Dirty Empire Read online

  Dirty Empire

  Dirty Empire, #3

  Nina West

  2020 Nina West

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For more information, visit www.ninawestauthor.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Editing by Hot Tree Editing

  Cover design by Shanoff Designs

  Published by K.A. Tucker writing as Nina West

  Contents

  Dirty Empire

  1. Mercy

  2. Gabriel

  3. Mercy

  4. Gabriel

  5. Mercy

  6. Gabriel

  7. Mercy

  8. Gabriel

  9. Mercy

  10. Gabriel

  11. Mercy

  12. Gabriel

  13. Mercy

  14. Gabriel

  15. Mercy

  16. Gabriel

  17. Mercy

  18. Gabriel

  19. Mercy

  20. Gabriel

  21. Mercy

  Sneak Peek - Tempt Me (The Wolf Hotel #1)

  Titles By Nina West

  About the Author

  From internationally bestselling author K.A. Tucker, writing as Nina West, comes the dark and sexy Dirty Empire series

  Mercy Wheeler and Gabriel Easton’s sordid tale continues in Dirty Empire as Mercy finds her loyalties tested and Gabriel’s attempt to break free of his family’s legacy comes with unexpected consequences.

  Dirty Empire is the third book in the Dirty Empire series and should be read after Sweet Mercy and Gabriel Fallen.

  1

  Mercy

  I want to be better for you. I want to deserve you.

  Gabriel said those words to me. He whispered them as he pressed his forehead against mine, and my heart fluttered at the thought that this reprehensible man I’ve somehow grown fond of could—would—change his criminal ways for me. In my mind, he was making me a promise. The kind you make when you’re in love with another person and want to change.

  And then the private jet we were about to climb into exploded into a fireball and the reality of who Gabriel is and the kind of life he leads came crashing down.

  Now, sitting on Gabriel’s couch hours after being surrounded by a circus of sirens, emergency workers, and city and state law enforcement, I can hear the blast of metal, feel the intense heat of the fireball, and smell the ash and black smoke as if I’m still at the airfield. But it’s Gabriel’s and Caleb’s pained screams for their perished friends that fill center stage in my numbed mind.

  “Mercy.”

  It takes me a moment to focus on Gabriel’s handsome face. He’s perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of me, his calloused hands woven through mine, a somber expression pulling his brow tight as he studies me. I recall the first time I encountered those stormy blue eyes at Fulcort Penitentiary. We were there to visit our fathers: mine, a kind, loving man wrongly convicted of murder; his, a hardened crime boss who should be serving twenty times the sentence handed down to him. Whatever Vlad Easton was sentenced to is a misdemeanor compared to what he’s done in his lifetime.

  I remember thinking Gabriel a wildly attractive man, with that chiseled jaw and plump lips and playboy swagger. But he was affiliated with a dangerous inmate and therefore someone I wanted to stay far away from. His indecent proposal a week later—that I stay with him in exchange for his providing protection for my father—only confirmed it.

  And yet here I am.

  “Are you all right?” Gabriel asks, his raspy voice unusually soft.

  I nod absently, though the last thing I feel right now is all right.

  “She needs something to take the edge off.” Gabriel’s brother, Caleb, hands him a tumbler glass of amber liquid. Gabriel wordlessly slips it into my grasp. It must be the scotch Caleb cracked as soon as we strolled through the front door. I only noticed because it’s not his usual thirty-eight-thousand-dollar vodka. I thought it strange at the time that he bypassed his favorite. Funny, the things you notice when you’re in shock.

  I’d rather drink gasoline than scotch, but I tip my head back and pour it down my throat anyway, relishing the burn of hard liquor, barely aware of the taste.

  “That a girl,” Gabriel croons, smoothing a hand over my bare knee.

  “Ready for another?” Caleb tops his own glass.

  I swallow and shake my head. Only then do I notice my best friend is missing. “Where did Michelle go?” There’s a hint of panic in my voice. Did she change her mind and take off?

  “I sent her up to my room to take a nice, hot shower,” Caleb says, his tone dispassionate.

  Normally I’d have some quip, some warning, some ring of an alarm inside my head at the idea of Michelle getting too close and comfortable with Gabriel’s brother, a manwhore by anyone’s standards. Now, all I can think about is how Michelle could have already boarded that plane with Caleb while she waited for me to arrive.

  My best friend could have died tonight, simply for being connected to me.

  We all could have died, if not for road construction that made Gabriel and me fifteen minutes late. Pylons and fresh asphalt literally saved our lives.

  And in the aftermath of the explosion, while we sat on that tarmac as emergency vehicles raced up to deal with the fiery carnage, and we ducked away from view of countless news cameras that congregated outside the gates to capture the scintillating story, Michelle remained startlingly calm. She told the police who questioned us nothing beyond the surface truth—that she was joining her best friend for a weekend in Vegas to celebrate my having written my last college exam. She didn’t so much as hint at the other, more vital details that she is fully aware of—that she was traveling with a well-known crime family and that every minute of the trip had likely been bought and paid for with drug money. She played clueless, beautiful arm candy to perfection.

  When Gabriel instructed our driver to bring us home, Michelle didn’t demand to be dropped off at her house, she didn’t tell me to get the hell away from her. She clasped my hand and said she was going wherever I was going, even as her fingers shook.

  I’ll never find a friend like her again.

  And tonight, I almost lost her.

  But Gabriel and Caleb… they did lose people.

  “I’m sorry about Felix and Finn,” I offer, my voice sounding hollow to me. I didn’t know either of them well, and can’t say that I liked what I knew of them, but it was clear by Gabriel’s and Caleb’s horrified expressions after the explosion and their somber demeanor since that the twins were important to them. “And about your crew, too.” The pilot and a flight attendant also died in the explosion. Four people, in total. All of them simply because they were connected to the Easton family. All collateral damage.

  I’m connected to the Easton family.

  How long before I become collateral damage too?

  My stomach roils at the thought. “Who tried to kill us?”

  “It was a fuel leak,” Caleb says without missing a beat, dumping his glassful of scotch down his throat.

  “That was not a fuel leak,” I counter evenly. Does he take me for an idiot?

  Gabriel’s mouth twists. “No one’s trying to—”

  “Don�
�t feed me the same bullshit you tried to feed the cops. They didn’t buy it either.” I saw the looks, the whispers of “Easton” on lips. Everyone there knew who Gabriel and Caleb are. It’s virtually a guarantee that their investigation will conclude that plane was rigged with a bomb. Unless, of course, Gabriel buys a more palatable report for insurance purposes and to avoid unwanted attention. I wouldn’t put it past him—there doesn’t seem to be anything they can’t afford—but with the FBI rolling up in their black sedans, I doubt there’s a price tag affixed to sweeping this one under the rug.

  Gabriel’s eyes flash to Caleb, where a warning glare awaits him. In the past few weeks, Gabriel has slowly begun disclosing details about his sordid life that I’m probably better off not knowing. He’s hinted enough for me to know his family didn’t come by their money honestly, that while the club he and Caleb own might be a legitimate a business, there’s likely plenty running out of it that isn’t. Hell, I’ve watched Ozark. They’re probably laundering drug money through there.

  But I won’t get much out of Gabriel about tonight’s attack while Caleb is here to toss out lies and guard his little brother’s tongue.

  “Why don’t you go and take a shower? I’ll join you soon.” Gabriel squeezes my thigh.

  Normally the promise of his expert hands on my body sends my hormones into overdrive. But I’m not ready to be dismissed so easily yet, not when my life is at stake here, too. “Do you have any ideas who did it?”

  “Like Caleb said, it was an accident.”

  My anger flares. “What’s wrong? Are there just too many people who want you both dead to keep track?” I imagine the list could be long.

  “Come on.” Gabriel stands and tugs my hands until I’m on my feet too.

  “I don’t feel like a shower—”

  “For fuck’s sake, would you listen for once?” His soft-spoken words from only moments ago have evaporated with impatience.

  “Sure. After you stop lying to me!” We had an agreement that Gabriel wouldn’t peddle false tales about his life and who he is. Mind you, we agreed to abide by a “don’t ask, don’t tell” rule. I guess I’m the first to break the agreement, because I’m asking.

  A metal click sounds, pulling my attention to the bar. My body tenses at the sight of Caleb checking a handgun bullet chamber, his handsome face a mask of grim determination.

  I’m sure there are plenty tucked away all over this mansion, at the ready just in case. While it’s not the first gun I’ve seen—the handgun Dad made me buy for home protection when he went to prison is still wrapped in a shoebox and stuffed into the back of my cramped apartment closet—it’s the first time I’ve seen either of these two brandishing them so openly. That’s odd, now that I think about it, given who they are.

  “My brother and I need to discuss a few things, and you can’t be a part of that conversation. Why don’t you go and take that shower. Now.” Caleb’s voice is eerily calm.

  Neither Easton man has ever given me any indication that they would physically hurt me if I didn’t comply with their demands, but things are different. Dangerous. Maybe giving these guys attitude isn’t the smartest move at the moment.

  Gabriel’s looming height and muscular frame suddenly make me feel small and powerless. “Come on. I’ll be right behind you,” he whispers. He leans in to press a kiss against my temple before coaxing me toward his private wing of the house with a firm hand pressed against the small of my back.

  I steal another glance as Caleb pulls a second gun from somewhere below the counter. I’ll be right behind you, my ass. My gut tells me these two will be conspiring over possible suspects and how to exact retribution—the kind that doesn’t involve law enforcement and arrests—late into the night. I’m not sure how I feel about that, given their targets nearly killed me tonight.

  I don’t know how I feel about anything anymore.

  Including Gabriel.

  My legs are wobbly as I head for the bedroom, hoping a hot shower will help me shake this icy feeling that has seized my limbs.

  2

  Gabriel

  I watch Mercy’s slim, sexy frame disappear around the corner. With it goes all semblance of composure. “Who the fuck tried to kill us tonight?” I force out between gritted teeth. My fist grips Mercy’s empty glass as I fight the overwhelming urge to launch it across the room and watch it shatter into a thousand shards. Adrenaline has been coursing through my veins double time for hours, ever since someone blew up our plane—and our two best friends, along with two innocent staff members.

  Finn and Felix are gone. My gut spasms at the thought. It hasn’t sunk in yet. I still half-expect to wake up Sunday morning to those two idiots strolling through our front door, looking for liquor to drink and women to screw. That’s not going to happen though. Instead, their sweet mother is going to be receiving the most expensive floral arrangement we can buy ahead of us showing up on her porch with a blank check to pay for a double funeral.

  There will be plenty of time to mourn them. Right now, we need to figure out who put a hit out on us and when they’re going to strike again once they learn they’ve failed.

  “Take your pick.” The muscle in Caleb’s jaw tenses. He’s simmering in that dark mood of his, the volatile one that is unpredictable, chilling, and can be downright deadly if provoked. I was relieved when Mercy finally left. He wouldn’t lay a hand on her, but his words can be just as destructive, and she’s already been through enough tonight. “We know the cartel didn’t do this. Those fuckers would rather send our heads to Fulcort in a care package for Dad. So it’s Uncle Peter or it’s the Perris. Simple.”

  Our father’s brother, who’s been maneuvering to take over the entire Easton empire, or our family’s sworn enemies.

  “You really think Uncle Peter would blow up our plane like that?” Our own flesh and blood?

  “After we dropped that picture of him in bed with the Feds into Dad’s lap?” Caleb snorts. “We basically signed his death warrant. He probably sees it as tit for tat, and he’s got nothing to lose, especially if he’s guilty. Plus, we all know he likes to blow shit up.”

  And now that Dad’s behind bars, if Uncle Peter takes us out, he and our rat cousins will control Harriet, Dad’s code name for the lucrative family drug business. He definitely has motive for eliminating us from the equation, aside from old-fashioned retaliation—something he’s always been fond of. “But has he even figured out we’re onto him? Dad would have warned us if he’d put a hit out on Peter, wouldn’t he?”

  It’s been almost a week since my last visit to Fulcort, when I informed Vladimir Easton that his own brother sold him out to the FBI in a power and money grab. It went over as well as to be expected. Dad turned heads with his barking and then stormed out, and we haven’t heard from him since. Has he put feelers out to see if it’s true and Peter betrayed him? Has he demanded Peter explain himself? Or has he decided the crumpled picture speaks for itself and dialed up his favorite reliable henchman, Bane, the one man he trusts to do his dirtiest work?

  “That hateful old fuck wouldn’t take too long to make his move. But, no, I can’t see him putting Bane into play without warning us. You know, since we’re his pride and joy and all that,” Caleb mutters, his loathing for our father oozing through each syllable.

  “So then how could he be behind tonight?”

  “Maybe Peter caught wind of our arrangement with the Perris. We knew things were going to move fast once we set those wheels in motion.” Caleb’s gaze is locked on the night sky beyond the wall of glass in our living room. The view from atop Camelback Mountain of the Phoenix city lights below is the reason we bought this mansion in the first place. That and the privacy we’re afforded all the way up here, to live however we want without prying eyes.

  But now there are unseen enemies somewhere outside; watching, waiting for the next opportunity to take us out. Tonight was a close call. The closest we’ve ever had.

  Caleb is right. The night we hatched the plan
with Merrick and Vince Perri that would finally free us from our family businesses and a potential future behind bars, we knew there would be family members—including our own—who would retaliate if they caught wind.

  But is that the case? If it is, how the hell would Peter have found out and so fast? Who talked? “Something doesn’t add up.”

  Caleb tips his head back to polish off another tumblerful of Scotch. He reaches for the bottle.

  “I need your brain working tonight.”

  He scowls but stalls short of pouring himself another drink, reaching instead for the pack of cigarettes. He lights up. It’s a sign that he’s rattled. He never lights up in the house. He doesn’t even like it when others smoke around him. “Maybe Peter had nothing to do with this then. It’s time we give our new friends a call and ask them a few pointed questions about explosives.”

  “I don’t see the Perris for this.” At least, not Merrick or Vince. Those two are like us. They want to get out of the family business, not in deeper. They’re the one who came to us with answers about our mother’s death that we’ve wanted for almost two decades: Camillo pulled the trigger on the gun, but it was their older brother Miles who brutally raped her beforehand.

  “Camillo wouldn’t think twice,” Caleb croaks through an exhale. A coil of smoke sails from his lips. “If he or that psycho son of his found out about our little chat with Merrick and Vince, if they knew our end game? They’d make a move now to get rid of us once and for all.”