Diabolic (The Dearly Departed Book 1)

  DIABOLIC

  THE DEARLY DEPARTED BOOK 1

  Penn Cassidy

  Diabolic

  THE DEARLY DEPARTED BOOK 1

  PENN CASSIDY

  * * *

  Copyright © 2022 by Penn Cassidy

  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 publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Printed in the United States of America, 2021.

  * * *

  Editing : Proofs By Polly

  Cover : PC Covers

  Formatting : Inked Imagination Services

  Contents

  About Diabolic

  Disclaimer

  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

  Stalk Me

  The End… For now.

  About the Author

  Also by Penn Cassidy

  About Diabolic

  I've been a slave to the cartel since I was stolen from my mother's arms at only five years old. Trafficked for years, in and out of disgusting drug dens, wh*re houses and seedy clubs, violence is what I know. Death is what I witness. Destruction is what I crave.

  * * *

  I've belonged to a dangerous man for ten years now, and I've found a place here among killers and criminals. I've earned his trust, and he sees me as the child he always wished he had. I serve other purposes as well. See, I'm as beautiful as I am deadly. Perfect for catching one's enemy with his pants around his ankles and a gun against his temple. I've climbed the ranks in this new, bizarre family of mine, and I have my sights set on the throne.

  * * *

  But there are some who don't exactly approve of my aspirations. After all, who am I but just a useless s*x slave? I'm watched closely. I can feel their eyes on me everywhere I go. One who protects the Capo, one who wants me behind bars, and two that want that throne I'm after.

  * * *

  Little do they know, I'm five steps ahead of them already.

  Disclaimer

  Diabolic is a dark, triggering, age-gap reverse harem romance. This is a medium burn, hot and heavy story filled with betrayal, violence, torture, graphic sex, and crime. This is a story about villains who don’t want to be redeemed, so if you like your guys bad, badder, and baddest, then you’ve come to the right place.

  Playlist

  https://open.spotify.com/playlist/

  “It’s better to think with the head on your shoulders instead of the one between your legs. Less casualties that way.”

  ~Penn

  Layla

  10 years ago...

  “You got a fucking name, bitch?” The words were spat at me. Literally. Spittle flecked my forehead and I suppressed a gag. I clenched my hands into tight fists, my too long, unkempt fingernails digging into my palms.

  I shot a glance at Trisha who was on her knees to my right. Her bright red hair was greasy and tangled after her ten-hour shift on the poles tonight. Her eyes were wide, as if begging me not to do this. Not this time, she pleaded without words. I understood her worries. Not for herself, but for me.

  Tricia was a few years older than my thirteen, even if I felt much older than that sometimes. She’d been sold to Marco Vilencia, the owner of this gentleman’s club, over five years before I ever got here.

  She knew the drill, and so did I. But there was a difference between Tricia and me. She’d come to terms with her lot in life years ago. She had that hollow look in her once sparkling green eyes that told me she’d been dead inside for a while. I just couldn’t accept that same fate. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  I could see it on her face, in the set of her rigid jaw that she knew I wasn’t going to heed her nonverbal warning. At least she could say she tried.

  The man that smelled like chewing tobacco snapped his fingers in front of my face like I was a dog, repeating the question for the third time in so many minutes. My eyes held Tricia’s as a slow smile spread my lips wide. I was never going to see her again, and a part of me already mourned the loss of the only person I’d ever called my friend.

  There was an uncomfortable mumbling of voices from the dozen or so men around me. They shifted their feet back and forth on the dirty club floor.

  My knees bit into the tile, and I was pretty sure there was a discarded toothpick under the right one, poking me enough that it would probably bleed. I didn’t care. All I could do was smile as I raised my head and met the man’s eyes. His were a pretty blue color, contrasting with his black hair that was greased back in such a way that told me it wasn’t hair gel. His skin was shiny with sweat, and he had an ugly scar down his left cheek. Pity. With those eyes, there could have been potential for him to be handsome.

  He frowned at my smile, then looked over his shoulder at the big lughead who flanked him, his expression comical, as if to say, would ya get a load of this… The man behind him was over six feet of pure muscle, bald, and tattooed so heavily you could barely tell he had real skin under it all.

  He smirked at the greasy one...let’s call him Vinny. He looked and sounded like a Vinny. Slightly Italian, but more of a New York Italian without being charming. Kind of like a sleazeball. If he was here to buy women from Marco, then that told me enough about his character that matched the way he sneered at me.

  Anyway, I hoped Vinny said a long, passionate goodbye to his manhood this morning, because he was about to regret calling me a bitch in...three...two...one…

  Layla

  Vinny despised me. After ten years, his girlish scream still echoed in the back of my mind like the sweetest song.

  Something told me he didn’t hold my same sentiments. Of course, his name wasn’t actually Vinny. It was Ron, but I still liked Vinny better. It had a nice ring to it, so that’s what I called him. Ten years obviously wasn’t long enough for him to get over the fact that I’d practically kicked his nut sack back up into his torso the day he was sent to purchase me from that seedy club.

  Grudge much? Sheesh...

  Bloodshot blue eyes narrowed at me from behind Raul Cortez’s shoulder. My father—or, the man who bought me at thirteen and liked to call himself my father—barely spared him a glance or any of the other five men in the room with us.

  Raul opened his arms wide, beckoning me forward, and I allowed myself to fall into his warm bear hug. Raul was a girthy man in his late sixties with a potbelly after too many years of hard liquor and fine foods, but he always gave the best hugs.

  “Ah, mija,” he cooed, placing a kiss on my forehead. As he pulled back, I caught a whiff of cigar smoke on his breath. “I heard the news. I half expected you to come up empty-handed this time.” He held me at arm’s length, eyes shining with affection. “Should have known better than to doubt you.”

  I was used to men doubting me, especially around here. Disdain and contempt rolled off of Vinny and his two goon buddies, Tomasso and Effren, ‘The Three Stooges,' as I affectionately referred to them. They glared at me since Raul’s back was to them.

  “Easy peasy, boss. Even Tomasso could have done it.” I cast the bald man in question a wink, to which he simply sneered back. “Larry Mastersen’s in the white room when you’re ready. He’s out cold, but give him an hour or so for the sedative to wear off, then he’s all yours for the night. I’ll deal with him once I get some rest.”

  Raul smiled thinly beneath his grey mustache, clearly disliking my unforeseen choice in career. Yet, he knew I was the best fit for the job. “I’ll have Sarge head down then. Good work.” He caught someone’s eye over my shoulder and cocked his head towards the door. Probably Sarge.

  When I heard heavy footsteps pass behind me, I had to control a pleasurable shiver, focusing as hard as I could on Raul rather than the mountain of a man stomping out of the room.

  “You weren’t seen?” Raul asked, heading back around his desk and taking a seat.

  I wanted to laugh. Was I seen? Not likely. I was stealthy like that, and I wasn’t stupid.

  It’d been nearly a month-long endeavor stalking Larry Mastersen, and most of it was spent trying not to fall asleep in the uncomfortable front seat of a shitty decoy car, or talking to my cat, Samantha, who usually accompanied me on jobs. She wasn't much for conversation, but I'd choose her dry looks and judgemental meows over a partner any day.

  Raul met my blank stare and chuckled, waving me off. “Stupid question. Go on, get some rest and have a drink. You earned it, kid.”

  Vinny snorted as if he couldn’t physically contain it, but when Raul’s shoulders stiffened, Stooge number one’s pallor went white. I smirked, watching Vinny’s Adam's apple bob with a thick gulp. These men shit themselves whenever Raul so much as raised his voice and it was endlessly entertaining.

  I supposed those were the perks of being the richest and most powerful drug lord in New Mexico. Raul was a teddy
bear where I was concerned, but to anyone who crossed him, he was the grim reaper.

  But then Raul coughed. It rattled in his barrel chest, sounding wet and thick. The men behind him shifted on their feet uneasily. Raul was getting worse every day, his lungs growing weaker. He didn’t like to talk about the cancer that slowly ate away at his insides, but we all knew it was only a matter of time until he couldn’t avoid the inevitable.

  I left the room and made my way through the mansion, feeling dead on my feet but walking fast because I couldn’t stand to listen to Raul wasting away. I was too tired to make conversation tonight anyway. I’d incapacitated Larry Mastersen easily and wrestled him into the trunk of my car, but he did put up a good fight, to my surprise.

  The guy was a bit pudgy around the middle and too soft to take someone like me down, but he was scrappy. The bastard deserved what he got though, after all, double-crossing Raul Cortez and selling behind his back was an obvious faux pas. Someone should have taught him better manners.

  Oh, wait… I guess that someone was me.

  I showered off the events of the evening, changing into some comfortable jeans and an old T-shirt before heading downstairs to grab that much needed drink. It was still early, but I wasn’t hungry for dinner, so I waved off Sarah, the maid, as she fussed over me. The staff seemed to walk on tiptoes around me here, catering to my every need. I sometimes wondered if Raul had ordered them to act like that. Sarah was kind though, and she didn’t spill secrets even though I was pretty sure she could hear everything through these walls.

  I poured myself a glass of whiskey and headed out onto the veranda to catch the sun as it set. I never took this time for granted, trying my best to appreciate the simple beauty of a sunset or sunrise. I adored the way the crisp wind felt on my cheeks out here in the desert of New Mexico, and the feel of cold water on my toes when I wandered to the pool and dipped them in.

  It wasn’t always like this for me. There were years when seeing the sky was a once-a-month ordeal. I’d spent most of my early years in dark, dirty places. Living here was a luxury.

  When Raul bought me ten years ago, I’d been a gangly teenager working the poles at a crackhouse club downtown for a man who dealt in flesh, one of those places where women serviced criminals, murderers, and mobsters. But before all that, I'd been as low as a dog to men like Raul. Useless until I was...ripe.

  Ugh...vomit.

  Sometimes I wondered how Tricia was doing. I’d tried checking on her a few times over the years, but she must have been sold off to someone else at some point, because it was like she just disappeared. Either that or she was dead. I hated to even imagine it, but sadly I was used to people dying around me. A part of me wished that Raul would have bought her too since she was the closest thing to family I’d ever really had before I came here.

  Eventually, I’d do some real digging and find out exactly what happened to her, for all I knew, her owner had changed her name and moved to a new continent. For now, all I had were questions and more questions.

  There was nobody around tonight. Raul didn’t have any meetings scheduled, or any dinner parties planned this weekend, so all was quiet. On the fringe of the expansive property, he had a staff of bodyguards patrolling, making sure we were protected from every direction.

  You'd think with how secluded Raul's vineyard was, we'd have less need of security, but you could never be too careful. I mean, look how easily I'd snatched Larry from his own property. Raul had a lot of enemies, and I was definitely a target.

  The outdoor lights were off, so by the time the sun fully disappeared, only the turquoise glow of the lit pool remained. I stared at the glassy water. It beckoned me, and soon, I could no longer resist the temptation.

  Wasting no time, I shucked my shirt and pants, leaping into the water with a graceful dive. The coolness had my body unlocking after a long day. It took a good minute or so for me to surface. When I did, I leaned back and let my body float gently on the water as I watched the starry sky overhead.

  My hair floated around me like liquified ribbons of bronze. It was long enough that I could run the tips of my fingers through the halo of it. My blush pink underthings were soaked through, but I didn’t care. If anyone wanted to lurk, then so be it. There was nothing left for me to hide that all of these men hadn’t seen before.

  I floated there for a while, watching the moon slowly drift across the sea of stars. It was peaceful out here with my ears submerged under the surface, silencing the world. I was tired and knew I needed to sleep, possibly for a day or so, but right now, I was content to just float.

  Raul’s coughing fits were getting worse, and I was getting worried. He’d been diagnosed with stage three lung cancer and it’d been a bad few months. He tried to hide it, but I’d seen the bloody tissues in the trash can, and the way his skin grew thin and pale.

  The thought of Raul’s impending death made my stomach ache. I should have despised the man who bought me, but I just didn’t. He’d always been good to me and always treated me like I was his own flesh and blood. How could I hate a man like that?

  When Raul eventually passed it was going to be an all-out scramble to replace him since he had no blood heirs. I wasn’t looking forward to that day.

  Someone was watching me. I’d been aware of it for the past two minutes. With one last longing look up at the stars, I allowed myself to sink into the water, diving straight down to the bottom of the pool before shooting right back up and resurfacing. When I broke the surface and grasped the pool’s edge, it was to find a pair of boots firmly planted in front of me, attached to toned legs, a firm ass, taught chest, and a chiseled face that was currently set like stone as he stared down at me.

  “Evening, Sarge,” I said with a salute and a cheeky smirk.

  He was trying not to roll his eyes. My salute used to piss him off, because he wasn’t actually military. Well, he used to be, but his given name was actually Sargent Silva. We called him Sarge around here, but I refused to let up. Bugging the shit out of him was the one pure joy in my life.

  Wow, okay that was kind of bleak.

  Sargent was Raul’s right hand man, his top enforcer. He was the muscle around these parts, and even at forty-eight years old, he could still kick anyone’s ass and be ready for more. The man was built like a tank at six-foot-four, with arms three times the size of mine, olive colored skin covered in tattoos, and a delicious waterfall of grey streaked brown hair that he wore in a messy, low bun that I wanted to—

  Ahem…

  Anyways, Sarge was a tough asshole you didn’t want to piss off. So, naturally, I made it my life’s mission to make sure I did exactly that as often as possible, hoping and praying I was lucky enough that he’d spank me for being such a bad girl.

  Yeah right. Maybe in my dreams.

  Literally.

  Okay, so maybe I’d fantasized about climbing that particular tree a few hundred times give or take. It wasn’t like I made it a secret. Sarge knew what I wanted. He’d seen the lingering looks, felt the graze of my fingertips sliding over his muscles when he trained me. But the bastard never budged.

  “You look like you could use a swim,” I said, waving my arms to the side invitingly. “Don’t be shy, I'll only bite if you ask me nicely.”

  His eyes narrowed. Sarge always had a stick up his ass. He was well aware that I provoked him on purpose, and it was a wonder he hadn’t punched my lights out by now, woman or not. “You shouldn’t be out here alone so soon after your assignment.” He scanned the dark distance.