Savage King

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Savage King Copyright ©2023 Deborah Garland Sleeping with the Enemy Sample Copyright ©2023 Deborah Garland WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Edits by: Julie K. Cohen The Ryter's Proof Editing Services Cover Designed by Bookin’ It Designs Photographer: FuriousFotog Model: Justin Michaels Published by Deborah A. Garland www.deborahgarlandauthor.com Contents 1. From the Author: 2. CHAPTER ONE 3. CHAPTER TWO 4. CHAPTER THREE 5. CHAPTER FOUR 6. CHAPTER FIVE 7. CHAPTER SIX 8. CHAPTER SEVEN 9. CHAPTER EIGHT 10. CHAPTER NINE 11. CHAPTER TEN 12. CHAPTER ELEVEN 13. CHAPTER TWELVE 14. CHAPTER THIRTEEN 15. CHAPTER FOURTEEN 16. CHAPTER FIFTEEN 17. CHAPTER SIXTEEN 18. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 19. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 20. CHAPTER NINETEEN 21. CHAPTER TWENTY 22. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 23. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 24. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 25. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 26. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 27. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 28. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 29. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 30. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 31. CHAPTER THIRTY 32. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE 33. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO 34. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 35. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 36. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 37. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX 38. SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY EXCERPT ASTORIA ROYALS MORE BOOKS BY DEBORAH GARLAND HERE’S DEBORAH From the Author: The setting of Astoria, New York, is a real sprawling waterfront incorporated village of Queens County. It is named for John Jacob Astor, the richest man in America at the time, who was considered royalty. The Astoria Royals romances are based on fictional characters, and, in some cases, locations are made up for storytelling enjoyment and drama. About this story… This romance contains subject matter that may be sensitive for some readers. There is triggering content related to: graphic violence, physical attack and an attempted sexual assault, death of a loved one, death of a parent, a parent with a terminal disease, and a miscarriage. If these themes bother you, please skip this one, or read with caution. I love hearing from readers and always welcome feedback. Contact me through my WEBSITE. CHAPTER ONE KieranMy palms sweat, and the veins below my knuckles feel ready to burst. I fucking hate funerals. Not that anyone loves them, except undertakers who rake in the cash. After burying the love of my life seven years ago, I’d rather set myself on fire than go to these things. Outside, the acrid smell of smoke lingers in the air, making every corner of Astoria unbreathable. The Parisi mansion and surrounding compound’s cottages still smolder from last week’s explosion. Gabriel Parisi survived. His wife didn’t.The church is packed with mourners. It’s easy to tell the difference between grieving family members and the rest of us.The rest of us being my younger brothers, who help me manage the Irish crime syndicate, and the Koslovs, Astoria’s Bratva. Our expensive three-piece suits and the smell of our cologne drown out the candles perfuming the warm air. “What balls they have showing up here,” Riordan, my underboss, whispers to me from my right. “Balor has Alexei’s death squad on tape speeding away from the house right after the explosion.”“Fucking brilliant, if you ask me. Reminding old Gabe they’re watching him.” Lachlan, my enforcer, sitting on my left, would see the cruelty as brilliant since he’s our resident psycho brother. “In death and in life.” This was different, though. Rarely does a Cosa Nostra don’s twenty-five-thousand-foot mansion fucking explode with his wife in it. Not in Astoria, anyway. The three power families have lived here in peace for decades. Leaning forward with my head in my hands, thinking of Norah, as I do most days, I wish this church mass would end already. My brothers continue to bicker over my head. I came here just to show my face, even though it’s killing me. “That’s enough,” I snap at them. I push Lachlan out of the way to get the hell out of the pew.I don’t care how many eyes are on me as I storm down the middle aisle, glaring at Bratva pakhan Alexei Koslov. He quirks a forced smile and a nod.Forced because six months ago, his oldest daughter, Stasia, went missing. We don’t have her—my family or my organization. We’re not fucking stupid. I push open the heavy ornate door, and the smell of putrid death hits me again. I swear, I can taste burnt flesh on my tongue. Norah asked to be cremated. Something her parents were dead set against, being Catholic. Her brother, Ewan, took her ashes home to Ireland, where she was born. Where we were all born. I’d rather her be in the ether, where I can look up and smile at her, instead of sitting in front of a piece of stone in the dead of winter or on a sweltering summer day like today, with her rotting in the earth beneath me. “Are we going to the cemetery?” Riordan, who followed me out, asks.“No,” I say easily.“I have to go to the gravesite.” Lachlan unbuttons his suit jacket, as if that will help against the brutal August heat. “You get to be moody and busy. I have to keep the line of defense present at all times. That means reminding these motherfuckers—”I grab his arm. “Lach, we’re in front of a church. Have some respect.”Ushers in cheap suits working the funeral mass prop open the double doors, and people start pouring out. “I heard you can tell who’s guilty by their behavior at the funeral,” Riordan says, standing tall at my side. “Nine times out of ten, they show up. All of our suspects are probably right here.”“Did you learn that by watching those crime shows you binge?” Lachlan rags on him.“I learned that in my criminal psychology classes at fucking Columbia, asshole,” Riordan curses back at him.We’re monsters