For The Love Of…Excerpts #6 by Artemis Crow

Here’s the first chapter of the 6th book in my Zodiac Assassins series, titled “Abella All In”. She’ll be released in late November or early December of this year and I can’t wait to send her out in the world!

Enjoy!

Luck. Elusive, vagarious, yet the hope of everyone—especially in Las Vegas—and the downfall of those who believed in it, relied on it, devoted their lives trying to control it. There were no shortcuts to be taken; there were no formulas to be invented; there were no miracles to be conjured. John Milton said, “Luck is the residue of design.” Abella had used those words to profit at the poker table, but this time the stakes were too high, this time she was gambling for children’s lives. There were no options to be had…save one.

Abella lowered the limo’s window, allowing the cool lights of the Strip to dance over her face as it traveled down the road. The garish neon blazed so brightly that it penetrated her closed eyes, the illumination a kaleidoscopic celebration of greed and vice and revelry unmatched by any other American city. She loved every square mile of it, and she alwayscame to Vegas with a design. But her plans were for naught if she couldn’t find that damn residue and mold it to suit her needs.

She opened her eyes to take in the artificially opulent facades flashing by, fighting the fatigue that demanded she close them again and sleep. The jet, despite its luxury, had failed to entice her to trust Baker’s men enough to rest, or ignore what had transpired in the last twenty-four hours. The FBI had taken Lyon and Persephone’s children to some undisclosed location, the probability of experimentation on the non-humans high. Abella had helped Baker’s men apprehend Persephone’s son, and her disloyalty to her half-sister, no matter how valid the reason, weighed as heavily on her conscience as Jacob Marley’s chains. Like a carrot on a stick, a chance to get the children back had been dangled before her, but it required that she sacrifice all she had built over the years.

She glanced at the men occupying the limo with her and had to force herself not to roll her eyes. General Baker’s demand that she be watched during the poker game was an insult. As if she’d do anything that would risk Lyon and Persephone’s children, like run away and break her agreement with the man. She would play the game, she would win the game, she would get the location of the children for Lyon so he could rescue them, just as she had promised.

For now though, she needed to sleep. Then she’d have the energy to plan.

The sleek, black stretch worked its way down the Strip, the progress slowed by the parade of cars driven by gawking tourists and irritated residents trying to get to work at the casinos, hotels, restaurants, and wedding chapels in constant attendance by said tourists.

The driver flipped on the turn signal and slowed for the showplace hotel coming up on the left.

“Not there,” Abella called out.

“That’s where we have reservations,” one of her muscle-bound escorts said.

“Good for you. I, however, will not be staying there,” she said, rubbing her temples, unable to keep weariness-fed impatience out of her voice. 

The man stared at her, his brown eyes narrowing. “You know the rules.”

She dropped her hands and shot the man a look that, had she been a demon, most certainly would have sent him straight to Hell. “You are to be my guard, but I didn’t agree to stay in the hovel your accommodations will surely be.”

He crossed his arms, his disgust stinking up the roomy vehicle. The other men shifted, their discomfort palpable as their heads swiveled between her and their leader.

Abella mirrored his posture, but a grin spread across her face. “Brooding doesn’t suit you.”

“Neither does this mission, but I have my orders.” 

He returned her stare, and that’s when she saw it. The truth. He didn’t want to be here anymore than she did; something to keep in mind. 

She broke the stare-off and looked into the rear-view mirror, catching the driver’s eye. “Go straight, past the Bellagio. I’ll tell you when to turn.”

“Sir?” the driver called back.

“We stay with you,” the crotchety male said.

Abella heaved a sigh. An Oscar-worthy gustatory effort, really, but lost on these buffoons. “There’s room.”

The leader nodded at the driver and they continued down the Strip, inching forward in the traffic jam, the minutes passing in silence.

“Take the next left,” Abella said, unconsciously leaning forward, as if that could ensure the driver didn’t miss the turn.

“That’s a service road, ma’am.”

“I realize that; take it anyway.”

The men around her sat up and rubbernecked, their dominant hands easing toward their firearms.

“What? You think I’m setting a trap?”

“The general said you were not to be trusted.”

She placed both hands over her heart and cocked her head. “Aw, I’m hurt.” She looked to the driver. “Take another left here, then pull under the portico.”

The driver eased through the tight turn down a one-way street that by all rights should have been zoned an alley, the vehicle clearing the corners by inches. Even after straightening, the walls on either side of them were so close that Abella wasn’t sure they could open the doors wide enough to exit. 

The perfect kill box.

“I don’t like this,” the leader said, his head on a swivel. “Feels like a trap.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Abella said, despite agreeing with the man’s assessment. “Don’t be a ninny. It’s a private drive.” She pointed ahead. “See?”

The narrow street curved and widened at the same time, the extra space on each side of the limo lined with huge, terracotta pots holding palm trees and rimmed with ivy. Strands of white lights twinkled, highlighting the path to the entrance, their singular note a relief after the multitude of colors on the Strip. Despite the light pollution that permeated Las Vegas, this tiny oasis was a cool, quiet haven away from the chaos.

The two-story white portico showcased the ornate double doors, while the white of the columns supporting the structure were almost completely covered by ambitious, twining ivy reaching for the sky.

The driver stopped at the doors.

A pair of doormen eased out from some hidden spot, their green jackets the same color as the foliage, like camouflage. Unobtrusive was their aim, privacy their fame. They flanked the vehicle and opened the doors with barely a sound.

Abella reached out and gripped one of the doorman’s extended, gloved hands. 

He helped her out before smiling. “Ms. Cara, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

Short, dark hair showcased a handsome face; his chiseled jaw and bright blue eyes were startling in their symmetrical beauty. The man could have tried for Hollywood, but fame held no interest for him…he lived for his family. 

“It’s been a long time, Jerrold. How’s your wife?”

He rolled his eyes, even as one corner of his mouth canted up. “She’s pissed at me again.”

Abella pictured the petite blonde with the fiery attitude and laughed. “Another baby?”

Jerrold closed the door when the last of the men exited, his smile broadening. “Due soon. She’ll make three.”

“A girl? Finally. Congratulations.”

He chuckled. “My wife is as giddy as she can be this far along. God knows the nursery is filled to the ceiling with all manner of pink frills and frippery.” He glanced at the trunk. “Any bags?”

“Not on this trip. My traveling companions can carry their own. They will need rooms, though.”

“Done.”

“Fiona?”

“Bringing in supplies for you as we speak.”

“Then let’s go.”

Jerrold tipped his cap and jogged ahead of her to open the door, his expression flattening, his eyes growing more watchful. That attention to detail made him the best doorman in town.

Abella strode into the intimate, luxurious lobby. Cream and white furniture dotted the space, standing out against the black, marble floor and dark gray walls, while accent colors of cobalt blue, deep red and eggplant purple were splashed in pillows and paintings and planters.

“What is this place?” the leader whispered.

“It’s a private hotel, of sorts. The lower floors have luxury suites that are available to the public. The top two floors are a private penthouse. And you don’t have to whisper; it’s not a church.”

“The general won’t want to pay for expensive rooms.”

“He’ll only have to pay for yours. I own the penthouse.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You own it?”

“I won it in a game, along with most everything I have. Baker knows that; it’s why he picked me.”

The leader frowned, but didn’t continue that line of questioning. “And how do we keep an eye on you?”

Fatigue fed Abella’s frustration. She wanted to scream, “You don’t!” but she didn’t think he’d take it well. “There are three elevators: a private one that only goes to my place, an elevator to the suites, and a freight elevator in the back of the hotel that goes to every level including the private garage. Plus, there are stairwells at each end of the hotel. Have a man covering each place and you’ll be guaranteed that I can’t slip out of your clutches.”

“I’ll have to check that out, along with your penthouse.”

“Of course. Jerrold, will you please show these men the elevators and stairs, then their rooms.”

“I will. Anything else you need?”

“Not for now, thank you.” 

She pulled a thick wad of money out of her tote bag and slipped it to him.

He stared at the tip, frowning. “I can tell it’s too generous just by the feel.”

“Not for that precious girl you’re about to have. Believe me, you’re going to need it.”

“Then thank you.” He pocketed the money. “Come with us gentlemen. We’ll give you a tour then show you to your rooms.”

The leader stayed by Abella’s side while his men split into groups, their heads on a swivel. She had to hand it to them—they were attentive.

“Ready?” she asked.

“After you.”

May your words flow freely,

Artemis

www.artemiscrow.com

The Zodiac Assassins series
Available on Amazon Kindle and Print, Nook and Kobo

Lyon’s Roar – https://amzn.to/2IB







Leona’s Descent – https://amzn.to/2yaDfjW







Libra’s Limbo – https://amzn.to/2q3VkNg







Leona’s Cage – https://amzn.to/2QTbVyp