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

by Sasha Leone

  A heavy wave crashes over me as my entire world implodes. For an eternal moment, I’m dragged under the water. Everything is still; I can’t breathe. But then the water breaks and I rush back above the surface.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Oscar. Oscar Luis Alzate.”

  I shake my head. “Oscar Luis Alzate-Montoya.”

  A small smile breaks out over Juan’s somber features. “Would you like to meet him?”

  “Is that where you’re taking me now?”

  Juan nods and my heart fills with adrenaline. “Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”

  I haven’t been down this part of the underground tunnel yet, but it hardly looks any different than the other parts. Everything is the same down here; I hardly know how Juan finds his way around.

  For my part, me and my men have put up markers at every corner we’ve used so far, color coated to lead the way. I don’t see any markers down here, though. Juan must have these routes memorized.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me about these tunnels before?” I ask, when the anticipatory silence between us has grown so thick all I can do is break through it.

  Juan hesitates to answer. “It’s a long story...”

  “Are we close to Oscar?”

  Juan doesn’t respond right away, and that’s enough to tell me that we still have a ways to go.

  “Tell me, Juan. No more secrets. We can’t afford that shit anymore.”

  Juan sighs and pinches his nose. “You’re right.”

  His tense shoulders loosen under the palm of my hand. “We’re on the same side, buddy.”

  “I know, I know, but there are some things people like us should always keep separate from work.”

  “And what do you keep separate from work?”

  Juan looks around the tunnel like it’s an old friend. “Family.”

  The word slams through my chest like a sledgehammer. My family has never been straightforward and it’s only gotten all the more complicated with Cat and Dante. “You have a family?”

  For some reason, I always just thought that Juan was married to the work. He never seemed to leave my side; how could he have had time for anyone else?

  “Of course I do!” Juan responds. “Everyone has a family.”

  I think of Catalina. She didn’t have a family, not for the longest time. But if I have anything to say about it, she will now. “Who makes up your family? Brothers? Sisters? A mother? Father?”

  “All dead,” Juan mumbles. His eyes glaze over for a quick second and I reassure him with a quick pat on the back.

  “I’m sorry, man.”

  “It’s part of the life,” he says, before adding, “but it’s not something I wanted for my family, for my kids.”

  That stops me in my tracks. “You have kids!?”

  “And a wife... and in-laws.”

  “How the fuck don’t I know about this?”

  “Because I hid them from you.”

  “How the hell did you do that so well?”

  Juan starts walking again and I catch up to his side. With his eyes, he gestures around at the curved walls. “The tunnels...”

  Realization erupts inside of me like a bouquet of fireworks. “That’s why you didn’t tell me about these tunnels? Because it was how you kept your family separate from our work?”

  Juan nods. “I’m sorry...”

  Two years ago, I might have been furious at the revelation that my closest advisor was keeping something so huge from me, but now, I can’t help but sympathize with him. He has a family... nothing is more important than family.

  I have a family waiting for me, too; I just have to take it.

  “I understand,” I tell him, as we turn down a new corner.

  “No, you don’t,” Juan says, his heavy gaze dropping down to his feet. “My family... It’s how Dante got to me.”

  My heart lurches. Innocence is supposed to be left out of our darkness, but I know Dante doesn’t care about decorum. “How?”

  “I’m still not exactly sure, but somehow Enzo Barella got word to him about my wife and kids. My children go to school in America during the winter. As far as I can tell, that’s the only way he could have known.”

  “Are they alright?” It’s all I can think to ask.

  I desperately wait for good news, but I don’t expect to hear it.

  Thankfully, Juan nods. “It was touch and go for a while there; I had to disappear to ensure their safety—but since then I’ve gotten them to a relatively safe spot... for now.”

  “And you’re still helping me, even though they’re still at risk?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you warned me two years ago, too, through those texts, even though it meant risking your family?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  The right thing to do. “You’re a better man than I am, Juan.”

  “I think you’ll find out soon enough that family makes better men of us all...” Juan stops outside a door that’s tucked into the tunnel wall and softly knocks three times.

  In the distance, water drips from the damp tunnel ceiling; it’s the only sound besides my pounding heart.

  For a moment, nothing moves, then I hear three soft knocks come from the other side of the door. Juan knocks back two more times and the doorknob starts to shake.

  “Lady,” Juan nods, as the door opens.

  “Mr. Arias.” The voice is soft and quiet and oddly familiar. I’m standing just off to the side of the doorway, but when I step forward and catch the eyes of a portly older woman, she immediately recoils.

  “It’s okay, Lady. He’s on our side,” Juan assures her, stepping inside.

  Lady dusts the fear off of her apron and I follow Juan in. “Where do I know you from?” I ask, the answer on the tip of my tongue.

  Lady lifts her index finger up to her lips and shushes me, as though my voice is too loud. “I used to work for you, as a maid,” she whispers. Turning around, she waddles off towards a kitchen in the far corner of the little room. Steam rises from a boiling pot. Something smells delicious.

  “She still works for you,” Juan whispers, careful to keep his voice low.

  “What does she do?”

  Juan gestures over to a crib by the kitchen top counter. The old maid isn’t concerned with whatever’s on the stove. Instead, her attention is entirely focused on what’s inside the crib.

  A tiny gurgle wafts out from some unseen bundle and I find myself floating over to the precious package.

  “This is Oscar Luis Alzate,” Lady whispers.

  For the first time ever, I see my son. He sleeps like a chubby little cherub, bundled up in a white onesie. The last bits of lingering ice on my once completely frozen heart melt into steam.

  I’m a father...

  “Oscar Luis Alzate-Montoya,” I correct Lady.

  She huffs, hardly withholding her disdain for me. I don’t care. Every problem in my life, both little and small, evaporates. My feet carry me closer to the little boy who carries my blood.

  “Don’t wake him!” Lady hisses, but it’s too late. I’m already reaching down for Oscar when his green eyes blink open. Confusion scrunches his little features as I slip a hand under his tiny head. Before I can lift him off his sheets, an ear shattering wail escapes his lips.

  I immediately draw back, leaving the infant to squirm in his crib. “What did I do?”

  Lady doesn’t answer. In the blink of an eye, she’s picked Oscar up and started to sooth him with soft taps on the back. “You scared him!” she accuses.

  “I’m his father!”

  “You are a stranger!”

  The words cut through my heart like a rusty arrow. It’s true. I’m a stranger to my own son.

  My fists flex and I want to put a hole in the nearest wall, but I restrain myself, if only for Oscar’s sake. He’ll learn that I’m no stranger. I’ll do whatever it takes to gain his trust.
“What can I do?” I ask the lilting maid. Oscar seems to calm in her arms, and when she slings him over her shoulder, the tears disappear from his rosy cheeks.

  “Grab his bottle,” Lady orders, gesturing towards the small fridge at the other end of the kitchen. I do as I’m told.

  I open up the cold box and immediately spot the bottle. It’s hard not to, there’s barely anything else in the fridge. My chest constricts with shame as I grab the milk and slam the door shut. No son of mine should have to live with a nearly empty fridge. His home should be overflowing with everything anyone could ever ask for...

  But because of my failures, he’s been forced to start out life like a mole rat, hiding underground and eating the scraps of others just to survive.

  Lady takes the bottle from me and I sit against the kitchen counter. My eyes won’t leave Oscar as he’s sat down in a booster seat a few feet away. His curious green eyes wander over to me. I try to smile at him, but my lips just won’t turn upwards. Shame and frustration weigh my face down. My son deserves more than this.

  Oscar doesn’t seem to mind my sullen look. Lady tips the bottle of cold milk up to his lips and the little boy greedily latches onto it. He chugs the formula down like a frat boy, but his big twinkling eyes don’t leave me.

  “Shouldn’t you warm that up first?” I ask Lady, trying to make up for my earlier transgression.

  “Oscar likes his formula cold.”

  And just like that, I’ve learned the first fact about my son—it only leaves me hungry for more.

  “What else does he like?”

  “His mother.”

  Finally, a smile finds its way onto my stony face. “Looks like we have something in common.”

  12

  Catalina

  At least the lighting is better here.

  “Please don’t move, miss,” a young girl says as she sticks a threading needle through the arm of my long white gown.

  “How much longer?” I ask. This little fitting room might be more tolerable than that hellish prison cell I spent the last few days in, but at least I could sit down there. I’ve lost track of time, but it feels like I’ve been standing for hours now.

  “I’m not sure,” the young seamstress whispers. Her squinted eyes are entirely focused on her work. “We’ve never been ordered to add sleeves to a wedding dress on such short notice.

  “Couldn’t we have just gotten a new dress?” I ask, desperately wanting to sit down. I’m still sore from... well, from everything, and I’m not sure how much longer my legs will be able to prop me up. The last thing I want is another cut in my arm, but that’s what I’ll get if I collapse while Anna here is stitching up my sleeves.

  “That’s what I said,” Anna mumbles. “But no one listens to me around here.”

  “You and me both,” I grumble back.

  Anna doesn’t return my attempt at banter. Instead, I’m left in silence as she concentrates on her task.

  But I don’t want to be forced to concentrate on my task.

  My mind desperately tries to focus on anything other than the event I’m being prepared for. If Dante wasn’t lying just to fuck with me, then we should be getting married in two days.

  How horrifying is that?

  From what I’ve been told, it will be a very public wedding. Plenty of photographers and high-level guests. That means no acting out on my part. I’ve been threatened more times than I can count. Put on a happy face, or else...

  I shiver to think about that ‘or else’. What could be worse than marrying Dante? I don’t want to find out, but I don’t want to be his happy little pawn, either. It makes me sick to my stomach to think I’ll be helping him in any way.

  “How long have you been a seamstress?” I ask Anna. It’s clear that she doesn’t want to talk, but I have to try. My own thoughts are too dark and dreadful to confront alone right now.

  “Forever,” Anna mumbles. She’s young, but she works with great skill and I don’t doubt her claim.

  “And you’ve never had to put arms on a dress so suddenly before?” It’s a stupid question, one she’s already answered, but I’m desperate for a distraction.

  “I’ve never had to work for a man like Dante before.” Very subtly, the young woman pantomimes a spit.

  My crushed heart leaps a little. Anna hates Dante, too! But she probably thinks I ‘love’ him, or some bullshit like that.

  “He’s an asshole,” I quickly say, perhaps a little too loudly.

  That gets Anna’s attention. For the first time since she started working on my dress, her eyes leave the fabric and fall on me. “You don’t like him?” she asks, her brows furrowed in both confusion and hate.

  I shake my head.

  “Then why are you marrying him?”

  “Because he’s forcing me to.”

  A lightbulb goes off behind Anna’s bright eyes. “You’re his prisoner...” Something else seems to be bothering her. Her gaze falls away from me as she tries to catch a thought. “How did you meet?” she finally asks. Her tone has completely changed. Now, a sliver of sly sympathy lines her once apathetic tone.

  “It’s a long story,” I sigh, not wanting to revisit those dark memories.

  “I can make this take as long as I want.” Anna’s smirk is filled with mischief.

  “He stole me...” I whisper, my head suddenly feeling awfully heavy.

  “... From Angel Montoya.” Anna finishes for me.

  Now it’s my turn to act shocked. “What... How did you... Who are you?”

  Anna’s gaze darts around the room, as if she’s checking to make sure the coast is clear. “I knew I recognized you. I’ve seen your picture in the newspaper before, hand in hand with the ‘mysterious’ billionaire. I’ve heard he’s returned. Did you know?”

  It takes a second for the shock to wear off, but when it does, I nod. “I saw him...” The hot flash of Angel’s thick finger wriggling inside of me sends a warm wave down my tired legs. I can practically feel his wet lips against my neck.

  “Do you think he’ll save you?”

  “Yes.” Even though I’ve been filled with little but doubt since Angel’s failed abduction, there’s no hesitation in me.

  “How romantic,” Anna sings, clasping her hands together.

  I sigh. “It doesn’t feel so romantic.”

  “It will when you get to look back on it all someday.”

  “If I live that long.”

  “You will. Angel will save you; he’ll save all of us.”

  All of us? “What do you mean?”

  Anna tenses up a little at the question. This time, instead of just looking around for eavesdroppers, she gets up and checks for them. Her head pops behind every curtain and dress; she even checks the door before tip-toeing back to my side.

  “We’re starting a revolution,” she finally whispers into my ear. My skin tingles with anticipation, though I’m not sure what she means.

  “Who is?”

  “Us. The people. Angel.”

  My heart wants to push itself free from the oppressive boulder that weighs it down, but I can’t bring myself to hope too hard. “How?”

  “Together.”

  The word sends a crack rumbling through the stone that holds down my heart, but still that stone doesn’t crack, not yet.

  “He’s starting a revolution for you,” Anna whispers. “We’re going to overthrow the government, vanquish evil, start a new era... all in your name.”

  Suddenly, a loud thump comes from the ceiling above. We both jump in surprise and Anna drops her needle.

  “What was that?” I ask, staring up, not daring to move. Anna’s already unfrozen. She picks up her needle and has it held between her fingers like a switchblade.

  “Probably nothing...” she says, unconvincingly. Just as quickly as her needle became a knife, it becomes a needle again. “Let’s get your dress finished... hopefully, you won’t have to use it—at least, not with Dante.”

  I silently agree and our conversatio
n of revolution and love fades away. Time starts to drag on again before a knock comes at the door.

  “Are you decent?” It sounds like one of Dante’s men.

  “No!” Anna shouts back.

  “How much longer!?” the body guard growls.

  Anna looks up at me, like she’s gauging how much longer I need away from Dante. “As long as it takes to get right!” she responds.

  “You have ten minutes.”

  “Fuck,” Anna grumbles.

  A heavy sigh escapes my lips. “It’s alright, I’ll be fine,” I try to assure her, though I don’t quite believe it myself.

  Anna gets back to work, her hands moving at light speed. She must have been lollygagging before, because it feels like it hardly takes her two minutes to do what needs to be done. “There, finished,” she states, taking a step back to admire her handywork.

  “Yippy,” I sulk.

  The young seamstress takes another one of her furtive glances around the fitting room before stepping up to my ear. “Don’t worry,” she whispers, hope coating her quiet words. “I’ve been told the location of the wedding. I’ll pass on the news.”

  13

  Angel

  His tiny hand can barely wrap all the way around my ring finger.

  “It’s almost his bedtime,” Lady’s voice cuts through the little moment I’m having with my son. Juan has left us to go deal with Dante, and for a moment there, I could have sworn we were alone; a family.

  No, not yet. There is no family without Cat, not without my son’s mother.

  “He doesn’t look tired,” I grumble, trying to disguise my own exhaustion. The last thing I want to do is sleep. There’s so much on my plate, so much to catch up on, and none of it seems as important as the little chubby-cheeked chipmunk who’s playing with my bare ring finger like it’s a tree branch.

  “Boo-boo,” Oscar giggles as his tiny stumps crawl along my callous skin. My eyelids are heavy, but I’m not about to let him out of sight.

  “What’s a boo-boo?” I ask him, immediately feeling ridiculous for even having said the word, much less to a baby.