Blackjack

by Elizabeth Knox

  “I can’t condone that your shitty love life is the reason for going back in the field. But as your handler, I know what type of asset you are to the bureau.”

  Because I’m kick ass, she doesn’t have to say it, but we both know it.

  I leaned back, slightly sinking into her couch, pulling her fluffy blanket closer to my chest. “So, what’s my assignment?” I grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. Ironically, it was Christmas Eve, but still. I was experiencing the same effect.

  Kristie handed me a folder, and I opened it, skimming over the documentation and photographs. “Skulls Renegade MC, huh?” I flipped through the rest of the paperwork, looking at the photographs of the main members, plus some history on each of them. There wasn’t much intel, just birthdates, socials, where they were from. “They’ve kept quiet,” I muttered. Kristie took a sip of her bottle of wine.

  “Yes, they have. But not quiet enough. We have an informant saying they’re doing some major drug trading and they’re in a prostitution ring. You’re going in to find out what’s really going on. Gather enough intel, issue warrants and get out. These are brutal criminals, El. Taking them down would blow up both of our careers.”

  Like I needed to know what kind of men are in the MC lifestyle? I didn’t need a reminder. “I’ve got it covered.” Kristie handed me another folder.

  “This is your cover story.”

  I opened it up, looking at the profile they’d created for me. Kristie knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t use it, so what was the point in even showing me? On every assignment I’d ever been on, I’d been given a profile to study: dates, times, life events, other crap. I had to make my cover real. I understand the important of that, of course, but it had always been easier for me to alter my own profile. That way I didn’t slip up. The bureau never did like the way I operate, but they didn’t say a damn thing anymore because I always got the job done.

  Kristie handed me a burner phone. “You’d better call me every Monday at ten in the morning with updates. I mean it.”

  I smiled at her. “You got it, boss.”

  ***

  I left the next morning; Christmas Day. There wasn’t a point in staying around now that there was nothing tying me down. Plus, I needed an outlet for my anger and pain, and quick. This was going to be my redemption job. My way to being the Elena I could recognize when I looked in the mirror.

  I packed two duffel bags full of necessities; clothes, shampoo, and makeup. I hopped in my 2017 Ford Mustang and hit the road.

  Destination: Tennessee

  It took me six hours to get there; the MC was located right in the mountains in the small town of Gainesville. It was truly a small town. There’s a bank, a couple restaurants, a grocery store, law office, daycare, school, and not much else.

  I found a half-way decent room at the only motel in town. From the looks of it, it probably had roaches. The sooner I could get into the club, the better. I wouldn’t be getting an ounce of sleep in that shit hole.

  I took a quick shower, cringing because the white tile was yellow. They had a ‘cleaning service,' but I doubted it had been properly cleaned in years.

  I dried my hair, applied some makeup, and dumped all my clothes out on the bed. My plan? Go to the biker bar, get a few drinks, and make my presence known. My tactic? Easy.

  I was going to dress like an Ol’ Lady, not like some stupid little skank who comes to the bar just to suck their cocks. I learned from my mother how to dress the part. Ol’ Ladies aren’t there to service the men. I sure as hell would not be there to do that either. I was going to be walking in like I owned the place because I did.

  These bikers were going bow on their knees when I walked in because I bet you no bitch had ever dressed as I was about to.

  I grabbed a pair of black leather leggings and black heels; the heel so thin that stepping the wrong way could crack it. I found a thin, jersey type tank top and paired it with my emerald green leather jacket. I pulled my hair out over my jacket, the loose curls bouncing over my breasts. I went into the bathroom, applied a little more eyeliner and touched up my neutral matte lipstick. I slid on my metallic aviators and went for the front door.

  I was good to go.

  Free Chapter (Promised)

  Promised

  The Clans

  Book #1

  www.elizabethknoxbooks.com

  Chapter 1

  Ion

  I turned my green eyes towards the window of my penthouse apartment which overlooked the upper west side of Manhattan. I flicked my wrist to make the scotch in my glass slosh around impatiently as if I expected her to just show up on the street someday, looking up towards me as if she could see me. Yet, I spent eight years looking for both her and the bastards that took her, with no success. Most would not have waited so long, but I had my reasons. They were all selfish, and all valid.

  The she in question was Mariana Vasile, the last remaining heir to the Romanian mob; a princess in her own right. She was the rightful next in line to run the clans, but she was a woman, and Romanians just did not see fit for a woman to be a leader. Maybe the Russians or the Irish did it, but the Romanians were all about tradition. So, the clans would pass on to her husband instead.

  That would be where I come in.

  She was promised to me when she was just days old.

  Mariana was to be my queen, and I would be the king of the mob; the power of the infamous Vasile clan passing onto my shoulders as it had been planned since the day she was born. By now, I should have been married to her for at least six of the years she had been missing, but someone had seen fit to slaughter the Vasile line and take her, the last of the bloodline as the prize, probably believing that one day they would have the claim to the throne. The saddest part of it all is that she was she had only been 16 when they took her. I’d been working tirelessly, putting all of my resources into finding her. It had been years, and not one single trace of where she could be found had surfaced.

  I’ll look, I’ll hunt, and one day I will bring my Ana home. She took my heart when she was just a child, at one of the few times we met. I knew from the time I was a small boy that she was mine, and that first meeting she took my heart with her.

  Whoever it was who took her must not know me well. Ion Petran was the name I would shove down the throat of my enemy before I made him rue the day he tried to take that blood right from me. Nobody was going to take what was mine and get away with it – Ana – my promised throne, none of it. I didn’t care if my brown hair turned gray by the time I found her, I was going to get what I was promised and save her from whatever horrible fate she had been forced into all these years.

  Just as it began to rain, water droplets pelting dramatically against the glass, I was pulled away by the incessant buzz of my cell phone. I was not in the mood to talk with anyone; obsessing over my next move to try and find the woman who was the key to everything I ever wanted, but I had to answer. The person on the other side could always have news of Mariana, and I was not going to miss that for the world.

  "Buna," I said impatiently into the receiver, waiting to hear why one of my men had disturbed me.

  "Domn, we have news that we thought you would like to hear," the thick voice of one of my associates came through the receiver. He was the leader of one of the several groups of men I had hired to hunt down those responsible for Mariana's disappearance and the murder of her parents. I’d spent millions on her search. It’s about time that they have something useful for me.

  "Vorbi repede! Speak quickly! What do you know? What have you found?" I asked in a state of excitement. I waited with bated breath for the answer to my unworthy prayers over the last eight years, when I had shifted from a hopeful young man to an angry one with a vendetta.

  "We believe we have a lead on the whereabouts of Miss Mariana Vasile." My heart skipped a beat at his words, and I wondered if I had misheard or maybe dreamed it. It had been years, and now they suddenly find a lead? What changed?

&nbs
p; "Meet me at my office immediately. We have important matters to discuss," I ordered, recovering almost instantly. It was the best news I had heard in a long time, and I hung up, downing the rest of my scotch before I went to the closet. I pulled out my black Armani coat and pulled it over the button down I still had on from my investment meeting earlier. Even a man of the mob had to keep up appearances. The upper west side was full of men just like me, pretending to be something they weren’t while doing devious but lucrative things in the dark of night or the privacy of their lofts. So, as I climbed into the back of the black car with the tinted windows, I faded into the idea of the rich, mysterious, New York man, while I pondered on how much information my associates would be able to give me.

  Eight years I had spent waiting for news of my Mariana, but her trail had gone dead far too soon. I had fallen into a routine of waiting; waiting for my life as head of the clans, beginning with, Mariana Valise by my side. No one could question me like the way they did now amidst the chaos that had become of the mob clans since the Valise king and queen had been brutally dethroned. If there was ever the perfect timing to find her, this was it.

  I tried to relax in the back seat of the car, pouring myself a flute of champagne from the supply my driver kept well stocked for me, but not even the bubbles served to calm my nerves. Champagne is a custom, a common one for celebrations. Maybe today I will be celebrating the news I’ve been waiting years to hear. I was on some kind of high as I took the elevator up to the office space I rented out for the purpose of making it seem that I ran a legitimate business. Part of being a mob leader was mastering such deceptions. My father had taught me well.

  As I sat on the only version of a throne I was afforded, for the time being, I looked expectantly at the man with the mustache and slicked back hair who was there representing his team of misfit investigators. They were the kind of men who were too dirty in their searching techniques for even the most crooked of police precincts.

  The man’s gold-capped tooth glinted in the light as he smiled with a sinister gleam in his eye. “We know who has Mariana, domn,” the man offered happily.

  I sat up in my seat, ready to leap into action at any moment. The name of my enemy was on the tip of this man’s tongue, and in knowing the name, I would have the power to bring my bride back to me. I could almost see her white blonde hair before me and smell her sweet scent that I remembered from when we were young children. She left that kind of impression on me, but maybe that was the powerful blood of hers and the smell of victory.

  “Who was it?” I hissed impatiently.

  “Jonas Masterson”

  Free Chapter (Tough as Steele)

  Tough as Steele

  The Steele Bros.

  Book #1

  www.elizabethknoxbooks.com

  Chapter 1

  Brooklyn

  “You’re meeting with the investor tomorrow morning at 10 AM. I’ll pick you up from your place and we’ll head over. Be ready at 8:30.”

  Ashley, my business manager, and one of my closest friends, kept her message short and sweet, as she always did. I hardly ever answer my phone on my afternoon run. Actually, I never did. Running was like my church; it was my sanctuary where I wished to never be disturbed.

  To Ashley:

  How serious is this investor?

  I tapped the send button, continuing to run through the tree-lined park in the miserable, Atlanta heat, wiping a line of sweat from above my brow. A moment later, I had a response.

  From Ashley:

  very

  Well damn, it was about time. I mentally crossed my fingers. It had been weeks since I’d actually had a serious inquiry from an investor. I’d been working on my makeup line over a few years now, and 6 months ago, I finally had the prototypes and the formulas made up; ready to be shown to potential investors. Now, all I needed was an investor to back me so I could cover the shipment, the design of the packaging, and finally, the distribution process. Glancing once more at my phone to catch the time, which was 5:30pm, I sighed. I’d agreed to meet Elise at Mason’s bar, which was conveniently located in the middle of the city, right by my apartment.

  Sliding into my Lexus GS F, I laid back against the seat, pressing my hands against the steering wheel. The run had really taken all of the energy out of me. Turning her on, I instantly began to blast the air conditioner, finally breathing a bit easier as the cool air started to dry my sweat-soaked skin.

  I ran to escape the anxieties I experienced in my everyday life. It helped me so much with my nervousness, and also helped me stay focused, but, damn, I could really go without it being 95 degrees plus the sticky humidity in this Georgia weather.

  I turned down into the city, focused on the road and heading straight for my apartment. The Bluetooth rang “Alfred is calling, say yes, or no to answer or decline the call.” I glanced down at the dash with a puzzled look on my face. My father? Why would he be calling?

  “Yes,” I told the robotic woman, “Alfred, what can I do for you today?”

  “Just checking in on my little business woman. Do you want to grab dinner tonight?”

  I’d promised Alfred two dinners a month since my mom had passed away two years ago from breast cancer, but up until that point, he wasn’t in my life…at all. I had no idea he was even my father, the great Alfred Hamilton. He’s comparable to the Hiltons, seeing as he owns a hotel line just like them. I remembered that day at my mom’s funeral like it was yesterday. He had shown up and burst out that he was my father, not even considering how insensitive it was at that moment. He put such stress and confusion on a young woman in mourning. I often wondered as a child how our life was so...plush. Mom had worked three jobs, and I assumed we had a comfortable lifestyle because of that. She did a good job providing for me, and my little brother, Sebastian.

  I’d wondered about my father for years, but my mom had kept quiet and never given me any clues as to who he could be, so I gave up and stopped asking her about him. I figured it would just be something I’d never find out. After the altercation at the funeral we completed DNA testing, confirming that I was indeed his daughter. I even did a side test, trying to see if Sebastian was his child too. Seb wasn’t, and we don’t know who the hell his father is.

  “I can’t tonight. I’m meeting an investor in the morning, and I already promised Elise drinks. Tomorrow?” I heard him sigh through the Bluetooth. I hated to disappoint him, but I couldn’t just drop all my plans for him.

  “Sounds good, darling. I’ll have one of my drivers pick you up.”

  “Okay.” My reply was stilted. I was more focused on driving than I was with the conversation.

  “Brooklyn, you don’t have to meet with that investor. You know I’ll supply you with the funds you need to complete your project, and I won’t charge you interest. Think of it as a personal loan.”

  I had thought about it. I did every single time he brought it up to me. But, I couldn’t. I couldn’t use his money. No matter how much he’d argue that it was as much mine as it was his. He’d gifted me my Lexus last year and even purchased an apartment for me, both of which I tried to return to him, as much as I could. He wouldn’t have any of it. Instead, he told me to save my money that I was using on my old piece of junk car and apartment and use it for my makeup line. That sealed the deal. I could tell myself he didn’t know me, but he knew parts of me, and that was enough. He knew enough about me that I would accept that.

  “Alfred, you know I can’t do that.” I heard him chuckling in the background, his British accent becoming thicker.

  “Yes darling, you can. You won’t because you’re as stubborn as your mum.”

  Mom. Why did he have to bring her up? I missed her. These past couple of years had been pure torture. I went through so much in my personal life, both good and bad. I just wished I could call her. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I wasn’t grateful for Alfred. He was my father, but our relationship was cold; stagnant. It felt forced. It wasn’t like that with Mom.
I could tell her whatever was on my mind without having to worry about the reaction she might have.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I jabbed the red button on my steering wheel, ending the call. I wasn’t in the mood for any more small talk. We’d have much more of that tomorrow anyway.

  ****

  I pulled into the parking garage at my apartment building, parking in my reserved spot, greeting the concierge, Marco, as I made my way inside the lobby. The elevator ride was quiet, and I was okay with that. I didn’t feel like talking when I had so much going on in my head, preparing mentally for this meeting tomorrow. I had to convince someone who was most likely a multi-billionaire on why they should invest in my product; why they should bet on my horse. When I really thought about it, all I had was a load of passion and knowledge. I didn’t know if they’d bet on my horse, and that scared the daylights out of me.

  The doors to the penthouse opened, perfectly lit, contemporary but comfortable furniture spread out all over. Alfred wanted to make sure I liked it there. He insisted I took the penthouse, and he furnished the entire thing. As much as I appreciated his kindness, money couldn’t buy me, not even his. He had to show me he cared with actions. He had to be there. He missed so much of my life, twenty-two years to be exact. I set my purse down on the table in the foyer, walking down the hall into the living room. I scanned over the area, assessing that everything was the same way that I left it. I’d done this every time I left, as a precaution.

  I could never be too safe.

  Turning the corner, I spotted a silhouette in my kitchen, flipping flapjacks on a pan. Cautiously, I made a few quiet steps closer. The figure’s back was facing me, so I walked a little further. It was Seb. Thank God!

  “When did you get back?” I shrieked, causing him to drop the spatula.