Vicious Angel: A Dark Mafia Romance (Criminal Sins Book 2)

by Sasha Leone

  But first, I need to get to him.

  Mendoza had said that Juan usually goes home after sun down. Back when Juan worked for me, it hardly seemed like he ever went home. Things are different with Dante, though. My little brother apparently only calls on Juan when he actively needs something from him. I, on the other hand, kept my advisor close at all times, and not just because he was good at nipping problems in the bud...

  Almost on cue, the familiar crackle of distant fireworks, mixed in with a bit of unruly gunfire for confusion, sputters up from the west. I sprint through the thick jungle, not willing to risk missing my chance.

  The sound of Juan’s security forces racing towards the scene of my planned diversion hits my ears before the sight of the modest villa complex greets my eyes. I crouch behind a big thick bush and prepare. Dune buggies dash by my hiding spot, followed closely by wolf packs of heavily-armed men. It seems like an excessive response to a bunch of fireworks, but from what I can tell, there’s a sense of uneasiness about the scrambling group.

  Everyone looks on edge. Word of my little underworld rampage must be gaining traction. Good. I want everyone to be afraid. As long as I don’t leave any witnesses, none of it will come back to me.

  When the last wave of security fades into the distance, I make a beeline for the nearest monument. A ten-foot high white marble statue of a cherub covers my presence as I make sure my pistol is loaded.

  A group of five or so men open a nearby sliding door and sprint from the house. I holster my gun and slip out my switchblade, and then, when I see them disappear behind the front gate, I make my move for the door.

  It’s unlocked. Fools.

  Part of me is angry at the men for being so careless. I didn’t get a good look at any of their faces, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were former employees of mine. Were the people who worked for me always so incompetent? It wouldn’t shock me anymore—in fact, it might bring me some closure. So far, I’ve been carrying the full weight of my failure without any help, without anyone to truly blame but myself, but if my men were just lazy slobs...

  Then that just means you didn’t train them right. There’s no running from responsibility anymore. These failures are mine to carry and mine to rectify, and my path to redemption starts here and now.

  The inside of Juan’s villa isn’t as quiet as I had hoped it would be. Footsteps pound over the ceiling and I’m forced to duck into the shadows as a small group of men bolt around a nearby corner. It’s already clear that I’m not going to have much time in here, but I won’t need long—I just need to extract Juan and get him back to my car. If I have to use him as a human shield to do that, then so be it. I pull down my ski mask and wait for another opening.

  The rushing footsteps on the ceiling slowly dissipate and I make a push for the nearest staircase. From what I remember about my old advisor, he always liked to work from the highest floor of whatever building he was in. A skyscraper would have him in the clouds while he schemed, but a three-story villa would have him on the third floor. So, that’s where I head.

  My path up the stairs goes smoothly, and by the time I’m at the first door on the top floor a growing suspicion has started to drag me down.

  This is easy. Too easy.

  Could Juan be playing me?

  I’m in too far to go back now, so instead of second guessing myself, I start checking the doors down the empty hallway.

  Bathroom. Bedroom. Another bedroom...

  Bingo. The second I see the messy desk through the slit in the doorway, I burst in, gun raised.

  But no one’s there.

  Fuck.

  I frantically search the little room for signs of a trap door. Nothing. The closets are empty, too. No one hides under the desk.

  I’ve been played.

  There’s a tiny gold statue of a lion on Juan’s desk. Without thinking, I grab it and whip it towards the door, desperate to release the anger that threatens to overwhelm me.

  The gilded paperweight hits the edge of the door with a thud, and the heavy wood slams shut. I go to grab something else to destroy, but before I can turn back to the desk, something catches my eye.

  ... A giant note is pinned to the back of the office door. My anger cools as the rational side of me returns through the veil of curiosity. For some reason, I feel like the note is written to me.

  Men bark orders outside as I approach the piece of paper attached to the wooden door. If I had been calm enough to search this place properly from the start, it would have been too big to miss, but I was stuck in tunnel vision—Catalina seems to do that to me.

  Jungle creatures—tigers and birds alike—meet where the forest overcomes the fire.

  That’s what the note says. Somehow, I immediately know what it means.

  Footsteps pound down the hallway outside the office. I tug down my ski mask and rip out my gun.

  Throwing that gilded paperweight was stupid—I’ve been overly focused on my mission to rescue Cat—Juan’s message has opened my eyes, though. If I’m ever going to reclaim my throne, I’m going to have to start acting like a king again. A king doesn’t make stupid mistakes out of anger; he can’t, or else he falls.

  I’m done with falling, now is my time to rise again. Now is the time of my re-ascension.

  The office door rips open and I fill the hallway with bullets.

  Howler monkeys wail in the distance and cicadas sing their chorus as I step through the rubble of my old castle.

  The jungle has already reclaimed most of it. Vines crawl over the crumbled stone and big leafy trees rise up higher than any remaining structure.

  The skeleton of the once great compound fills me with a sadness that I force away. This is where I lost everything, but this is also where I’ve come in the hopes of regaining it all.

  ... Unless Juan is just playing with me again.

  For some reason, I trust my interpretation of his office note. There was no malice in it, no cruelty. It was a message for me, a hand reaching out through the darkness—at least, that’s what I hope. But hope can be so dangerous.

  Jungle creatures—tigers and birds alike—meet where the forest overcomes the fire.

  I’m the tiger. Catalina’s the bird. Here, in the ruins of my old compound, the jungle has overtaken the fire that burned my legacy to the ground. It’s here where the phoenix shall rise, where I shall rise...

  It’s where Juan should be waiting for me.

  “Hello, old friend.”

  The silver fox stands on top of a half-crumbled wall, silhouetted by the moonlight. From my spot on the ground below, I can’t make out his face, but I recognize that voice. It’s Juan Arias alright.

  He has his gun pointed right at me.

  I scan the quiet ruins, half-expecting a small army to come out to detain me, but nothing moves.

  “Where are your men?” I demand, not nearly as worried as I should be. Despite being under Juan’s gun, there’s a temperament about him that has me thinking this won’t be our final meeting.

  “It’s just you and me,” Juan says, softly.

  “Bullshit,” I growl. “You wouldn’t be so stupid to meet me here all alone.”

  “I’m not alone,” Juan says, shifting enough in place so that I can catch the look on his face. A sorrowful grin crosses his weathered features as he gestures towards the gun he has pointed in my direction.

  I can’t help but laugh. “You were never one to get your hands dirty. Where’s the sniper that will put a bullet between my eyes if I upset you?”

  Juan chuckles along. “My hands are far from clean, Angel,” He jumps down from his spot on the wall and disappears into the dark shadow it casts.

  For a second, I tense up. My fist is eager to reach for the gun tucked under my belt, but then Juan reappears, and his gun is by his side, no longer pointed at me.

  That’s a mistake. We both know I’m quick enough to get a shot off before he could raise his weapon to shoot back. But I’m too curious to kill this basta
rd just yet. Plus, an annoying little voice in the back of my head is drilling a seed of hope into my brain.

  He’s on your side...

  No, impossible. He’s working for my brother.

  “You look as good as ever,” Juan smiles, stopping some fifteen yards away from me. The heavy humid air that’s been swirling around the country lately is blocked out by the ruins. It’s quiet here, and deathly still.

  “You look like hell,” I snap back. It’s not a lie. Juan looks like I feel, like he’s been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for the past two years. “I guess working for someone like Dante will do that to you.”

  “I only work for your brother in name,” Juan says, his soft smile dropping for a more serious scowl.

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “It means I do his bidding... as long as it benefits me.”

  “So, you’re not denying that you’re a traitor?”

  Juan sighs. “Unfortunately not, but I can explain.”

  A younger me might have ripped out my gun and shot him where he stands the moment he confessed, but I’ve had time to mature over the past two years, to think. I’m not going to make my mistake with the gilded lion again.

  Juan must know where Catalina is. So, he’s of much more use to me alive than dead.

  “Go on, then. Explain.” I urge him.

  To my surprise, Juan holsters his gun and raises his hands. “I thought it might be you, finally returned from your exile, who was killing so many of Dante’s men, but I didn’t dare hope...”

  “You wanted me back?”

  “We both did.”

  My heart stops. “... You’ve been talking to Catalina?”

  “I’ve been taking care of her.”

  “What does that mean?” There’s no cruelty in Juan’s voice, but I can’t help but anger at the thought of someone else taking care of my girl. That’s supposed to be my job... but I failed. Fuck.

  “It means that I’ve been doing what I can to help her.”

  My shoulders slouch as heavy hope desperately climbs up over my fury. “Does Dante not have her anymore?”

  Juan shakes his head and my muscles tense back up. I should have known better than to give hope any leverage. “So, how have you been helping her then, Juan? I heard they’re getting married...”

  “That’s true, but I just found out about that, too.”

  I sneer. “What help could you possibly provide Catalina if you don’t even know what Dante has in store for her?”

  Juan hesitates for a second, before gently placing his hands back down to his side. “I think it’s best if she tells you that herself.”

  My slow pulse quickens as my heart begins to race. I half-expect Catalina to walk out from behind one of these charred walls. “Where is she, Juan?” I ask, hardly able to contain the desperation in my voice. I need her to be safe. I need to make up for my failures.

  “Not here,” he says sadly, as though upset by failures of his own. “But she will be on the move soon, and that will make her more vulnerable than ever before.”

  “Do they move her around a lot?” So far, no one has been able to tell me anything about Catalina or her whereabouts, but now I’m face to face with the next best source of information next to Dante himself—I need to know how she is.

  “Not usually,” Juan responds. “But there was an incident recently.”

  My heart tightens. My fists clench. “What kind of incident?”

  “I’m still not exactly sure,” my old advisor strokes his chin. “Something to do with a possible break in...”

  A bomb goes off in my gut. “Someone else is trying to steal her away from Dante!?”

  “Maybe... I haven’t had the chance to talk to her since that night. It could be that it was an attempted kidnapping, or it could have just been her trying to break back into her prison without being caught.”

  My fists unlatch in the confusion. “She broke out? And then went back? Why!?”

  Juan hesitates to answer. Something heavy sits just behind his dark eyes. “... I think it’s best if she tells you that herself, too.”

  “When can I see her?” I immediately reply.

  “Soon.”

  “And you’re going to help me get to her?”

  “Yes. I’m here to help you, too, Angel.” Juan clears his throat and seems to fight back another confession. “Two years ago... Dante didn’t give me a choice... I’m sorry. I had to disappear, but I tried to warn you...”

  GET OUT OF THE COUNTRY. NOW!!!

  Your buildings are burning, Angel. You’ll be next. Leave the country now. Please.

  I still remember those messages, clear as day. “It was you who sent the texts?”

  Juan nods. “I’ve been desperately trying to get a hold of you for the past two years, but it’s been impossible.”

  “That was the point.” I growl. “It was the only way to keep Cat safe until I was ready to take her back.”

  Suddenly, all the time that Catalina and I have wasted apart catches up to me in a tidal wave of oppressive fire. What have I really been doing over the past two years? It all seems so meaningless. What good is trying to take down Enzo Barella when my own empire has been suffering all this time, and my girl right along with it?

  It’s time for a serious fucking change.

  “And are you finally ready to save Catalina? Or did you only come back now because you heard Dante was going to marry her?”

  I don’t answer, but my silence is clear enough. I’m back to take what’s mine, but I have no grand plan. Not yet.

  Juan seems to read my mind. “We have some planning to do.” A smile crosses his weathered face. “Good thing I’ve been preparing for your return.”

  7

  Catalina

  My arms are so bandaged up I feel like a mummy at the museum.

  White cloths wrap around my scratched arms; the dull pain hardly registers. Instead, I think about how nice it would be to take Oscar to the museum someday; to have a normal, simple life. We could see real mummies and I could be a real mother...

  Is that even possible anymore?

  Even if Angel does miraculously return, even if he does somehow defeat Dante, this country seems to be unraveling too fast to ever stitch back together. Juan said Dante has his tendrils in the highest offices of the land. There can’t be any coming back from something that has been so corrupted... right?

  What could Angel do about it? What could he do about me?

  If he does return, am I even ready to forgive him for being gone for so long?

  What has he been doing while I’ve been a prisoner?

  I broke into Dante’s mansion without any tools or resources or experience or anything. All I had was a mother’s desire to stay alive for her son’s sake. Sure, it cost me some cuts and some bruises and a scary amount of blood loss, but I’m not like Angel. If I can do it once, then he should have been able to do it by now...

  I glance longingly out of the tinted back window of the limo I’ve been stuffed inside. Dante still hasn’t shown his face since the incident, but I can feel his commands in everything his men are doing. There hasn’t been a single second where I haven’t been under some kind of surveillance since that night, and, as far as I can tell, they don’t even know that I was lying when I suggested that someone had tried to break in.

  Maybe because it’s the half-truth. Someone was trying to break in. Me. And I succeeded, but at what cost? My skin is torn and my heart is shattered; I can’t imagine that I’ll be able to see Oscar anytime soon.

  Outside, posh skyscrapers and fancy restaurants give way to more down to earth establishments. Through the unbroken alleys, I can see the hazy slums rise up the hill to our right. Busy crowds rush about freely in the golden light that falls over the earth just before dusk. I envy them all. Oh, what I’d give to be poor and happy again. At least then I’d be able to look after my son like he deserves to be looked after: by his mother.

  ... But
if I had never tried for a better life, if I had never gone to that gala and worked for those dates and stepped in front of the brooding bad boy in his weathered denim jacket, then I would have never met Angel, and I would have never had Oscar...

  My old life doesn’t seem worth living without my son. There isn’t a chance in hell I would give him up to go back to my old life. I’m his mom, and he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I have a family again, even if it’s just a family of two, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to protect it.

  I miss you, baby.

  The limo suddenly grinds to a halt and I’m flung forward. My seat belt catches me around the gut and a gust of air races from my lungs. It’s nothing compared to the brick I smacked myself with on the balcony, but it still hurts enough to cry out.

  The greedy eyes that have been watching me through the rear-view mirror for the entire trip don’t seem to care. Instead, they finally dart away, grabbed by something else happening up ahead.

  I try to peer through the partition, but my seat belt catches me again. My hands are too stiff and sore to do anything about it. I’m useless.

  “These fucking savages,” the body guard in the passenger’s seat growls. I hear the now all too familiar click of a gun being primed as he unlocks the car door and pushes it open.

  The sound that comes next isn’t as familiar, but I immediately know what it is. A bloody gurgle replaces the body guard’s growling as his throat is cut; the unsettling sound is quickly followed by a muffled gunshot and a spray of blood. Before the driver can cry out, he’s met with the same fate.

  I yell in fear and scramble up in my seat, desperately reaching for the door with one bandaged hand and trying to unbuckle my seat belt with the other. The fresh corpses in the front are pulled out of their respective doors just as my seat belt clicks loose. My door isn’t budging, though; it’s practically bolted shut.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  I can smell fire in the humid air. Howling wind rushes in through open doors up front...