In the shadowy heart of New Orleans, where the whispers of voodoo queens and the legends of dark angels of death skirt the edge of reality, she’ll be caught in a web of danger and desire.
***
Jolie
I’m a thief. A cat burglar.
I don’t believe all the stories about the Landrys, but then, I’m more jaded than most. I live in the real world. I have since I was thirteen and my mother, if you want to pin that label on her. They tried to put me in the system, but after one man beat me, I ran away.
I’ve perfected my skills over the years, but now, things are getting a little too hot for me in New Orleans. I need some fast money and a quick escape out of Louisiana.
Breaking into the Landry estate is probably the worst mistake I’ve ever made.
Because they catch me.
Maybe the whispers about them are true. They’re mesmerizing, dark, cold, and calculating.
And I’m their prisoner.
I’m trapped in a world of secrets by powerful Mafia lords and forbidden pleasure threatens to consume me in the fires of hell.
But then, I’ve always liked the heat.
***
Stories are told about the dark, murky swamps of Louisiana. Tales of the angels of death. Two men created by the devil. So handsome they hypnotize you with their looks. So deadly you don’t realize you’re caught…until it’s too late.
18+ only. The heroine never has to choose. No cheating, happily ever after, no cliffhangers. BUT, this is a dark mafia romance and contains scenes that might offend sensitive readers. Some are violent in nature and some are sexually explicit. Please read responsibly.
Chapter One
Bastien
After stripping him down to his dingy white boxers, our men dumped Alan on the dirty wooden floor, arms and feet tied. He was pathetic, crying and slobbering. What a fucking waste of air.
“You fucked up, Couillon. Such a foolish, foolish man,” I said in a soft, deadly voice as I stared down at him.
Alan was maybe forty-one with skinny legs and a paunch. His pale blond hair had thinned so much he had a circle of baldness forming on top. He always reminded me of a slimy worm the way his eyes bugged out. More so now as he attempted to squirm away from us.
“No, Bastien,” he cried, a flood of tears streaming down his face. “You know I would never betray the Landrys.”
I looked at Marcel. My brother rolled his eyes as he casually leaned against the bar, at least what was left of it.
TJ's Bar had fallen into disrepair the last few years. The building sat on the edge of the swamp, not that big, but a decent size. The paint had begun peeling long ago and the walls were already starting to sag.
The glass in the windows had been busted out and now resembled malevolent eyes wide open and glaring at anyone who dared enter. It wouldn’t be long before the swamp swallowed the building. The swamp always took back its own.
TJ said he was tired of the fucking alligators, wild hogs, and people who didn't pay their bills. He'd gone back to the city. I’d heard he'd been shot and killed by a mugger a week later.
The bar was nice and quiet now, except for Alan begging and crying. He’d always been a whiner. We just didn’t think he would hurt any of our girls. The bastard had taken a knife to her. Cut her up pretty bad. She lived, but just barely.
We started interviewing the other women when we saw what he'd done. It only took a few hours to find out he’d been throwing his weight around and acting like a big man. We'd put our trust in him, and he abused it.
I nudged him with my foot, and he jerked away. "The women all said the same thing about you. That you regularly beat them and forced yourself on them."
He shook his head as much as he could. “No, they’re lying bitches! I would never betray you. I swear.”
"You know you're the one lying, Alan," Marcel said, then looked at me again. "Want to go for drinks when we're through here? Maybe get a burger or some etouffee? We missed dinner because of this idiot, and I'm starving."
He’d mentioned going out later as if we were relaxing at home and he was bored. That was my younger brother. Nothing much ever rattled him. He was cool, calm, and collected. He’d learned from the best—me.
“No, don’t leave me here,” Alan whined.
I squatted close to Alan's face. "No, of course, we wouldn't leave you here. We know the alligators like to come inside from time to time."
He sobbed with relief.
Richard chuckled. I looked at him and grinned. He was our first in charge, and I'd trust him with my life—I had, in fact, more than once. He was a sick son of a bitch. He fit in well with us. He was a little older than me and Marcel. Maybe thirty-two. And big. He was six feet of pure, badass muscle. He wore his shaggy black hair pulled back in a low ponytail, and he had dark blue eyes.
Alan looked between us. His face drained of color. “No, you can’t do this. I have a family…kids.”
I’d heard he treated them like shit, too. “You should’ve thought about them before you tried to destroy part of our business.” I nodded to Richard.
“What? What are you going to do?” Alan frantically looked around.
Marcel strolled over, bringing his switchblade out of his pocket. “We’ll give you a break. Make it happen fast, which is better than what you did for Margo.” He drew the knife slowly down Alan’s leg, drawing a line of blood, then wiped the blade clean on Alan’s boxers.
“No, no, no!” Alan screamed. “Oh God, please, no. I promise I won’t ever hurt another whore again.”
"That's your problem," Marcel said, looking furious for the first time. "The women came to us for jobs. They perform a service, but they are not…fucking…whores! You never did understand that, you little shit."
Richard and another man lifted Alan. I could barely hear anything over Alan’s screaming and crying. We walked behind them as they took him through the bar to the back room and onto the porch.
The air was heavy with humidity and the musty smell of the swamp. I could feel a drop of sweat trickling down my back. Yeah, I was ready to end this and get back to town.
The swamp came right up to the back of the bar, which made this an ideal place to dispose of our trash. I scanned the area. A full moon hung low in the sky. When a cloud didn’t drift by to block the moonlight, whispers of light slipped through the canopy of gnarled cypress trees, their roots snaking through the murky waters.
There was something beautiful about the swamp. It always intrigued me. The way the Spanish moss clung to limbs like fragile old lace. There were secrets here in the muggy silence with only the sounds of the occasional croak of a frog or the hoot of an owl. I enjoyed the music the swamp made.
I even liked hearing about the tall tales and legends. Ghosts wandering the marshes. Rougarou, creatures to be feared. I had a feeling the stories were created by man to keep people away—especially the law. I grimaced. Which was why we were here tonight, and Alan was giving me a fucking headache with his blubbering.
I nodded at Richard.
“Oh, God, no,” Alan whimpered.
The men swung Alan back and forth, then let go. Alan flew into the air, landing with a loud plop in the water. He went under for a few seconds, then bobbed up, choking and spitting.
The thing about gators is they love eggs. It’s a delicacy to them. Anytime they see something white, they hope it might be an egg. That’s why our men had left Alan’s white boxers on. He looked like the egg jackpot.
Marcel shined his light on the murky water. We didn’t need much to see what was happening, but the beam was bright enough to reach the dark corners.
Alan tried to swim to the bank, which wasn’t easy since his wrists and legs were tied. All he did was splash a lot, which got the attention of the gators.
“Look at that big one,” Marcel said, shining his light toward one of the beasts.
“Nice.” I nodded. “He must be about twelve feet.”
The alligator glided silently through the water, moving toward his prey. I was impressed with Alan. He’d made it close to the bank when the alligator opened his massive jaws and clamped down on his leg. Alan screamed, his eyes going wide. The alligator went into a roll, snapping off Alan’s leg. If it hadn’t been for all the blood pouring into the water, he might’ve survived, but it drew the attention of more scaly beasts.
Then Alan disappeared beneath the water. He’d never cut another woman.
“Let’s go get that beer,” I said.
“Sounds good.”
We went out the front and climbed into our boats. Marcel had a good idea: beer and food. Killing someone always made me hungry.
But as soon as we were within cell phone range, my phone began to ring. I pulled it out of my pocket and answered when I recognized the caller. “Yeah, Noah, what do you have?”
Marcel raised an eyebrow, so I put the man in charge of our security on speaker.
“Looks like someone’s breaking into the estate,” Noah said.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“No, and it’s either a small man or a woman. I’m leaning more toward female. She’s dressed all in black and wearing a black toboggan. Damn, she has some sweet curves. I hope to fuck it’s a woman because she’s giving me a hard-on.” He laughed.
“She shimmied up the rock fence in nothing flat, like she’s done this before. If you two can’t handle her, I’ll help you out and take her off your hands.”
Marcel met my gaze and grinned.
Food and beer were now the last things on our minds. “Let’s go home,” I said.