Angel clasped her hand and pulled her inside. She blinked hastily to adjust her eyes to the darkness. The only light came from the stage where two nude women danced not to music but a monotonous, relentless bass. The club was cluttered with empty tables and chairs. She glanced at the unmanned bar and then grimaced at the booth Angel stopped in front of.

“Get in,” Angel said.

“I don’t—”

Angel pushed her in and followed. She glared as he made himself comfortable. This place was a fucking dump. She didn’t dare touch the table, which looked as if it had a month’s worth of grime on it. She could just imagine what she was sitting on. She kept her back ramrod straight so her new sweater wouldn’t touch the booth, which was no doubt filthy. At first, she thought they were the only ones in the bar, but she was mistaken. Against the walls, she could make out the figures of other men slouched in booths.

“What are we doing here?” she hissed.

“The chicken wings are amazing.”

“You can’t eat what they serve you! This place can’t pass a health code inspection!”

A man rounded the stage with a large tray. He came straight to their table and placed two plates of chicken wings with a linen napkin on the table before he walked away without a word.

“See, we were almost late,” Angel said as he shook out the napkin and placed it on his lap.

It was hard to see the wings, but they smelled delicious. Her mouth watered, but she wouldn’t have eaten those wings unless she had gone without food for a week … and maybe not even then.

“What the hell is going on, Angel?”

He dug into his meal without answering her. No one moved except the girls on stage. Her skin prickled in warning. Something dangerous was going on here, but she couldn’t figure out what. No one made eye contact; they all stared at the stage as if these women were the best dancers in the world, which they weren’t. No one had a drink in front of them, and no one was eating except Angel. What. The. Fuck.

The front door opened. She peered through the dim light as the man advanced through the bar and took a booth three down from theirs. There was just enough light to make out Eli Stark’s sharp, handsome features. The polished image he maintained when he was a cop was gone. Now, he had a five o’clock shadow that she had to admit looked good on him, and his broodiness was off the charts. She knew Eli from her stripping days. Back then, he was a regular cop who was called out to Red Diamond on a weekly basis. She’d witnessed him in action. He was a heartless bastard.

“Eli Stark’s here,” she muttered.

“What do you know about him?” Angel asked as he stared down at his plate instead of taking in their surroundings.

“He’s cold and ruthless.”

“Loyal?”

“He has his own code of what’s right or wrong.”

Angel nodded. “Sounds like my kind of man.”

Several bikers came out from behind the stage and took up stools at the empty bar. They, too, stared at the stage as if they were watching an interesting show. Their guns were on full display.

She gripped Angel’s arm. “We should go.”

“Why?”

She leaned in close to whisper, “Black Vipers.”

“The what?”

“The bikers at the bar. They’re the most violent gang on the West Coast. They don’t have loyalties to anyone.”

Angel licked his finger. “They’ll behave.”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“I’m eating wings.”

“Fuck the wings, Angel. What—” She broke off as the front door opened again.

Another group of men filed in, but this time, they were well-dressed and definitely shouldn’t be in a place like this. An older man led them. George Wotherton handled most of the Pyre fortune and was an old crony of Uncle Manny’s. George knew all the loopholes to keep the Pyre’s money hidden and untraceable. Despite the fact that George was essentially on their side, she never liked him. He arranged all five of his daughter’s marriages and frequented The Strip with his sons-in-law, who worked for him and were currently occupying two tables in front of the stage.

She gripped Angel’s thigh beneath the table. “That’s George Wotherton.”

He tensed but didn’t stop eating. “Who?”

“He’s Gavin’s banker.”

“You trust him?” Angel asked without looking away from his chicken wings.

“No.”

“Why?” She hesitated, and he finally looked away from his plate. “Tell me why, Carmen.”

“He’s a pervert, a leech. He has a fetish for unconscious women. His sons-in-law are no different. They all work at his bank.”

Angel considered her words and nodded before he pushed away one plate and went for the other. One of the dancers stumbled, which got her attention. She focused on the two women who couldn’t dance for shit and examined them more closely. They were thin. Too thin. Their movements were jerky, awkward, and obviously untrained. When one of the women dared to look into the silent crowd, Carmen jolted.

“She can’t be older than eighteen!”

“She is,” Angel said.

“How do you know?”

“Because I asked the last time I was here.”

She stared at him. “You’ve come here more than once?” She was appalled and totally turned off. Some guys had darker tastes when it came to sex, and it appeared that Angel was one of them. He made it clear he was attracted to her, so she thought he would want a strong woman, but if he liked watching what looked like young teenagers with no curves and that scared, submissive expression, maybe he was—

“I didn’t come here for the girls,” Angel said. “But I asked about them because I thought they were underage, just like you. They turned eighteen this week.”

“And they’re on stage?” It happened but going totally nude a week into your eighteenth birthday was hardcore, and the girls on stage looked far from the defiant, rebellious teens one would expect.

“Apparently, that’s what they go for here. As young as legally possible, untrained, and amateur.”

The girls on stage were getting worse by the minute. She couldn’t blame them. She doubted that this place was ever full, and within a half hour, nearly every table and booth was now occupied by a silent spectator. Two new dancers stumbled on stage, and the other two scurried off. These two were a little better than the first. They had a little more meat on their bones and fake boobs. They sent winning smiles into the crowd as they attempted to climb the poles and promptly slid back to earth.

Carmen fisted her hands in her lap. She wanted to drag the girls backstage and lecture them on better clubs where they could make more money if they just had some training. She glared at Angel, who ate his wings as if he was at a five-star restaurant instead of a dumpy bar. She should make a scene and get out of here, but her damn curiosity kept her in place. Something big was about to go down; she just didn’t know what.

More people filed into the bar. She eyed each of them in turn. Some she recognized, and some she didn’t. The ones she did recognize sent a wave of dread through her. She couldn’t resist leaning into Angel to warn him about the more notorious characters. Nothing made an impression on him.

The crowd in The Pussy was one of the most eclectic and confusing she had ever seen. Wealthy bankers and politicians sat next to gang leaders and criminals while police officers and other government officials rubbed shoulders with bikers and CEOs. She assumed they were here for Angel, but he seemed more concerned with finishing his wings than addressing anyone, and no one paid them any mind. She knew the upper echelon guys, the ones she and Vinny rubbed shoulders with at fundraisers and obligatory parties. She recognized the gangs and bikers from their tattoos, patches, or colors. Her dad would shit a brick if he knew she was within a quarter mile of any of these guys, much less in a room full of them.

She was trying to place a vaguely familiar face in the crowd when she spotted George Wotherton disappear down a hallway beside the stage. She tensed. There was probably a bathroom back there, but … she elbowed Angel.

“Move,” she hissed.

“What?”

“Move. I have to check on something.”

He held up stained hands. “I’m almost done. I’ll go with you to the bathroom.”

“It may be too late—move!”

Angel stood with his hands in front of him. She grabbed her purse and walked down the middle of the room to avoid the Black Vipers. She wasn’t sure if the current leader, Maddog, knew that her father killed his over fifteen years ago, but she wasn’t taking the chance. As she rounded the stage, she reached into her purse and felt the reassuring weight of her gun. She flipped the safety off and paused in a hallway that was just as filthy and damaged as the rest of the place. The lights flickered. A minute later, a door at the end of the hall opened, and George Wotherton appeared, dragging one of the nude dancers under one arm. He raised his head and noticed her standing there.

“Carmen Pyre,” he said with a jovial smile and continued toward her.

She pulled out her gun. “Put her down, George.”

“Why?”

“What’d you do to her?”

“Just a little roofie. She agreed. I gave her one hundred dollars.”

Carmen blocked the entrance to the bathroom. “Give her to me.”

George frowned. “She’s willing.”

“No.”

George Wotherton wore gold spectacles, a signet ring on his finger, and an oatmeal-colored suit. One could mistake him for a civilized gentleman if it wasn’t for the unconscious naked woman he had tucked under his arm like an old jacket.

George focused on her breasts. “You took out your implants? That’s a shame.”

Just being near him made her skin crawl. Between wife two and three, George approached her at a party and asked if she would be interested in a mistress or wife position for ten million. She had been too stunned to respond appropriately. His utter gall left her speechless then and now. “Fuck you, George.”

“I wish. You know I’ve always wanted you. Have you fallen on hard times?” he asked hopefully.

“No!”

“Damn shame.”

George scanned her with a leer. “Still a knockout, I see.”

“Give her to me.”

“I paid for her.”

He sounded like a spoiled child. He was talking about fucking a person as casually as if he wanted the last cookie on a plate. A chill ran up her spine. “Give.”

George glared at her. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“George.”

Angel’s voice carried over the relentless beat of music that matched her heartbeat. Angel’s voice was harder, deeper than it had been when he spoke to her a minute ago. George tensed as Angel looked from him to the unconscious woman in his arms.

“Put her back, George,” Angel said.

George’s rat eyes darted from Carmen to Angel and then to the woman in his arms.

“George.” George ducked his head as if Angel yelled. “Now.”

George nodded and turned to take the woman back to the room at the end of the hall. He muttered under his breath as he went. Carmen stared at the girl’s feet which flopped from side to side as George dragged her. She put her gun in her purse as Angel went into the bathroom to wash his hands. She counted under her breath. Just as she started down the hall, George appeared in the hallway, wiping his face. It took her only a moment to figure out what he’d done.

“You dirty old fuck!”

George scowled at her. “I left her the hundred.”

“But you licked her.”

He shrugged. “She would let me do much worse.”

“You—”

Angel grasped her hand. “Fuck on your time, not mine, George. We clear?”

George’s hands wove through the air. “You were eating and…”

“And it’s still my time. You think I would have delayed the festivities until you finished fucking?”

“You’re right, Roman. Quite right. I apologize.”

George scurried ahead of them as they walked down the hallway, back to the bar.

“Angel,” she began.

“Not now,” he said quietly.

They walked into the bar, and this time, she felt every single eye on them. As Angel made his way through the crowd, the music abruptly stopped. She tensed, but Angel gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he stepped aside to let her slide in the booth. The dancers gave dazzling smiles before they teetered off stage. Angel’s plates were gone, and now that the music stopped, a foreboding, buzzing silence filled the room. Her skin prickled. The strobe lights shut off, and normal lights around the bar came on, flickering and fucking with her eyes. All heads were turned in their direction, and as she eyed the men, she realized that this hole in the wall bar was filled with the most dangerous and influential men in the city. Anyone with ties to the underworld was here. Enemies, former allies, and the many, many questionable ones who flip-flopped sides on a whim. Whatever happened in Hell had brought even the Black Vipers out of the woodworks. Lecherous, greedy, soulless eyes focused on her. She resisted the urge to pull out her gun.

Angel leaned back against the table and looked around the room. “I’m Angel Roman, but you all know that. The war between Gavin and Vega is finished, but you know that as well, which is why you’re here.” Angel grinned. “Some of you came to plead your allegiance, others are here to assess whether they can take me, and the rest of you …” He scanned the room slowly, taking his time, letting the tension increase with each passing second. “The rest of you are here to see what I’m going to offer for allegiance.”

A soundless murmur went through the crowd, but she couldn’t make out any words or where it was coming from. Angel clapped his hands together. If she wasn’t holding herself so still, she might have flinched. Two lawyers and one of George’s sons-in-law jolted. The Black Vipers gave them disdainful sneers.

Angel spread his hands wide. “I’m not offering you shit for your loyalty.”

Maddog, the leader of the Black Vipers, stirred. He had a bald head with a thick goatee. “You expect loyalty for nothing in return?”

“Yes.”

The bikers weren’t the only ones who muttered under their breath. There were infinitesimal shifts as the occupants glanced at one another. Angel pushed off from the table and began to walk around the room. She wanted to grab the back of his jacket to keep him by her side, but she stayed where she was. Any show of weakness would tip the scales. She slipped her hand into her purse and gripped her tiny gun and maintained an “I don’t give a shit” expression that she hoped passed muster. Her senses were dangerously elevated due to the danger saturating the room. She was sure the guy at the next booth could hear her heart racing.

“Why would any of us agree to that?” Maddog asked.

“Because you don’t have a choice,” Angel said without looking directly at him. He clapped a man on the back who sported two black eyes and a split lip. “Tommy, I’m glad you made it.”

Angel weaved through the tables, almost as if he was counting heads.

“What happened to Pyre?” a lawyer asked.

“He’s out.”

“Why?”

“Family.”

“Pussy whipped,” someone muttered.

Angel stopped in his tracks and turned to face a table of three. He slid his hands into his pockets as he surveyed each of them in turn. The way the men sat at the table spoke volumes. They weren’t in uniform, but she recognized them as a unit. She recognized one as a cop, but she was sure the other two were military men from Nellis Air Force Base.

Angel put one hand on the table and leaned toward the largest man who looked like he had a steel rod strapped to his spine, his posture was so straight. “General Leeward, is it?”

If it was possible, he sat up even straighter. “Yes.”

“Funny you mention pussy whipped.” Angel tapped his fingers on the table. “Don’t you have a sixteen-year-old mistress?”

A loaded silence filled the room. She willed Angel to ease back, but he didn’t. He stayed less than a foot from a man who looked like he could have been a professional wrestler. She didn’t have to be as close as Angel to know the guy was furious.

“You’re waiting for her to graduate, isn’t that right?” Angel winked at General Leeward. “Talk about pussy whipped. Gavin found a woman worthy of our family name. Lyla has kills under her belt unlike your … What do you call her? Girlfriend, daughter?” Angel waved his hand. “Well, that’s neither here nor there. Lyla didn’t make Gavin weak; she made him stronger, and if you think I’m wrong …” Angel pulled his phone out of his pocket and slid it across the table to the general who didn’t move a muscle. “Call him and tell him yourself.”

Holy fuck. Angel was insane. A bead of sweat trickled down her back as she waited for all hell to break loose. She waited … and waited.

“That’s what I thought.” Angel grabbed his phone and pocketed it. “You wouldn’t be where you are today without Emmanuel’s help, and you know you wouldn’t win against Gavin financially, politically, or physically, so take my advice, General, and shut the fuck up unless I tell you to speak. Got it?”

Carmen held her breath. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. This was it. He’d gone too far …

The proud, wizened general gave him a minute nod of agreement. Angel nodded and turned his back on him. She waited for him to reach into his jacket and pull out a gun or toss a knife, but he sat there, seething. Angel was making enemies of some of the most powerful men in the city. Holy shit.

“This is what I’m talking about,” Angel said as he continued to meander through the tables of motionless men. “I think there’s been a lot of miscommunication about this position. None of you has ever gotten close to being kingpin, so let me tell you how it goes. I take; I don’t ask. I speak, and you do what I say. Rebel and your life is forfeit. There are rules, my rules, and no other. Are we clear?”

“No.”

Heads turned toward Maddog, the leader of the Black Vipers, but she kept her eyes on the crowd. The tension in the room made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand. A man at a table to the left of the general reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife. She rose and withdrew her gun, but Eli got there first. He grabbed the knife from the man before he could toss it and slit his throat with an efficiency that said he’d done this before. The man’s table companions shot to their feet as blood splattered everywhere.

Eli’s eyes met hers for a split second before he wiped his hands on the man’s coat and retreated to the edge of the room where he leaned against the wall, cool as you please. Carmen turned her head and found Angel watching her with a calculating expression as she lowered her gun. She was breathing hard as if she ran a marathon.

“You think you can walk in here with no more backup than an ex-cop and Vinny’s slut?” Maddog sneered.

She focused on Maddog as he bared silver teeth.

“You and Pyre think your money and name is enough to protect you. It isn’t.” Maddog tucked his thumbs into his jeans. “You’re in my territory, my city. I’m not about to let some East Coast fuck take over my town.” He looked around the room, proud and silently looking for votes before he refocused on Angel. “Vega showed us one thing. Gavin can be defeated, which means you can too. You bleed just as easy as the rest of us.”

No one breathed.

“I think it’s time for new blood, Roman.”

His eyes flicked to her. Dark eyes glittered with hatred. He knew exactly who she was. Her skin prickled, and her hand tightened on the gun.

“Did Pyre tell you what happened to his other cousin who tried to take his throne? That little bitch didn’t even last a week.” He smiled at her. “It was a joke for Vinny to take Gavin’s place. It was only a matter of time before someone gunned him down. I heard that fucker squealed and tried to run for his life. Gavin signed his cousin’s death warrant—”

Carmen raised her gun. Maddog laughed and elbowed the men on either side of him who had their hands on their weapons. Maddog spread his arms wide.

“What are you gonna do with that, princess? I’ll give you one free shot. I dare you—”

The first bullet went through his bicep. He grabbed his arm and cursed, but he didn’t have time to reach for his gun. The second bullet got him in the chest before Angel did a head shot that sprayed the bar and everyone around him with blood. For a moment, there was absolute silence, and then the bar erupted.

The man in the booth beside her got to his feet and shoved her to the ground. He stood over her as the members of the Black Viper gang withdrew guns, and other occupants began to turn on one another. The sound of gunfire was deafening. From her prone position, she saw Angel put down three bikers with head shots. Blood splashed over the filthy floor. Rapid gunshots sounded behind her. She peered through the legs of her protector and saw Eli and several other men take down those who tried to fight back or make a run for it. The general sat in the midst of the bloodbath, splattered with blood, eyes trained on Angel.

When silence fell once more, the man above her shifted, and she slowly got to her feet. The metallic scent of blood assaulted her nostrils as Angel surveyed the room.

“Never underestimate how many allies a man has in the room.” He focused on her, and her stomach clenched. “And never taunt a woman who’s lost someone she loves.”

Carmen lowered her gun but didn’t put it away.

“Let the members of the Black Vipers know I’m coming for them. I don’t believe in survivors,” Angel said.

He walked to her and held out a hand. She didn’t want skin contact at the moment, but she knew everyone was watching. This wasn’t about her; it was about his image as the new boss. She wasn’t allowed to disrespect him in front of the underworld. She grabbed her purse before she took his hand and clenched her teeth as he laced their hands together. He pulled her through the ranks of silent men. She felt a presence behind them. When she glanced back, she saw Eli on their heels with a gun in each hand.

Angel pushed the door open into the chilly night. She sucked in a breath of fresh air and jerked her hand away. He didn’t push the issue. He opened the passenger door for her. She got in without looking at him, dropped her purse between her feet, and stared straight ahead.

There was the low murmur of male voices as Eli and Angel spoke.

In the week she’d been awakened, she’d been a slave to her impulses—food, cars, sex. Every desire needed to be met. Tonight, the taste for blood ignited, and she reacted. It was only a matter of time before someone gunned him down. The incandescent rage that compelled her to shoot still coursed through her veins. There was a roar caught in her throat. Something dark and lethal fought to erupt out of her skin. It took every ounce of control she possessed not to give in to the need to let her demons free.

Angel slid into the driver’s seat. “You okay?”

“Take me home,” she said quietly.

Angel pulled away from The Pussy. He drove down the unlit lane before he turned onto The Strip. The return to civilization didn’t make her feel better. Neither did the crowds or energy, which never failed to lift her spirits. All she could see was that fucker’s face as he talked about Vinny—the disdain and satisfaction that they put him down. Like he was a dog or deer—something weak and vulnerable and fair game. Her senses were hyper elevated. A tangled mess of emotions rumbled inside her, demanding to be set free to wreak havoc on her surroundings.

“You had my back in there,” Angel said.

She had given her allegiance without thought. Even though he blackmailed her into going and drugged Kiki, she’d been willing to defend him. The ties of family loyalty were engraved in her bones.

“Why did you take me tonight?” she whispered.

“You were looking for a rush.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were,” he countered easily. “I recognize another restless soul when I see one.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” she growled as she wrapped her arms around herself to conceal the fine shaking slowly creeping through her arms.

Angel coasted on the freeway, which quickly took them away from The Strip. “Baby, I know you better than you think.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“I don’t? Okay, how about this? You changed after Vinny died. One of two things happen when people like us lose someone to violence.”

“Like us?” she echoed. “I’m nothing like you.”

“You’re not? You wouldn’t do whatever it takes to protect your loved ones?” He slanted her a look. “Even kill to protect their memory?”

She stared straight ahead.

“When you lose someone to a violent crime, it changes you,” Angel said as he sped up, changed lanes, and navigated with ease. “Either you shut down and try to forget, or you embrace the dark and fight back.” He grinned as he shifted gears. “You know which I chose.”

“You shouldn’t have taken me! I was in a room full of the most notorious cons, murderers, and rapists in the city!”

“You were covered.”

“Covered?” she echoed, voice rife with disbelief. “You were practically begging them to kill you.”

He shrugged. “They need to know who’s boss.”

“You’re a fucking crazy man. Take this exit.”

He followed her directions. She was too fucked up to enjoy the new car smell, the roar of the engine, or the ease with which he drove. His words sloshed around in her head.

She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Who did you lose?”

“My parents.” His voice held no inflection.

She opened her mouth to ask more questions but then shut it. She didn’t want anyone asking questions about Vinny, so she would let it be.

“If you’re born into a crime family, there’s no escape. Even if you try to fight it, sooner or later, you lose someone to the underworld, and you have to choose. You either let them get away with it and turn your back on your family name, or you get even and then destroy everyone associated with them.”

She stared at the way the light revealed and then concealed his features as they sped past buildings lining the freeway.

“Raul handles it better than the rest of us. If it wasn’t for their murders, he would probably be the fucking mayor of New York. Instead, he does what he needs to for the family. Loyalty. That’s all we know. You fuck with one of us, you fuck with us all, and you bear our wrath. I wear my parent’s tainted memory on my skin for everyone to see, and I send motherfuckers like their murderers to hell with a smile. That’s what pushes all of us, including you.”

“No,” she said faintly.

“Let me guess. What used to satisfy you won’t do it for you anymore. That’s why you’re out every night, why you were dancing on stage at the strip club. Your cheap thrills won’t work anymore.”

“Gentlemen’s club,” she muttered.

“I know what works for my cravings.” He glanced at her. “You need to find out what yours is.”

Her restless, insatiable hunger jumped from food to bloodlust at the speed of light. No one could have stopped her. It was probably only sheer disbelief that she would do something so stupid in front of witnesses that kept anyone from reacting faster. The wrath Maddog ignited still burned in her gut. Tonight, she killed a man in cold blood without an iota of remorse. Even now, she felt nothing. If she could kill him again, she would. Gavin signed his death warrant. The words knocked around in her head. She bowed her head and curled her toes in her shoes in a vain attempt to keep memories of Vinny from intruding.

“I’ll take care of the Black Vipers,” Angel said.

“What?” she whispered.

“They won’t touch you. That’s why I took the head shot. Hopefully, I can get eyes off you by claiming the kill.”

She froze. For the first time, she stopped thinking about why she killed and focused on the other part—who. She killed the leader of the Black Vipers, the most notorious and violent biker gang on the West Coast. Fuck. “My mom—”

“I’ll get some guys to watch your place.”

She dropped her face in her hand. Just when the danger should have disappeared, she reignited it by doing something monumentally stupid. “Shit.”

“I’ll take care of it. I was planning to kill him myself, but if it made you feel better, so be it.”

He didn’t give two shits that she killed a man in cold blood. Even as it soothed her bloodlust, a voice in the back of her head said something was very wrong about the fact that Angel thought killing people was appropriate if it made you feel better. And on that note …

“What the hell was that?”

“My introduction as crime lord.” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Everything went according to plan, including killing Maddog. I just didn’t expect you to be the one to do it.”

“You planned to kill him all along and took me with you? Are you crazy?”

“Your father was an enforcer, and you were married to Vinny. I doubt much shocks you. Besides, you’ve killed before.”

“That was self-defense!” she shouted and then realized where they were. “Turn left.” Angel obeyed, and she continued her rant. “I don’t kill people when I’m bored.”

“No, only when provoked. It was your right to kill him, Carmen.”

She leaned toward him, sure any moment now she would breathe fire. “You shouldn’t have forced me to go with you! I fucking killed a man, and you made enemies with all the big players in the city! You need allies, not more enemies. Fuck. You have a death wish.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“They are going to kill you,” she enunciated, clapping her hands for emphasis with each word. “And me too. Turn here.”

“They can try,” Angel said absently as he looked around. “This neighborhood is …”

“Not what you’re used to?” she quipped. “Yeah, I know, rich boy.”

“Doesn’t look like someplace you’d be either, sweetheart, when you have the fortune you do. Your shoes cost more than the mortgage for these houses.”

“I grew up here.”

“And live with your mom?”

“Actually, I’m looking for a new place, and the sooner, the better it seems.”

“There’s a property near mine. Actually, maybe it’s better if—”

“No,” she clipped. “Turn left on Craig Road.”

“Maybe you should move back in with Gavin and Lyla.”

“I’m fine.” She was so far from fine, it was ridiculous, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

Angel followed her terse directions and pulled up to her family house. He put the car in park in her driveway. “I was hoping to give your demons what they needed tonight.”

It was almost nice in a fucked-up way. He was trying to help her. He understood her cravings and tried to feed them but got more than he bargained for. She let out a long breath. “We’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

“There was never going to be another outcome.”

Arrogant. “How are you going home?”

He pushed open his door and climbed out. “Eli’s tracking me. He shouldn’t be far behind.”

“So he’s your second?”

“If you want to call him that.” A car slowed down at the end of the driveway. “I think this is him.”

She heard a sharp ping that she didn’t understand until his body jerked. Two more muffled shots made him reel back as he took the bullets to the chest. No. Rage blotted out common sense and fear. She grabbed her gun and tossed herself over the console and peeked her head out the door. Three men approached with their guns drawn to finish him off. It was a reenactment of Vinny’s murder. This couldn’t be happening to her again.

Her first shot went wide, but her second got one of them in the shin, and another in the man’s throat. A bullet lodged in the Aston less than six inches from her face, but she didn’t flinch. She was trying to get her bearings to make the last shot count when Angel shot two of them from his prone position. Sharp, earsplitting cracks split the air as Eli jogged up the driveway with a gun in each hand and took out the last hit man.

Carmen bent over Angel, hands going to his chest, ready to apply pressure to keep him from bleeding out. She touched him, expecting to feel the sticky wetness of fresh blood, but there was nothing.

“Angel?”

“I’m wearing a vest,” he wheezed.

It took her a few seconds to process. When it did, she fell back on her ass. Angel sat up with a wince and gingerly touched his ruined shirt, marred by three holes on his chest.

“Fuck, that hurt.”

Eli cursed under his breath and turned to confront her curious neighbors, who’d gathered in the street. Adrenaline drained from her as fast as it came. The horror of watching Vinny’s murder play out right in front of her with another man who claimed the crime lord position after Gavin stepped down was too much.

“Carmen?” Angel crouched beside her and touched her clammy skin. “Are you all right?”

She looked up at his handsome, arrogant face. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to throw herself into his arms or murder him. “No, I’m not.”

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

She forced herself up on shaky legs and faced Angel, who thought he was invincible. Vinny’s death destroyed her so badly she wasn’t sure she would ever be okay again. She saw Vinny one last time before he was cremated. The memory of his blood-stained dress shirt and his open, horror-glazed eyes was ingrained in her mind for eternity. Angel’s fearlessness scared the hell out of her. Was he really that good or setting himself up for a bloody ending? He thought he could conquer the world and bring these men to heel. He thought his name and smarts were enough, but she knew the truth. Nothing would ever be enough.

“I can’t,” she said again.

“Can’t what?”

“Watch another man die. I’ve lost too much. I don’t have much left.”

Angel searched her face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Eli called his name and distracted him. She took the key out of the Aston Martin and put her gun in the purse before she walked into the house. She didn’t look back to see the bustle of cars and people gathering on her front lawn. It was Angel’s job to lie and do whatever he had to, to make the three dead bodies disappear. She was so fucking done.

It took several attempts to unlock her door since her hand was shaking so badly. When she finally got in, she leaned back against the door and closed her eyes.

“It’s done,” she whispered. “It’s over.”

Even as she said the words, she shook her head. Her mind kept replaying the way Angel jerked when he got shot, and the awful sound he made as the wind got knocked out of him. How many times had her mind reenacted Vinny’s murder?

She walked upstairs, pushed open her door, and stared at Vinny’s urn. Her heart cracked, and so did the wall of denial. She dropped her purse and keys in the doorway and advanced as first one tear fell and then another. She sank to her knees in front of the dresser, buried her face in the carpet, and gave into the need to scream. The carpet muffled her tortured howl, so she did it again and again. She beat her hands against the rug until her fists were throbbing. If she had the strength, she would have destroyed her room, so it matched her insides.

Tonight, her deepest, darkest secret had been shoved in her face. It was a truth she had been avoiding since his murder. She’d never spoken the words out loud, never allowed herself to think about it because it would destroy her. The leader of the Black Viper gang was right. Someone had signed Vinny’s death warrant, but it wasn’t Gavin. It was her.

“I’m sorry, Vinny,” she whispered. “It’s my fault.”