ANGEL'S WRATH by SK (SIN CITY HEAT)

Other books by SK

SIN CITY HEAT SERIES:

Buried Secrets ~ Book 1

Twisted Obsessions ~ Book 2

Beginning of an Eclipse ~ Prequel

No Secrets No Lies ~ Book 3

The Honey Trap

Available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble

Chapter 1

    
Twelve men sat around the table, their expressions serious and attentive. The faint smell of cigar smoke and expensive cologne lingered in the air.
 
Some were stockbrokers, CEO’s, and bank presidents. All had been very well compensated by the man in front of them to launder millions of dollars he had siphoned to their companies, to make sure it all came out just as clean and pure as the driven snow.

    
The opening of the door caused everyone to shift their attention. Interruptions were strictly prohibited, but the man sitting at the head of the table had been expecting this particular bit of news. Everything else could wait.

    
When he held up his hand, momentarily halting their discussion, the diamond cluster ring on the smallest finger of his left hand gleamed brilliantly in the light. There was no doubt Angelo “Angel” LaCroix was in charge. The aura surrounding him demanded respect…demanded obedience. He tilted his head as he listened intently to what was being told to him in hushed undertones by one of his capos. Whatever it was couldn't be good. Although his facial expression didn't change, his eyes iced over and turned colder than a continental glacier located near the polar regions of the Earth.

    
“Bring her to me." The clipped words were ominous and sharp. His capo nodded once and left the room as quietly as he’d entered. Angel turned back to the table, flicking his hand in a quick motion, indicating the meeting could continue.

    
After a while, a decision on a course of action was reached and the mood shifted to one of light heartedness and camaraderie. One of the gentlemen sat back and turned to Angel with a leer of anticipation on his pale, wrinkled face. “Now that our business has been completed, we're more than eager to move on to more pleasurable aspects of the night. The entertainment. I’ve been thinking about that sexy, little brunette I was with last time I was here. I trust she'll be putting in an appearance.”

    
A murmur of agreement rolled over the room as they filled their glasses with the expensive liqueur provided. The women Angel made available to them were like rare, precious jewels.

    
“I agree," an Asian man concurred. "Where do you find them, Angelo? They have to be some of the most gorgeous creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. And their sexual expertise? Unmatched.”

    
The men laughed as their excitement grew. An expression of amusement crossed Angel’s face but it didn’t quite meet his eyes.
 

    
“Only the best, Dai Kuang. Only the best. If you gentlemen will indulge me a little while longer to allow me to take care of a personal matter, we can then continue with the night's festivities."

    
Picking up a hand rolled Cuban cigar, he deftly placed the head of it into a guillotine and cut into the cap. The man to his right leaned over and held a lighter to the cigar. Angel puffed several times until the outer rim of the cigar glowed, allowing the smoke to easily draw. Sitting back in his chair, he took his time and inhaled, allowing his taste buds to test the flavor and quality of the cigar. "I trust you'll find it very...entertaining."

    
“Of course. As you wish, Angelo.” Sergeii Kruschev, the Russian owner of several casinos in Vegas as well as Atlantic City could barely contain his eagerness as he looked around the table, taking note of his associates nodding anxiously.

    
Angel squinted through the cloud of smoke he exhaled, a slow smile tugging at his mouth. Angelo LaCroix was an extremely attractive man who could’ve easily graced the pages of a men’s fashion magazine. The designer clothes and tailored suits he wore hung from his lean, muscular frame and showed his body off to perfection. He kept his dark hair low and tapered and the five o'clock shadow he sported added to his wicked, rugged good looks.

    
Angel's eyes were his most arresting feature and the focal point in a face so fascinating many assumed he was someone of importance just from the air of power that surrounded him. The windows to his soul were a beautiful hazel color which could change from warm, greenish brown to cool, mint in an instant. The combination enthralled and attracted the opposite sex like helpless moths dancing close to a burning, explosive flame.

    
Hearing the door open, he turned his head and watched along with everyone else as a large monster of a man with a deep, puckered scar running from ear to cheek entered the room. Behind him, he effortlessly pulled along a stunning young woman who appeared to be around twenty-two or twenty-three years old. Her Panamanian and African American heritage yielded a beauty which was positively breathtaking, with a fiery temper and sharp tongue to match.

    
"Get your filthy hands off of me! You hideous sack of shit! Let me go!”

    
The woman, Savannah, was livid and beyond outraged, but when she spotted Angel, her demeanor changed instantly. She tried to dig her heels in to avoid going any further, but the man continued walking as if she were little more than a feather blowing in the wind.

    
Struggling, she scratched at the large paw clamped around both her wrists. Her angry screams quickly turned to low, plaintive whimpers; she had good reason to be afraid.

    
One hour earlier, she'd been with her young lover when five men burst into her hotel suite, dragging him out of bed. When she tried to grab the sheet to hide her naked body, one of the men snatched the covers back and threw a robe at her, while the other four proceeded to beat the helpless man on the floor, showing no mercy.

    
Screaming and crying, Savannah had covered her eyes, trying to block out the savage assault, but a rough hand gripped a fistful of her hair and jerked her head back.

"He wants you to watch," the one with the scar growled. Savannah's fear reached new heights at that point and her concern shifted to herself because she knew exactly who "he" was.
 

    
Now, standing before Angel, Savannah’s eyes filled to the brim with remorseful tears. “I’m sorry, Angel.”

    
The men at the table remained quiet yet watchful. Their faces expressed shock at seeing her in such an unkempt state. She may as well have been naked for all the good the thin robe did to cover her body.
   
This couldn’t be who he’d meant as their entertainment…could it? As soon as the thought crossed their minds, they discarded the notion immediately.

    
She was his woman.

    
“Angel, please….”

    
Angel walked towards her, his pace slow and steady. He placed a finger over his lips. “Ssshhhh…”

    
Although the hand he ran over her glossy hair was gentle and intended to calm, Savannah flinched away from his touch.
 
He’d never physically harmed her, or any woman, but she knew what he was capable of when pushed.

    
“You're such a beautiful woman, Savannah.” Angel’s voice was low and deep. “But I knew you would be from the first moment I saw you seven years ago. How old were you then? Sixteen?”

    
Savannah’s head moved up and down in jerky movements as her tears flowed unchecked. The memory of their first encounter was silently shared between them. Savannah had been living with her deceased mother's sister who treated her like little more than an indentured servant.
Ironically, the turning point in Savannah's life came several years later thanks to her aunt's boyfriend. He robbed a known drug supplier in the neighborhood and stole both his product and stash of money. It wasn't until several armed men burst into their house a day later, with Angel leisurely strolling in behind them, that he realized his mistake.

    
He struggled as Angel's men dragged him towards the front door, begging and pleading for them to spare his life. Savannah's aunt tried to appeal to Angel, telling him she would pay him back, but they all knew it had nothing to do with money. Angel had come personally to make a point. He ignored the woman until she called Savannah into the room, imploring Angel to take the young girl instead of her boyfriend. Savannah shivered as his chilly gaze swept over her from head to toe.

    
"And what do you expect me to do with her?" Angel’s tone was cold and dismissive. "She's a child."

    
"She's my niece. She can work the debt off any way you choose. Keep her. Put her to work on the streets, whatever you decide. She's a virgin!" The woman's voice was tinged with desperation when Angel walked away. "You would get your money back in no time."

    
Angel tilted his head to the side, studying the woman. "You would be willing to sacrifice your niece in order to save your boyfriend?"

    
"She doesn’t mean anything to me. Her mother was a slut
who
I hated. So do we have a deal?"

    
Savannah trembled under the unwavering, analytical gaze of the man’s unusually colored eyes. She took a step back and rapidly shook her head. She didn’t want to go with him. She wouldn’t. Living with her aunt was hell on earth, but at least the hateful woman was a devil she was familiar with.

    
Seeing her refusal to do as she was told, Savannah's aunt raised her hand to strike Savannah for being defiant, but one look from Angel's piercing eyes caused her to lower her arm to her side.

    
Angel studied the frightened young girl. It was obvious she'd been through a lot in her young life. Her large brown eyes showed fear, and she was little more than skin and bones. Coming to a decision,
  
Angel gestured to his men to bring her with them. When she was legally old enough and the time was right, she would belong to him in every sense of the word. Until then she would be educated and taught proper etiquette so that she could seamlessly slip into his world. As he followed the struggling girl out, Angel gave orders to his men to kill both Savannah's aunt and the boyfriend.

    
Looking at her now, Angel's eyes caressed her strikingly beautiful face. “When I brought you home with me, I made sure the others understood that you were my number one, and as jealous as I knew they were of you, not one hair on your pretty head was touched." A grimace of a smile crossed his lips. “I took care of you, didn’t I Savannah?”

    
She nodded in acknowledgment.

    
“I spoiled you beyond your wildest dreams, gave you everything you could ever want, everything that you could ever need. I groomed you to be the woman I wanted you to be for me. You were educated by the best teachers who enabled you to converse with fucking heads of state if you needed to. You can walk into any art gallery in the world and discuss the history of a Picasso, a Da Vinci, or a Monet better than any experienced curator.”