!” my father screams as Ciccone leaves.
The bad men continue to hit him until my father isn’t moving anymore.
And then they leave too.
Scurrying down the stairs, I pull at Papa’s arm to try to get him up. “Come on, Papa. We gotta get out of here! We
have to go find Mama and Sara!”
But my father doesn’t move. Doesn’t open his eyes. Doesn’t say a word.
The next thing I hear is glass breaking. I turn to see a bottle filled with liquid and some kind of cloth that’s lit sticking out of it hurl past us. The moment the bottle hits the floor, the liquid catches on fire and starts burning everything it touched.
Suddenly, flames are all around us. Thick, black smoke rises to the ceiling, darkening the room.
Tugging at my Papa’s arm, I pull and pull and pull, but I can’t seem to budge him even an inch. I can’t move him. But if we don’t get out of here soon, we’re going to die!
“Please! Please, Papa!” I beg, sobbing. “Please! We have to get out!” Coughing violently from the smoke, I finally let go of my father and hoist the neckline of my shirt over my nose and mouth. “I’ll go get help, Papa!” I promise before reluctantly stepping away from him.
The entire downstairs is completely engulfed by the fire, so I run back up the stairs to my room. Sometimes, whenever I’m grounded, I sneak out of my room to meet Victoria in the treehouse in her backyard, so I know a way out.
I open the window, kick out the screen and jump down onto the small porch roof below. Then, I shimmy down a drainpipe until my feet hit the ground.
I think about running and asking Victoria to call nine-one-one, but her father might find me. He might throw me back in the fire.
A couple of explosions come from inside the house, and then the flames are so high that I can no longer see the roof.