Title Page

Wicked

Copyright © 2022 by Amo Jones

Covers: Enchanting Romance

Copy and Line Editor: My Brothers Editor

Copy and Substantive Editor: Paige Smith

Proofreader: Sarah Plocher

Formatting: Champagne Book Design

All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imaginations. Any resemblance to actual person’s, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

If you would like to read triggers, please go here.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Part Two

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Epilogue

Trigger Warnings

Other Books

Acknowledgements

To everyone who helped me write this book. My family, first and foremost, because the poor bastards lived on toast and Weetbix. My husband (honestly not sure how I still have one tbh), My PA Sarah for organizing releases and teasers, my PR guru Candi for being a fucking wizard, my editors! Ellie and Paige for continuously polishing my words, to my best girl Amelia Hutchins for always being my person. It’s scary to know there are two of us in this world…

To Jaymin and Tate and the Oh Write! Sprint room! Damn. This book definitely wouldn’t have been done had it not been for you both.

To my ARC team, the bloggers who take the time out of their schedules to read early copies of our books, THANK YOU! To my Wolf Pack! Gang, gang! Love you guys.

To my sissy Amie, I love you. I love your friendship and your soul.

Last but not least, to YOU! Oh, Reader. Thank you for reading my book. I promise not to hurt you too much…

To myself. Because I just lied. It’s going to hurt.

Dedication

To the kids who were told that they would never amount to anything because they liked breaking the rules.

Fuck the haters.

I typed this with my middle finger.

Prologue

She stared at me from across the room. It was the exact reason why I loved her. She was reckless with her need for me. She didn’t give a fuck who was watching. I felt it, she sure as fuck felt it, and I’m one thousand percent everyone in this goddamn room felt it.

My glass was half full. Whiskey. The kind that resembles love. Burns you right down to the core of your guts all while discreetly destroying other bodily organs in the process. Love was a distraction to destruction. Nothing more, and nothing less. My knee wouldn’t stop jiggling and my palms started to sweat. I simply wanted to fucking kill someone. The room was too loud. The music too fucking messy. Even the band playing looked like they were three seconds away from OD’ing on coke. This wasn’t what I expected at all from Ruby La Rosa. Do I even still know her? I don’t have to know her to still love her. I was fucked the second she sank her poisonous fangs right into my jugular.

“Look, if it’s any consolation, she looks happy, right?” Poppy leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder. Lights pulsed rapidly to the music, and I watched as her hand slowly lowered down his arm, resting in the palm of his hand.

My thumb twitched. I rolled my heavy steel ring around and around like a dial that controlled my temper and it was about to conflagrate.

“Happy?” I turned to face Poppy, ignoring everyone else around the table, including the owner of the hand that’s resting on my upper thigh beside me. “You and I both know that is not her happy. That is her…” I paused, reclining against my chair and resting my arm on the one beside me. “That is revenge.”

Jade interrupted across the table. The centerpiece was excessive, so I could only see the outline of her face. “That is no choice.”

Whacking away the grabby hands from below, I stood up from my chair, finishing my whiskey.

“Where are you going?” Khaos whined from beside Royce. I ignored all of them. Moving to the other side of the room, I strolled past Victor. The closer she got, the more I needed to fucking obliterate something. Preferably her.

One step.

Two.

Three.

I brushed past her just as her back was about to rub against my chest, our eyes colliding. Seconds passed before I finally dragged them away from her and headed through the back of the room, where an exit sign flashed above the door. Instantly, the cold air wrapped its frosty fingers around my throat as I shoved the door open. The fucking suffocation of everyone in that room.

Of her in any room.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Her voice was like a flame that continued to burn too close no matter how much I tried to blow it out.

I reached around her little body and forced the emergency door closed behind her.

“Wicked!” She spun around, pushing on the door again before turning back to me. “You did that on purpose.” A glare flashed across her fiery honey-colored eyes. “Why? Why do you fucking do this and make it harder on both of us?”

My hand slid down the wooden door, bringing our bodies closer. She sucked in a breath, her eyes falling to my lips. “You’re making this worse than it needs to be.”

Shaking my head, I brought the base of my finger to the side of her head, running it down her cheek and over her swollen lips. “Nah, but I’m about to.”

She parted her lips, and I slid my thumb between them, watching as they wrapped around the base. I retracted, lowering my lips down onto hers while grabbing her from her thighs and shoving her wedding dress up over her hips. Gripping on to the lace garter around her thigh, I tore it off and forced her against the door with my hips.

Her legs wrapped around my waist as I sucked on her tongue, swallowing her cries like poison, one I was willing to rot for. I slid my hands up the backs of her thighs, up to her ass, and spread her cheeks wide as she fumbled with my zipper, her hands working frantically between us.

“You wanted this,” she breathed into my mouth between tiny nibbles. “To fuck me in my wedding dress knowing I was marrying him.” My hand found her throat and I forced her head back so hard it bounced off the wood.

I glared down at her, just as she took out my cock and wrapped her tiny hand around the base, slowly stroking me between each breath. My hips bucked forward, riding her palm like I had her pussy. “You can marry whoever the fuck you want, Ruby. You’re always going to be mine.” I tensed around her throat. “Say you’re mine.”

She didn’t answer, her tongue sliding over her lip, hiding a wicked grin. Ruby was everything but easy. She’d work you up until you’re curled in a fucking corner, weeping your eyes out. But she wasn’t always like that. The hand that feeds you soon becomes the very same that takes you.

I reached into my pocket and grabbed the little metal object, pulling it out and pushing the tiny button on the side. The blade flicked out and I brought it to her throat, watching as the purple vein beneath her thin skin bounced beneath my touch.

“Say it, Ruby.” I hovered my lips over hers, groaning when my cock throbbed in the palm of her familiar hand. “You can be his wife, but you’ll always be my little slut.” I traced the outline of her vein with a steady hand, watching as blood pooled over the small incision.

Her legs tightened around my waist as I adjusted her body, whacking her hand out of the way and spitting on mine. I reached down between us, covering her smooth pussy with my hand and dipping my fingers deep inside of her. Her hips hitched forward and I squeezed her waist, forcing her down over my cock. Her pussy tightened around my girth as I leaned forward and ran the tip of my tongue over the drop of blood gliding down her tanned neck, stopping at the curve of her delicate collarbone.

Pulling out, my eyes drifted closed as I felt her clench around me, fucking her harder until her body was jerking up the door. Her fingers found their way into my hair, forcing my face down onto hers. Our eyes collided as she rode over my length, holding me in place and paralyzing me with a simple fucking stare.

“You don’t fucking matter,” I growled over her lips, sinking my teeth into the bottom one before resting my head against hers. “I’m fucking you for me, not you. You’re gonna just fuck me until I say stop, because that’s all you’re good for. A tight fucking pussy with big ass tits.” I slammed into her so hard I could feel the curve of her cervix. “You’re just a dirty little whore that will always belong on my dick.” I slowed my pace but kept the thrusts forceful. “This how he fucks you, hmm?” I asked, pulling back just enough to search her hazel eyes. They’re damp from unshed tears, her cheeks pink, and her hair wild around her face. “Show me how he fucks you so I can fuck you harder.”

Her mouth parted slightly, her fingers wrapping around the back of my neck. “Please.”

“No,” I snapped, my finger digging into the cut on the side of her neck. “You’re fucking mine, Ruby—” I whispered into her mouth as her wet pussy tightened around me. “You’re my fucking toy. Only mine.” My balls tensed before exploding inside of her as her small body jerked around me. Hot cum shot out of my cock, but before it finished, I dropped her to the floor and finished on her wedding dress. Silence between us both, catching our breath.

“Was that my wedding gift?” Her chest rose and fell as she took in deep breaths, pushing her tits up to her chin.

Shots rang out from inside the building and her eyes flew up to mine in panic, her face paling.

“No.” My mouth curved up in a smirk. “That is.”

Chapter One

Seventeen years old

Plates crash against the wall downstairs as Poppy snuggles deeper beneath my arms, tucking her face against my forearm. Yelling, screaming, more plates smashing. I hate it here. Poppy deserves better, and I want to give it to her. I will one day. I’m only seventeen right now, but I swear I will drag her out of this family if it’s the last thing I do. Out of every family.

Long silence stretches out and I let my hands fall from Poppy’s ears.

“Wait here.” I throw my blanket off me just as Poppy’s hand comes to mine.

“No, Lenny, I don’t want you to go down there. We just have to wait. Remember what happened last time?”

“Yeah,” I say, shoving on my shoes and grabbing the Glock that’s tucked beneath the mattress of my bed. Stole it from him because I knew I’d need it one day. “I stopped it. Just stay here.”

I don’t give Poppy enough time to answer because I’m heading out my bedroom door, closing it gently behind me. Poppy knows what needs to be done for the most part. She isn’t stupid. The house is too silent. Even as I pass the family portraits hanging on the walls, the silence grows. The perfect family. I don’t recognize them. A father, mother, and a perfect doting son. Fuck that and him, whoever he is.

I hit the high archway that leads into the lounge room when I stop my movement. The flames from the fire lick up the cobblestone fireplace, crackling among the embers, and there he stands, holding the marble ornament he bought her for their twentieth anniversary. He’s tall, well over six-foot-five, and has a body fat index below fifteen. He’s a beast. Trains in the gym every day and works the rest of the hours he isn’t training. I don’t know him much, to be fair. But from what I see, he isn’t someone who you physically want to come toe-to-toe with.

He falls back onto the occasional chair that’s tucked beside the fireplace, dropping the heavy marble ornament onto the carpet. The lounge room is adjacent to the dining room, but I can’t see over the table. I don’t have to, though, because I know. I know he has finally done it, and honestly, thank fuck, because I’m over it.

I clock the trigger on the gun and he jolts up, turning over his shoulder to look directly at me. His eyes are the same as mine in color, and I hate it.

I round the kitchen chair, gun still raised and on him as I shuffle further in. Seeing her lifeless body lying in a puddle of blood doesn’t shock me as much as it would have others.

She never could get out. I didn’t hate her for that, she did what she needed to do and what she thought would keep herself safe.

“Sit down, son. I think it’s about time you have a drink.” He tugs off his tie around his neck and tosses it onto the floor beside him. He was always away for business, buying new properties or meeting investors to buy more.

He’s a fucking criminal. We all know it.

“I’m good.” I lower myself onto the chair opposite his, keeping the gun aimed on him and resting my foot against the coffee table. Now with her gone, and the empty text message on my phone, this is going to be easy. “You’re not going to shoot me, Wicked.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the top of his thighs. His brow curves upward in challenge, and I have to force myself to not pounce forward. To not lose my cool and let my rage out. I don’t need to prove myself to him.

Not now.

And not ever.

“Actually,” I say, turning the gun on its side. I can’t show weakness. It will give Jared a chance to jump forward and take the gun, and even worse than that—kill Poppy. “I would.” Years of rage and anger simmer below my surface because I know. I know how to release it. I just have to be patient. The downfall of a killer is the loss of patience, and I have plenty. Clearly.

“What are you going to do, Wicked? Shoot me? Then leave little Poppy out here for the system, hmmm? No…” He leans back against the leather, resting his ankle on his knee. “You won’t do that because you don’t have the kind of wickedness you need inside of you to pull that trigger, so I’ll tell you what.” He pauses, reaching into the inside of his suit jacket and pulling out a packet of smokes. “I’ll save your punishment for Poppy.” The corner of his mouth curves around his white teeth and I snap. My finger squeezes the trigger, and I watch as if in slow motion as the center of his forehead explodes from the impact of the bullet. Blood splatters over the back wall, onto the hot coals in the fireplace, and sprays over my face. I knew what I had to do. To protect her. I will always do what I need to do to protect Poppy, and even though I failed this time, I’m not ever going to with Poppy.

A branch snaps from outside the window, and I slide down onto the carpet beside her, brushing her blonde hair away from her face. Strands are matted with dark red goo, sticking to her cheek. She still wears the red lipstick she wore every day, bruises on her cheek fading from last week. Overall, she didn’t deserve the shit she put up with. She was a good woman.

“I’m sorry.” Tears build in my throat but never roll. I stand back to my feet, running my hand through my hair. I’m seventeen and about to be thrown down a spiral life.

My eyes rest on him. I see nothing when I look back through him. I step over my mother, the blood-sodden carpet smushing as I get closer to Jared. The bullet hole weeps with blood and snotty brain matter. “Fuck you. I’m wicked enough.”

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here. It may have been hours. Days. Minutes. I watch as the flames in the open fire turn to burning hot coals. Until the air gets cold enough to snake up my spine.

There’s a knock on the door.

I ignore it. They’ll go away.

They knock again. “Police! Open up!”

Tossing the gun into the middle of the room, I push myself up from the sofa and take the steps to the front door. I squeeze the handle and open it to two officers and a man hanging back dressed in a suit. He wears a long trench coat and has a cigar hanging out his mouth like he just walked off the set of some mafia movie.

I stare back at them. “They’re in the lounge.” Widening the door to allow them in, I slide down the wall near the hallway table, drawing my knees up to my chest. I don’t know what they’re doing in the other room, but I know I’m going to jail. I know that what I thought would happen, obviously hasn’t, and that everything has turned to shit.

The man in the suit kneels down beside me. “Son, there were reports of gunshots. I was in the area, so I thought I’d tag along. You want to tell me what happened here tonight?” Has Poppy come down and I haven’t known?

Shit. Poppy.

“He killed her, so I killed him. Simple.” I stare at the family portrait hanging on the wall. “I came down to see he had already killed her. He didn’t think I could do it.” I shrug. “So I did.”

The smell of Cuban smoke wraps around me, and I shuffle to the side to watch him. He doesn’t look familiar.

“You can take me to jail, but can you please make sure Poppy goes to a good home?”

His eyes come to mine and I follow the mustache that curls around the corners of his lips. “You’re not going to prison, son.” He stands to his feet. “Get up, get your sister, and pack some bags. You’re coming with me.”

“What?” I look up at him again but follow his command. Anything he wants, I do. There’s an air of authority that hangs over him, and I know I have to take him seriously.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, son. Go get your sister, and I’ll meet you both outside.”

Poppy doesn’t pack much even though I tell her to. I break the news to her and hold her as she cries all of her tears into my chest. It’s an hour later that I finally manage to drag her downstairs.

He’s already waiting outside a black SUV, that same cigar burning bright orange in the dark night.

“In the car.”

“How do I know you’re not going to hurt us?”

The man turns over his shoulder and the dimple on his cheek sinks in. “You don’t, but I’m all you’ve got.” He has a point. Opening the back door, I push Poppy in gently, shutting the door once we are inside. He pulls us away from the curb and every now and then, our eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

“Where are you taking us?” I ask when I notice he drives us onto the highway, the one that heads out of town.

“To my house.”

“What? What about my parents?” I could have just directed Poppy into a bad situation. Why haven’t I called the cops? Wait… the cops are here.

“They’re gone, son. I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here to help you both because, well, shit, I don’t know why.”

“You do,” I say, studying the way the corner of his eyes crinkle as if reliving a memory. “You do know why you saved us.”

His hazel eyes meet mine. “Yes. I guess I do.”

After a few minutes, when I know he’s not going to elaborate further, I add, “So do you usually take in strays?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, he pulls us into a long cobblestone driveway. The entry is lit with two lanterns sitting on high posts, and at the end of the drive is a little tower where a man is parked inside, pushing the button to let his car through.

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