Morning Star (Broken Mercenaries Book 3) Read online

  Morning Star

  Broken Mercenaries #3

  S. Massery

  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.

  Copyright © 2019 by S. Massery

  All rights reserved.

  Editing by Studio ENP

  Proofreading by Paige Sayer Proofreading

  Cover Design by S. Massery

  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.

  For Mom

  Contents

  Introduction

  1. GRACE

  2. DALTON

  3. GRACE

  4. DALTON

  5. GRACE

  6. DALTON

  7. GRACE

  8. DALTON

  9. GRACE

  10. DALTON

  11. GRACE

  12. DALTON

  13. GRACE

  14. DALTON

  15. GRACE

  16. DALTON

  17. GRACE

  18. DALTON

  19. GRACE

  20. DALTON

  21. GRACE

  22. DALTON

  23. GRACE

  24. DALTON

  25. GRACE

  26. DALTON

  27. GRACE

  28. DALTON

  29. GRACE

  30. DALTON

  31. GRACE

  32. DALTON

  33. GRACE

  34. DALTON

  Epilogue

  Also by S. Massery

  Also by S. Massery

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Introduction

  Morning Star can be read as a standalone, but is best enjoyed after Blood Sky and Angel of Death.

  Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy Grace and Dalton’s story.

  1

  GRACE

  I look up from my drink, and the room is empty.

  It isn’t uncommon for parties to shift between different rooms, but no one made a sound as they left. It’s a little rude to leave a girl hanging. Not that I’m the best company, now or ever.

  Still, I rest my elbow on the bar and finish my drink, then stand. I can’t be the antisocial one. If they choose to snub me? Fine. But I’ll get snubbed with a smile on my face and alcohol in my system, the fucking Argento twins be damned.

  Music filters in from the other side of the house, loud enough to vibrate in my chest. There’s a DJ somewhere in this mansion, and the volume just doubled.

  I hold back my gasp when a hand lands on my shoulder, and the gin I had started to pour sloshes over the rim of the glass.

  Marco leans down and frowns at me. “Perhaps you’ve had too much to drink tonight, Grace?”

  “You startled me,” I say, keeping my gaze on the spilled gin. I set down the bottle before my hand shakes. He’s always scared me, ever since I was a little girl. I’ve done everything in my power to never be alone with him.

  Another man slides into the seat on my other side. “A fine party, don’t you think?”

  “Lovely.” I take a step backward, but Marco’s grip on my shoulder tightens.

  “You need to come with us.”

  “Oh, do I?” I raise my eyebrow at him.

  “Orders are orders.” He’s always had a handsome face, which he’s used to charm the pants off way too many women.

  I saw through his mask the second I realized what kind of people my family surrounded themselves with. “They want me gone, huh?”

  The Argento twins hate me. They’re Marco’s sisters, younger by four years, and tonight is their birthday party. I can’t recall exactly what I did—or when—but their anger has been rotting for a while.

  “They just want to send a message,” the man I’ve never met answers.

  Marco smirks and holds out his hand. “Come.”

  I ignore the hand and roll my eyes at his words. “Does that work on any woman?”

  His friend grunts, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

  Marco guides me to the door, his fingers digging into my arm. Down a set of stairs into the kitchen. Out the back door. A trickle of fear pours down my spine at the sight of the black SUV waiting for us. Marco’s friend yanks the back door open, and they push me in. One circles around the car, and I’m suddenly squished between them.

  I become very aware of my short cocktail dress. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. My heels won’t help me very much in tight quarters, and this dress is nothing more than a few layers of gauze and glitter.

  “Jeez, I figured the twins would just want me escorted off the property, not carted all the way home,” I mutter.

  “The twins?” the stranger asks.

  I glance over at Marco, but he’s looking out the window.

  “They wanted me out,” I say. “That’s why—”

  “No, Grace.” Marco’s reflection is distorted in the car window, his grin eerie. “I’m afraid you’ve got our intentions wrong.”

  The fear bleeds through me, driven by the wild pulse in my chest. My voice is strangled when I reply, “Oh?”

  His hand lands on my thigh.

  Don’t flinch, don’t flinch, don’t flinch.

  “Get your hand off of me,” I snap.

  He laughs. The car pulls up in front of one of the buildings in the city his father controls. It’s a bar, with offices above it. Tenants above that. He gets out and takes my arm again, dragging me with him.

  I can’t put up much resistance until I’m on my feet, and then I try to jerk out of his hold.

  His friend steps up right behind me, so close my back touches his chest.

  “I like the wild ones,” he says to Marco. He puts his hands on my waist.

  I slam my heel down on his foot, praying he isn’t wearing the steel-toed boots some of them are fond of. He yelps, releasing me, and I jump away from him.

  Marco laughs. “Still feel the same, Frank?”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  I contemplate running. But where would I go? Running would just be asking for one of those jackasses to tackle me to the pavement.

  No thanks.

  “This way,” Marco says. “Don’t be difficult now, love.”

  I grimace. “Difficult is my middle name.”

  Marco moves forward again and grabs my arm, just above the elbow, and tows me into the building. He pushes open the door directly to the left, which leads downstairs.

  The basement that has been off limits to me since… forever.

  I swallow the bitter fear on my tongue. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They lead me down the stairs in silence, Frank in front of me and Marco right on my heels. His breath hits me on the back of my neck, and I wish I had left my hair down. No, I had foolishly tried to impress the twins’ friends, spending an hour on the braid that wraps around my head like a crown.

  The hallway we exit into is brightly lit. Garish fluorescent lights flicker above us. Three men step into the hallway at the other end, and even I can tell that only one of them is of any importance. The other two follow closely behind the leader, and one blocks us as we pass them.

  “Who was that?” I ask, craning my head around as they bang through the door into the stairwell. “Where the hell are you taking me, Marco?”

  He shoves me against the wall. I bit
e the inside of my cheek so I don’t flinch, even if my stomach is suddenly in my throat. I look up at the ceiling and he leans in close.

  “I don’t appreciate your tone, Grace.”

  Frank sniggers.

  Marco’s hand tightens around my throat. “Apologize.”

  My heart skips at the pressure. It’s not a good skip, either. It’s a say whatever the fuck you need to say so you can breathe again skip. My head tips back. There’s no doubt in my mind that Marco could kill me and get away with it. Especially here, in the underbelly of his family’s building, surrounded by his men.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, only it comes out as a wheeze.

  “What the fuck are you looking at?” Marco barks, his hand lifting off my neck.

  I follow his glare down the hall, to the stairs that lead to the front door. A man stands there, half in and half out, watching us. His gaze sears into me for a moment before it jumps to Marco. Then Frank.

  I raise my hand to my throat, and the man’s eyes follow.

  Marco takes a step in his direction. “Hey. Asshole. You’re supposed to be working, not leering at girls.”

  My face gets hot. It’s bad enough that I let Marco put his hands on me. It’s worse to know we have an audience. Save me, I almost say, but the words don’t even try to slip out. We don’t put blind trust in strangers. Never, ever involve a stranger in family business.

  Marco growls low in his throat, and the man in the doorway shakes his head. He disappears, the door banging closed behind him, and my hope goes with him.

  “What’s your plan?” I ask. “My father—”

  Frank laughs. “Good one, Grace. What’s your father gonna do, huh? Beat us up?”

  Embarrassment radiates through me. It’s no mystery to the club that my dad is a fucking drunk. He’s been working on it. I’ve been working on it. His role as the enforcer only lasts as long as he’s able to shoot straight. Lucky for him, he can shoot straight with his eyes closed.

  “Has he done something to piss Uncle Javier off?” I ask in a low voice.

  Marco gets close to me again, his breath hitting my face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” And then we’re moving again. He tows me down the hallway and into a small room. “Stay,” he orders, like I’m a dog.

  I bare my teeth, and he slams the door in my face.

  “Fuck.” I scan the room, but it’s completely empty. It looks like a storage closet that was recently cleaned out. After a few seconds of silence, I try the doorknob.

  Locked.

  There are a lot of things that could’ve gone wrong tonight, but I didn’t even stop to consider Marco and his little sidekick kidnapping me. Back in the day, my father was someone they all respected. And now?

  Well, I probably had a hand in his downfall. I open my mouth too much. I’m too independent, he likes to yell. But how is the daughter of a mob enforcer supposed to act? Docile?

  I snort at the thought.

  The minutes are stacking up, and eventually I quit pacing. Every so often, people walk past. Their shadows block the light coming in from the bottom of the door. I lean against the wall and pull my heels off, letting out a low groan when my bare feet touch the tile. Heels suck. Dresses suck. Whoever made formal attire a thing deserves to rot in a jail cell.

  Jeans and sweatshirts for life, baby.

  A commotion outside the door has me straightening. Gunfire reaches my ears, and my hand twitches. I half expect the bullets to start flying through the door, and I preemptively crouch. Three shots, then silence.

  The door to my room explodes inward, and the man from earlier appears in the doorway. “Come with me.”

  Hell, we’re not supposed to trust strangers, but I trust this one much more than I’ve ever trusted Marco. I jump up and rush out the door.

  “This way.” He takes my arm, just above the elbow.

  What is it with guys trying to steer me around like this? Did they all go to the same etiquette school? I let it slide, because my legs feel shakier than a newborn deer.

  There’s a man lying on the floor in the hallway. He wears the same uniform as my captor-slash-savior. All black clothing and a bulletproof vest—which didn’t protect him from the bullet to the brain.

  I stare at him, my savior pulling me down the hallway. My foot slides in the pool of blood, and I almost go down. He keeps us close to the wall.

  “Jesus,” I mutter.

  “Do you know what they were going to do?” he asks.

  I glance at him. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is, even with the scowl. “Do you want my initial thoughts, or…?”

  “Human trafficking,” he grits. “That’s not what I fucking signed up for.”

  We get to the end of the hall. He yanks open the door, pushing me into the stairwell.

  I almost fall over another body. “How many people did you kill?” I ask. This isn’t the same stairwell. This one goes straight outside and up to the apartments.

  “Enough.”

  We get outside, and he points to a moving truck. “Open the back.”

  I raise my eyebrows but do as he asks. I lift the lock and shove the door upward. My heart skips when I’m greeted with ten blank stares.

  Girls. Dressed like me, in short dresses and heels. Their eyes are glazed, but they react to the light with winces.

  “What the hell?”

  He rounds back to me, getting in my space. “Did you do something to offend the mob?”

  I throw my head back and laugh. “I’m with the fucking Argentos,” I snap. “My father is Sal Jones. I don’t know why Marco locked me in that room, but it wasn’t to throw me in with that lot.”

  His eyes darken. “You just let him assault you and lock you in a closet,” he growls. “Get with the program. They would’ve shipped you off without remorse.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “No.”

  He stalks forward, and I back up quickly. My shoulder hits the side of the truck, and I raise my chin to stare at him. He watches me for a second, then his lips quirk. “No?”

  “No,” I repeat.

  “Let’s prove it, then.”

  “What—”

  He takes my hand in his, threading our fingers together. It’s an appallingly intimate gesture.

  And then we’re moving. Back inside, this time up the stairs instead of down. We get to the top floor, where Javier’s office is, and I drag my heels.

  “Stop,” I say.

  He doesn’t. He pulls me along by my hand, and I’m powerless to stop him.

  He opens Javier’s office door, barging in.

  Javier bolts to his feet, and I’m struck dumb that he’s even here on a Friday night.

  “Grace,” Javier says. He eyes the man—I’m not sure if he’s the hero or the villain of my story—and slowly sits back down. “Guard detail, are you?”

  The man grits his teeth.

  Javier nods slowly. “Interesting man. I wondered if I’d get a chance to see you. Morning Star, they call you?”

  “You know her?” he asks Javier.

  “Grace Leigh Jones,” Javier says with a smile. “Sal’s kid. Why do you have her?”

  “Your boy almost got her shipped overseas with the other girls you’ve rounded up.”

  My stomach flips.

  Javier eyes me, then shakes his head. Automatic denial. He stands. “Someone grabbed you? Grace?”

  I press my lips together. “Yes, Uncle,” I whisper.

  He rounds his desk and comes closer.

  I automatically let go of the man’s hand. Morning Star? A weird name if I’ve ever heard one.

  Javier reaches out and pats my cheek. “Poor dear. You must’ve been in such a fright. One of our new boys who hasn’t seen you before? Were you dancing in the club?”

  “Right,” I mutter. We’ll pretend we both don’t know I was at his daughters’ party.

  “Your father would be in an uproar if he knew.” Javier tsks.

  He’s just as bad as his son. I knew this d
eep down, but who wants to believe that their dad’s boss is a monster? I grew up with his girls. I spend all my free time with mob daughters because they’re all I’m allowed to hang out with. And he’s just one big asshole pulling our strings.

  “You best run home, dear,” he says.

  The man drags me out of the room, down the hallway, and out the back door. The truck—and the girls—are gone. I would be lying if I said I didn’t hope they’d escaped. Still, the idea that I might’ve been one of them…

  “You killed those men for nothing,” I say.

  He grabs a helmet off a motorcycle and shoves it into my chest.

  He leans down in my space, anger sparking off him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch, but I can feel it rolling inside of him. “I saved you,” he says. “It isn’t my fault you don’t want to see the truth.”

  I shake my head, glaring at him. “You went on a mission to boost your own fucking ego. Get over yourself, Morning Star.”

  He guides the helmet onto my head and points to the bike. He climbs on, and I grudgingly follow, putting my hands on his waist.

  Oh, how I hate him.

  He starts it and flips up the kickstand, and suddenly the wind is tearing at us as we fly through downtown Miami.

  I close my eyes, gripping his jacket tighter, until the bike slows. I open my eyes and glance around us, not especially surprised to find us in the right neighborhood. I point to a small house, set close between two others. The porch light is on, and Dad’s room is lit up, too.

  I climb off the bike, straightening my dress before I yank off the helmet. He watches me through narrowed eyes and I stare at him for a beat, then turn and walk up the driveway.