Stone Cold Read online




  Copyright © 2020 KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing Inc

  Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing Inc

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing Inc

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Contents

  Stone Cold - An Ashby Crime Family Romance

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  More From KB Winters

  Free Book!

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Bonnie

  This was what my life had come to. Just a few weeks ago I was a bright-eyed college graduate, a young woman on the cusp of success. I started to pile up the things I wanted for myself. I was a good Catholic girl with a boyfriend I wasn’t crazy about, but at least back then I had someone.

  Now I was all alone.

  Well, not technically. It was impossible to be alone at Bullets & Beer where every night the beautiful people gathered to bump and grind and sin every which way but up. And tonight, like every night for the past week, I was one of them, only my sins weren’t as interesting as the chick I watched getting finger banged up against the wall last night. Did I say everybody was watching? Or the girl sandwiched between two guys who felt her up on the dance floor. Though my parents and my priest would call it sinning, I could admit that she looked…blissful. Like she was having the time of her life.

  Like she felt good. It was a feeling I couldn’t even summon anymore.

  Even now, with four gin and tonic cocktails in my system to numb the pain, I still didn’t feel good. Or numb. I felt like what I’d always imagined hell would be like. Hot and sticky and uncomfortable, but most of all, lonely.

  That was one miserable thought too many. Tears welled up in my eyes, so I polished off my drink because there was no way I’d get lucky like my best friend Maisie Nilsson. No, she had a super sexy gangster with a heart of gold. I knew no one would ever come to my rescue, so I wiped a tear off my cheek and practically ran to the ladies’ room. It was surprisingly quiet inside except for the low hum of a woman touching up her makeup at the wall length mirror. I flashed a semi-friendly smile, enough to show I was no threat, but not so much she might feel the need to engage in friendly bathroom chatter.

  Normally, manners would have forced me into casual small talk, but lately, I wasn’t too big on the things I’d been taught growing up. At least that was what I told myself as I stared at my reflection in the shockingly unflattering lighting.

  Tonight my reddish orange hair had been tamed with a flat iron, at least as much as the thick waves wanted to be tamed. The color was still too bright for my pale, nearly porcelain skin. My eyes were technically hazel but most days they were a lighter brown with a smattering of brown and yellow. Nothing spectacular, just too much of all the wrong stuff and not enough of the right stuff.

  Story of my life. A sniff surprised me and the humming woman stopped in her careful lipstick application to look at me.

  “He ain’t worth it, honey. They so rarely are.” She flashed a friendly smile to go with the hint of southern still in her accent. “Here, have some booger sugar and forget all about him. Maybe get under somebody else if you know what I’m sayin’.”

  I’d have to be deaf and blind not to get what she was saying.

  “What is it?” I suspected cocaine, but as Maisie was fond of reminding me, new drugs came out all the time.

  “It’s just a little feel good powder, hon. Take a little bump like this.” The woman flicked her blonde waves off her shoulder, dumped a small pile of white powder on the back of her hand, lowered her nostril to it and inhaled it into oblivion. “Easy as.”

  It did look easy, and the woman didn’t seem to be in any pain. Her face was beautiful, but her skin was clear and her eyes were as wide as her smile.

  “I would like to feel better and alcohol doesn’t seem to be working,” I said hesitantly.

  “Just like I did it. Go on,” she said with an encouraging smile. Suddenly I understood that not all peer pressure was like the PSA’s from school. Some of it was benign, barely even enough to be considered pressure. This woman, just like the devil, came wrapped in a pretty package, bearing a smile rather than a sneer. And today I wanted—no I needed—what this beautiful devil was offering.

  So I took it. Exactly like she did, taking a deep inhale until the powder disappeared up my nostril. Before I even let out my breath, I felt better. Warm and relaxed. Good. Like everything was right in the world.

  “Wow,” I said as the magic hit.

  “Exactly,” she said with a satisfied smile. She smacked her lips together, gave her reflection one last glance and headed for the door.

  “Hey, what’s your name?”

  “Toni.”

  “Bonnie. Thanks.”

  “From one sister to another,” she said and shimmied out of the bathroom into the constant throbbing pulse that was the exact distraction Bullets & Beer had become for me.

  When I made my way out of the bathroom, I headed straight for the dance floor and closed my eyes. My brain worked overtime to shut out the past seven days of my life.

  Arrested on suspicion of murder and interrogated for sixty-eight hours straight by professional skeptics. That was bad enough, terrifying and humiliating to be sure, it was not an experience I wanted to repeat. But it was what came after that truly broke my heart.

  Being disowned by my parents was more humiliating than the entire Glitz Police Department thinking I was not only capable of killing—but actually killing my own priest. But nothing had wiped out that memory, not even the bass that shook so loud I couldn’t tell if I was breathing or holding my breath. I seemed destined to relive over and over the one moment in my life I couldn’t seem to forget.

  Or escape.

  “I’ll help you pack a few bags.”

  Maisie had been waiting for me outside the police station like the good best friend she was with a hot cup of coffee and a sympathetic smile. Sh
e drove me home but only on the condition that I return with her to Ashby Manor for a few days at least.

  “Great, thanks, Maze. Just remember I have a few job interviews so don’t just pack club clothes or sexy stuff.”

  Maisie smirked and rolled her eyes. “Did you add some sexy things to your wardrobe while I wasn’t watching?” Her laughter helped ease the tension from hours of questioning and accusations. “And if so, I’m insulted that I didn’t get the joy of shopping with you while you bought it.”

  Because that was Maisie, happy when others were happy. At least when I was. “Not sexy, no, but not appropriate for an interview either.”

  We both stepped out of the car and walked up the familiar path to the over-the-top Tudor style house that was my parents’ pride and joy. The door was locked.

  I stamped my foot in a mock tantrum. “The door is never locked.”

  Maisie rolled her eyes. “Something I still can’t believe you guys think is all right.”

  “It’s Glitz, not Vegas, Maze.”

  “Vegas is right next door, and I’ll remind you that no place is free of crime little lady.” Her cowboy accent brought a smile to my face, but it died quickly in the next few seconds.

  Faith, our housekeeper, opened the door with a stoic expression on her face. “Ms. Byrne. Your parents have instructed that you are allowed to take some clothes and other essentials, but you are no longer welcome here.” Her stiff tone was the first clue that it wasn’t a joke. A sick cruel joke would be beyond my parents’ capability. But straight up cruelty was right in their wheel house.

  “What the fu—,” Maisie started but I stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.

  “What do you mean I’m no longer welcome here? This is my house!” And my parents had refused to come home to help me, insisting they were doing God’s work where they were. “Where am I supposed to go?”

  Sympathy flashed in her eyes, but Faith quickly blinked it away. “I’m so sorry Miss Bonnie. There are shelters available. Perhaps Ms. Nilsson is happy to provide you with a place to stay.”

  Maisie barked out a laugh and pushed inside past Faith with a snort. “Abso-fucking-lutely she can stay with me. Come on Bonnie, let’s get your shit and put this mausoleum in the rear view!”

  I knew Maisie was trying to keep the mood light for me, but it didn’t work. My heart sank and bile rose in my throat as the betrayal from my family washed over me. Betrayal. Lies. Hypocrisy. It was all too much, and I did the only thing I could.

  I cried.

  I cried and cried while Maisie packed up bags for me, more bags that she probably should have as she roared that they were assholes who didn’t deserve me.

  “If they’re so worried about what you take then they should’ve been here to watch over you.”

  She was right, and even if she wasn’t, I didn’t have the energy to argue the point. So I nodded and watched through tear-filled eyes as she packed. “Maisie, please.”

  “Sorry but it’s true. You can stay with me at Ashby Manor as long as you need to, and if you don’t feel comfortable there, Max and Jana will put you up.”

  From Catholic princess who did everything right, to a homeless couch surfer who had nothing. This was the fresh hell that had become my life.

  I danced with my eyes closed until the lights came on and the late night stragglers, the ones going home alone or too trashed to realize the night was over, were herded out by curiously good looking bouncers.

  “Hey sweetheart, let me buy you one last drink.” The voice was deep and smooth like butter so I turned with a wobbly smile, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “Sure. I’m Bonnie.” He smiled, and I practiced my flirting as the crowd poured out around us.

  “Steve.” He leaned in close, too close. But he was so handsome I kept getting distracted by his face, instead of his roaming hands.

  My head started to spin halfway through the last drink, and I knew it was time to leave. “Uhm, thanks for the drink Steve, but I have to get out of here.” I turned and fled with more drama than the situation probably required, but I felt him close behind me.

  “Hey, come back here!”

  Luckily, Colby, the hot bartender stopped him, giving me enough time to get out of the club and the casino, where I started the path home.

  In hindsight I should have taken Maisie up on her offer, because walking home—if the hovel I rented by the week could be called a home—at two in the morning wasn’t the smartest idea I’d ever had. I could have driven, but after the interrogation, I never wanted to see another police officer or detective again and the state I was in was a sure invitation to a DUI. Calling an Uber would cost money I couldn’t afford to waste, not until I had steady income.

  The small efficiency apartment I rented in downtown Glitz wasn’t what I had in mind for my first place, but it was all I could afford without going through my savings in a couple months. Thankfully, my parents had left me with the car they’d gifted me in my last year of college, so I could make it to job interviews, not that anyone was interested in hiring someone who had been accused of murder. Even though it was all a farce.

  “Hey sweetheart, let me take you for a ride on the bologna pony!” The crude deep voice pulled me from my thoughts, reminding me that I was no longer in the quiet, gated suburban neighborhood I grew up in. This was the city. Dirty and gritty and filled with all types of people.

  “No thanks,” I called out in the direction I thought his voice came from and picked up my speed on the trash-lined street, as much as I could after six drinks and a line of coke.

  It felt like someone was following me even though I knew that couldn’t be true, didn’t even really make sense. Yet, I felt it, and I walked so fast, I was almost running. I didn’t stop until I could see the brown house with the mustard shutters where I rented a room. It wasn’t safe, but it had four walls and a bed, which made it a lot safer than the outside.

  I slowed down, and I shouldn’t have because that gave trouble time to find me. “What’s the rush sweetheart?”

  “Just trying to get home,” I said and tried to step around the guy in front of me while aware of the one behind me. “Excuse me.”

  “Excuse me,” he laughed. “So fucking polite.”

  “Yeah, real polite,” the other one said. “That means you’ll make this easy. Give me your money and your jewelry. Now bitch.”

  I had about eight dollars in cash on me and only a small gold necklace with a cross on it, which I’d been wearing since I was six years old. I snatched it off my neck and handed it over with the eight bucks. “Here.”

  “The rest of it,” the other one barked.

  I laughed. “You think I’d be around here at this time of night if I had more than that?”

  “Dumb bitch.” I didn’t see the blow coming, but it hit the back of my head. All I remember was how slow the journey to the pavement felt, the hard cold feeling as my face crashed against it.

  Chapter Two

  Cal

  If I didn’t know better, I’d say Addison Beck, the FBI agent on our ass about the priest murders, had spent some time undercover. Details on her personal life, aside from her social security number, had taken a lot longer to find than it should have. It had been buried deep and that piqued my interest.

  I pushed back from the desk and looked up at each of the five monitors with intimate details of Agent Beck’s life. She’d grown up in a small town just outside of Boston called Malden where her mom worked as a secretary at the local high school and her father was curiously absent. So far. There was something about the woman I didn’t trust. I knew Ma and Jasper, and even Virgil and Kat would say it would be stupid to be anything other than suspicious of so-called law people, but this was different.

  Her heat, her anger toward the Ashby name, felt personal.

  I might not have the business skills like my oldest brother Jasper or the muscles and bloodlust of Virgil and none of us had Kat’s brains, but I had my own skillset that I used t
o keep the family safe.

  I dug and dug into every fucking corner of the internet to find what I could on Agent Beck even though I had another woman on my mind. Bonnie fucking Byrne with the flaming red hair was also on my mind and it wasn’t even that sweet body of hers, dammit.

  Maisie had explained how she got eighty-sixed from her own house and Sadie even asked why she wasn’t here with us.

  Pride, I guessed. Too good?

  I was worried about her even though I knew I shouldn’t be. Hell, I had no right to be. She was nothing to me, not even someone I’d call a friend.

  If only that shit mattered to me.

  Thankfully my phone chose that moment to chime beside the keyboard, pulling me from thoughts and bringing me back to the here and now. “This is Cal.”

  “It’s Colby. Your girl Bonnie was here. Left in a hurry but looking a little too wobbly to be safe. Thought you might want to know.”

  I ignored the ‘your girl’ part of his statement and focused in on what he said. “Bonnie was wobbly?” Bonnie hadn’t gotten through even one glass of wine and barely a few sips of whiskey at every meal we shared. “Drunk or drugged?”

  “Tipsy for most of the night, but maybe the guy I chased off could have drugged her, hoping to make her more compliant later.” I didn’t fault Colby his casual tone. Ma had put him there for his good looks, the way his eyes caught everything in the room, and the glee he took beating the shit out of people who deserved it. “She left a couple minutes ago but she probably shouldn’t be out there alone.”

  “Why didn’t you stop her?”

  “Dude, I stopped him to give her time to get away, but security said she left on foot. How the fuck should I know that, Calvin?”

  “You’re right. Thanks for the call.” Speak of the redheaded devil and she will appear, at least in name. Bonnie had been through the shitter lately, so I couldn’t really fault her for wanting to get shit faced and ignore her problems. But she was a damn fool, determined to deal with being disowned by her parents and left with almost nothing, all on her own. She wouldn’t even let Maisie help, never mind an Ashby.