Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Part 1
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Part 2
News Article
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
News Article
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
News Article
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
News Article
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Part 3
Chapter Thirty-Six
Epilogue
Coming Soon
Other Books By Sloane Howell
About The Author
Acknowledgements
Copyright © 2015 by Sloane Howell
Edited by Celia Aaron
Stock Photos courtesy of Shutterstock.com
Font by Pi Luo Chiu
Cover design by Sloane Howell
www.sloanehowell.com
All rights reserved
This ebook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.
For all the mothers out there, biological or not, who are the real superheroes.
Jesus Christ this guy can fuck. Shame he has to die.
I bucked my hips on Damon's stiff cock as it explored the depths of me. Veins bulged across his broad chest and his abs tensed as he tugged against the ropes I'd tied to his wrists.
He flashed a devilish grin in my direction. "You like that fucking dick?"
My hand tore through the air and slapped the shit out of the cocky son of a bitch. The bright pink finger marks on the side of his cheek brought a smile to my face. I bent over and dug my nails into his scalp, then slid my breasts up his hard pecs.
"Shut the fuck up and make me come." My voice turned to a throaty whisper. "Now, bitch."
I leaned back, grinding my pelvis into him. My tits bounced as my ass clapped into his muscular thighs and my pussy spasmed around his thick shaft.
"That's it, you dirty fucker." He filled me to the brim as my wetness dripped to the sheets. Nerve firings were building in my clit and radiating to my inner thighs. Vaulted ceilings amplified the sound of the headboard banging into the wall. The din seemed to fuel Damon as he drilled into me. The black wig on my head draped around my shoulders and danced to the rhythm of his cock.
The smell of sweaty lust lingered as the tension in my core erupted into my extremities.
"Fuck!" I shuddered on his hard prick.
I convulsed as the orgasm ripped through my body. My hips jolted and I clamped down on him like a vise. Freezing on top of him, my toes curled and my thighs dug into his ribs as I struggled to breathe.
When my body released, I stared down to him. His eyes met mine.
"Shit was good, huh?" He smiled.
"It was okay."
His beaming gaze transformed to a puzzled frown. Beads of sweat dripped from his flaring nostrils and his breathing intensified. He lurched at me, eyes full of hate, powerful arms ready to inflict pain. The restraints tightened, jarring him backward. I didn't so much as flinch, fueling his rage even more.
"Okay? You stupid bitch!" Anger lit his eyes, but I had him trapped under me.
"Will you stop being a pussy and shut the fuck up? I'm trying to think here." I scanned the room, looking for any information that might be important.
The idiot between my thighs was no longer of use.
"You know your ass is dead talking to me that way, right? You need to suck this fucking dick off and take your ass home before I beat the shit—"
I put a finger to his lips. "Oh my god, you are a whiny little bastard aren't you?"
"You fucking bitch. I'm going to beat the fucking—"
I gripped his head and snapped his neck. Hard. I heard the familiar pop and his torso went limp, his arms dangling from the bedposts.
Leaning down, I kissed him on the forehead. "Your dick will be truly missed."
Sliding off the bed, I pulled on my tight black leather pants and a form-fitting shirt. My lacy black mask was next. I slipped it over my eyes and tied it in the back. A gothic floral design covered the majority of my face. I grabbed my steel knives and strapped them to my waist before turning to his lifeless body.
"Oh damn, sweets." I smirked. “I didn't even get you off. You were right. I really am a bitch."
I was right on schedule.
The bedroom door creaked when I eased it open. Goddamn it. On the floor below, two guards conversed, each holding a Kalashnikov. I crept swiftly down the long hallway, blending with the shadows, remaining hidden without making a sound. Just like I’d been taught.
The compound was massive and I had assholes to kill. I’d planned this job thoroughly, studying guard movements, watching the place, and hacking their security feeds.
Guard seven went on break at the same time every night, and I needed to be in position in five minutes to capitalize on that fact.
As I neared the monitoring room there was more security than usual. Every one of these fucks was a former member of the military. The Family — an unrivaled criminal enterprise backed by corporate interests — required experienced killers. The guards exceeded these requirements. Even so, the Family had its weaknesses.
Damon had been the Family’s black sheep, stupid and easily manipulated. He'd been kept on the payroll as a low-level boss to stay quiet and out of Family business. It took me roughly 48 hours to seduce him, the fact that he was hot and fucked like a beast an added bonus.
More and more guards were amassing near my target. I paused against the wall as a handful walked past, their guns slung across their shoulders. They didn’t see me, but they were still a problem.
Fuck. I hadn't planned on this many guards. Where the hell were they all coming from?
Once they were out of sight, I weaved through the Santa Fe style estate that seemed to span for miles. I had a goal, a target, but I needed to stick to the plan.
Guard seven was still inside the monitoring room when I got there. Everything was going to hell, including this poor bastard.
Too late to turn back, I had to think on my feet. I tapped lightly on the monitoring room door. Guard seven sprang from his seat as I heard two sets of footsteps approaching around the corner. Once someone discovered the stiff prick upstairs, it wouldn't be long before the alarm sounded.
When guard seven opened the door I kicked high and hard, a sharp blade shooting from the toe of my boot and piercing his neck. I yanked the blade from the fresh wound, jammed my finger into his torn artery, and pressed my lips seductively to his as the other guards appeared.
"Get a room, Jesus." They kept walking. My ruse had worked.
When I pulled my finger from my victim, he gurgled and choked. He shuddered, clutching at his throat, gasping for air as fluid filled his lungs. I stared into his surprised eyes as he slid down the wall, crumpling to the floor in a pool of his own blood. I smiled, knowing there was one less sack of shit in the world.
Cool air from a fan washed over my cheeks as I darted into the secure room. I scanned the monitors. Each had a single female in view. My heart dropped into my stomach. The stakes of the mission were front and center in my mind as the sounds of computers and surveillance equipment buzzed around me. I leaned down to my black leather boots and pressed a button. A USB drive popped out the side with a soft click. I grabbed it and shoved it into the main computer.
A bright green status bar began to fill on the central monitor. "Come on, come on, you fucker."
A siren rang through the compound. I stepped into the hallway, my head on a swivel. Footsteps hammered the ground overhead, rushing from Damon's room.
"Guess they found the asshole." I smirked.
I snapped back to the monitor. When it reached "100%" a loud buzz sounded and all the doors down the hall slid open.
Showtime, bitches.
Whimpers came from the rooms as I sprinted silently down the narrow, dimly lit corridor. Mildew and body odor filled my nostrils. It was like a rancid locker room. My shoes squeaked on the dark tiles of the modern dungeon as I stopped at each open door. Frightened eyes met mine as the prisoners cowered and no doubt expected beatings or worse.
Someone barked commands on the floor above, but I couldn't make out the words. The black soundproofed walls held in the screams, but were equally resistant to sounds coming from outside.
The rooms were holding cells for a dozen girls—all white with blonde hair. They were caged like animals waiting for slaughter. Most likely orphans or prostitutes, they’d no doubt been snatched off the streets and traded like stocks. Human trafficking was the number one moneymaker for the Family. I planned to fuck that bull market right in the ass.
"Follow me, hurry!" I yelled.
When I reached the end of the corridor I turned to verify that all twelve girls were following me. Once satisfied no one had been left behind, I led them to the end of another hallway. I stopped at a corner and shot my arm out beside me, blocking the girls from going any farther.
I turned to them, their eyes wide, and pressed a finger to my lips as some of the security team flew by.
I saw the horror in the girls. The terror of captivity and torture. I recognized it because I knew it intimately.
We ran to the end of the hall. I opened a set of doors and guided us through a narrow alley. Twenty-foot-high concrete walls loomed on both sides, caging us in as surely as these girls' cells did only moments before. The alley opened to a large courtyard surrounded by a fence topped with razor wire. Our freedom sat 100 yards away, through an opening I had cut in the fence. A black van waited on the other side, hidden in the night from the massive spotlights snaking around the front of the estate.
We dashed forward, stopping at the manicured grass that filled the courtyard. A watchtower sat atop the end of each wall. Guards with fifty caliber rifles manned the spotlights. I whipped two knives from my belt and heaved them simultaneously into the air, connecting with both gunmen.
I knew what was coming as I turned to the girls. They watched as the guards toppled from their posts. "Don't say a word."
The men slammed into the ground in front of us, knives protruding from their necks, blood pulsing from the wounds.
Two of the girls began to shriek and I clamped my hands over their mouths.
"Shh!" I didn't want to hurt them, but two dead was better than all of us.
Once satisfied they were under control, I motioned to the waiting van. The girls took off. Their tattered white t-shirts fluttered in the wind as they sprinted toward the vehicle, freedom locked in their sights. But one girl froze, her senses shocked, body stiff as a board. Her face was ashen, sweat beads forming on her forehead as tremors rippled through her.
"We have to go! Now!" I shook the shit out of her.
She didn’t move. Several guards appeared in the alley behind us, their guns drawn, staring in disbelief at the getaway in progress.
"Fuck."
I stepped between the stricken girl and the men. The girl seemed to have snapped out of it after a couple of hard shakes, but instead of getting her shit together, she was trembling and crying uncontrollably.
"It's her!" The guards advanced.
"I don't suppose you boys are here to fuck me?" I didn't bother to hide my smile.
"Shoot them!"
They raised their automatic rifles but it was too late. I swept the back of the girl's legs, sending her tumbling to the ground in a smooth motion. I rushed back into the alley toward the armed men and sprinted up the side of the wall. I hurled three knives into the chaos. Blood exploded from three of the guards as they dropped, clutching at the weapons sunk deep in their flesh.
I pirouetted off the wall, blades extending from both boots as I twirled through the air. I sliced through one man's back, his howls of pain music to my ears. The other blade embedded and then cut through another's jugular. The blades retracted before I hammered into the ground, landing in the middle of the pack, inches from one guard's face.
"Oh hello, love." My lips pressed into his as I kicked another guard in the throat. I pulled away, biting on his lower lip before releasing it.
"Guns? Whips would have been better." I tossed him a wink and palmed two silver blades.
Bodies dropped as I whipped and spun, every strike mauling a vital organ, painting a masterpiece in blood. When there was nothing but a pile of bodies I returned to the girl. She stared in disbelief. I pulled the waif into a sitting position.
When she turned to me, awe lit her blue eyes. It was the first time I'd slowed long enough for anyone to look at me. "It's you. Y-you're the Matriarch."
I heard a small army of guards approaching, the sounds of their footsteps telling me it was time to go. I threw the girl, still bewildered, over my shoulder and hauled ass toward the opening in the fence.
Bullets sliced past us as we flew through the hole and dove head first into the van. Crashing inside, I yanked the door closed.
"Go!"
The old man behind the wheel hammered the gas and we blasted down the road, disappearing into the night.
"Maggie, let's go."
I eased down the staircase. The walls were bare where our pictures once hung. The photos were all stuffed in boxes and shipped off to a storage unit God knows where. I had only been allowed to keep a few.
The house was a skeleton of what was once a body full of life and love. Two men kicked up dust while removing contents I'd always thought were permanent. The chair where Dad always sat to read. The table where we ate every family meal together.
I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the hollow rooms. The home was cold and empty as I readied myself to say goodbye.
Slouched at the shoulders and examining the floor, I dawdled toward my parents Brian and Sarah. My twelve-year-old twin brother Kyle stood next to them over the threshold.
"Don't make me go." I glared at the ground and picked at my cuticles. "I don't want to leave. Grandpa is here. What about Grandpa?"
My father knelt down, his lean, muscular frame weary. His brown eyes met mine and he brushed my hair from my cheek. His face was smooth and framed by chocolate-colored locks. His eyes locked onto mine and were less comforting than usual as his tan skin wrinkled around his mouth. His smile could light up a room but his frown could silence one just as easily. Lately, it was more of the latter
.
He seemed hell bent on ruining my childhood. He was my hero and yet I could barely look at him. I clenched my fists as a tinge of fiery red seeped into my cheeks.
"We've been through this, Maggie. Grandpa understands. It's a sacrifice we have to make. People need our help. The church has never been able to get anyone placed in Golem. It might be their only chance to hear about Jesus." He had no anger, just resignation – a feeling I didn’t share.
I folded my arms and stared at Mom. "You and Dad have lost it. Giving all my stuff away. This isn't fair."
I tried to fight back the tears. I failed. This was where I belonged, where we all belonged, but Mom and Dad refused to see it.
Dad held out his hand. I took it reluctantly as we stepped through the front door with nothing but a few suitcases.
Dad started the car and I wanted to jump out and run back to the house, back to where we should be. But the car moved forward. My house grew smaller as I watched through the back window. A highlight reel of happy moments played through my mind on a loop: Christmases, Thanksgivings, running through the door with my report card. Who were we giving all this up for? I didn't know, but I knew that I hated them.
Kyle had been quiet. It was as if he’d given up, accepted that this was the way things were. But he wasn’t sad about it, not like I was. Why was my best friend so indifferent? He should be furious. Like me. I leered at his sandy mop of hair and playful grin.
"Aren't you mad?"
He shrugged. "Don't know."
"Won't you miss the house?"
"I guess."
Why was I the only one who cared? Why didn't anyone ask me what I thought? What I wanted? I turned to the window and folded my arms, hating my family as much as I hated the new home I'd yet to see. I occasionally sighed to remind them of my presence and the pain they were inflicting.
Ominous gray clouds littered the sky as we pulled into the airport parking lot. Kyle's eyes widened at the rows of planes symmetrically spaced at each terminal with large beige tunnels attached. When dad opened the car door for me, the hot, heavy air assaulted my face and a hint of noxious jet fuel crept down my throat. My nose twitching, I clenched my fists.
The Matriarch: An Erotic Superhero Romance (The Matriarch Trilogy Book 1) Page 1
