Wicked Embrace: A Dark Mafia Romance (Ashby Crime Family Book 2), page 1
WICKED EMBRACE
A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE
ASHBY CRIME FAMILY
BOOK 2
KB WINTERS
Copyright © 2023 by KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing Inc
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: Amanda Walker PA and Design Services
CONTENTS
Authors Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Wicked Pleasures Sneak Peek
Chapter One
Thank You So Much!
Also by KB Winters
About The Author
ABOUT WICKED EMBRACE
He's already killed one man for me…
I did as I was told with a smile on my face.
Communion, serving others, keeping my virtue intact.
A perfect little angel all of my life.
When I'm accused of a crime I didn’t commit none of that matters.
My friends, my family, the church, they turned their backs.
So I run, straight into the underworld of Glitz, NV.
And the big strong arms of Calvin Ashby.
He’s super rich, super smart and annoyingly attractive.
And this is where we get complicated.
He’s a criminal. A killer.
And I’m in love with him.
Warning: This book touches on addiction and abuse.
WSJ and USA Today Bestselling author KB Winters brings you a steamy suspense series about the ruthless Ashby crime family! This is the second book in the Ashby Crime Family Series!
Previously Released as Stone Cold
AUTHORS NOTE
Get ready to dive into a world of darkness, passion, and danger, inspired by the legendary Tommy Shelby himself. This heart-racing series will take you on a wild ride through the seedy underbelly of society, where nothing is off-limits and everything is at stake.
Buckle up, because this is not a story for the faint of heart. It's raw, gritty, and as intense as they come. From pulse-pounding action to steamy scenes that will leave you breathless, this is a journey you won't forget.
But beware - this isn't a lighthearted read. The pages are filled with graphic and vivid depictions of the criminal underworld. So, if you're ready to take the plunge, join me on this thrilling adventure. Just be prepared for the ride of your life.
Warning: This book touches on addiction and abuse. It contains strong language and graphic violence.
CHAPTER ONE
Bonnie
People believed what they wanted to believe, and nobody wanted to believe me. Which explained why I was alone in a bar on a Friday night, feeling sorry for myself.
I was officially off the radar. Just another face in the crowd. My family, my friends, hell, even the church, had all deserted me. After all, who wanted to be associated with a killer?
It didn’t matter that I was innocent.
Who needed a judge? I’d already been tried and convicted by a juror of my peers. The ones who promised to love me. Be there for me. The people who should have known I wasn't capable of taking someone's life.
I downed the last of my gin and tonic and slammed the glass down on the counter, feeling the liquor burn its way down my throat. I wasn't ready to go home just yet, so I ordered another drink.
And tonight, like every night for the past week, I was one of them. Only my sins weren’t as interesting as the chick I watched getting finger banged up against the wall last night. Did I say everybody was watching? I’m sure they were, but nobody was as invested in the show as I was.
I wasn’t proud of it, but I was getting off on her pain. Her pleasure too, I guessed. But mostly her pain. Because that was what my life had become: a series of vicarious thrills because my own life was so damned boring.
I turned back and saw a girl sandwiched between two guys who felt her up on the dance floor. Though my parents and my priest would call it sinning, I could admit that she looked…blissful. Like she was having the time of her life. I wanted what she had. But I didn't know how to get it.
Tears welled up in my eyes, so I polished off my drink because there was no way I’d get lucky like the girl on the dance floor—or my best friend Maisie Nilsson. Who hadn’t texted me all week.
No, she had a super sexy gangster with a heart of gold. I had a drug-addicted, whoremongering dead boyfriend. I figured no one would come to my rescue, so I wiped a tear off my cheek and practically ran to the ladies’ room before I was accused of being a lush.
It was surprisingly quiet inside except for the low hum of a woman touching up her makeup at the full length mirror. I flashed a semi-friendly smile, enough to show I was no threat, but not so much she might feel the need to engage in friendly bathroom chatter.
Normally, manners would have forced me into casual small talk, but lately, I wasn’t too big on the things I’d been taught growing up. Not while I stared at my reflection in the shockingly unflattering lighting.
Tonight my reddish-orange hair had been tamed with a flat iron, at least as much as the thick waves wanted to be tamed. The color was still too bright for my pale, nearly porcelain skin.
My eyes were technically hazel but most days they were a lighter brown with a smattering of brown and yellow. Nothing spectacular, just too much of all the wrong stuff and not enough of the right stuff.
Story of my life. A sniff surprised me and the humming woman stopped in her careful lipstick application to look at me.
“He ain’t worth it, honey. They so rarely are.” She flashed a friendly smile to go with the hint of southern still in her accent. “Here, have some booger sugar and forget all about him. Maybe get under somebody else if you know what I’m sayin’.”
I’d have to be deaf and blind not to get what she was saying.
“What is it?” I suspected cocaine, but as Maisie was fond of reminding me, new drugs came out all the time.
“It’s just a little feel good powder, hon. Take a little bump like this.” The woman flicked her blonde waves off her shoulder, dumped a small pile of white powder on the back of her hand, lowered her nostril to it and inhaled it into oblivion. “Easy as.”
It did look easy, and the woman didn’t seem to be in any pain. Her face was beautiful, but her skin was clear and her eyes were as wide as her smile.
“I would like to feel better and alcohol doesn’t seem to be working,” I said hesitantly.
“Just like I did it. Go on,” she said with an encouraging smile. Suddenly I understood that not all peer pressure was like the PSA’s from school. Some of it was benign, barely even enough to be considered pressure.
This woman, just like the devil, came wrapped in a pretty package, bearing a smile rather than a sneer. And today I wanted—no I needed—what this beautiful devil was offering.
So I took it. Exactly like she did, taking a deep inhale until the powder disappeared up my nostril. Before I even let out my breath, I felt better. Warm and relaxed. Good. Like everything was right in the world.
“Wow,” I said as the magic hit.
“Exactly,” she said with a satisfied smile. She smacked her lips together, gave her reflection one last glance and headed for the door.
“Hey, what’s your name?”
“Toni.”
“Bonnie. Thanks.”
“From one sister to another,” she said and shimmied out of the bathroom into the constant throbbing pulse that was the exact distraction Bullets & Beer had become for me.
When I made my way out of the bathroom, I headed straight for the dance floor and closed my eyes. My brain worked overtime to shut out the past seven days of my life.
Arrested on suspicion of murder and interrogated for sixty-eight hours straight by professional skeptics. That was bad enough, terrifying and humiliating to be sure. It was not an experience I wanted to repeat. But it was what came after that truly broke my heart.
Being disowned by my parents was more humiliating than the entire Glitz Police Department thinking I was not only capable of killing—but actually killing my own priest. My mother had even asked me if I was sleeping with him and killed him out of guilt.
My own mother!
But nothing could wipe out that memory, not even the bass that shook so loud I couldn’t tell if I was breathing or holding my breath. I seemed destined to relive over and over the one moment in my
Or escape.
“I’ll help you pack a few bags.”
Maisie was waiting for me outside the police station like the good best friend she was with a hot cup of coffee and a sympathetic smile. She drove me home but only on the condition that I return with her to Ashby Manor for a few days at least.
“Great, thanks, Maze. Just remember I have a few job interviews so don’t just pack club clothes or sexy stuff.”
Maisie smirked and rolled her eyes. “Did you add some sexy things to your wardrobe while I wasn’t watching?” Her laughter helped ease the tension from hours of questioning and accusations. “And if so, I’m insulted that I didn’t get the joy of shopping with you while you bought it.”
Because that was Maisie, happy when others were happy. At least when I was. “Not sexy, no, but not appropriate for an interview either.”
We both stepped out of the car and walked up the familiar path to the over-the-top Tudor-style house that was my parents’ pride and joy. The door was locked.
I stamped my foot in a mock tantrum. “The door is never locked.”
Maisie rolled her eyes. “Something I still can’t believe you guys think is all right.”
“It’s Glitz, not Vegas, Maze.”
“Vegas is right next door, and I’ll remind you that no place is free of crime, little lady.” Her cowboy accent brought a smile to my face, but it died quickly in the next few seconds.
Faith, our housekeeper, opened the door with a stoic expression on her face. “Ms. Byrne. Your parents have instructed that you are allowed to take some clothes and other essentials, but you are no longer welcome here.” Her stiff tone was the first clue that it wasn’t a joke. A sick, cruel joke would be beyond my parents’ capability. But straight up cruelty was right in their wheelhouse.
“What the fu—,” Maisie started but I stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.
“What do you mean I’m no longer welcome here? This is my house!” And my parents had refused to come home to help me, insisting they were doing God’s work where they were. “Where am I supposed to go?”
Sympathy flashed in her eyes, but Faith quickly blinked it away. “I’m so sorry Miss Bonnie. There are shelters available. Perhaps Ms. Nilsson is happy to provide you with a place to stay.”
Maisie barked out a laugh and pushed inside past Faith with a snort. “Abso-fucking-lutely she can stay with me. Come on Bonnie, let’s get your shit and put this mausoleum in the rearview!”
I knew Maisie was trying to keep the mood light for me, but it didn’t work. My heart sank and bile rose in my throat as the betrayal from my family washed over me. Betrayal. Lies. Hypocrisy. It was all too much, and I did the only thing I could.
I cried.
I cried and cried while Maisie packed up bags for me, more bags that she probably should have as she roared that they were assholes who didn’t deserve me.
“If they’re so worried about what you take then they should’ve been here to watch over you.”
She was right, and even if she wasn’t, I didn’t have the energy to argue the point. So I nodded and watched through tear-filled eyes as she packed. “Maisie, please.”
“Sorry but it’s true. You can stay with me at Ashby Manor as long as you need to, and if you don’t feel comfortable there, Max and Jana will put you up.”
From Catholic princess who did everything right, to a homeless couch surfer who had nothing. This was the fresh hell that had become my life.
I danced with my eyes closed until the lights came on and the late night stragglers, the ones going home alone or too trashed to realize the night was over, were herded out by curiously good looking bouncers.
“Hey sweetheart, let me buy you one last drink.” The voice was deep and smooth like butter, so I turned with a wobbly smile, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Sure. I’m Bonnie.” He smiled, and I practiced my flirting as the crowd poured out around us.
“Steve.” He leaned in close, too close. But he was so handsome I kept getting distracted by his face instead of his roaming hands.
My head started to spin halfway through the last drink, and I knew it was time to leave. “Uhm, thanks for the drink Steve, but I have to get out of here.” I turned and fled with more drama than the situation probably required, but I felt him close behind me.
“Hey, come back here!”
Luckily, Colby, the hot bartender, stopped him, giving me enough time to get out of the club and the casino, where I started the path home.
In hindsight I should have taken Maisie up on her offer because walking home—if the hovel I rented by the week could be called a home—at two in the morning wasn’t the smartest idea I’d ever had.
I could have driven, but after the interrogation, I never wanted to see another police officer or detective again. The state I was in was a sure invitation to a night in the drunk tank. Calling an Uber would cost money I couldn’t afford to waste, not until I had steady income.
The small efficiency apartment I rented in downtown Glitz wasn’t what I had in mind for my first place. Still, it was all I could afford without going through my savings in a couple months.
Thankfully, my parents had left me with the car they’d gifted me in my last year of college, so I could make it to job interviews, not that anyone was interested in hiring someone who had been accused of murder. Even though it was all a farce.
“Hey sweetheart, let me take you for a ride on the bologna pony!” The deep crude voice pulled me from my thoughts, reminding me that I was no longer in the quiet, gated suburban neighborhood I grew up in. This was the city. Dirty and gritty and filled with all types of people.
“No thanks,” I called out in the direction I thought his voice came from and picked up my speed on the trash-lined street, as much as I could after six drinks and a line of coke.
It felt like someone was following me even though I knew that couldn’t be true, didn’t even really make sense. Yet, I felt it, and I walked so fast, I was almost running. I turned around a few times but saw nothing.
Then I turned around again and saw him. It was the man from the bar. He was grinning at me now, and I froze in place. I couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, couldn’t do anything. He came closer and I could smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Hey there, beautiful.” He slurred, and I wanted to vomit. I tried to push him away, but he was too strong. He grabbed my arm and pulled me close, his grip bruising. “You’ve been driving me crazy all night. I think I’m gonna fuck you right here.”
“No!” I tried to knee him in the groin, but he blocked me and chuckled.
“Oh, you’re a feisty one, aren’t you? I like that.”
I was so close, I could see the front door to my apartments, but his hand closed around my arm, yanking me back. I tried to scream and fight him off, but I was too drunk.
He slammed me against the wall and I felt something sharp slice into my skin. I cried out in pain as he kept pressing harder. Then his other hand went around my throat, choking me. I struggled to breathe as blackness started to close in around me.
Just as I was about to lose consciousness, I heard someone yell. The man swore and let go of me abruptly. I fell to the ground, my head hitting the concrete with a thud.
I tried to get up, but my head was spinning and my vision was blurred. I felt something warm running down my shoulder and realized I was bleeding.
I gasped for air while the man kicked me. Once, twice. I curled up into a ball to protect myself. He kicked me again and I yelped in pain.
His boots were hard. Dirty. They hit my ribs, my stomach. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. All I could feel was the pain.
