Vicious Angel: A Dark Mafia Romance (Criminal Sins Book 2)

by Sasha Leone

  Still, only one person has this number, and I haven’t heard from him in far too long already. The rational side of my mind slowly gains its strength back and forces me to pick up the ringing cell phone from the bedside table.

  I keep Oscar in my arms while I answer the call.

  “Where the hell are you!?” Those are the first words out of Juan’s mouth.

  It suddenly hits me that he doesn’t know we’ve left the bunker. Does he know about Lady?

  “We’re safe,” I assure him. There’s more panic in Juan’s voice than I can ever remember him having, but I stay calm, even if only for Oscar’s sake. “What’s happening?”

  That seems to confound my old advisor. “What’s happening!? Where are you guys!? Is there something happening that I don’t know about?”

  “Obviously,” I growl, suddenly upset at Juan’s ignorance. He should have known about Lady, then maybe we wouldn’t have wasted so much time with our attempted ambush.

  I can hear Juan sigh on the other end of the line. “Sorry, sorry,” he pauses for a second to gather himself before continuing. “You said you were safe. That’s good. It’s just that... well, things are just getting more and more hectic by the hour out here. Dante is on a tear. I don’t know if Enzo Barella is losing control of him or what, but nothing he’s doing seems planned out... and that makes it hard for me to keep up.”

  “Where are you now?” I ask.

  “At the bunker. No one’s here, not Lady, not Cat or Oscar, definitely not you. It looks like you guys scurried out of here in a hurry, what happened? I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to get a hold of you...”

  He really doesn’t know... “Did you not hear about how the ambush went?”

  “I heard you had to abandon it, but no one could tell me exactly why.”

  “They had Lady,” I say. “She was their human shield...”

  “Oh, fuck.”

  The bedroom door pushes open and Cat returns with a fresh bottle of formula. Oscar reaches for it and I hand him off to his mother. My wandering mind has been completely captured by business; the father in me slowly vanishes for more pressing matters. “How did you not know that, Juan?”

  “I already told you,” Juan snaps back, clearly agitated.

  Oscar reaches back for me but I gesture for Catalina to feed him. She kisses his cheek and pulls him close as I turn away. “You should probably get away from the bunker,” I warn him. “If they got her to talk...”

  “I’ve already left,” Juan assures me. His tone is tight and impatient. I decide I need to calm him down, there’s nothing to be gained from being restless right now.

  “How’s your family?” I ask.

  A heavy breath fills up the other end of the line. “Still safe, and yours?”

  “I’m about to get them to safety,” I growl.

  “Angel, you can’t,” Juan immediately begs. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “It was too dangerous,” I reply, thinking back to the hair-brained scheme that our ambush was supposed to spark. In hindsight, it seems foolish—even if we were successful, it would have cost us way too many resources and men—but I was clouded by my desire to get Cat and Oscar to safety. Now, though, my mind has cleared, and so has a real path out of here. “I’ve found a possibly unguarded route out of Cali, but it will only be open for a split-second. I’m not about to hesitate.”

  Juan knows better than to push back too hard on this matter. Still, he’s not shying away completely. “What does Catalina think?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” I growl. I’ve wandered over to the window, but I glance back at Cat to see her struggling to feed Oscar on the bed.

  “Of course it does,” Juan responds. I can practically hear him shaking his head. I’m about to receive some of his infamous personal advice. “You may be a prodigy in the underworld, but you have a lot to learn about family, Angel. They’re not dictatorships or cartels, they’re democracies. You listen and you adapt and you work together, or you crumble.”

  My eyes don’t leave the bed. Oscar is still reaching for me, calling out my name as Cat tries to corral him into having breakfast instead.

  The budding family man in me takes a swing at the rational leader side of my psyche. He connects, and for a moment, I’m freed from everything but my fatherly duties.

  “Dada, dada,” Oscar whines. His little hands reach out to me like I’m the last bit of warmth in a cold world. I almost feel bad for Cat—I remember even just last night, when every time Ozzy would roll over to cuddle with her instead of me, it would feel like a small stab to the heart... but Juan isn’t exactly wrong, this kid needs the both of us.

  “Come here, buddy,” I sigh. Bending down, I pick up my boy. Cat lets me take him.

  “Boo-boo,” Ozzy gurgles. Cat hands the bottle to me, too. I pin the cell phone to my ear with my shoulder and hold my son in one hand while I feed him with the other.

  “Sounds like you’re starting to get my point,” Juan interrupts.

  “Don’t get a big head,” I growl back.

  “So, if you’re leaving soon, does that mean I might not see you again until this is all over?”

  That cursed guilt of Catalina’s worms its way through my chest at the thought. Am I really willing to abandon the people I’ve gathered to fight for my cause? What if they lose because I leave them? Am I willing to live with that?

  Ozzy burps in my arms and I have my answer.

  Yes. Anything to keep him safe.

  23

  Catalina

  I’m shaken awake by a strong pair of hands.

  “Cat.” It’s Angel. His voice is low and calm, but there’s an impatience behind it that snaps me awake.

  “What? What is it?” Suddenly, my chest is on fire. My first instinct is to desperately search for Ozzy. The anxiety lessons when I spot him right where I left him, sleeping beside me on the little mattress we share with Angel.

  “We have to go.” Angel’s words are like bullets through my gut. The last time he was this insistent on leaving it was because someone had kidnapped Lady and possibly tortured her for information on our whereabouts. What’s happened now? I don’t stop to ask. Angel has my trust, even if I don’t agree with him on everything.

  I’m immediately on my feet. Angel has already tossed an outfit for me onto the mattress. He’s completely dressed. My chest constricts again as I see him stuff a gun beneath his belt, but I try to ignore the promise of potential violence and just concentrate on getting ready.

  “What do I need to bring?”

  Angel points over to an open rucksack on the bedside table. Inside are about half a dozen bottles of formula and some small blankets. “Here, wrap this around Ozzy.”

  A soft towel falls across my shoulders and I immediately do as I’m told. Where are we going? Why are we going? Are we ever coming back? I should say goodbye and thank you to Anna, just in case...

  These are questions I’ll just have to wait to ask, because, suddenly, the ground rumbles and Angel’s impatient but calm demeanour gets a little more frantic. “We’re leaving, now,” he growls. Ozzy’s in his arms by the time I’ve zipped up the rucksack and put on my outfit. It’s heavy, but if we have to move fast, then it’s better that Angel has Ozzy. I can always drop the rucksack if I need to.

  “What’s happening, Angel?” I finally ask as he opens the bedroom door. I creep down the tight winding staircase behind him, but he doesn’t answer. My mind is racing, and so are my feet, but I’m still barely able to keep up. “Angel!?”

  “Shh!” he insists, as we hit the bottom floor. “This way.”

  The ground rumbles again and fear grips my chest hard enough to shut me up.

  “Here,” Angel grumbles, handing me Oscar when we’ve reached the front door. Somehow, the little boy is still asleep. I guess that’s what growing up through a revolution will get you: the ability to sleep through just about anything.

  The second that Angel cracks open the front door, a hurricane-like
gust blows inside. Even for Angel, it’s a struggle to get it shut again.

  “Is there a typhoon coming or something?” I ask, looking around at the shanty home we’ve burrowed ourselves into. Wilmar’s place may be charming, but there’s no way it would be able to hold up against a fucking typhoon.

  “Maybe,” Angel mutters, seemingly unconcerned about the weather. Instead, he creeps over to the nearest window and peaks behind the blinds. “Fuck,” he growls.

  “What?”

  He still doesn’t feel like sharing.

  “This way.” I follow him, but look back towards the front door as I do. The fear of the unknown is almost as bad as the rumbling ground. I know why the ground is rumbling—there’s another battle being fought somewhere not too far off—but if we’re in such a hurry to leave, why can’t we go out the front?

  “What’s outside, Angel?”

  He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he checks through the blinds of the back-kitchen window. “Nothing,” he finally says.

  “I mean out by the front!”

  “Shh!” he growls again, but I don’t understand why. Can we not trust Wilmar anymore?

  “What’s happening, Angel!?” I demand, putting my foot down.

  For a split-second, his features glaze over with a familiar frustrated fury. His thick eyebrows furl and a fire in his speckled green eyes tells me to shut up and listen, but his lips won’t utter those words. Slowly, he calms down again. His gaze seems to fall on Oscar and his anger melts away.

  I decide that he’s calmed enough to test my luck again. “Why can’t we go out the front?” I repeat.

  “There were just too many people out there,” he responds, matter-of-factly.

  Really? At this hour? Wait... what time is it? I didn’t get a chance to check before we left.

  “Too many people for what?” I ask.

  Angel doesn’t answer that question right away either. Instead, he nods me forward and wraps his big burly hand around the kitchen doorknob.

  The wind that greets us when Angel pushes open the back door isn’t nearly as bad as it was in the front, but it’s still enough to nearly blind me as I wrap Oscar up tight and follow Angel outside.

  My head acts as a battering ram against the humid gusts. No sunlight falls on my shoulders as I charge out into a grey afternoon.

  “This way,” Angel growls through the wind. I try to follow his voice, but I’m essentially walking blind. The further I stumble from the backdoor, the more intense the mighty drafts become; they blow so hard that they threaten to draw tears from my shut eyelids...

  Suddenly, though, the wind stops. I can still hear the howling but something blocks it from getting to me. Something big. I blink back into focus and see Angel towering over me.

  God, sometimes I forget just how massive he is. There’s a look of concern drawn on his ruggedly handsome face. His sharp jaw clenches and his fiery eyes suck in the wind.

  “The wind, it’s too strong...” I mumble. Guilt creeps through my gut at the thought that I’m slowing us down. Something is coming for us, something bad, otherwise, why would Angel be rushing us from the only slice of safety we have left?

  “Hold Ozzy tight,” he growls. Suddenly, I’m off my feet. Angel has swept me up like a bride. I huddle over Oscar and brave the wind once more, but this time the heat of Angel’s thumping chest helps calm my frazzled nerves.

  ... Then, I’m back on my feet again and out of Angel’s arms. The wind is still just as loud as ever, but something other than my burly protector is guarding us from it. I manage to blink away the tears and focus through the blurriness. A steady brick wall stands before us, blocking off the gale-force gusts.

  “What’s happening, Angel?” I plead. There’s no malice in me, I just want to know what we’re facing. Is it Dante, is it mother nature, is it a bit of both?

  The giant seems to finally take some pity on me, or maybe it’s just my son that cools his jets. His green-laced eyes wrap Ozzy up in their gaze as he steps forward and comforts us with the heat of his heaving body. Even he’s out of breath. I look over my shoulder. I can’t see Wilmar’s house anymore. The one-story abodes that line this new block are unfamiliar to me. How far have we gone already?

  “I’m getting us out of here.” Angel grumbles through the howling wind.

  “But why?” I implore. What’s coming for us?

  “Because I can.”

  My heart drops as it all suddenly becomes clear.

  We’re not running away from anything—at least nothing immanent—we’re speeding towards something. An opening. This is Angel trying to rip us away from the revolution he started and bring us to safety.

  I thought I told him I wasn’t okay with that!?

  “What the fuck, Angel!?” I shout, my voice nearly getting lost in the hurricane.

  He hears me loud and clear, though, and I know that he’s been purposely keeping details from me for this very reason. Angel maybe stubborn, but he’s no fool; he remembers the guilt I spilled on him about leaving—he just doesn’t care.

  Bastard.

  My fear and anxiety whirl around in the wind before mixing into a deadly potion of anger and inner conflict behind my pounding chest.

  “We’re leaving,” Angel booms. “And that’s that!”

  “Like hell we are!” I shout back, covering Ozzy’s ears with my trembling palms. Somehow, he’s still asleep. Thank god.

  Angel steps forward and I can’t help but shrink away. Even though I know he only wants what’s best for us, there’s still something so intimidating about the dark hulking figure when someone is refusing to obey his orders. “I’m not taking a vote,” he growls, reaching for my arm.

  I lurch away.

  The truth is, I still hadn’t made up my mind about whether or not we should leave. Oscar’s safety is more important to me than anything... but how could we raise a baby boy in a world we destroyed just to make him safe? What kind of selfish example does that set? People are fighting and dying for us, and we’re just going to abandon them? Anna? Lady? Everyone?

  “I’m not leaving! We’re not leaving!” I yell, tightening my grip around Oscar. He kicks in my arms, but when I look down, the baby boy’s eyes are still closed.

  When I look back at Angel, a stone drops in my gut.

  Something has changed in his eyes. The fury is back, but this time, there’s nothing else to hold it back. A single flash of fear cuts through my body. It stuns me for a terrifying moment. Slowly, though, I’m able to start fighting it back.

  Angel’s not who I should be scared of, and I’m not who he should be mad at.

  “We need to stay, we need to fight,” I tell him.

  “We?” His voice is so deep that I can’t distinguish it from the roars in the distance. “You haven’t been doing any fighting, and I’m going to keep it that way.”

  “Excuse me!?” The accusation is so insulting that I nearly implode. “I haven’t been fighting? Are you kidding me!? All I’ve been doing is fighting! Sure, I haven’t been killing people like you have—although, I’m pretty sure I’ve done that, too—but don’t ever tell me I haven’t been fighting!” The levy that’s been holding back all of my emotions for Oscar’s sake shatters against our colliding fury. “For the past two years, I’ve been fighting every single day. I’ve been fighting for my life, for my son—hell, even for you! See these marks on my arms?” I turn so that he can see the dark spots left behind from the glass and the vines that tried to keep me from scrambling back into my cage. “I got these from breaking into my prison. Why could I do that, huh? Why didn’t you!? I’ve missed out on so much of my baby boy’s life because you, the big bad cartel king of Cali, couldn’t do in two years what a lone orphan girl managed to do in a single night!”

  I have more to say, but before I can get to it, a hand is around my throat. The anger in me evaporates in the shockwave of surprise that follows from Angel’s massive grip. His fingers pin me against the brick wall that blocks us from
the wind.

  Oscar squirms in my arms.

  “You’re a monster,” I sneer.

  “I’m your monster,” he growls back. “And you should be fucking thankful for it.”

  With that, his hand eases around my neck and I lunge away. New tears well up in my eyes. My heart is pounding so hard that it must wake Oscar up, because the next thing I know, he’s wailing in my arms.

  “Look what you’ve done!” I accuse.

  Angel doesn’t move. His fists are clenched like battering rams as he stands steaming before me.

  “Shh, baby,” I plead to Oscar. He cries and cries and no matter how much I rock and bob, he won’t stop. How could Angel be so callous?

  How could he not be?

  He’s never made a secret of who he is.

  A monster.

  But what hope do I have if he’s not even my monster?

  24

  Angel

  Time is running out.

  Our opening to safety is closing as fast as my hand did around Catalina’s throat.

  Fuck.

  A civil war breaks out behind my chest. Why the hell did I do that!? I just put everything I care about at risk—Cat, Oscar; this is all for them, so why the fuck would I threaten it all like that?

  Maybe I am just a monster... An irredeemable fucking monster.

  Powerful gusts batter the brick wall protecting us from the elements... and I just want to punch through it. Everything is falling apart... again, and I can’t quite seem to get anything completely under my control. What’s happening to me?

  Maybe Dante was right when he said that things had always come too easily for me. It never felt that way before; I worked hard and smart and I saw the rewards, but now it feels like no matter what I do, it isn’t enough. What are my priorities?