CONVICT: A Dark Romance (Sin City Salvation Book 2) Read online

  CONVICT © 2019 A. Zavarelli

  Cover Design by Coverluv

  Photo by Wander Aguiar

  Edited by Jenny Sims

  Interior Formatting by Champagne Book Design

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Playlist

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Books by A. Zavarelli

  About the Author

  In loving memory of Kristina Lindsey.

  Every strong female I write will be for you.

  Rest in peace, my beautiful friend.

  The Wicked—Blues Saraceno

  Wonderwall—Ex Makina

  Nightmare—Halsey

  Everything I Need—Skylar Grey

  Somebody’s Watching Me—Hidden Citizens

  Crazy in Love—Sofia Karlberg

  Gasoline—Halsey

  Put Your Lights On—Santana, Everlast

  Blown Away—Carrie Underwood

  Devil in Me—Halsey

  Sweet but Psycho—Ava Max

  House on a Hill—The Pretty Reckless

  Tomorrow Never Came—Lana Del Ray

  David—Noah Gunderson

  The Devil’s Gonna Keep Me—Oyinda

  Butterflies—Kacey Musgraves

  Hostage—Billie Eilish

  Written in the Stars—The Girl and the Dreamcatcher

  Dogs of War—Blues Saraceno

  Kill for You—Skylar Grey, Eminem

  Bumper Cars—Alex & Sierra

  Liar’s Blues—Daniel Spaleniak

  Renegade Runaway—Carrie Underwood

  Addicted to Love—Skylar Grey

  Young and Beautiful—Lana Del Ray

  I Don’t Mind if You Don’t Mind—Ron Pope

  Stand by Me—Skylar Grey

  Human—Rag ‘n’ Bone Man

  The River—Blues Saraceno

  Clear Blue Sky—Skylar Grey

  Sledgehammer—Fifth Harmony

  AS THE SUN SANK OVER the Las Vegas strip, hues of orange and gold danced across every shiny, reflective surface that protruded into the sky. It was a balmy Nevada summer, and the desert heat electrified the blood in my veins as my tires screeched over the asphalt at breakneck speed.

  Lana Del Ray blasted from the speakers in my flaming red Audi TTS while the breeze stirred blond strands of hair around my shoulders. Lights flashed in my vision. Horns blared. I sang along to the vocals, my fingers tapping the steering wheel in time to the music.

  I loved this city. The constant on switch. The obnoxious noise. It was sensory overload twenty-four seven, and you could never feel alone in a place like this. Las Vegas was a melting pot of lost souls. A giant dust bowl overflowing with outcasts and outliers. I’d never felt like I belonged anywhere more than I belonged here, yet it was slipping from my grasp with the turbulent uncertainties of every passing day. Bittersweet memories evaporated into the atmosphere as I accepted that familiarity was no longer my safe place.

  Regardless of the dismal forecast of my future, there wasn’t time to consider all the ways my life could implode. Skidding to a halt in front of the valet stand at the Venetian, I checked my lipstick in the mirror and snatched my spiked Valentino clutch from the passenger seat. The valet rushed to open my door; his boyish face weighted with desperation to please me. I thanked him as he handed me a claim ticket. That should have been the end of our interaction, but it never was. Instead of jumping into the car and zooming off to a designated parking space, he lingered as his eyes wandered over me. A volcano of acid erupted in my gut, the typical response I had when men eye-fucked me. But I held myself together with a plastic smile and a robot heart.

  It really wasn’t his fault. I’d intentionally chosen the mini wrap dress with the design of bringing men to their knees. The black spandex fabric painted every curve it touched, leaving a small gap at the thigh where the asymmetrical hem naturally drew the eye. Blessed with good genes, my long legs were one of my best features, and I displayed them often when I was prowling casinos. But the baby-faced valet was not my intended target audience.

  I offered him a crisp twenty for his trouble and left him standing there slack-jawed as I walked away. My black Louis Vuitton pumps clapped over the cobblestone as another patron rushed to open the door for me, despite the fact there was a dedicated employee to do just that. He winked at me, and I dipped my head in appreciation as I ducked inside.

  As I sucked in a lungful of recycled casino air, my pulse thrummed with nervous energy. My body always came alive before a con. Though it had been born out of necessity, the adrenaline rush that followed every job was a stark reminder I still lived and breathed. I wasn’t just an empty bag of bones, tainted by the tragedy rotting me from the inside out.

  “B!” A wispy frame darted out in front of me, the familiar face greeting me with a mischievous smile.

  I halted and inventoried Trouble’s raggedy appearance. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m bored.” She shrugged. “I used that tracking thing on my phone to see where you were. I had a feeling it would be the Venetian today.”

  Despite the constant pressure churning in my mind, a smile tugged at my lips. Trouble often cited the dangers of my cons as justification for her clingy behavior. I acted like it was an annoyance, but secretly, it was a relief someone else was looking out for me.

  Many months ago, on a particularly slow night, I found the homeless girl wandering aimlessly through the casino. She was a hot mess. Too thin. Hair in desperate need of a brush. Her clothes were at least two sizes too big, and her face was smudged with dirt. She’d stopped me in my tracks. I thought she looked familiar, but in retrospect, I knew it was simply that she felt familiar. In another time and place, that lost girl was me—when life was harder, and I didn’t have a closet full of pretty things. I didn’t know her, but I felt protective of her. She ate like a Viking at a medieval banquet when I treated her to a meal, and my conscience couldn’t let it rest. I secured her a hotel room for the night, and the next day, I brought her clothes from the closet I shared with my siste
r. Pretty soon, I had her set up in a studio apartment with a cell phone and a refrigerator full of food. Now she followed me around like a puppy every chance she got, but I didn’t mind. She was the only real friend I’d ever had.

  “Where are the clothes I gave you?” My eye twitched at the potato sack she called a T-shirt and the paint-splattered jeans hanging from her hips. It was a fight with this girl every day to wear something decent.

  Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling as she patted the nylon eyesore hanging from her shoulder. “I have some in my backpack.”

  I ushered her along toward the bathroom. “Then you should put them on. This is a nice hotel.”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “What’s on the agenda for tonight, anyway?”

  “I can’t stay long,” I told her. “I’m meeting Gypsy for dinner.”

  She nodded in understanding. If there was one person I dropped everything for, it was my sister. Through thick and thin, we were always there for each other. She’d practically raised me. I looked up at her. I admired her. And the only reason I knew I was capable of loving anyone in this world was because I loved her fiercely.

  “I’ll be out in just a minute.” Trouble glanced over her shoulder before she disappeared into the restroom.

  I stood by the entryway and scanned the casino floor. To my disappointment, it was a dead afternoon, and there weren’t a lot of patrons to choose from. A few businessmen caught my eye, but I wasn’t feeling it. Then I thought of Gypsy and the past she didn’t know had come crawling out of the messy grave we left behind.

  For years, she’d sacrificed herself to protect me. Now it was my turn. Come hell or high water, I had to have a wire transfer on its way to California by the end of the day. Not feeling it wasn’t an option. There couldn’t be an off day or even a bad day. I needed to score a lot of cash, and I needed to do it fast.

  I scanned over the options again. Too old. Too drunk. Too scary looking. The choices were few and far between. Twisting the band on my right hand, I examined the huge blue sapphire ring I’d scored last week. It was flashy and extravagant, and I hoped it wouldn’t be an issue to offload it. But I doubted the man I took it from had even reported it stolen. That was the name of the game. What happened in Vegas usually stayed in Vegas.

  Trouble reappeared in one of my old blouses and a pair of white shorts, making a production of her transformation by jutting her hip out like a model. “Better?”

  “Much,” I agreed. “Are you hungry? You want to grab a bite while I go do my business?”

  She bit her cherry red lip and pouted. At twenty-two, Trouble was a few years older than me, but she didn’t act like it. The youthful innocence surrounding her felt foreign to me because it had been ripped away from me before I even sprouted breasts.

  “Can’t I come with you?” she begged.

  My temples throbbed as I prepared to have this argument for the ten millionth time. Trouble didn’t know all the particulars of my cons or my reasons for pulling them in the first place. I didn’t want her involved, and the last thing I needed was to worry about her safety too.

  “I’m not going to change my mind. I don’t want you doing this shit.”

  “Yet it’s good enough for you,” she shot back.

  “I have experience. And it doesn’t matter what I do. You should want better for yourself.” God, I sounded like my sister.

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms. “Whatever. Are you taking the Palazzo side?”

  I nodded, checking to make sure my phone was turned on before I forked over some cash. “Go get some gelato and play a few machines. Text me if anything comes up.”

  “I will.” She muttered her assurance while making a beeline straight for one of the table games.

  I turned on my heel and began plotting. I only had an hour before I was supposed to meet Gypsy at Sinatra. That wasn’t a lot of time, but I’d make it work. I had no choice. Following the signs for the Palazzo side of the building, I scoped out any potential targets along the way. A few contenders were noticed within minutes, but again, I wasn’t feeling it.

  I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but something just felt off. This game had depleted me, and I needed to find a way off this treadmill. Every time I raised the cash, my extortionist stretched the mythical finish line. I couldn’t win. Not really. I had to tamp down the crushing feeling that everything was about to implode if I didn’t get a handle on it soon.

  Just when I was starting to sink into another tar pit of despair, a gentleman caught my attention. Or rather, I caught his. He was sitting at an empty table, mindlessly thumbing through his phone before his gaze locked onto mine. After a quick perusal, I had a feeling I’d seen him somewhere before. But the lack of recognition reflected at me determined he was just another body in a suit. It wasn’t even a particularly nice one. Definitely not tailored. This was an off the rack kind of guy all the way. There wasn’t a remarkable thing about him from what I could tell, and he probably didn’t have millions sitting in an offshore bank account. But I was short on time, so for tonight, he would do.

  “Waiting for a game to start?” I nodded to the table as I approached.

  He leaned back to examine me, a pleasant satisfaction in his features. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Just keeping the chair warm then?” I offered him my best smile. The smile that led men to believe they were the best thing to ever cross my path.

  “More like waiting for you,” he said smoothly.

  My smile faltered for a second as his eyes flashed with hunger. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about this guy felt vaguely familiar. It wasn’t just the suit. It was his energy, his voice. They pulled me back to another time and place, past the locked gates of my memory where everything was blurry and distorted. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and I doubted it would be the last. Bits and pieces of all the men I’d known before would often appear as traits in perfect strangers. I had to remind myself I was in the present. I didn’t know this man, and he didn’t know me. And right now, a clock counted down the seconds on the due date of my monthly installment.

  Acrid bitterness coated my tongue as I forced my next words out. “Perhaps you’d like to wait for me somewhere else?”

  Without missing a beat, he removed a key card from his pocket and considered me. “How much to do anything I want for the night, nothing off limits?”

  His blunt words didn’t surprise me, but they did make my fingers inch toward my purse. I had to repress the urge to use my Taser on him right here and now. Under the guise of pliability, my smile remained. He didn’t know the only pleasure he would have tonight was an ice pack on his balls when I finished with him.

  “Why don’t you tell me how much you think I’m worth,” I answered coyly.

  He slid the key card across the table. It was still in the paper slip, the room number printed in black ink. “Give me ten minutes. I need to stop at the ATM.”

  And just like that, the deal was done, and we went our separate ways. I debated the validity of this awful feeling brewing in my gut and forged on. My heels tapped over the polished floor as I rounded a giant art installation parked at the midpoint for both sides of the hotel. It was a colossal glaring red sign that simply read “LOVE.” My lip turned up as I passed the love-sick couples taking selfies in front of the sign. Didn’t they know love was a joke?

  I stayed the course, trying to bring myself to focus. One more job, and I could send off my monthly deposit and breathe again for five minutes. But I was distracted, and when my phone chirped with a new message, my uncertainty amplified.

  Trouble: Something came up, and I had to run. Message you later!

  I frowned at the screen. That had to be record time because I’d barely been gone for ten minutes. My fingers whipped over the keyboard, tapping out a hasty message in reply. A message that was cut short when my body smacked into a hard surface, plunging me back into my surroundings. When I looked up, I found that the wall blocking my path
was actually a man. Except man wasn’t the appropriate term. He was a tank. At least six and a half feet of unwavering steel. A curious amalgamation of hard lines and rough curves. The expansive chest resting at my eye level gave way to powerful, broad shoulders and below that, arms ravaged by ink hung like weapons at his sides. The inhumanly-sized barbarian wore faded blue jeans and a black motorcycle vest. He was out of place, and I was out of patience when I finally tilted my head up to examine his face.

  For a split second, I couldn’t breathe. When his whiskey-colored eyes latched onto mine, everything else disappeared. If I didn’t believe in kismet before, it was undeniable now. Those golden eyes had haunted my dreams for years. A mythical figure I was certain my imagination had invented. Someone I didn’t even know, but whose presence I’d felt in the depths of my unconsciousness. And now here he was in the flesh. It was too surreal to accept, and I didn’t want to.

  Whoever this man was, he definitely didn’t fall into my target market. He was bearded. Rugged. His toffee brown hair was windswept and wild, and judging by the coppery tint of his skin, he spent a lot of time under the Nevada sun. The motorcycle boots and chain jangling from the side of his jeans alluded to one certainty. He was a biker. And in my gut, this meeting felt fated, though I couldn’t figure out why.

  My stomach flipped when his eyes carved a path over my body, and my reaction surprised me. It wasn’t the habitual disgust I felt, and his face was absent of the lust I typically saw. This was an entirely different animal. He looked at me as if I were a nuisance. But worse yet, his unusual eyes were full of judgment as he cataloged my appearance.

  “Excuse you,” I snapped, attempting to sidestep him. Regardless of whether our collision was my fault, I had no intention of apologizing to him now. His arm shot out to catch me, and I glared up at him.

  “You should pay attention to where you’re going,” he grunted.

  My skin prickled under the grip of his calloused fingers. His voice was rough. Gravelly. And he stared at me as if he had a direct line into the hardwiring of my brain.

  “Thanks for the tip, asshole,” I muttered. “Now get your paws off me.”