Crooked Heart (A Death So Sweet Book 2)

by Candace Wondrak

  My own orgasm came eventually, and even though I’d pushed it off, it still came too soon. It would always be too soon when it came to Lola, because I never wanted to pull out of her, never wanted to not be at her side. Fuck. She had me by the balls somehow, and I was just crazy enough to like it.

  My body had its release, searing hot pleasure shooting through me as my cum coated her inner walls, filling her up with my seed. Even when the wicked hot pleasure faded, I didn’t pull myself out of her right away. I kept my cock buried in her, my hand still around her throat, my chest heaving as I struggled for breath. Lola didn’t complain, not that I thought she would.

  She wouldn’t, because she was Lola and I was Maddox, and we were two crazy psychos who’d somehow found each other in this mad, mad world. My father would try to tear us apart. The world would try to break us up, but I wouldn’t let that happen. Tooth and nail, I would fight for this girl, for the right to keep her by my side.

  This girl… she was mine. Fuck my father. Fuck what she did to Mario. I would burn this whole city down to keep her.

  And that was a promise.

  Chapter Eleven – Lola

  Even with everything happening, I was still set to perform on the opening night at the Gilded Rose. My hands were healed completely now, but I kind of liked the look of the gloves on me. They completed the outfit, you know? Made me feel all girly and elegant and shit.

  Sylvester and Maddox were with me as I got ready—as was Mike. Viper was gone, at home, wherever his home was, not currently on duty. Things felt a little awkward between us all, if I was honest. After what happened that one morning, after Sylvester had popped his head in my room unannounced and saw me riding Viper’s cock, well, he looked at me differently now.

  Or maybe it was because of our chat afterward. He knew now I cared about him and Maddox and Viper. Was I supposed to lie to him? Was I supposed to tell him I only had eyes for him? Hmm. Good gals weren’t interested in lies, and I was the best girl of all. The goodest.

  Okay, so that wasn’t a word, but you know what I meant. Totally angelic, here. Motherfucking perfect in every way. I never lie. I never cheat. I never steal.

  That was good for a laugh or two, wasn’t it?

  “I can’t believe this,” Maddox muttered, frowning to himself. He sat on my bed, sprawled out, glaring at the ceiling as if it had personally offended him. “There’s no point in singing at the Gilded Rose right now. I mean, you were alone with the guy, weren’t you? What if they realize it was you who did something to him?”

  Carl DeLuca, the head of the DeLuca brood, he was talking about. It was a logical worry, something that did cross my mind. Carter and I were putting ourselves in more danger now than we were before, with how tense and frayed everything was in the city. It seemed everyone was waiting for that old man to die.

  “The point is moot now,” Sylvester muttered, leaning against the wall near me as I did the finishing touches on my hair. I was already dressed in a sleek black number, a strapless, tight dress that blossomed out around my calves. A mermaid fit, sort of. “Father wants her to go, so she goes. Maybe she’ll overhear something while she’s there.”

  “Yeah, or maybe they’ll kidnap her and pluck her eyes out for poisoning their man. We won’t be there to protect her,” Maddox shot back.

  “Carter will be there.”

  I let the brothers argue, pinning my curled blonde hair to my head. The Gilded Rose was such a fancy place, I couldn’t not doll myself up like I was a flapper. Minus the clothes, of course, because flapper dresses just weren’t my style. The simple makeup and the perfectly-curled hair, however? I could totally rock that.

  Mike hung near the doorway, blocking any easy exit, as if the quiet giant thought I’d run away or something. As the brothers argued, I caught his hazel stare and cocked a brow. “Well?” I asked, doing a twirl. “What do you think?” I didn’t have my heels on yet, but once I did, my outfit would be good to go.

  All Mike did was avert his eyes and grumble an incoherent response.

  As I chuckled, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d heard of what happened the other day between Viper and me. If he knew his brother had gotten too close to me and now he was trying to make up for that by being the stoic bodyguard he and Viper always should’ve been.

  That ship had sailed a long time ago, I was afraid.

  I put my sparkly heels on, and then I was ready to go.

  We found Carter waiting for me in the front vestibule. He did not look happy to see me or particularly thrilled to be going back to the Gilded Rose. Yeah, with the way he currently stared at me like he wanted to wrap his hands around my neck and strangle me, he definitely knew I was the one who poisoned ole Carl. He didn’t like me, and he certainly didn’t trust me.

  Ah, well. It was a good thing his dick wasn’t one of mine, then.

  I looked around, making a big show about how no one else was near him. “Roman’s not here?” I whined out, pouting. “Shit. I was hoping he’d threaten me again.”

  “What?” Sylvester asked, eyebrows furrowing.

  Right. I didn’t tell anyone else about the whole Roman thing, but that was because I didn’t need to. I planned on bringing us both back for as long as this thing went on. I just hoped, someday, I wouldn’t need to doll myself up and sing, that I could simply don that amazing metal mask and kill my way through the city, at the behest of the Lucianos.

  God, I missed wearing that mask.

  “It’s nothing,” I said, twirling towards Sylvester and Maddox. “Don’t worry about me, boys, I’ll be back before you know it.” I sauntered up to each brother, touched their chest in a slow, deliberate way, and then placed a kiss upon each of their cheeks, one after the other. “Don’t go playing around while I’m gone,” I warned.

  I knew Sylvester wouldn’t. Maddox, on the other hand… well, I think he would try something just to see me beat another girl up again. The bastard. The sexy, tattooed bastard.

  Carter grumbled out, “Can we get this show on the fucking road already?” He sounded one hundred percent done with tonight, and I couldn’t blame him. Tonight hadn’t even started, and I was done with it.

  Singing in front of strangers… it still reminded me of my parents too much. My past. The things I never wanted to think about. If I had my way, I’d never grace this world with my angelic voice ever again.

  We all knew I was no angel, anyway.

  The Gilded Rose was full of patrons tonight. They were seated, drinks had, cigars busted out. The mood of the club was one of leisure and relaxation, a place where the highest people of the city could come and talk… under the protection of the DeLucas. The bouncers, the workers—everyone here was a DeLuca loyal, and I had to be extra careful of what I said and did.

  I didn’t want to die in this stupid club, wearing this pretty dress, hardly looking like myself. No, I’d much rather die at the hands of one of my lovers.

  Fucked up, wasn’t it? Yeah, yeah. Tell it to someone who didn’t already know that.

  I stood with the band behind stage, waiting for Newton to make his introductions. Everything was quiet back here; we were all ready to go. I’d be singing the same setlist that I’d sung during their pre-opening night, the same songs I’d sung before poisoning Carl DeLuca, only this time, there was no small vial of poison nestled between my tits. My tits were poison-free, as they were.

  Something felt off tonight, though. Maybe I’d let Maddox’s words get to me. Maybe I worried that I would take a step on stage, start singing, and die in a blaze of gunfire. That everyone in this club would know that I’d poisoned Carl DeLuca. I had been alone with him for a while, after all.

  But I was just the talent. A singer. A pretty face to be put on display and pranced around, something people could ooh and ah at. Anyone who looked at me and didn’t know I was the Night Slayer would simply think I was a helpless girl. A beautiful face, but helpless all the same.

  A nobody. To these people, I was a nobody.

 
; That should give me some kind of peace, but it didn’t, because I didn’t want to be a nobody. I wanted everyone to know my name, to fear it. I wanted the men to know not to eye me up like a piece of meat and the girls to know they were safe around me, as long as they didn’t hit on my men. I wanted to be a household name, even if it was in infamy.

  I’d never get that now, not after killing Dickless—but, I supposed, I’d gotten myself some psycho men who made me feel alive, so it was an even trade-off.

  After what felt like an eternity, I heard Newton walk onto the stage, heard him adjust the microphone. It was already adjusted for him, which meant once I came out, I would have to readjust it for myself, but it was all part of the act. Newton knew how to put on an act, definitely.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for being here tonight. I know it seems like you’ve waited forever for the Gilded Rose to open, and I thank you for waiting. All of our hard work has finally paid off, and now we can sit back and enjoy the night as we should, as the rulers of it.”

  The more Newton spoke, the more I felt a kernel of unease rising in my belly. This speech of his was not at all like what he’d said before. In fact, it sounded rather strange, like there was an ulterior meaning to every single word he spoke, something I could not understand.

  “Let me introduce to you one of my favorite new talents, Dolly Queen. You will be able to see her twice a week starting next week, and let me just say, she’s worth the time. Her voice is… well, maybe I should just get off the stage and let you judge for yourself, hmm?” Newton chuckled, though it was a dark, mirthless sound.

  I’d heard the man laugh before, but it didn’t sound quite as cold, and as the curtains opened, revealing a packed club, I couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe would drop. For surely it would. Tonight… something wasn’t right.

  I guess I’d have to wait and see if my intuition was right, but for now, it was time to put on a show.

  A smile plastered on my face as I walked toward the microphone. I saw Carter standing near the bar, saw a whole crowd of faces I didn’t recognize. Most were middle-aged men and women, though there were one or two older folks. A younger crowd on average than the pre-opening night show, which I found almost too strange.

  I thought this club was for the older people, because who wanted to come to a place like this every night just to drink and smoke?

  Well, I knew the answer to that: people who had money. People who had nothing better to do with their nights. And I’d be here two times a week, apparently. That was news to me, although maybe Carter was keeping that to himself because he was hoping I’d blow this or something. Going out with me, pretending to be my talent manager… it wasn’t his favorite thing. He’d much rather be home fucking his girl. What was her name? I’d pried it out of him, once. Started with a Z, I think. Zoey, maybe?

  Ah, well. Her name didn’t matter. Nothing mattered right now other than dazzling these people with my otherworldly voice. And please note the goddamned sarcasm there.

  After lowering the microphone—for Newton was almost a foot taller than I was, even in heels—I glanced back to the band, who were ready to go. With a short nod of my head, they began playing the melody of the first song, and I closed my eyes for just a few moments, imagining I was someplace different, somewhere else. A place where I could just be me.

  And then reality came crashing in, intrusive and ugly, and I belted out some of Frankie’s best work. Sinatra, Martin, King Cole… I had a few favorites from each, and though my voice was feminine compared to theirs, I liked to think I nailed each and every one.

  Such simplicity. Such easy-going songs about life and love. I was jealous of anyone who felt like that in real life. So unbelievably jealous.

  I gave a performance my parents would be proud of, if they were here, if I hadn’t killed them years ago. It was funny, you know, I’d thought their deaths would make me feel better—and they did, for a while. I’d thought running away from everything I’d ever known, making a name for myself, was what I wanted. I used to think I wanted to be feared.

  And maybe I still did, to some extent. But now… now I realized, beyond that, I wanted something different after all. I wanted the one thing I thought I’d never find, and that was family. A real family. Family who put each other first, above all else. The DeLucas, the Lucianos… I was envious of what they both had.

  Why couldn’t I be born to one of their families? I might’ve ended up just as bloodthirsty as I was now, but I’d like to think I’d be a tad more stable, mentally.

  Ah, well. Dreams. They were just dreams. Didn’t matter in the end, because not much did.

  Time ceased to matter as I ran through my setlist, song after song. My voice got a good workout, that’s for sure. Anytime I gazed at the audience, anytime I was able to squint and see past the spotlights shining down upon me, I saw faces that were enraptured, wide eyes and eager ears. I had each and every one of these people hooked on my line, somehow.

  Maybe it was just me, but I could’ve sworn right then they looked at me like I was their god.

  Once I was done, it should’ve felt like a weight off my chest, but it didn’t. I took a step back from the microphone, dipping my head low to give a bow to the audience before retreating backstage, and nearly every single one of them clapped.

  They clapped. For me. Like they were happy to have seen me perform, as if I’d just made their night or something.

  I held onto the smile as I backtracked behind stage, and once I no longer looked upon the audience, I felt the smile morph into a frown. What the ever-loving fuck was that about? Did I miss something? Was something going on here I didn’t know about? Even the air in this place felt different than it did before.

  When I said something wasn’t right, I meant it. I meant it, one hundred fucking percent.

  The band came back as jazz began to play on the speakers laced throughout the club. I stood there in the dim shadows, my skin wanting to crawl away. Why did I feel like something bad was about to happen? The last time I’d felt like this… the last time my stomach had been in such knots was when I was young, still trapped in my parents’ house, when I heard my bedroom door open in the middle of the night and my brother’s footsteps on my floor.

  My hands tensed into fists inside the gloves, and I didn’t know how long I stood there, by myself, lost in my thoughts and the strange way my body felt tonight, but it must’ve been a while, for suddenly I was no longer alone.

  Newton appeared, smiling down at me. The man wore a dark blue suit tonight, his blonde hair slicked back, his dark eyes leveling with mine. He did not check me out, did not let his stare linger anywhere it shouldn’t—which was good. Right now, I felt the innate need to kill someone, and I feared the first person who looked at me wrong would get a knife in the throat.

  Where would I get the knife, you ask? There had to be some behind the bar. Fuck, I’d even take a fork. I’d never dug out someone’s eyes before. It might be fun.

  “Someone’s here to see you,” Newton spoke, giving me a small smile. It was like he knew something I didn’t, and he was trying not to rub it in my face. A hidden weight sat behind his words, and I was reminded of his little speech before my set.

  What the fuck was going on here tonight? I had the feeling I was about to find out.

  “Who?” I asked. Silly me for thinking he would just tell me; no, instead, he took my arm and led me out of the backstage area. He practically dragged me away, being a bit rougher with me than he’d ever been, and I knew now wasn’t the time to put up a fight.

  As Newton took me to the side of the Gilded Rose, to the door which led to the stairs and the upstairs office that overlooked the entire thing, I spotted Carter near the bar. The bouncers were near him, surrounding him, blocking him from getting to me. He didn’t look hurt; he just looked pissed, and I wondered if our cover was blown.

  Newton dragged me up the stairs, away from Carter, and I wondered if Carl DeLuca had miraculously gott
en better, if he was the one waiting for me upstairs. Maybe he’d kill me—though I did not know why Newton would tell his patrons that they could see me twice a week after tonight if I was just going to die.

  What the hell was going on?

  “What’s—” I was seconds from asking Newton that very question when we stopped before the door to the office. It was shut, so I couldn’t see who waited for me within.

  “Go on,” Newton said. “He won’t bite, I promise.”

  He? He won’t… shit. Could it be Carl DeLuca behind door number one?

  I steeled myself as Newton released his hold on me, and I heaved a giant breath, prepping myself for the unknown before stepping into the office. No one sat at the desk; however, it was as the door swung closed behind me that I saw someone standing near the glass overlooking the club.

  Not a particularly impressive frame, but one I knew very well. Short brown hair sat on his head, his arms held behind his back. Muscled, but not overly so. Nowhere near Maddox or even Sylvester. No tattoos anywhere on his white skin, and I knew if he turned around, I’d see bright green eyes.

  Traitorous green eyes.

  Tony, the man of the month. The one everyone was looking for and no one could seem to find.

  My feet automatically froze when I realized it was him, and then I tried to piece everything together, but I couldn’t. It was clear I didn’t have the whole story, because why the hell would Tony be here if he was the one who gave me the poison for Carl DeLuca? Why would he be waiting in a DeLuca office for me?

  Just… what?

  “You probably have a lot of questions,” Tony spoke, slow to turn his body towards me. There was at least ten feet between us, and it felt like it wasn’t enough. After everything, I didn’t trust him, which was odd, considering I’d been the one to champion his innocence.

  But if he was truly innocent, why hide from the Lucianos? Why would he be here?

  “I do,” I admitted. “The main one being, what the fuck, Tony?” My question took on a snide, menacing tone, but it only made him laugh, as if I’d just made the world’s best joke. I wasn’t a jokester. That crown belonged to someone else, not me.