Title Page

WICKED CLAIM

KAYE BLUE

Copyright

Wicked Claim. Copyright © 2022 by Kaye Blue

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to real people, locales, businesses, or events are unintentional. This work is intended for mature audiences only. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

CONTENTS

When I gave myself to the mafia…

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Kaye’s Newsletter

When I gave myself to the mafia…

WHEN I GAVE MYSELF TO THE MAFIA…

I swore I wouldn’t bend.

And I didn’t.

I broke.

Betrayed all I believed in.

For him.

Now he wants more.

He demands my hand in marriage.

Says it’s for my protection.

But I know the truth.

He won’t rest until he’s claimed me completely.

One

ONE

Elias

The stockyards.

That had to be the place.

My grip was so tight on the steering wheel, I worried I’d rip it off. I forced myself to relax my hands and for a moment allowed my mind to drift, tried to let the rotation of the tires soothe me.

As I drove, I looked at the scenery I had seen so many times before but never really noticed.

The trees in the median, the tall buildings in the distance.

I thought of Kayla and how much she loved to go to the roof of the tallest building she could find in a given city.

She didn’t know I knew that, but I’d followed her once.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to sneak off alone, and I’d wanted to know why. So I’d tailed her to downtown Toronto and followed her up to the top of the CN Tower.

She’d looked so peaceful, so serene as she’d stared out over the city. I’d wanted that for myself, the peace, the serenity that I knew she would bring.

Knew she would never give it to me and had been so angry at that realization, I’d wanted nothing more than to punish her.

I’d done just that, and over the next couple of months, I’d driven Kayla so relentlessly, I’d been sure she would leave.

Or try to, anyway.

Because I wouldn’t have let her go.

Wouldn’t let her go now, either.

And I would not, ever, ever, let her be harmed by the hands of another.

Which was why I had to put the panic, the fear of what my father might do, the question of what I might be forced to do aside and focus on getting her back.

As I drove, I replayed the video call over and over in my mind, trying not to be distracted of the memory of Kayla tied to that fucking chair and instead think about the clues.

And each time I scrubbed my memory and replayed every second of that call, the conclusion was the same.

The piece of metal I’d spotted in the corner could only have come from one place.

It had been more than a decade since the family had sold the property, so I was surprised my father remembered it.

That surprise was also a warning.

I had allowed myself to get dangerously close to underestimating my father.

And it was Kayla who would pay the consequences of that failure.

Unless I put a stop to it first, which was exactly what I was going to do.

But I didn’t go directly there.

More than anything, I wanted to storm in and save Kayla from whatever my father had in store for her. Everything inside me told me to do just that. But the last bit of logic I was holding on to reminded me I couldn’t do that.

I had to be prepared.

Which meant being patient.

So instead of rushing in, I made my way to one of the family’s secondary safe houses.

Wasn’t a bit surprised when I saw Narek standing in front of it.

It was a tidy, four-unit apartment building that looked completely mundane on the outside. Davit had even had the men put out welcome mats and half dead plants in the windows to give off the appearance of standard, nondescript house apartments.

To my surprise, I smiled at how conspicuous Narek looked standing in front of it.

“You’re standing there like a fucking sitting duck,” I said as I got out of the car, that moment’s humor fading as quickly as it had come.

“No, I’m not,” he said, giving me a grim smile. “I was just timing you.”

“And?” I responded as I keyed in the code on the keypad and entered the safe house.

“You’re ten minutes later than I would have been,” he said.

I cut my eyes at him, stopping in the foyer. It too looked like an average home, right down to the scuffed manufactured wood flooring and the broken umbrella propped next to the door.

“You’re that concerned about Kayla?” I asked, looking Narek in his eye.

“Yeah,” Narek said, and I could tell from his expression he was being honest.

“And why is that?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately. Though he kept his expression blank, I knew he was trying to get a read on me.

Weighing which approach to take.

As I expected, he decided on honesty.

“Kayla’s nice. Even after seeing and doing all this shit she had no business being involved in, she’s nice. I don’t want to see her harmed,” he said.

He hadn’t intended it, but I heard the rebuke, nonetheless.

Kayla had seen those things because of me.

The truth of his words was like a knife to the heart. But I couldn’t be angry at Narek for pointing out what I myself knew, even if I wanted to deny it.

Besides, getting angry at him for telling me what I should have known would only be a distraction.

Kayla didn’t have time for those.

I forced my focus back to the matter at hand.

“And you think my father intends to harm her?”

Narek just huffed, but no other response was necessary. Then he said, “I’m glad you thought of coming here first.”

I let out a laugh devoid of humor. “Should I be upset that you find me so predictable?”

He shrugged again.

“If you figured out where he’s keeping her, coming here is the logical step,” he said.

I didn’t respond this time either and instead went deeper into the house.

The living room was furnished with cheap furniture but still seemed like a place a person might live.

That facade ended at the first bedroom.

The door was heavy steel and locked with another keypad, and the code to this one was different than the front door.

I punched the numbers in, then muttered an oath when the light flashed red.

Fucking Davit and his codes.

I stood still, trying to remember the correct code. One more wrong entry and the door would lock until Davit personally came to open it.

So there was no time for fuckups.

But before I could try again, Narek reached over my shoulder and keyed in the numbers.

The light flashed green and there was a slight hiss as the air-compressed lock released.

I was too fucking proud to thank Narek, so I didn’t and instead walked into the room.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Narek said.

I huffed, knowing Narek was doing what he could to keep me focused, and appreciating him for it.

“I guess, if you’re a psycho with OCD,” I said.

Narek laughed. “Your brother designed it,” he said.

“My point exactly,” I responded.

But Narek was onto something. I wouldn’t call it beautiful. After all, nine six-foot metal shelves lined in neat rows of three along the walls, each stacked with every weapon one could possibly conceive of, didn’t evoke the warm fuzzies. But I appreciated how orderly everything was laid out.

The organization made it easy for me to grab what I needed but hoped I wouldn’t have to use. I stepped inside, the padded fire-suppressing material on the floor muffling almost all sound. Three handguns with extra ammo, two knives, and brass knuckles just because later, I turned to face Narek.

“What’s your interest in Kayla?”

“Interest?” he said, his brows furrowed like he was confused.

Which he wasn’t.

“That’s my question to you,” I said. “What is your interest in her?”

He lifted his hands in supplication. “It’s nothing like that, Elias. She’s just a nice lady. Nothing more,” he said.

I didn’t say anything, but the relief was immediate and intense.

I’d never considered myself jealous, but maybe I had just never had anything to be jealous of.

Narek again proved his value when he overlooked what could easily have been interpreted as a pathetic, overemotional outburst and starting selecting weapons of his own.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Getting prepared,” he responded.

I shook my head. “You’ve done more than you should have already. And there might still be consequences for that. But I’m going to ask you one more question, and then you’re going to forget that you saw me today,” he said.

“Elias, you can’t go in there by yourself, and go in blind on top of it,” he said.

“Which is why you’re going to tell me what I’m going to be up against,” I responded.

He studied me and then nodded.

“I can’t say who’s with him for sure, but he’s been using a couple of hired hands to keep close. He sometimes uses one or two of our guys, but I haven’t seen them for the last couple of days,” he said.

“How many is a ’couple’?” I asked.

“Usually five. On occasion up to eight,” he said.

“Good,” I responded.

I had suspected my father was using outside security, but it was good to have it confirmed.

And it made what I had to do today that much easier.

Narek cleared his throat, and when I looked at him, he said, “A question, Elias?”

I nodded. “Yeah?”

“Why did your father have me drive him if he doesn’t trust us?” he asked.

“Why do you think he doesn’t trust us?” I said.

“He uses those men. And there’s no need for that,” Narek said.

I nodded. “I’m sure he was using you to test you and see what information would get back to me,” I said.

“He thinks I’m that stupid?” Narek asked, clearly disgusted.

“Probably,” I responded honestly. “Although, is he mistaken? You’re here now, going against the head of your family.”

“This is for Kayla. And that’s all.”

“But a man who will make exceptions for one thing can’t be trusted to be loyal in others,” I pointed out.

Narek always kept his emotions under wraps, but I could see his anger now. “You don’t trust me?”

“I do. Which is why I’m letting you walk out of here. My father won’t learn of anything you’ve said to me, at least not from me. But don’t make this a habit, Narek. Now get out of here,” I said.

Despite what I had said, he still looked like he wanted to argue.

But then, after a moment of consideration, he relented and was gone.

I was relieved.

Narek had crossed a lot of lines to tell me what he had, and I would forever appreciate what he had been willing to risk on Kayla’s behalf.

But I couldn’t tell him that. At least not in so many words.

The kind of disloyalty to my father he had displayed was something that should have been an automatic death sentence.

But despite how I had counseled him before, I was making an exception of my own.

Less than ten minutes after arriving, I left the safe house and headed to the stockyards.

I noticed the scenery this time too and made myself—and Kayla—a promise I knew I would always keep.

I would do what needed to be done—would do anything—to make sure that Kayla was okay.

Acknowledging that, accepting it, gave me a clarity that was freeing.

I had one job here: protect Kayla.

I’d failed at it so far, but I wouldn’t fail now.

Wouldn’t fail ever again.

I pulled up to the perimeter of the old stockyard and studied the scene.

The yard was in complete disrepair. The abandoned pens, rusted vehicles, and rotting tires looked like something out of a horror movie. And at first glance, it looked like nothing had been moved in years.

But I quickly spotted my father’s security.

Were Davit and I behind this, the guards I spotted would have been a decoy and a ploy to draw an attack. This time, I was banking on my father’s mercenaries being sloppy.

And after my first strike, I knew my gamble was correct.

I took out the two guards I’d seen with efficient strikes. Two quick punctures to their jugular veins and they were down. Messy, but I didn’t give a fuck about the gore. My focus now was on getting inside as quickly and silently as I could.

Which I did with relative ease.

Three more quick strikes took out the guards just inside the dilapidated building, and their spurting blood added to the mess I had already made of my suit.

Before I went deeper into the building, I tucked my knife into my waist band and slipped brass knuckles onto my fingers. Their weight felt good against my fingers, and I would have no hesitance to use them.

As I walked over the rotting floorboards, listening as mice scurried in my wake, I finally let myself envision what my father was doing. I’d known but hadn’t let myself really picture it. I did now, knowing it wouldn’t prepare me for the reality of seeing it, but not wanting to go in completely cold.

He’d start off soft, or what he would consider soft. A pinch on the cheek that would become an openhanded slap.

Then another.

And then when Kayla didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear, that open hand would close. And when he tired of using his fist, he’d turn to tools.

My heart was racing, but I didn’t otherwise allow myself to react to that thought, nor to the tools I knew he had selected for this job.

I just kept moving ahead, ignoring the fact that this disgusting building was the kind of place Kayla had no business being within a hundred miles of, especially without me.

You’ve sent her to worse.

I couldn’t deny the truth of that thought, nor the promise that she’d never be in a place like this again after today.

If I got her out of here.

Because I could already be too late.

No.

I pushed that thought out of my head.

She’s fine.

She’s fine.

I kept telling myself that, again and again, but the next guard I met bore the brunt of my frustration, an outlet for the worry I refused to let myself acknowledge.

I could have kept punching him until that frustration was completely gone, but I’d broken every bone in his face and didn’t have more time to waste.

So I left him there, gurgling his last breaths, and walked to the door at the end of the hall.

I knew that was where my father had taken her.

Her and others like her.

No, that wasn’t right.

There were no others like her.

I knew that, but my father didn’t.

For my entire life, he had instilled brutality in me, and I had taken his lessons well.

If anything happened to Kayla, my father would learn how good a teacher he had been.

Two

TWO

Kayla

“I told you, Mr. Petrosyan, I don’t know anything,” I said.

After I finished, I took in a deep breath.

The stench of the mold had faded some, but the acrid smell of decay was as strong as ever. At first glance, I’d known this was a place a death, some kind of meat processing plant. I could imagine it had once been clean, brightly lit.

No more, though.

Now it was dark, filthy, the ceramic tiles that had undoubtedly been white before now a brownish-black that covered the floor, the walls, and I was sure the ceiling, though I hadn’t been brave enough to check.

There were leaks, or at least there had been, and I’d decided that worrying about the roof collapsing was something I didn’t want to add to my rapidly expanding list of concerns.

Armen Petrosyan being number one.

He loomed in front of me, and it took all my power to look at him.

When I was a kid, I’d been afraid of the boogeyman, and even though my father had slept on the floor in my bedroom for two straight weeks, that little tendril of fear had lingered until I was a teenager.

Armen brought all those fears back, but back then, I’d never thought the boogeyman would look like him. He was dressed impeccably, the day’s activities seeming to have no effect on him. Somehow, he even smelled good, like a mix of expensive cigars and even more expensive alcohol. I didn’t know whether it was cologne or just remnants of his earlier indulgences.

Either way, every breath I took made my stomach churn, the stench of the place contrasted with Armen leaving me off balance.

“I don’t know anything,” I repeated, mostly speaking to take my mind off the nausea that had me spinning.

I’d lost count of how many times I had said the same thing and how much time had actually passed since he’d brought me here, but every second seemed to last a year, especially when he was like this.

He was staring at me, or more accurately, staring through me.

I couldn’t tell if he was paying attention to me or lost in thought.

But I braced myself, prepared for the blows that were sure to come.

My preparation didn’t help.

The slap came quickly; the two after that even faster.

My head twisted, and I flinched at the sound of his hand against my skin, one that had been unfamiliar before, but one I was getting more acquainted with than I’d ever wanted to.

Swallowed down metallic-tasting blood that his slaps had drawn.

Some part of me was bewildered beyond comprehension.

The last time someone had hit me was fourth grade.

But these weren’t the wild, glancing blows of an elementary school girl.

I supposed he thought he was doing me a favor, his open-hand slaps a concession of some sort.

But my lip was split, my face was stinging, and if I had been able to touch it, I suspected I would find it swollen.

But I couldn’t touch it because of the bindings digging into my wrists, trapping my arms against the cold, hard metal of the chair.

It was the same with my ankles.

Funny how the only fucking thing that seemed sturdy in this place was this chair.

One bright side was that there was no way I was keeping these pants or shirt. So Elias wouldn’t have to worry about seeing them again, and my mother wouldn’t fret that I wasn’t taking care of myself.

But then again, it occurred to me I was getting ahead of myself.

Way ahead if the look on Armen’s face was anything to go by.

In the next second, he smiled, the expression bright and completely incongruous with the circumstances.

“Kayla, sirts, this will be over as soon as you answer my questions truthfully,” he said.

His voice had changed, and I sensed an undercurrent that hadn’t been there before.

Used all of my power not to look at the tray that he had in the corner.

Me not looking didn’t make a difference.

He looked over to the place I had been avoiding. “You’re concerned about my… supplies?”

“Should I be?” I asked.

I had wanted to keep the fear out of my voice but was powerless to do so.

And besides, what would saving face do for me when I was dealing with a man like Armen?

Not very much.

So, if showing some of my fear, playing to his sympathy—not that I thought he had such a thing—would get me out of here, I would do that.

Because pride was cold, cold comfort when I was staring in the face of this.

And I wasn’t exactly sure what this was.

He kept asking what I knew.

I kept telling him nothing.

But the more I denied it, the more determined he seemed to become.

Something told me this had less to do with me and more to do with Armen and his family.

Personally, I didn’t give a fuck about the politics of the Armenian mafia, Armen’s relationship with his sons, or any feelings he might have about them usurping him.

But then I reminded myself that what I cared about, what mattered to me, hadn’t been important for a very, very long time.

That wasn’t going to change today.

“Kayla—”

Armen cut off when he heard a thud.

Then he stood still, listening.

I saw when he dismissed what he had heard.

“My men will take care of whatever that is. I’ve instructed them we’re not to be disturbed,” he said. “They offered to handle this…conversation for me, but I turned them down. I wanted to make sure you are treated with care.”

The fear that trickled down my spine was like a physical sensation, and the breakfast that Armen had forced me to eat again threatened to make its way back up.

I swallowed it back, wanting to wear it even less than I’d wanted to eat it.

And I suspected Armen wasn’t so much of a gentleman that he would get me fresh clothes if I did lose my breakfast, so I prayed my stomach settled and braced myself for more blows.

The next series of slaps made me clench my teeth, an effort to stop the sting in my face.

An effort that failed.

And to add insult to injury, I felt a trickle of blood slide down my chin and was powerless to wipe it away.

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