Page 44 of Angelic Vengeance

“I’ll be back.” I cut her off and shut the door before she could complain. I also hit the child lock, earning a scowl from behind the tinted window.

The bell attached to the door announced my presence as I re-entered the bodega. I flipped the sign from OPEN to CLOSED and made my way to the back rooms, stepping over Juan’s corpse.

As I returned to the meeting room, the Distros rose from their seats as a sign of courtesy and respect.

“I need to take care of a situation. We’ll talk business tomorrow.”

They nodded and began leaving, shaking my hand on the way out. “Have a good night, Boss.”

I turned my attention to two of my young soldiers. “Juan was a rat.”

I said it as if that explained everything, and yet they nodded, understanding perfectly.

“Clean up the mess and find a replacement.”

“Yes, Boss.”

I turned to walk away, throwing over my shoulder. “Make an example out of him. Show how rats are dealt with in the Cartel.”

They swallowed and nodded. “Sure thing, Boss.”

Stifling a laugh, I walked to another back room where I had a change of clothes.

My shirt was soaked and glued to my skin. There was no way I was ruining my car seats.

CHAPTER 16

18 years old

MY EYES FLUTTERED OPEN AS the ship foghorn woke me out of my sleep. Sitting up in the ferry’s worn-out plastic seats, I rubbed my eyes, trying to remember how I’d gotten here. The salty sea air invaded my nose before I inhaled the nasty smell of motor oil and trash.

Home.

The New York City skyline came into view just as the ferry passed the Statue of Liberty. Big, grey rain clouds hovered above the city, the early October wind whipping at my face. I pulled on the hood of my stolen sweatshirt. After asking some island locals for directions and a boat ride to the mainland, I was on the next ferry to New York.

Following the swiping of some cash from a guy’s wallet, I exchanged it for coins and got into a phone booth. I dialed the number I once memorized on the roof of a hotel in Moscow.

“Francesca?”

“Thank God you’re alive. The soldiers said everyone was dead when they got there. I’ve been stress-shopping all day waiting to hear from you–”

“Yeah, I left when I saw the SUVs pull up. Listen… I’m actually back in New York. Think you could help me out?”

“Of course, babe. Meet me atDeMone.”

An hour later, I was in Manhattan, making my way up the entrance marble stairs of theDeMone, one of Francesca’s family’s many buildings, when a man blocked my access.

“This is a private building.”

“I know. I’m meeting somebody.” I tried to walk past him but he scoffed, pushing in front of me again and giving me a repulsed one-over.

Looking down at my clothes, I understood. I was still wearing the clothes from two days ago, ripped and dirty with dried blood – which thankfully didn’t show on the black material – and probably smelled like dead fish from swimming in the ocean. I could only imagine what my hair and face looked like. He probably thought I was some nutcase.

“Can you let Francesca DeMone know I’m outside?”

The doorman laughed in my face. “Get lost before you wish you never set foot here.” His accent bled through his rough voice, and I finally looked up at his face properly, taking in his Italian features. Realization washed over me. He wasn’t even wearing a uniform; well, not that of a doorman, but that of the mob.

“Ignore him.”

---