Mine (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 3) Read online

  Summary:

  In Miami, I’m royalty. The beginning and the end.

  I’m the truth my queen will never escape.

  Thiago Rivera De Leon doesn’t believe in second chances, and I never show mercy to those stupid enough to cross me. Loyalty wins you favors but trying to overthrow the city’s king will find you with one of my bullets between the eyes.

  A simple promise I always keep while abiding by two rules:

  I don’t forgive. I don’t forget.

  And after spending the last five years behind bars, I’m out with two goals in mind...

  Kill the bastards responsible.

  Reclaim my Luna.

  MINE (Beautiful Sinner Series) #3

  was written by Elena M. Reyes

  Copyright 2020 ©Elena M. Reyes

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the author.

  Cover design by: T.E. Black Designs

  Editor: Marti Lynch

  Publication Date: March 27th 2020

  Genre: FICTION/Romance/Erotica Suspense

  Copyright © 2020 Elena M. Reyes

  All rights reserved.

  Acknowledgements:

  Before we get to the book and its yumminess; I need to thank a few people that I adore:

  K.I. Lynn, C.M. Steele, and Mary B. Moore: You guys are such a huge part of my life and I’m thankful to have you in my corner. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for always pushing me when I get lazy, for challenging me to always be better, and loving me as the crazy, loud-mouthed Latina I am. You’re my favorite chicas and I love you.

  Marti Lynch: All I can say is THANK YOU! Seriously, you have the patience of a saint with me and always come through. You are the best editor and friend an author could ask for.

  T.E. Black Designs: You nailed this cover. Seriously, I can’t stop staring at my pretty. Thank you!

  Michelle Myers: I can’t thank you enough for stepping in to beta this book for me. I know it’s been crazy, a bit delayed, and you’ve been so patient with me. I appreciate all the help, babe. Love you, Boo!

  Elena’s Marked Girls: You guys keep me going and always give me a reason to smile. Thank you for everything. For your unconditional support and encouragement. Please know that I love you—that you mean everything to me.

  Tiffany Hernandez: Girl, you’re the best PA ever! Thank you so much for all the hard work, for keeping me on track, and taking care of whatever I throw your way last minute because I’ve become the unorganized queen. It’s because of you that I’m able to focus all my energy on writing and getting things done. You ROCK my world!

  Hubs and Kiddo: You are my heart. My entire world. Everything I do, I do it for you.

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  Epilogue #1

  Epilogue #2

  Outtake

  GLOSSARY for Spanish & Cuban Slang:

  Primo/Prima = Cousin

  Viejo/Vieja = Old Man/Woman

  Mierda = Shit

  Bebe = Baby

  Cabron = Fucker

  Mamajuana =

  This Comes From The Dominican Republic And Is Made By Combining Rum, Red Wine, And Honey And Soaking The Mixture With A Special Tree Bark & Herbs. The Color Is A Deep Red, And Some Say It Tastes Similar To A Port.

  Pincha = Work

  Singao = Fucker or Asshole

  Hijo de Puta = Son of a Bitch

  Que Vola = What’s Up

  Acere or Asere = Friend

  Dale = Go ahead or Give

  Tio/Tia = Uncle or Aunt

  Salsa Rueda or Salsa Casino =

  This is a style of salsa dancing that originated in Cuba. Here, the couples form a large circle or rueda, and they execute turns, steps, and patterns in unison to the calls of the singer or leader.

  “I’d burn the world to ashes if it meant

  I have your heart again.”

  ~Thiago De Leon

  1

  THE SOLE CLOCK on this floor strikes seven a.m. and my eyes snap open, neck cracking as I raise my head and wait. The shift is abrupt, harsh, and yet the rest of my over six-foot-four frame remains in place as I stare at the entrance to this cell.

  A solid door made of steel with a slot at the center just big enough for my hands to slip through. It’s how they move you. How they demean your manhood, exhibiting for all to see the hold they have on your freedom. How they have you by the metaphorical balls.

  I’m coming for you.

  It’s my reprieve and penance all in one; that thought brings forth a volcanic rush of ire through my veins as a certain memory slams back to the forefront: You broke us.

  I did this. The sole blame lands at my feet.

  My hands clench and unclench, nostrils flaring. My body thrums with the violence brewing as the day before my arrest plays on a constant loop.

  It’s meant to torture.

  Unforgiving in its detail.

  It serves as a reminder of two very hard truths:

  I’ve hurt the most important person in my life.

  This is the price I’ve paid for being the heir to Orlando Rivera De Leon. For taking my rightful place as the head of our family.

  Staring at the small metal slot on the door, I breathe in and out slowly while fighting to regain control over my impulses. I’m wound tight as the seconds count down to a day five years in the making: my release.

  I’ve been a patient man.

  I’ve been playing by a set of rules designed to make others feel falsely powerful. To feel secure. To show me their hands in a game they’ll never win.

  Something that ends within the next few hours as I retake my crown, because in the city of Miami...

  I am the law.

  The beginning and the end.

  I. Am. King.

  A second alarm blares through the dirty old speakers of this inmate housing unit, and yet, everything else remains quiet. Everyone but me, and it’s as if the entire building is cowering back. Hiding.

  More than that, the constant tick tick tick of my fingernails drumming against the heavy metal door is proof of my mood. I haven’t moved from my place in front of the room’s entrance in hours. I’m restless. Counting. Thinking. Angry as I taste the sweet note of freedom that cloaks my piece-of-shit cell inside this federal prison.

  My home for the last five years. Where they’ve put me away with every intention of keeping me inside indefinitely. And yet, I couldn’t give a flying fuck about the time lost because everything in my life will always start and end with her.

  She’s the one regret I have. The one I’ll lay down my life to make
right.

  “My beautiful little Luna,” I whisper, waiting for the telltale sign of movement outside these doors. I know what’s coming. How this will proceed, and my lack of patience is beginning to show as the loud sound of multiple doors unlocking follows.

  My muscles further coil and I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath that I let out slowly. This isn’t the time to argue or break the neck of the correctional officer in charge, especially when he’s under my employ. When he’s kept me in the know all these years as the justice department tried and failed time and time again to keep me within these walls, by any means, and failed.

  I’m a hot commodity. A known killer with mafia ties is something the United States government hates to see walk out these doors.

  They’ve done everything in their power to pin bullshit on me. To try and take me out.

  Moreover, the irony sits in doing time for a crime I didn’t commit.

  I’m not an innocent man. I’ve taken more than one life in my thirty years on this earth, but this body doesn’t belong to my count. Not that it matters. What’s done is done, and I made the decision to accept this as my fate.

  Instead, I’m focused on the future. It’s time I reclaim what’s been taken from me.

  “Hands behind your back and away from the door, Leon.”

  “Done.” A lie he will never call me out on, and a few seconds later his face appears in my line of sight. He’s alone. Hands shaking as he holds out a small device toward me. “Where is she?”

  “At home.” Officer Ortiz’s voice shakes and he clears his throat.

  “This is verified?”

  “By your brother not ten minutes ago via her bodyguard on duty.” Inmates walk past my open door and their heads are bowed, some even fidget to move faster. The officers herding the state’s cheap labor department toward the early morning mass, for those that have found religion while inside their concrete cage, also look away and pretend that mine is an empty room. A cough pulls my attention back toward Ortiz. “He said to warn you. There’s something going on at her job and she’ll be gone all day—big meeting about a recent case—until late this evening.”

  I nod in understanding, but she won’t be making it in today. “Turn around and stand in the doorway.”

  “It’s a bit risk—”

  “I didn’t ask you for an opinion.”

  “I apologize, sir.” Ortiz lowers his eyes immediately and follows orders, and once he’s in place, I dial the ten-digit combination of numbers I’ll never forget. The series is embedded deep into my consciousness. Tattooed into my DNA.

  It rings. Three in total before there’s a click on the other end.

  Then, there’s the sound of her breathing: soft and warm from being half-asleep.

  It takes her a minute or two to say anything, but when she does, I’m transported back to my youth. Back to the very first time I laid my eyes on her doe-eyed brown ones. How I stopped in my tracks.

  How I knew I’d never be the same after that singular moment.

  How at just one week shy of my eighteenth birthday, I knew she was special.

  “Hello?” Motherfuck. One word from those sweet lips and I come alive in a way I haven’t since my incarceration began. Every nerve ending constricts and my hand tightens around the small plastic device. It protests, but I remain in place, taking in the curiosity in her tone and then the small gasp that follows as I let out a low groan. “Thiago.”

  Not a question. Not a single doubt.

  Luna knows me like I do her. It’s always been this way for us.

  A few beats of silence linger between us as I wait. Wait for the inevitable question.

  “How are you calling? Why are you after—”

  “Mine.” It’s all I say because nothing else is needed. My girl is smart.

  Luna has the means to find out where I am and how I’m doing. Something that she’ll deny, but we both know is the truth. Something that within the span of the last five years she’s done multiple times. On a constant basis. Every four months without failure.

  “Thiago, no. No. You don’t get to—”

  “My beautiful queen.” My voice is rough. It holds a tinge of the demonic need that courses through my veins for her. I also don’t miss the small little keening sounds that come from the back of her throat—a whimper that I’d know anywhere. It’s the same one that passed through her lips when I’d part her thighs and slip inside her tight heat. The same one she’d make when I’d tell her how much my world revolves around her. “Today. Tomorrow. Always.”

  “Thiago, how could you let me think—”

  “I’m coming for you.” With that, I hang up and drop the phone to the ground, breaking it as I step on the device. Ortiz is there and his body is tense, head shifting minutely from side to side while making sure unwanted visitors to this floor don’t force my hand—that I don’t unleash the pure thirst for revenge that simmers beneath my skin.

  Another alarm rings throughout the unit just then, this one signaling an early morning cell check before breakfast. Not uncommon. I expected this, but there’s nothing that can hold me inside.

  The release was processed and pushed for earlier than normal by a hefty donation from my family to the governor of Florida’s reelection campaign. They need funding, and I want out of these doors before the clock strikes nine.

  Because that is how the system works. I’m corrupt, but so are they. Everything done in public is nothing more than a pony show, because behind the scenes we are all dirty.

  “Sir, it’s time,” he says low but doesn’t look back.

  “Handcuff me.” And he does. With a trembling hand, Ortiz turns back to face me and walks over, placing the cold metal loosely around each wrist. No other words are spoken. None are needed while leading me out of the cell.

  At once, the small hum of low conversations ceases to exist as we cross the threshold, and the line against the wall with inmates turns to face the chipped paint behind them. No one meets my stare. No one dares.

  Instead, the corridor parts like the sea for Moses as I walk toward my freedom.

  They know.

  They wait.

  I don’t forgive. I don’t forget.

  The streets of Miami will run red by the time I’m through rectifying this costly deed. Those responsible will pay for every tear my Luna shed in my absence.

  2

  Hours before his incarceration...

  THE MUSIC INSIDE the Leon home is loud tonight and so are all the grinding bodies—unfamiliar faces—dancing and drinking in the downstairs area of the house. These strangers are celebrating, imbibing, and they all give me a glassy stare as I make my way through the crowd.

  No one stops me or makes small talk, but I can’t help but feel as though they’re following my every move as I reach the first floor landing. It’s empty, something I am grateful for, but where are the people that live here?

  Where’s Maritza or Ivan? Thiago?

  Something is going on that I’m not privy to.

  Something that isn’t the norm for me. For us.

  It’s the opposite.

  I’m family. Have been one of them since day one.

  And more importantly, it’ll be official next year when we say I do.

  Then why has he been avoiding me for weeks? I shake that thought out of my head and focus on what I do know. What I’ve seen with my two eyes.

  Thiago hasn’t proposed yet, but the ring is inside his sock drawer.

  He hasn’t gotten down on one knee, but he’s never shied away from telling me that I’ll always be his. His beauty. His queen.

  That I’d become the mother to his five children one day, and we’d raise them together. Never apart.

  Because I don’t care that he’s been crowned the head of Miami’s largest mob family. That he’s killed for profit and does things that are both illegal and immoral. No one is a saint, and anyone who claims to be lives inside of a glass house.

  My own family has more than on
e skeleton in its closet.

  My uncle Edgar, Natasha’s father, might work for Miami PD now, but everyone in our family knows that in the Dominican Republic he had certain business practices that were lucrative yet dirty. Extortion being one he favored in his youth, forcing Mom and Pop bodegas to pay a monthly stipend in order to avoid violent encounters with him and those under his employ. They paid him to be left alone.

  He was never arrested or convicted in D.R. but it doesn’t negate his past.

  Then you have his brother. My father. He takes bribes from both criminals and those with money needing favors from the city council. Lobbying is real, and it doesn’t occur just in our nation’s capital. Local government facilitates ordinances and bends the law for those who fund their reelection campaigns.

  No one’s a saint, and that’s a truth I accepted a long time ago.

  We all have secrets. A dark side.

  Accepting his was never my problem—I embrace him as he is, as long as he comes home to me every night. As long as he doesn’t let the family business keep him away from the one we’ll create some day.

  That’s what I hold on to when my own home life is in shambles.

  My mother hates my father.

  My father is unfaithful and proud.

  And yet, even as misery drowns them, they stay. They tolerate and pretend because it’s convenient for their lifestyle. He has the perfect doting wife for public functions, and she gets to spend his money while pretending to be happy.

  I don’t want that. Never have.

  Material items mean crap when you’re unhappy. Alone.

  I want more for myself than to conform to an idea that some antiquated bastard created. Something that I share with the man I love beyond all comprehension. We want a happy life, not something fake or superficial.