Cold-Hearted

Jayla Talbot Cold-Hearted Copyright © 2023 by Jayla Talbot All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. Jayla Talbot asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. First edition This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy Find out more at reedsy.com Contents Author’s Notes 1. Cole 2. Alessandra 3. Cole 4. Alessandra 5. Cole 6. Alessandra 7. Cole 8. Alessandra 9. Alessandra 10. Cole 11. Alessandra 12. Cole 13. Alessandra 14. Cole 15. Alessandra 16. Cole 17. Alessandra 18. Alessandra 19. Alessandra 20. Cole 21. Alessandra 22. Cole 23. Cole 24. Cole 25. Alessandra 26. Cole 27. Cole 28. Alessandra 29. Cole 30. Alessandra 31. Cole 32. Cole 33. Alessandra 34. Cole 35. Cole 36. Alessandra 37. Alessandra Thank You Also by Jayla Talbot About the Author Author’s Notes Books can provide a catharsis and a safe place to work through our own personal fears and traumas. But please be mindful of your mental health. This is a dark romance and will not be for every reader. It is intended as a work of fiction, not a representation of safe sexual practices. Please be advised of the following content warnings. References To: Previous Sexual Assault Drug Use Sex Work Child Abuse Sex Trafficking Scenes Depicting: Attempted Kidnapping Attempted Sexual Assault Murder Torture Violence Blood Play Previous Sexual Assault Described in Flashbacks (Although it’s important for the characterization of the FMC, if it’s triggering, you can skip the italicized sections in chapters 11 & 17) 1 Cole The tick echoed in my ears over and over again as I felt the slick liquid on my skin. The blood made a steady dripping sound as it fell from my hands onto the grimy concrete. The dark red indistinguishable from the other stains on the floor. The smell of hay and manure mixed with the scent of it. I looked at the man whose arms and legs were tied to the chair in front of me. His chin rested on his chest. His hair matted, and his clothes disheveled. His pants were drenched from when he’d pissed in fear. His face was a bloody mess hardly recognizable. The one eye that wasn’t swollen stared at me frantically, waiting for the next blow. I smirked as I delivered it. My knuckles connecting with his ribs. The chair clattered to the ground with the force of my hit. He groaned as his head snapped back. The sound was like music to my ears. The applause of a job well done. The smile stayed in place as I crouched before him, staring at his face upside down. “Do you understand?” I asked. “Yes!” Blood coated his teeth. “Jesus Christ, yes. I understand. I’ll stay away from her.” I felt nothing as I watched his chest stutter with each labored breath he took. I wasn’t a psychopath; I understood the value of human life. I knew taking a life weighed on your soul. Tainted and ruined it in a way there was no coming back from. It’s not that I didn’t feel those things; I was just too cold-hearted to care. “I don’t want to see you anywhere near a Kent business.” My voice was calm as I spoke. “You stay away from the girls. The clubs. The betting books. I don’t even want you on the same street.” “Fuck.” I slapped him again. The force of the blow making my hand vibrate. “Okay. Yes. Just please, please, let me go.” I chuckled as I stood. “Oh that’s not up to me.” I left his panicked expression behind as I crossed the room to my brother Angelo. Torture was usually his job and the fate of our victim was up to him. But after seeing the photos of what this guy had done to one of our escorts, I couldn’t resist getting in a few punches myself. I didn’t usually pay attention to that side of the business. The years I’d spent with my father while he’d worked over unwilling girls was still fresh in my mind. I ran the nightclubs and oversaw all contracts for the Kent Crime Syndicate, but Angelo knew I had a special hatred for men who abused women. Just as our father had abused any woman who came across his path, our mother included. “He’s all yours.” One side of Angelo’s mouth pulled into a smile. The side that wasn’t scarred. The right side of his face was twisted and distorted from his ear to his chin. Facial hair covered some of it, but it would never be the same. He had never been the same. I slapped him on the shoulder as I left the stables. I nodded to Scott, my bodyguard, and he rushed to start the car as I climbed into the backseat. He was on the younger side, still in his mid-twenties with sandy blonde hair and dark eyes. But the military had bulked him up and scarred him. He couldn’t go back to a normal life so instead he’d find this one. The stables at Angelo’s house grew smaller as we headed for the main road. Angelo had bought a large piece of land about a year ago. It had a main house that looked more like a gothic castle, a few acres of woods, three garages, and two stables. One did hold horses, while the other was used for this. The distance from any other living person made it perfect for us to get the answers we