Fallen Angel: Broken Saint Duet Part Two Read online

  Fallen Angel

  Broken Saint Duet Part Two

  E.M. Gayle

  Gypsy Ink Books

  Contents

  Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Also by E.M. Gayle

  Books Writing As Eliza Gayle

  Note

  Please note this is part two of the Broken Saint duet.

  * * *

  You must read part one, Broken Saint first.

  * * *

  Thank you.

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  Chapter 1

  Ronin

  * * *

  Well, hell. That had not gone exactly as planned. Although it had been more than a little entertaining. I crossed the room of my own opulent suite at The Sinclair and proceeded to pour a double scotch. After the day I'd had, I needed it. Watching Nova lose her shit and throw the pouch of diamonds in the Fed’s face had been the highlight of the confrontation. Even if it made for bad timing.

  It might have caused a wrinkle in my plans, but I was confident I could work through any issues it might cause. Rock Reed was an annoying thorn in my side, and I needed him out of the game. Toying with a Boy Scout like him always came with challenges and upped the stakes. A scenario I didn't usually mind.

  The higher the stakes, the better the payoff when I finally won. And I would win this game. Long before anyone else even realized they were playing.

  Besides, it had been time for Nova to learn that her lover was a federal agent. There was toying with the Feds, and then there was being stupid. She'd teetered on that edge for quite some time, and like it or not, it had to stop.

  I'd also grown tired of watching them fuck. That asshole didn't deserve a banshee in the sack like her. If she needed a man to submit to, I was more than happy to offer myself as tribute.

  The diamonds, however, complicated things.

  I reached into my pocket, pulled out a tiny Ziploc bag, and tossed it onto the table. The gems inside sparkled in the spotlight of the small lamp. Normally, they wouldn't matter, but in this case they did. Anything and everything Anthony Cullotta wanted, I planned to take away. Before I completed my mission here, I intended to watch him squirm. And then beg. A smile crossed my face as I brought the glass back to my lips.

  They always begged.

  The moment they realized nothing they said or did would stop their imminent death, they gave in and begged for life.

  Nova had no idea how close she'd come to catching me when I swapped these for fakes. My brilliant little fiancée had a lot going for her, but seeing what was right in front of her wasn't one of them. Fiancée. I'd begun to consider that word in unexpected ways. A part of me still thought it might be fun to go through with it, just to see where it took the game next.

  Marry the girl. Fuck the girl. Then make the girl watch me kill her father.

  Hell, after today, she might enjoy it. That bastard had an evil heart. He had no love for his own daughter, or likely anyone else. Or loyalty. Love might not be important, but loyalty...it was everything.

  Sadly, the minute Reed found out the pouch of diamonds in his possession were fakes, he'd be back at her doorstep like a bad penny. I never really understood that expression, but my father loved it. In my opinion, bad penny was never a strong enough description for someone who had become a pain in my ass.

  I could kill him.

  A bullet between his eyes sounded like a damned good time.

  My cellphone buzzed in my pocket once again. Fucking Alex. I pulled the device from my pocket and considered ignoring him again. I didn't have time for him, but if I knew my stepbrother, and I did, if I ignored him much longer, he'd send some annoying twat of a detective looking for me again.

  I reluctantly answered. "What?"

  "Where the fuck are you?" Alex didn't waste time with niceties any more than I did, which was the only good quality he possessed as far as I was concerned.

  "Still in Vegas." I set the phone on the table and picked up the diamonds. It probably wasn't going to take the Feds long to figure out they were fake, at which point they'd come for Nova, and by extension—me.

  "Jesus. What the hell for? I thought you said your business there was going to take a day or two, tops."

  "Plans change." And that was all the information I intended to give him. From day one of my father's marriage to his mother, Alex had made it abundantly clear he wanted nothing to do with their business. As if they'd trust him or any other outsider with the inner workings of what we did. As enforcers for the family, my father and I basically killed people for a living. My sissy billionaire stepbrother didn't have the stomach for that kind of work.

  Although there had been a moment in Singapore where I'd thought he might take his revenge against the man who'd kidnapped his wife. He'd found a far crueler method than an easy bullet to the brain. I'd been impressed.

  "That sounds like Ronin speak for I've found a new game that probably involves fucking some people over or worse."

  I wasn't going to confirm or deny that accusation. That Alex knew me so well was disturbing enough, I didn't need to encourage him.

  "Is there a point to this call? Or do you just miss me?"

  Alex snorted, causing me to smile. Yanking his chain was one of my favorite pastimes. "You wish. But we do have a problem."

  I found that hard to believe. We did not run in the same circles on a personal or professional level. It made it much easier to get along.

  "What kind of problem?" I asked, although my attention to this conversation was already waning. I had millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds in my hand and a pissed-off woman in the kitchen still slamming her way through the cabinets. As much as she seemed to enjoy taking orders in the bedroom, out of it, she did nothing but defy every suggestion ever made to her. Another more stubborn woman, I had not met.

  And for some reason, I took that as a challenge.

  "Your father is being a pain in my ass. You need to get back here and do something about him."

  I barked out a laugh. "As if I have any control over that old bastard. What did he do this time?" I didn't really care, but humoring Alex might be the only way to get him off my back long enough to end this call.

  "He's decided to overshare with my mother about what the two of you are up to, and now, she's about to lose her mind. A fake fiancée and blood diamonds? That better be some kind of fucking punchline to a joke I don't get."

  My blood ran cold. How the fuck? I had not informed anyone of my plans. I shoved the diamonds into my pocket as if somehow Alex could see them and taking them out of sight would make the thought of them disappear.

  "That is none of your fucking business."

  "It absolutely shouldn't be. But when Constantine runs his mouth off to my mother, who can keep nothing to herself, we've all got to deal with the problem. Now, tell me exactly what this mess is about, so I can make it go away."

  That matter-of-fact, all-business tone from my stepbrother gra
ted on my last fucking nerve. The condescending asshole could take his concern and shove it up his lily-white ass. As much as I wanted to say those words, I held my tongue. I'd learned the hard way over the years that antagonizing Alex, while fun, would prolong his involvement, and in this case, I didn't want him anywhere near this situation. He might be brilliant when it came to running his global empire, but he had no clue what it took to work for the family.

  "I'll handle my father."

  "And my mother? What am I supposed to tell her?"

  "Tell her Constantine was drunk. That shouldn't be too hard to believe."

  "He has been hitting it rather hard lately. Is there something going on I need to know about?"

  My blood was beginning to boil."How about you worry about your business, and I worry about mine?"

  "I'd be happy to, if your illegal bullshit didn't keep interfering in my world. You think I like this shit?"

  I could feel the corners of my mouth lift in a snarl. As much as I wanted to tell him where to go, I didn't want to add any fuel to whatever brotherly internal fire crap he had going on. We were not a real family.

  In fact, about the only time we'd got along is when we both decided the man who kidnapped his wife needed to be punished. Which reminded me that I had Nova to contend with. My future bride needed to be brought back under control.

  "I don't really care what you like. I'll talk to Constantine, but you and your mother should assume anything he says is the pathetic ramblings of a vengeful drunk. It's all bullshit."

  "Bullshit or not, your father has proven himself a danger to us all. He needs to be taken care of."

  Rage rose inside me. My father had always been a heartless bastard, but he was mine to deal with, not Alex or his useless mother. "I'll do what is necessary. But it's not your decision. Tread carefully, brother, you don't want to start a war with the family."

  "This has to do with your grandfather, doesn't it? Your incessant need to avenge every perceivable wrong against you is going to be what ends you, and I'm not going to be able to clean up that kind of mess."

  "Sometimes, you are such an idiot. It's not about revenge— that's your poison. This is about honor and blood. Something you clearly need a lesson in. But not from me. Go fuck your wife, and leave my business to me."

  I could practically hear him grinding his teeth across the phone line. The Whitman name carried a lot of power in the business world, but it meant nothing in the face of our organization.

  "Fuck you, Ronin. I'll try and talk my mother down, but I'm not making any promises. She's freaked out."

  I merely grunted. We both knew that he would handle her with ease. Now, I needed to figure out what my play would be. My father would have to be handled, but I needed to finish this mission first. My previously leisurely timeline had narrowed considerably.

  I had to pick up the pace. I didn't want to lose the fun of it, but the seriousness of my father's action couldn't be held at bay for long.

  "What's going on?"

  Nova emerged from the kitchen with a tray of meats, cheeses, olives, and crusty French bread. She also carried a full bottle of wine in her opposite hand. She took all of it to the dining table, and after grabbing two wine glasses from the bar and a bottle opener, she took a seat, tucking her feet underneath her. She seemed to be making herself entirely too comfortable, and that wasn't acceptable.

  "I had a business call to take." I had no intention of sharing my family drama with this woman. I still hadn't made up my mind about what to do with her. Although I did like that I had options. The idea of keeping her dangling entertained me.

  “What the hell are you doing?"

  "I'm hungry and this tray was sitting in your refrigerator untouched. Aren't you hungry?"

  I was, but that wasn't the point. "You should have asked. This isn't your home."

  She frowned, some of the little remaining light in her eyes going dim. "It's not your house either. But if you have a problem with me eating your food,”—she popped an olive into her mouth before she continued—"I'll order another and have it delivered to you immediately."

  "That won't be necessary."

  She grinned at me and began her struggle to open the wine bottle. I leaned forward and swiped both the bottle and the opener from her hands.

  "Hey!" She complained. "What the hell? Are you going to tell me I can't have the wine either? I'm not an eight-year-old child, you know."

  "Then don't pout like or sass like one." I twisted the screw into the cork and worked the levers until the stopper popped out. "I don't mind sharing my food or wine with you, but you should ask first. It's a matter of boundaries between you and I, and I think they are important."

  She defiantly popped another olive into her mouth and stared at me. Suddenly, I had a very strong urge to pull her over my knee and spank the hell out of her. Preferably until she cried—huge, wet tears—and begged me for forgiveness.

  "What are you saying, Ronin? You've got rules, and as your fiancée, I'm expected to follow them? Because you should know now, I suck at following rules."

  "You had no problem doing whatever your cop lover asked of you. Hell, you didn't even care who the fuck he was, as long as he got you off, right?"

  She choked and coughed, clearly unable to catch her breath.

  I smiled at her, pleased that I finally had her attention.

  "That's unfair. I didn't know because I didn't want to know. That doesn't make me ignorant, it makes me human."

  "No, it makes you fucking stupid." This was the part where she would try and justify her actions, and I couldn't begin to care about her excuses. "There's no telling what information you may have divulged to him in the throes of passion. You should be dead already for that kind of betrayal." I let my words sink in as I poured two glasses of wine.

  "Is that your plan, then? Kill me? Then why the hell did you stop my father? He could have done the job for you, and this farce would all be over."

  Her starchy backbone and inability to concede both infuriated me and turned me on. I was having a hard time keeping my mind on business when I thought about all the things I could do with her sassy mouth. It was my turn to stiffen my spine and remember what was at stake here. There wasn't as much time to indulge as I'd planned for.

  It was time to move up the timeline.

  "We're getting married in three days."

  Chapter 2

  Rock

  * * *

  I threaded the needle into the jagged skin of my father's arm. He’d shown up at my apartment looking like he'd gone ten rounds in a boxing ring and then got fed through a meat grinder. This particular cut was the nastiest. It could have been from a knife, but it looked more like something jagged had done the job. Probably a piece of broken glass.

  "I still think you should go to a professional to get this stitched up. I guarantee my work is going to leave a scar."

  JD, my father, and the Sins of Wrath motorcycle club president, narrowed his eyes at me and grunted. "You may not have noticed, since you haven't bothered to come home in a very long time, but I have plenty of scars, already. What's one fucking more?"

  It was true. Both statements. I'd hightailed it out of my hometown of Sultan, Washington a very long time ago and had no desire to ever return. And despite the blood still covering his skin and clothes, I could see the scarred tissue that seemed to crisscross his chest, arms and back. It worked around him like a road map of the life he led in a motorcycle club. A life I left behind for a reason.

  I remained silent and stitched up the deep cut. If he didn't care about scars or infection, who was I to give him shit? "You shouldn't have come here."

  "Why? Because you're a freaking Fed? Worried I might lead some bad motherfuckers to your lair?" He swiped the open bottle of tequila I'd left on the counter for him and took several long pulls before slamming it back down on the granite. "I'm not dumb enough to be followed, and neither are the rest of us."

  I glanced around the room at his motley
crew of gang-bangers. This was precisely why I had refused to take on motorcycle club cases. They hit too close to home and it was inevitable that one day this club would land on my doorstep uninvited. "I'm not worried about me. But this place is surveilled for my safety. Which means I'm going to have to explain your presence."

  "Tell them it's a fucking family reunion. Or did you manage to leave that juicy tidbit off your job application?" he sneered.

  "We both know I had to endure an intense background check before they let me step one foot near Quantico." The fact that they did, and I’d passed, was a minor miracle in and of itself.

  JD snorted. "I know you don't believe that, because I didn't raise a fool. Your background is precisely why they did let you in. They put that shit in the bank, knowing one day they'd come back to cash out."

  He wasn't wrong, but it wasn't something I wanted to dwell on. So instead, I kept my distance. The less I associated with the Sins of Wrath the more likely the brass would forget the association. Now they were about to get a big glaring reminder.

  "I'm happy to help you get patched up, but then you and the boys gotta leave. No offense, but being here with me is going to put a big-ass target on your back, and I can't afford to deal with that right now."

  "Too late. In case you didn't notice. Cullotta jumped me just to send you a message. We didn't plan on this, but the damage is done, and we're in it, whether you agree with that or not."