Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
BOOK 2 and PART 1 of the 7 Deadly Kins
Roman Wilde, a former Texan marine with a dark past as a Vegas card shark and master manipulator, has reinvented himself as a successful Financial Associate. But when his ruthless family patriarch demands he return to his old con artist ways, Roman’s carefully constructed life begins to unravel. Backed into a corner, he’s forced to outsmart one of Texas's most dangerous men—using every trick he learned from years of high-stakes gambling and ruthless deception. In a deadly game of cat-and-mouse, one wrong move could cost him everything—his fortune, his freedom, and even his life.
Genesis Caldwell, a dental hygienist with a bruised but hopeful heart, comes from a close-knit family that values devotion above all else. After reevaluating her priorities, she’s on a hiatus from relationships, but when her brother’s irresistible, charming friend crosses her path, she can’t resist. Roman Wilde has found his way into her dreams, forcing her to not count sheep, nor men like him, out of her future just yet.
Roman never intended to fall so hard for his best friend’s sister, but the undeniable chemistry between him and Genesis ignites sparks that can’t be ignored, and they dive headfirst into a relationship. As he opens the door to love, he also unwittingly lets in the darkness from his bloodline. His shadowy past has come to pay his present a visit.
Now, Roman must decide if he will tell the love of his life the truth, or hide it behind the shadows of deception, hoping that the tales of his past never see the light of day…
From USA Today bestselling author Tiana Laveen comes Book two of the 7 Deadly Kins series. Come along for a dark love story packed with suspense, vengeance and desire. ‘The Black Sheep – Greed’ is an exciting sibling’s best friend, opposites attract, emotional scars, bad boy, possessive alpha hero contemporary romance. It’s the second installment in the series, but can be read as a standalone novel. It has no cliffhanger, and has a HEA (Happily-ever-after). Part 1 and Part 2 of this book have been published ON THE SAME DAY, therefore there is no wait for the conclusion. This book includes mature themes and content that may not be suitable for all audiences—reader discretion is advised. Please look inside under the ‘Trigger Warnings’ for possible topics that may be deemed personally objectionable.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
Roman swallowed the vile, bitter flavor that settled on his thick and heavy tongue. His mouth was jam-packed with the sharp tang of iron, and he could feel the slight wiggle of a side tooth. His jaw throbbed from the firm fist that had landed against his chin, shocking him out of a sound sleep. Now, he was more than fully awake.
“Shit.” He spat blood onto the concrete floor of the jail cell. When he spoke, cool air zipped past his open mouth, sending a chilled ache that shot straight into his skull. Pushing the discomfort aside, he yelled out, “Guards. Gotta package for ya!” He kicked the loaf of human flesh that lay inches from him. His jail-assigned beige Croc-style shoes were peppered with specs of freshly spewed blood. He swallowed yet again, his brain buzzing and his anger filling every cell of his body like jelly in a donut. He placed his hand against his jawbone and stroked it, feeling it go slightly numb.
The taste in his mouth worsened with each moment. It tasted like a million pennies soaked in rancid lemon juice. He stood still in the middle of the jail cell, waiting for the aftermath. A man he barely knew was at his feet, cradled in a fetal position. Knocked out cold. Splashes of blood dotted the cot of the lower bunk bed, and the floor was now painted glossy red—a canvas of crimson human fluids.
His battered knuckles began to pulsate as his adrenaline high came tumbling down, and reality set in. He’d be in deep shit if he didn’t talk fast, and think even faster. Brisk footsteps approached, turning into an all-out booted sprint. The rattling of bars, warnings, curses, and echoing screams from nearby jail cells drifted to him as furious men were chomping at the bit to be heard. Two correctional officers arrived, the one in the forefront’s mouth tight and his dark eyes wide as he looked into the enclosure. With a shaky hand, the other one grabbed his radio and began yelling into it.
“We need back up! Medics. Hands on deck. Prisoner assault. Cell 13C. Wilde and Miller. Miller down. Appears to be badly injured. Possibly deceased.”
His bare chest heaved as he remained still. He trained his eyes on the two officers who stared back at him as if he were some monster.
“You got anything on you, Wilde?!” one of them yelled as they made way to open the door.
“Just your mama’s lipstick stain around my dick. You can tell my grandaddy, the fucker who conspired against me in order to get me tossed behind bars, that I received his present. I removed the bow, then took care of his little problem.”
The only problem was that Chad Miller wasn’t little at all…
Chad Miller was a six-foot six psychopath with long, wild red hair, blank blue eyes, and crude tattoos that lined his bloated body. According to the rumor mill from the other inmates shouting during the fracas, Chad was known to get handsy with folks he believed he could shake down—for anything as minor as a cigarette, to their whole damn bank account balance. He was a bully with manipulative ways. Feared by many, hated by most.
More officers arrived. Roman was ordered to put his hands up, asked if he had any weapons, serious injuries, and the regular spiel. Mayhem ensued once that gate swung all the way open and they poured inside. He was pushed down into the bloody swamp that was formerly a concrete floor. A red river streamed from Miller’s body as he lay there looking nothing short of deceased. His eyes half open, he stared vacantly across the room as if his all-inclusive dreadful soul had been knocked out of the frame. Roman was cuffed and dragged out like a sack of potatoes. He felt the jab of a Billy club to his side, the slap of a clammy hand across his face, and someone grabbing the back of his head, and whacking it. Typically, everyone involved would have been kissing the fucking floor, but he let them show off and exert their power as he took his walk of fame. Besides, the big fish he wanted to fry wasn’t quite on the hook yet.
As he placed one foot in front of the other, he was cheered on as he was marched away from the scene of the crime and tossed into an office, starkly decorated in white and gray. The door was slammed and locked behind him. He looked around and noticed a spot to park, so he sat down in one of two of the hard, old wooden chairs situated in front of a small metal desk. He looked down at his chest and legs, both covered in Miller’s blood. Wasn’t long before some jail official came into the room with a phone and recorder, offered him a bottle of water, and got down to business.