Riches To Riches, Part One (Abbs Valley #1)

Chapter 1

Alessa

“Ya know, I usually like to play a little longer, but I have a date,” I declare, running my blade down my victim’s cheek, glorifying in the shiver it causes.

“You were a hard one to find, though. So, when I finally found you, I had to snatch you up.” I laugh and jump off his lap, where I’m straddling him, my high-heeled boots hitting the concrete floor with a decisive click.

“Who are you?” my victim gasps out.

“You don’t know who I am?” I ask with a fake pout. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows who I am; he just wants to confirm it. “They call me the Black Demon.”

I watch his eyes widen, finally letting it sink in that his life is truly over. “You know why they call me that?” I ask with a tilt of my head. “Because I come in through the shadows, you never see me coming; then you leave the same way. Never to be seen again.”

I walk to my row of weapons, running my fingers over each one.

Knives of all shapes and sizes. My favorite.

But like I told my friend here, I don’t have time to play because I do have a date.

I have been seeing Leo for about four months, and so far, it’s going great, but with everything else in my life, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Leo isn’t my usual type. I usually like them tattooed and rugged.

We met at my favorite club, and his blue-green eyes drew me in like a moth to the flame.

His eyes change colors with the light or his mood.

His dark brown hair is thick on top and has a perfect fade to his neck.

He has plump lips that I love to kiss and suck on.

He has the perfect amount of stubble, a little thicker around those pretty lips.

The gods sculpted his body themselves, lean but cut at all the right angles.

Tonight is the night I will see it all in its glory.

We’ve messed around, but we haven’t had sex yet because I have been holding back.

Not because I don’t love sex, I do. But I feel different about him than anyone else, so tonight, I am going to give him what both our bodies have been begging for.

I’m wearing my favorite pair of black high-heeled ankle boots, black ripped skinny jeans that make my legs look long, a light blue baby doll tank that my boobs practically fall out of, and my signature black leather jacket.

My long black hair is falling down my back in soft waves, the color of my tank making my light blue eyes stand out.

It’s what’s underneath that I can’t wait to show him; a matching lacy bra and thong, the same color as my tank top.

I hear a whimper from behind me and realize I'm daydreaming. Checking my phone, I see that I’m out of time. I pick up my favorite knife and turn toward my newest victim.

I point my knife at my victim. “Todd Gilroy, you are convicted of rape. Your daddy’s money has gotten you acquitted of all charges, but that’s where I come in.

” I walk towards him. “I get justice for all those girls that had to suffer through your rape and see you walk away without even a slap on the wrist.”

“I didn’t rape anyone!” Todd insists.

I roll my eyes. “That’s what they all say. I don’t waste my time. I did my research. You’re a piece of shit who likes to drug and rape them because you can’t get them any other way.” I walk behind him and grab his hair, yanking his head back.

“You won’t get away with this,” he blubbers. “My dad…”

I yank his hair again, making him yelp. “Your dad is next. I see that being a rapist runs in your family.” I place my knife against his neck. “Marciume all'inferno,” I murmur.

I drag my blade across his throat; it slices like a knife through butter. Always have to keep these babies sharp. I close my eyes and let the calmness of these kills wash over me. I could feel it settle my mind and body like it always does.

I open my eyes and jump back before the blood can ruin my boots, listening to my friend Todd gurgle. “Ugh,” I say, walking over to clean my knife and place it back in its spot.

“Aren’t you going to be late?” Ryder asks.

I turn around to face him with a smile. He’s leaning against the doorway of my little homemade torture chamber, staring at a dead Todd with an eyebrow raised.

Ryder would be more my type if we hadn’t known each other since we were in diapers.

Six-foot-three, ripped, thighs like tree trunks, and an ass to die for.

His ass actually makes me a little jealous.

Dark hair and dark brown eyes. Thin hoops in each nostril, tattoos everywhere.

The perfect definition of a broody alpha hole.

His dad was my dad’s right-hand man, so Ryder took the mantle with me when his dad retired after my dad died.

“No. I have a little time,” I reply. “What are you doing down here?”

He shoves off the wall, walking towards me. “Your uncle called,” I wrinkle my nose, and he chuckles, “He said he needs you to do that charity gala bullshit in two weeks.”

I sigh, ruffling the hair around my face. “Micah knows I hate those things. Nothing says let’s raise money for needy kids like a bunch of violent crime families.”

He chuckles again. “That’s what you get for being the leader.”

The thorn in my side. Before my dad died of cancer, he handed me the title of Boss, which made me the leader of the Italian Mafia.

One of the most prominent Italian Mafia presences in the United States is California, where the Poletti’s made a name for themselves.

I was twenty-two at the time; now, at twenty-five, I still don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.

That’s where my uncle Micah comes in. He stepped up to help me out so I didn’t drown. Losing my dad was hard enough without trying to keep this family together. Recently, I stepped up, finally deciding to be who my dad trusted me to be. I’m sure that didn’t include being a serial killer, however.

No one ever suspected I’m the Black Demon, the female serial killer who goes after all the bad guys or girls that prey on the weak. Since their bodies are never found, no one can pin them on me. Perks of being a part of the Mafia, you can make anything or anyone disappear.

“You want to go with me?” I ask Ryder, batting my eyelashes.

He snorts. “Hell no. Ask Gage. He lives for that shit.”

“Come on,” I whine. “You're my right-hand man, and you're supposed to do these things for me.”

He laughs loudly and pushes off the weapons table he is leaning on. “This is what I do as your right-hand man,” he says, pointing to Todd. “I clean up your kills; I don’t go to galas.” He grimaces at the word gala.

“Fine, be that way,” I say and flip my hair over my shoulder. “Gage and I will have all the fun.” I check my phone for the time. “Shit. I have to go.”

He shoos me away. “Go. I got this”

I blow him a kiss and run for the stairs leading me to the main house. “Thank you!”

When Micah realized what I was doing, he built my torture chamber for me.

The door that leads to it inside the house just looks like a wine cellar when you first enter, with a hidden door.

That leads to a hallway with several doors with fingerprint locks.

The last door leads to the chamber. My dad never knew what I did in my free time; Micah found out by accident.

Instead of judgment, he made sure I never got caught.

This is the only way my mind is clear of everything I have ever gone through. I go after the assholes like the ones who raped and tortured me. Some people go to therapy. I murder.

As I round the corner into the house, I run into Gage’s chest. “Whoa,” he chuckles, grabbing my shoulders to steady me.

“Sorry,” I say and take off running again. “I’m late! Gala with me in two weeks, so have a tux ready!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he yells back.

Gage is not someone you would expect to be involved in the Mafia.

Brown, thick wavy hair over ice blue eyes.

Perfectly sculpted face. Two diamond studs in each ear.

Lean swimmers’ body. Complete pretty boy.

But that’s why he works as my date for galas.

He looks the part of the spoiled rich boy.

No one would ever know this fun-loving guy has a mean streak a mile wide if you pissed him off.

I jump into my black BMW M4, one of the more low-key cars I have, and head to the restaurant to meet Leo.

“Damn, Baby, you look gorgeous tonight,” Leo greets with a kiss on the cheek.

I sit in the chair he pulls out for me, waiting for him to do the same. “You do too,” I reply, looking him up and down. Black button-up over black jeans paired with black boots.

I kept my makeup understated tonight, just black eyeliner in my cat eye and some pink lipstick to make my pouty lips stand out. No foundation for my tan skin, not when I planned to sweat it off.

I slide my black leather jacket off to hang on the back of the chair, and Leo’s eyes zero in on my cleavage.

He folds his arms on the table, leaning closer. “Are you trying to make my cock stay hard through dinner?” He looks me over again. “Because it’s working.”

I chuckle and mirror his pose. “I’ll make it all better after dinner,” I say as I move my tank to the side to tease the edge of my lacey bra.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

I move it back into place when the waiter walks up.

“Ms. Poletti,” he greets me with a nod since this is one of the places I frequent, and most people know who I am by reputation.

They may not know exactly who I am, but they know I’m important.

It’s funny how that level of respect works.

I grew up here, so most people knew me through my dad, but I made a name for myself.

Sure, there are rumors we are Mafia, but no one can prove it. We have legit businesses everywhere. Restaurants, nightclubs, casinos, you name it, we own one. We are right on the beach, so we own sea charter businesses, too, which is how we filter in all the illegal shit.