Sinful Empire (Mount Trilogy #3)

“No, boss. We got them all. Every single f*cking one.”

“Are you absolutely certain? Because if you’re wrong—”

“I’m not wrong. What the hell is going on?”

“V can’t find Keira at the distillery. Something’s not right.”

“V couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag. It’s a big building. He’s probably lost himself.”

J’s dismissive tone pisses me right the f*ck off, and I don’t bother responding. I hang up.





Keira





I wake up, my hands bound behind my back. A horrid stench fills my nostrils.

“Oh God. What is that?”

“f*cking bitch. You just won’t die, will you?”

My eyes snap open, focusing on the beam of a flashlight and the blond woman standing just beyond it, her hair almost white in the moonlight. I’ve never seen her before in my life.

“Who the hell are you?” I choke out the words as the nasty smell threatens to bring up everything I ate tonight.

“I’m the only one who understands him. I’m the one who gets to be with him. I’m his destiny.”

“What the f*ck are you talking about?” I struggle to sit up, but my hand touches something that crunches and crumbles beneath it.

I take my eyes off her for one second to look down at what else the flashlight beam has illuminated.

“Oh my God.” I’m lying on top of a pile of bodies. Skeletons. Decomposing corpses. All wearing women’s clothes.

Moonlight sneaks through cracks in the ceiling, revealing that I’m in a mausoleum.

No. No, this is not happening. I’m having a nightmare.

Bile rises in my throat as she raises the barrel of a gun in my direction.

“When you want something done right, you always have to do it yourself.”

She pulls the trigger just as I try to push up and scramble back. The bullet punches through my shoulder with a searing, burning stab of pain, its impact stealing my breath as I fall sideways onto something softer.

The flashlight beam bounces as she turns to leave, but before she shuts the door, the light lands on a face inches from mine.

Magnolia’s face.

Oh God. No.

“What the f*ck did you do, you crazy bitch?” I scream.

“You’re the crazy bitch. He was mine first, and he’ll always be mine. That was your mistake. You won’t make it again. None of you get a second chance,” the woman says as the last sliver of light disappears, leaving me shot and bleeding next to my best friend.

“Help!” I scream until my voice grows weak and everything goes black again.





Mount





“Where the f*ck are you?” I ask J. “The cops haven’t shown up. Who the f*ck gave that tip? Because if that was bullshit, someone’s head will roll.”

“He’s a reliable source. I’m on my way. Be there in five, boss.”

V still can’t find Keira. Temperance’s car is gone. J is on the way, and I’m losing my f*cking mind.

The necklace. Her GPS tracker. Keira still has it on.

I pull up the app and wait for it to load for what seems like a million years.

No signal. I forgot that here on the casino floor, we’ve blocked all wireless and internet access.

f*ck. f*ck.

I rush out of the casino and through the hallways to my office. Once there, I attempt to get the app to load on my phone and bring up my computer screens at the same time. When I finally get it to load on my desktop, J enters my office.

“This doesn’t make any f*cking sense,” I whisper. The location is one I know, a place I visit at least twice a year. It has to be wrong.

“Did V find her, boss?”

“No. V didn’t f*cking find her. I just did, and I need you to tell me what the f*ck is going on.”

I look up at J’s face, her pale blond hair tumbling down around her shoulders rather than up in the tight bun she normally wears.

“Calm down, Mikey. It’s gonna be fine.”

“Don’t you f*cking call me that. You know better, J.”



Seventeen years earlier

My pager vibrated with a number I recognized all too well, followed by the digits 911.

f*ck, what the hell kind of trouble had Hope gotten herself into now? I knew she struggled. We all f*cking struggled because of the shit we’d been through.

The day Hope Jones had walked up the steps to the foster home from hell, I’d known nothing would ever be the same. It was a gut thing.

The first man I’d ever f*cking killed was that piece of shit, Jerry, who had his dick out, ready to rape a fourteen-year-old girl. I’d hoped getting her out of that house before he could touch her would put her on a better path, and it did—for a while.

Those years I spent on the streets, there wasn’t much I could do except watch to make sure Hope and Destiny didn’t leave their new home bruised or looking the worse for wear. I watched over them both the best I could. When Morello brought me into the organization, he owned my life. Eventually, I gained a little more power, and I used that power to make sure Hope graduated from high school and was able to get custody of Destiny.

I’d paid their bills for years, and not just because Hope hadn’t gotten a degree yet. I felt responsible for them. You didn’t watch out for two people for this long and just forget about them.

At least, I didn’t.

Maybe that was the problem. I should have made Hope take on more responsibility for her own damn life. She’d been trying college for years and still didn’t have a diploma to show for it, but I didn’t make her get a full-time job instead.

Mostly because I wanted her around for Destiny. Hope might not be the best example, but she was a hell of a lot better than anything I had growing up.

Plus, Destiny was smart as hell, and she had a future that both Hope and I wanted to protect.

I left my office, the same office where I ended Morello’s life for touching another girl the way Jerry dared touch Hope, with brass knuckles and a Zippo lighter in one pocket, a switchblade in the other, and twin .45s strapped under my suit coat. I didn’t bring a f*cking knife to a gunfight anymore.

Hell, I didn’t even have to go to the gunfight anymore. But this wasn’t something I was willing to delegate. Hope and Destiny had always been personal.

It only took me ten minutes to get to the house I’d bought for Hope. Inside, dishes shattered and a man yelled.

Destiny was cowering outside under the front steps, rocking back and forth. She was almost eighteen, but curled up and terrified, she reminded me of the five-year-old I first knew.

“What the f*ck is going on?” I asked her.

“I don’t know. He’s . . . he’s really pissed. Hope woke him up by accident, and he started going off. She got between us, and I ran. I can’t hear her anymore, Mikey. I’m scared.” Destiny sniffled back tears. “Why can’t I hear her?”

I was already taking the steps two at a time, too focused on the situation to tell her not to f*cking call me by that name. Michael Arch died when he was thirteen.

I burst through the front door, my gun drawn and sweeping the room.