Enforcer

by Bell, Shanna

  She put her arms around his neck and returned his long, scorching kiss. This was her favorite place in the world—lips locked and skin to skin with Luciano Detta.

  “You’re my hero.”

  He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Marry her own corporate asshole? Like there was even anything to consider. “Yes, I will marry you, Luciano Detta.”

  As he deepened their kiss, she wondered how he would feel about a Star Wars-themed wedding.

  Dear romance lover,

  Thank you so much for taking a chance on me by reading “Bad romance: the Gambler”. Your support means the world to an indie author like me who doesn’t have a huge budget for promotions.

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  Upcoming book in the BAD ROMANCE series:

  “THE PLAYERS”

  HER…

  Never again will I let a man enslave me.

  Never again will I let fear rule me.

  I’m going to fake it until I make it, or crash and burn.

  THEM…

  She came.

  We saw.

  We will conquer.

  Game on…

  Author’s note: Trigger warning. This book contains some D/s elements and sexual traumas. If this offends you, please skip this one in the series.

  ***

  CLICK HERE to Pre order

  PROLOGUE

  from “the Players”

  CARMEN

  Everything hurt. Carmen shivered lying on the kitchen floor. The cold from the tiles seeped into her bones turning them into shards of ice. Yet, somehow, her cheek that wasn’t plastered onto the floor felt burning hot.

  Why couldn’t she move?

  Something dripped down her chin and got caught on her broken lips. Then she tasted it; blood.

  Her breath caught as the last gruesome hour of her life came back to her with the velocity of a Mack truck. Then she heard the most hated and feared sound in the universe; her husband’s voice.

  “There’s no more loyalty left in this world. You think you can just leave me? I’ve bought you, slut. Paid good money for your virgin body. You can’t leave me. You will never leave me!”

  Carmen’s head pounded. She tried to open her eyes, but her vision spun.

  Oh, God. She’d told her sister that she was going to leave Franco. Jazzy had left to get her a moving truck. Any minute now she could return. Carmen didn’t want Jazzy to get caught up in her mess. Jazzy wasn’t anything like her; she was brave, bold, and would fight Franco with her every breath.

  He will hurt her.

  She desperately tried to get a view of her surroundings, but all she could see were Franco’s boots through the slits of her eyes. He kept on talking, though she couldn’t make anything of his words anymore. There was a loud ringing in her head and it felt as if any second she could pass out.

  Still, like nails on a chalkboard, his voice penetrated through her foggy brain.

  “The cold, barren slut actually believed she could leave me.”

  Barren. Ah, yes, one of the reasons he hated her so much. The very thing he taunted her with.

  Another shiver went up her spine. Something, a dark, distant memory, scratched against the surface of her brain.

  No. I don’t want to remember. I want to forget the past ten years of my life. Please, God, take me to your kingdom. Let me have peace.

  Something crashed against the wall. From the sound of it, it must have been one of Franco’s whiskey glasses.

  Then she heard her sister’s voice.

  “Franco, please. Carmen’s bleeding. Let me call an ambulance.”

  Oh no, Jazzy was already here. Carmen tried to make a sound, warn her sister off, tell her to run and save herself. No one knew better than her how unpredictable Franco was when he got drunk. Or the monstrous things he was capable of. Another dark memory resurfaced but she quickly pushed it away. She’d vowed to never think back on the night he had finally broken her.

  Franco snorted. “Why? I didn’t shoot her. I just broke her leg, so she can’t fucking walk away.”

  “There’s a lot of blood, please.”

  It killed her to hear Jazzy’s pleading voice. She’d never heard her little sister beg for a thing in her life.

  I’m not going to let him break you too, sis.

  “Don’t know why she’s bleeding like that. She never did before.”

  For some reason, the mentioning of blood pushed their conversation into the background. She could feel it now. A cold, yet somehow still warm feeling from her belly all the way to her thighs. Her heart started pounding and she felt sick.

  No…

  The next second, when she heard Jazzy mention Franco had a gun, her heart froze. She forced herself to shut out her brain for all and everything but her sister’s safety. That was the only thing that mattered right now. Not her pain, not the tears streaming down her face for something that would never happen. The only thing she could think of was keeping Jazzy safe.

  I’m not going to fail you too, Jaz.

  When she re-opened her eyes, she saw that Franco had lifted Jazzy by her hair. Her anxiety level reached a peek when he waved a gun in her sister’s face.

  “You’re not taking her anywhere,” Franco snarled. “She’s mine. She will always be mine.”

  “Fuck you. She isn’t a piece of property you can just kick around. She’s a human being, you asshole.”

  Franco knocked Jazzy down, making her drop to her knees. Her sister’s gaze was immediately on her. Their eyes locked. Jazzy looked passed her though, to the window.

  Where was she looking at? What was she trying to tell her?

  Carmen silently screamed for Jazzy to run. She opened her mouth but she had no breath left to form words.

  Then Franco pointed his gun at Jazzy. Carmen’s brain almost short-circuited. A fire started in her belly, and she slowly pushed up on her good leg.

  A jeans-clad figure suddenly stormed into her vision, knocking Franco away from Jazzy.

  Tommie…

  Thank God for blue-haired miracles.

  Carmen could hear the men struggle on the floor, as she forced her legs to move. Her arms finally came back to life and she pushed herself into a sitting position.

  A shot went off and she froze. Franco got up, leaving a bleeding Tommie on the floor.

  The devil always rises again…

  Jazzy yelled and launched herself at Franco, getting in hits wherever she could land a kick and a punch. The gun clattered onto the floor, but Carmen was in no condition to look for it. She crawled to the nearest-by cabinet and pulled herself up.

  Jazzy managed to kick Franco against a wall. Pots, pans, and all kinds of cutlery dropped onto the floor. The metallic sound made her head pound, almost knocking her back on her knees, but she couldn’t give up. Not while Franco kept storming toward Jazzy.

  She grabbed the first sharp object she could get her hands on.

  Butcher’s knife.

  Perfect.

  She slowly neared Franco’s back. Just as he was about to punch Jazzy again, she struck.

  It wasn’t like in the movies; there was no blood pouring out of his back like a fountain. Instead, she heard a sick thud as the knife lodged into his lower back and hit bone.

  With all her might she tried to pull it out, just so she could strike again, afraid she hadn’t finished him. Unfortunately, the knife was stuck. Sheer adrenaline kept her on her feet. The second Franco dropped onto his face, her body swayed and she fell behind him. Within seconds, she sat in a circle of blood.

  Not all of it is his
…

  Her hand went to her flat tummy and she gagged.

  I’m so sorry, little one. So sorry I let him snuff the life out of you before you could even blossom.

  She couldn’t look away from Franco’s body, afraid that the second she unlocked her gaze he would rise again. He always came back to torment her.

  Jazzy hurried over to Tommie who seemed to have a gunshot wound to his shoulder. Carmen couldn’t see for herself, because that would require her to look away from Franco. If she looked away, he might get up and hurt people again. After all, he had survived a mafia war, an attempted assassination, even a car bomb, but always landed back on his feet.

  She needed to make sure he would never get up again. Because this time it wasn’t only her he would go after. Jazzy had defied him and once Franco got back his strength, he would kill her. He wouldn’t care that her sister had married a man far more dangerous than he could handle. He believed women to be beneath him. Considered them to be dolls; to be played with, to be broken whenever he deemed fit.

  She had to make sure he was dead. Then the ringing in her head started again and her vision got blurry. Jazzy was yelling something at her, but she couldn’t make out any words.

  Her last thought before the world faded into black was that Franco had vowed that she’d never be freed from him.

  I will find a way.

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