Twisted Games of Revenge (Sinners of Ravens Hollow #3)

Chapter 1

“Ravens Hollow authorities have launched an investigation following the discovery of a stolen burnt-out Mercedes with human remains behind Black Raven Grill last night. The burning vehicle was found by staff just after seven. Local firefighters were called to the scene to extinguish the flames. Once the fire was under control, emergency personnel discovered a body inside the charred remains of the vehicle.

Ravens Hollow police have not yet released the identity of the victim, and investigators are treating the death as suspicious, leaving many questions unanswered about the circumstances surrounding their passing. The cause of the fire is still being investigated, and authorities haven’t dismissed the possibility of foul play, potentially linked to the ongoing gang violence that’s gripping our city. Forensic teams have cordoned off the area, collecting evidence to determine what led to this tragic incident.

The police are urging anyone with information that could help their investigation to come forward.” The news broadcast drones on, her voice a flat monotone that ads nothing to the anguish I felt walking away from that vehicle.

I flick off the news broadcast having already seen enough. Running a hand through my tangled curls, I slump down on the end of my cheap motel bed. I’m more confused than ever. There was no body in Dani’s car when I left it on fire. What the hell could have happened after I took off? How does a body just appear?

I can’t think about that today, I have bigger fish to fry. Like tracking down that motherfucker Enzo Moretti. I pull out the hand-scrawled list of places Enzo likes to frequent. Dani sure was thorough in her research on him. She has everything from coffee joints to bars and restaurants, giving me plenty of options for where to start my hunt.

I tug my hoodie up over my vibrant hair, making sure to tuck any loose strands under the soft black fabric, then push my combat knife into the back pocket of my black skinny jeans and tie up the laces of my boots. Leaving the compact space of the motel behind and the few possessions in my small backpack, I lock the door with a click of the handle.

As I walk down the dingy streets of Ravens Hollow underworld, the sun beams down on me, making me sweat like mad under the dark hoodie I can’t take off. It feels like danger lurks around every street corner, even though it’s close to midday. This part of the neighborhood is damaged with the scars of violence, graffiti and bullet holes marking the territory of the gangs that call this part of the city home, the Strykers being at the top of the pecking order. I stick to the shadows, trying to blend in like I’m supposed to be here. Just another delinquent looking for my next payday.

By now the boys and my brother will all know I’m gone. Dani would have had to call Geovani and Marco and tell them what I did. I’m sure they are furious with me. But I can’t dwell on their feelings. They’re alive, and for now, that’s all that matters. I have taken a target off all their backs. The Moretti brothers can move on with their lives without me bringing constant threat to them, and Geovani, Dani, and Marco can work with that cop and finish what we all started, working out a way to take down Enzo before it’s too late.

When I find the café I’m looking for, I slip into an adjacent side street and lean my shoulder into a solid brick wall. Just as Dani said he would be, Enzo sits in the mostly vacant café, letting his presence be known. His booming laugh finds my ears from all the way across the street as he talks with Mayor Chambly.

Alessandro is wrong about one thing. Him taking charge of the Moretti businesses hasn’t knocked Enzo off his perch. He’s still charming the important people, and that only means one thing. He’s offering them something Alessandro and the other boys can’t or won’t. Their conversation winds down quickly, and soon they’re both pushing back from the cafe table, Enzo giving Chambly a hearty slap on the back before they depart in different directions. I could go either way, but Enzo knows my face and it’s way too risky. Instead, I move along the street in the same direction as Chambly, wondering what he’s up to.

He walks for a couple of blocks then heads down a gap between two shops and knocks at a black door with an oversized number ten in gold letters, right at the end of the alleyway. I glance back up the street to see if I can find the address. The buildings flanking this spot appear on Google Maps, but this place seems completely non-existent, unless it’s the hidden back entrance of the flower shop across the street.

As I round the corner, I pause to scrutinize the door, its peeling jet-black paint giving nothing away. I move in closer and can hear the rhythmic beat of dance music pumping through the air. I could knock just like the mayor did, but it’s too risky when I have no idea what is on the other side of the door. Instead, I find a place across the street and wait.

An hour later, he returns. No other person came or left in that time, just him. Perhaps he knows the person who owns the florist? But something tells me that place is more like a club or something, one that’s raging even at lunch time. Chambly moves quickly across the street, glancing over his shoulder a few times before hopping in a silver Cadillac Escalade. As he hurries into the car, something slips from his pocket, a flash of fluorescent green.

I watch as he drives off down the street, that same small slip of paper flying up in the air behind his car. I move across the street and collect the paper, inspecting it. It has the stamp from Sinners Paradise on it and what looks like a girl’s name on the other side. Cindy, #246. Whatever that means.

I pocket the slip of paper and start the long walk back to the accommodation I’m staying in, pretty sure that was all a big fat waste of time.

The melodic beat of blues music has me feeling even more down than I was when I arrived in this place a couple of hours ago. I pull my hoodie further around my face, making sure my vibrant red hair is concealed completely.

Through a straw, I take another sip of my sickly-sweet lemonade, wishing it was laced with spirits to fight off the cloud of depression following me around since I pulled that gun on Dani and stole her Mercedes. But I know I need a clear head tonight.

After my dead end this morning, I thought I might try another potential lead. The Raven’s Nest is a classy establishment, considering what I think takes place inside these walls. Sex, drug deals, and whatever gang members do on the regular in this dodgy part of town.

The main bar consists of a large, enchanting room with a bar in the center and booths all-round the perimeter. The entire space is dark and moody, featuring luxurious black and silver finishes and fine-crystal chandeliers hanging overhead. Even I have to admit the owner, Sloane Stryker, has exceptional taste, especially for the type of business she’s conducting here, but I guess this room is a front for the more sordid things that happen behind the roped-off rooms in the back. That must be where all the fun takes place. The elite members-only section the boys were telling me about just a couple of nights ago.

From the little I saw of her the other evening, Sloane doesn’t come across like the other gangsters that take up space in this neighborhood. She’s something else entirely, and I’m fascinated. Overhearing that conversation between her and her staff member the other night in the bathroom is one of the reasons I decided to ditch my escape plan and stay and fight. I’m not the only one who hates Enzo Moretti with a passion.

After walking away from Dani’s burning vehicle, I quickly sought refuge in a nearby store, buying a new mobile phone, before taking a taxi back to this part of Ravens Hollow with one thing on my mind—Enzo Moretti and making him pay for everything he stole from me. Someone needs to make him pay. Why not me?

As much as my chest radiates a pain I have never felt before, I have to block the boys from my mind. All four of them. I can’t afford to dwell on those memories; it will only shatter me all over again. I allowed myself to cry the first night, but not anymore; my days of letting my emotions rule me are done. I need to be more like the fascinating woman who owns this place. Hard and fierce, taking what I want from life. I can’t afford emotion or love. I’m still here with one thing on my mind: killing Enzo Moretti before he has a chance to hurt anyone else I care about. And since I know for a fact he frequents this club, I figure this is as good a place as anywhere to start spying on him.

The kind of blonde that makes heads turn strides right past me. I can’t help but watch her in awe. She has on a pair of black tailored pants that hug her long legs and a white button-down shirt. Her long hair flows softly over her shoulders, sleek and shimmering under the low lights like silk. Her sky-high heels click along the concrete as she walks with purpose. She’s trailed by a tall burly guy in a leather jacket and faded jeans.

“It’s been four days, Ash, where the fuck is she?” She scowls, her normally delicate features hardening as pain etches itself across her face.

Yeah, with my new phone and access to the internet I’ve spent my spare time indulging in a little research on the Stryker family, and I know this about Sloane Stryker: she’s one of five siblings, the youngest and only girl, and member of the Iron Strykers gang. She’s as ruthless as she is pretty, and from the way she conducts herself around this place, I can see she’s treated like one of the boys. It’s impressive to watch and nearly impossible in this world. I want to be just like her. But for now, I need to be invisible, so I lower my head and move into the shadows cast over my booth.

Sloane and her brother, Asher, take a seat at the booth beside mine, not even noticing me. “She’ll show up, little sister. For fuck’s sake, you know Pia, she takes off for weeks at a time. Probably found some new sugar daddy to whisk her off to the Hamptons for a week or some shit.”

I cringe at the thought. That poor girl found a sugar daddy alright, but she’s not on some fancy holiday. She’s probably at the bottom of Ravens Hollow dam with cement shoes.

“Trust me, Asher, this is different. Myriah admitted to me she’s been seeing Enzo Moretti behind all of our backs. The last Myriah heard, Pia was meeting with him for the night. Then she just vanished. That’s not a motherfucking coincidence.” I hear the pain in her furious voice, and I feel terrible for the poor girl. It’s no coincidence her friend never came back, she’s right about that. She’s another victim of Enzo’s violence. And another good reason I have to stop him before he hurts someone else.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” A growl rumbles out of him, and he bangs his fists down on his table so hard it vibrates right through to my booth. “Why the fuck would she be so stupid?”

“I have no clue, Ash. But you see now why I’m so worried. That’s why I called you here tonight. I need you to set up a meeting with Alex Moretti. He’s been willing to work with us in the past with shit like this. Remember the last couple of escorts that went missing, he personally saw to it that the responsible parties paid dearly. I know this is his papa, but you know as well as I do the old man has lost his fucking mind, and Alex has taken over. There has to be something he can do to stop him now.”

There’s a pause in their conversation, and I wish I could see their faces, but I’m too scared to move in case they see me.

“Fuck,” Ash grumbles, and I imagine he’s running a hand through his longish hair while he thinks over his little sister’s request.

What she is asking for is exactly what I wanted Alex to do, and I already know he won’t. But what surprises me is what she said about dealing with the people responsible for the last few escorts to go missing. Why did he do that?

“Sloane, you know when we worked with him in the past it was different. He’s in no position to work with a known gang member now.”

I hear movement from behind me. “Fine, I’ll do it then,” she snarls back at him. “I don’t see why this fucking city bows down to the Morettis. It’s fucking bullshit. I’m not playing by their rules anymore.” She strides back past me in a huff, her heels clicking on the concrete floor.

There’s a scuffle from behind me, and the two intoxicated men move past my table, knocking it as they pass.

Ash follows her as she stalks across the room. “Sloane, don’t fucking do anything stupid,” Ash calls after his sister, shoving past the men in a rush.

I roll my eyes on her behalf. Fucking brothers. He sounds just like mine, bossy and controlling. But he’s right about one thing. Alex Moretti won’t help her deal with Enzo. I watch her stride across the room in her six-inch heels, kick a swinging door open, and slam it behind her with her brother on the other side, just as furious. He bangs his fists on the door and calls out to her, but it looks like she might have just locked him out. They are a fiery family, from zero to one hundred in seconds.

“Hey there, pretty lady, haven’t seen you in here before.” An older gentleman probably in his late forties leans over my table, leering at me. His breath is laced with the stench of stale beer. He’s in a button-up, with the tie gone and the first few buttons undone, but the rest of him looks far too put together to be in a place like this. His hair neatly combed, his face closely shaven, and not a piercing or tattoo in sight.

I narrow my gaze in his direction, making it perfectly clear I’m not on offer tonight. “I’m waiting on my boyfriend. He won’t be long, and he’s extremely overprotective. The six-foot-six type with muscles bulging out of his shirt. Not someone you want to mess with,” I say with a bitchy edge to my voice that tells him not to bother wasting his time with me. Not tonight, buddy. Not ever.

“Lucky him.” He smirks as his eyes run down my body in a way that makes me cringe. What the hell is he even looking at? I’m almost completely covered up with this oversized hoody, but he’s still gawking at me like he knows I have a hot little body underneath. Gross. I wave him off, making it clear I don’t want him in my space. He’s already distracted me from the fight the Stryker siblings were having and now I have lost the two of them.

Great.

Glancing past him with a huff, he takes the hint and moves on, talking to the security guard at the entrance to the elite section of the club instead. I search the room for Sloane, but she’s gone. Her brother has made himself comfortable at the bar, flirting shamelessly with one of the waitresses who twirls a long strand of chocolate-brown hair in her fingers as she giggles back at him. I think that’s the girl who was crying in the bathroom a couple of nights ago, the one Sloane just called Myriah. She must have recovered from her sadness pretty damn quickly, or he just has her distracted. Asher’s a player, you can tell. He has that whole charming bad boy aesthetic down to a T.

Ordering another drink, I sit on it for an hour waiting, scanning my phone for any more new stories on the car I dumped and the body that was found. But when I glance at my phone, seeing it’s well past midnight, I know I need to head back to the cheap motel room I booked up the street. Enzo’s not going to show his face tonight. And with Asher still chatting up Myriah, I know I’m not going to get a chance to pull her aside and ask the questions I need to either.

Disappointed, I push off the velvet seat and dust down my jeans, making sure my hair is well and truly tucked under the hoodie. Tomorrow, I need to work on a better way of hiding myself.

I leave the club, slinking my way back out through the front doors, trying to remain unnoticed. The cool night air hits my face, sending a chill over me that leaves goosebumps in its wake.

The motel room I booked is less than a street away, just a quick walk, and I enjoy the fresh air and chance to be outside alone; it’s quiet and peaceful, even if there is the hum of sirens in the distance. It’s like I can breathe for the first time in months without some dude wrapping his arm around me, directing me whatever way he wants me to go. As much as I already miss them, I like having space to think without them clouding my mind with all their overprotective bullshit.

Out of the shadows a hand reaches out and grabs me. I try to scream, but his hand crushes against my mouth, and in the same movement, another snakes around my waist as the person drags me into their body so tightly, I can’t escape.

I let out a muffled scream.

At first, I think the boys must be on to me already, but when the stench of stale beer fills my nostrils, I know exactly who has hold of me. The asshole from the bar.

I do all I can to escape, my nails scraping against his rough jacket, my elbow digging violently into his ribs, and my legs flailing wildly as he drags me down the foul, dark alley behind The Raven’s Nest.

“Don’t see that big tough boyfriend around now, sweetie. Too good for me, are you? Well, you know what I do to stuck-up bitches who think they’re too good?” His breath comes over my ear, warm and musty, making my stomach roll. “I show them how fucking good I am.” He shoves me into the solid brick wall from behind, and I smack my face against the rough brick, the abrasive surface scratching open my skin. “No one turns me down and gets away with it. You don’t get to be as powerful as I am by walking away from what you want.” He shoves a knee in between my legs, forcing them open.

Oh, dear God, he’s going to rape me. Through my panic I try to remember my training. This is why I worked so hard in the gym with Geovani. There is no way in hell I’m going to let this fucking prick touch me. I sink my teeth into the hand covering my mouth, and he loosens his grip on me a little, giving me the upper hand. I bring my elbow back to collide with his nose, feeling the solid connection as I hear a crunch.

Grunting in pain, he staggers backward.

I spin around to face him. Blood rushes out of his nose, and he stares up at me, his eyes darkening to psychotic as he spits the trailing blood at me.

I don’t have a second to waste. I throw a right hook, taking him off guard and smashing him right across his jaw.

“You fucking little bitch.” Furious, he runs at me, knocking me back into the wall, all the air flying out of my lungs in a rush. My head flings back in a way that makes it spin. “Like it rough, do you, baby. That’s fucking perfect for me. The harder you fight, the more I enjoy it.”

Something snaps inside of me, and I see red. This fucker is not going to touch me. His disgusting words fuel my fire. He moves to grab at me again, but I use the wall for support and shoot my legs up to kick him in the gut.

He lets out a groan and rears back, furious to be taken on by me.

I slip my hand into my back pocket, and as he comes at me again, I pull my knife from it and sink it straight into the side of his neck, just how Geovani showed me. His words come back to me. When all else fails, use your knife and hit them right in the jugular.

The asshole’s eyes go wide as he wraps his hands around the knife, a look of pure fear as he tries to pull the knife free with no luck. Blood gushes out of the wound, spilling over his hands. He drops to his knees.

I stumble back, nearly tripping on my own feet. Oh fuck. That looks so fucking bad. I didn’t mean to stab him, I just wanted him to back off. To leave me alone.

Blood seeps out and over his fingers. “You fucking little bitch. You will pay for this. Do you know who I am?” he gurgles, the most disgusting sound I have ever heard.

I retreat further, my heart pounding with fear. I have no idea who he is. Was he sent by Enzo?

“Hey, you!” comes a furious female voice from further up the alleyway, sending a fresh wave of panic racing through me.

Someone saw me.