by Sasha Leone
VICIOUS ANGEL
Criminal Sins Book 2
Sasha Leone
Also by Sasha Leone
Criminal Sins
Envy
Vicious Angel
The Savage Royalty Series
Trapped With You
Koralev Bratva Duet
Vowed to the Bratva Boss (Book 1)
Broken From The Bratva (Book 2)
Other Standalones
Blood Bound
Copyright © 2020 by Sasha Leone
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design by Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations
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Contents
1. Catalina
2. Angel
3. Catalina
4. Angel
5. Catalina
6. Angel
7. Catalina
8. Angel
9. Catalina
10. Angel
11. Angel
12. Catalina
13. Angel
14. Catalina
15. Angel
16. Catalina
17. Angel
18. Catalina
19. Angel
20. Angel
21. Catalina
22. Angel
23. Catalina
24. Angel
25. Catalina
26. Angel
27. Catalina
28. Angel
29. Catalina
30. Angel
31. Catalina
32. Angel
33. Catalina
About the Author
Also by Sasha Leone
1
Catalina
The jungle is dark and thick and lonely.
Over the past year, I’ve made this harsh journey dozens of times, but it never gets any easier—in fact, every step I take grows heavier and harder.
I’m a mother without a child, a partner without her man; I’m lost in a sea of sharp tangled vines and impenetrable blackness. The future is unseeable, even on a small, familiar trek like this. Will my light at the end of the tunnel still be waiting when I arrive? After we’ve shared our tiny fleeting moment together, will I ever be able to return again?
I’m risking both of our lives just to get a sliver of bliss... but this isn’t just any sliver of bliss. It’s primal; maternal; necessary.
I’ve escaped my captor to go see my baby, and if I’m found out before I can sneak back into my cage, then we’re both as good as dead.
Howler monkeys wail through the jungle canopy above. Earlier in the night, the white light of a crescent moon had washed through my locked bedroom window, but now, it’s all but gone. A small pencil thin flashlight is my only source of illumination. Spiny branches scratch along every inch of my body as I push through the pain and the fear and the uncertainty, until, finally, after what seems like hours, I see the faint glow of an orange bulb swinging outside of a deep jungle outpost. My heart expands in a Pavlovian response; the howler monkeys vanish as my ears rush with blood. It hardly matters how tired I am, I sprint the entire remaining distance.
“Lady...” I whisper, rapping my knuckles against the weathered steel door. Despite the loudness of the jungle behind me, every sound I make seems to echo endlessly through the air, like a grand beacon exposing my location to every enemy I’ve ever feared.
There’s no response.
I try knocking a little louder. My big heart races and the blood that was in my ears is called on to support my heaving chest.
Come on, Lady. Answer. Please.
I ball up my fist and cock back my arm, emotion taking over any attempt at subtlety. These treacherous journeys of mine are too hard to go unrewarded. My mind might shatter if I go too long without seeing what I came to see, without holding what I came to hold, without soothing what I came to...
Before I can slam my fist against the door, a quiet click freezes me into place. I stand, hand raised in the suffocating night air like a tragic Greek statue, as the doorknob begins to rattle, free from my touch.
“Lady?” I shake away the fear and try my best to put on a calm demeanour. Fear is infectious, and the last thing I want to do is corrupt the pure innocence that should be waiting for me on the other side of this creaking door.
“Ms. Catalina?” A flood of relief bursts over my trembling heart at the familiar voice. The first hug of the night goes to the kindly old maid who is risking her life to help protect my child.
We don’t linger on each other for long, it’s too dangerous to waste a single second. “In, in,” Lady waves me inside. She shuts the door behind us and the clanging metal echoes through the damp cement box.
“How is he?” I ask, almost unable to—anything worse than a ‘magnificent’ might kill me.
“He is fine. I make sure he gets enough sleep so that he will be awake when his mother arrives.” Lady is a saint and one of the few saving graces I’ve been able to find in my life since a certain vicious Angel tore it to shreds.
His shrapnel green eyes and faintly dimpled smile creep to the front of my mind, but I quickly push his image back down into the depths of my consciousness. He’s the last person I need to be thinking of now. Our son is most important—and, if there were a second most important character to focus on, it wouldn’t be Angel, but, rather, his evil younger brother, my current captor, Dante Montoya. Any slip up around the wicked prince means misery for me and everyone I care about.
I can’t let that happen.
Lady is decades older than me and not quite as fast as I would prefer. I won’t have all night, and the only thing keeping me from sprinting ahead of the saintly old maid is the fact that I don’t know where we’re going.
This old jungle outpost has underground tunnels that lead to every corner of Colombia. From what I’ve been told, it was built during the revolution to ferry spies and soldiers off to their missions; after that, it was used to smuggle drugs and weapons and people. Now, it’s abandoned, and the only people who know its twists and turns are those who’ve taken an oath to safeguard my precious Oscar.
My son. Oscar Luis Alzate.
Oscar Luis Alzate-Montoya.
Those who have sworn to protect him make sure to change his location every night, just to be safe. It kills me to not know where my baby is at any given hour, but I also know it’s for the best. If I don’t know, then no one close to Dante will know, and the further that monster is from any knowledge of my son, the better. In fact, he doesn’t even know Oscar exists... and I plan to keep it that way.
“This way, dear,” Angel’s old maid shuffles ahead through the dripping cement tubes and under the flickering fluorescent lightbulbs until we reach a crossroads. We go a different direction every time I visit, and tonight’s no exception. Lady turns down an entryway I’ve never been through before and we pick up speed as the ground tilts downwards.
“How has he been?” I ask. My chest is heaving and my breaths are stilted from exertion but I need to know. A mother always needs to know.
“Good, good,” Lady assures me, keeping her eyes forward, constantly on the lookout for danger. She’s a g
ood woman, and I’d trust her with my life; but more importantly, I’m trusting her with my infant son’s life. “He’s healthy and active and learning more every day.”
My heart breaks. It’s good news—my baby is growing like any normal child should—but he’s doing it all without me by his side. I’m missing out on these vital moments of his life and there isn’t anything I can do to change it, not if I want to keep him safe.
Lady stops in front of a nearly invisible door and I skid to a halt right behind her. She looks furtively down each end of the long cement tube we just stumbled down before knocking exactly three times.
Then, we wait.
Down here, there are no howler monkeys or cicadas to mask the tense silence. Somewhere, in the distance, water leaks from a pipe, but other than that, we are completely alone.
Until the doorknob starts to shake.
I’ve been through this process before, but it never gets easier. My heart clenches and my nerves tighten. Every muscle in my body is flexed so hard that if I had any mind to think about it, I might be worried that I was about to snap—but my wellbeing is the furthest thing from my mind right now. All I can think about is...
“Oscar!” My voice rattles down the empty cement walls as Lady and I are bathed in a box of gentle yellow light.
I ignore the man who opened the door for us, instead rushing past him to the perfect angel sleeping in a white crib at the far side of the new room.
My surroundings bleed away as I sweep Oscar up in my arms. His cotton onesie is soft and his puffy chipmunk cheeks are a rosy shade of red. I smother him in kisses, trying to be as gentle as possible. My heart wants him to wake up, but my brain knows that he needs his rest. He’s growing so much, and so quickly, I don’t want to be selfish...
As though he can sense my longing, Oscar’s eyelids flutter open and his emerald green eyes bathe me in a blanket of happiness.
He smiles and all of my pain and fear instantly evaporates. “Mama’s here,” I whisper, my voice breaking with emotion.
Ozzy gurgles and reaches up a stubby little finger. I lean over and let him trace the contours of my face. “Mama,” he laughs.
Relief caresses my shaking heart. He hasn’t forgotten me, not yet. I’m still his mama.
“Catalina,” the deep voice places a thick reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you, Juan,” I whisper, unable to take my eyes off of my baby boy.
“How are you holding up?” Angel’s old advisor gently steps around Ozzy and I before collapsing down onto a ratty couch by the crib. He sounds exhausted.
“I’m fine,” I say, and in this moment it’s the truth. The reality that I’m still a prisoner hardly factors into my mood at all; either does the fact that I’m all alone in my parenthood. Ozzy’s father hasn’t been heard from in almost two years now, and I’ve long since stopped hoping that he ever might return. My concentration needs to be fully focused on the safety of my child and myself. If Angel ever returns, then I will deal with him, but until that time comes, there is no peace in thinking about the vanquished prince I once gave myself to.
That doesn’t stop him from seeping up to the front of my mind any time I feel weak, though. His strong arms and muscular chest so often tease comfort when I’m at my darkest points, but when my senses return, I realize that the hope of his return is futile. All I can control is my own life, and even then, I’m only in control of so little of it...
But I don’t want to think about that right now. I don’t want to think about my captivity or my captor, I don’t want to think about going back to my cage and I definitely don’t want to think about Angel.
Right now, I’m with my son, and life is perfect; the fact that it won’t last hardly figures into it. Ozzy makes me happy, and all of this pain and suffering is worth it if it keeps him safe.
2
Angel
For the first time in nearly two years, I breathe in Colombian air.
It tastes just like I remember.
Below, in the distance, the Cali lights blink and sparkle just like I remember. Above, the same stars I grew up under shine down on me just like I remember.
But none of it feels like I remember; none of it feels like home.
Not without Catalina.
“How are you feeling, boss?”
“I’ve been worse,” I mumble, stretching up to the night sky, glad to finally be free from my dark, cramped backseat box. My men insisted that I hide away for the duration of our trip over the border, and I took their concerns seriously, even if I may have doubted them at first.
Dante is my brother, I know him; he’s never been so vigilant about anything in his life, why would he start now? But it quickly became clear that everything has changed.
We were stopped countless times on our way into Cali, and we were even almost searched on a few of those occasions. The countryside is littered with checkpoints, disguised under the legitimate veil of military operations and government concerns. An election is fast approaching, and the country has never been so precariously perched.
The underbelly that I once held in check is unstable at best. Dante may be succeeding in keeping me away, but it doesn’t appear that he’s doing a great job at holding everything else together.
Good. That gives me an opportunity. I’ll take full advantage of that, but first, I need to rescue my girl from his slimy grip.
“Thanks for the help, hombre,” I say to the brawny young man at my side. Jesus Medina. He’s a low-level enforcer from the countryside, but when I take back control, he’s going to be one of my generals.
“It was my pleasure, Mr. Montoya,” he replies. “What else can we do to help?”
I look back at the car full of misfits who helped get me here. They will all be rewarded, but right now I have personal business to take care of, personal business that I need to handle alone.
“Don’t linger too far from the city,” I tell Jesus. “Things happen quickly around here, and when I call, I want you ready, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. That will be all for now.”
Jesus seems confused by my dismissal. His curious eyes dart from me down to the sparkling city below. “You’re going alone?” His nose scrunches up in bewilderment.
“It’s the only way forward.”
“Are you sure? We can help, boss—” I raise my palm to the young man and he stops in his tracks. I know he’s just eager to help, to play his part in my reckoning, but that will come later; right now, I need to operate on my own.
“Thank you for your help, Jesus,” I look past him towards the car. “Boys,” I nod. “Thank you. I will not forget what you’ve done for me, and there is more to come... but right now, I am ordering you to stand back. Right now, your mission is to wait for my signal. Can you follow my orders?”
Every last head nods in understanding. I place my hand on Jesus’s shoulder. He can’t be more than five years younger than me, but he looks like a child in my eyes. “You’re going to go far, kid, I’ll make sure of it. Just be patient.”
He nods and we shake hands. The boys in the car wave and I turn away, ready for the fight of my life.
Taking back my empire is a task that I won’t be able to do alone, but rescuing my girl is something that I can only do by myself.
The time has come to make my final push. My sources tell me that Dante plans to marry Catalina. I’m not going to let that happen. I can’t let it happen.
I’m coming for you, little bird, and this time, I’m not stopping until you’re in my arms—I don’t care if I have to burn down this whole country to get it done, we will be together again.
I promise.
Streetlights flicker over the empty Cali streets.
Trash lines the sidewalks and pot holes litter the pavement. The slums nearly sink into the side of the hill. I don’t miss the destitution of this place, but I know it’s probably the safest path to take. No one cares about these poor areas, let alone someone as s
heltered as Dante.
Sure, we once lived in squalor like this, but my little brother seems to have long since forgotten what we rose from. Before he decided to play king, he would use our accrued wealth to jet set around the world like a senator’s son. I never thought he’d change, especially so drastically. So, what the hell got into him?
... Enzo Barella.
The cunning puppet master tugged at my cruel brother’s strings and found just the right way to play him.
Enzo knew I was too strong to handle directly, so he had to undermine me and put someone he could manipulate on the throne. There was only one person he could do that with: my little brother, the fool.
But being played doesn’t excuse Dante’s betrayal. Still, I haven’t decided on whether or not I’ll kill him for it. Hell, I don’t know if I even can. He’s the only blood relative I have left, but he’s taken everything from me, and for such selfish reasons. Envy. Ignorance. Hate. I remember the speech he gave me in the flames at my old compound. Everything was always given to you... If only he knew how much work I did while he slept, while he played with his friends, while he was off terrorizing girls.
I guess the grass is always greener on the other side, because I was often somewhat envious of him, too. Here he was, an orphan who had the luck of finding a fortune with me. Dante barely had to lift a finger for it, yet he still got all the benefits.
