Page 1 of King of Malice

CHAPTER1

Phoenix

Retribution was a word I knew far too well. My father had used it over the years, often said as a forewarning of punishment that would be doled out only seconds later. He had a way of deepening his voice until the gravelly sound echoed no matter the size or shape of building where he stood ready to wield his brutal methods of punishment.

I hadn’t been immune to his harsh discipline, most of it deserved. I’d been the bad seed, a kid who could hide behind a handsome face and nice smile while picking your pocket. That was when I was five. I moved onto other atrocities over the years, some of which nightmares were made of.

However, after years of facing my inability to temper my actions, I’d finally learned control. But today I was prepared to act on my desire to spill blood.

Yes, retribution was the only thing that would soothe the beast.

I stated the word in passing, almost in reverence to the man who’d taught me how to become vicious in nature, I wondered if the thick vines full of lush grapes disguised the understanding of what was about to occur.

By the look of sheer terror on the man’s face, I could tell it hadn’t.

The other word that remained associated with my world was death.

It was inevitable. You lived. You fucked up your life. Then you died. The lucky few enjoyed the time in the middle even during moments of tragedy and strife. Some people were considered life givers. Doctors and surgeons came to mind. Others claimed lives.

While I was highly educated, trained in several skills considered specialized, I’d never once saved a life. There’d been no need. However, I’d claimed more than a dozen, some bloodier than others.

I’d doled out punishment as necessary, offering what they deserved. There’d been no mercy shown or had there been any remorse.

Today was no different.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, allowing the light breeze to scatter the scent of the swollen purple fruit to my nostrils. With the rolling hills and lush greenery, I had a sense of why my sister preferred living across the country from her family. However, her need to find solace was entirely different than mine.

Maybe I sought salvation.

But that wasn’t possible for a member of the Diamondis family. We’d been forged in bloodshed and violence, accepting our ultimate fate of being dragged to hell with pride. On days like this, I remembered why I loved the life chosen for me.

I took a few seconds to glance at the destruction, vines ripped from the ground, grapes squashed from the heavy feet of police officers searching for illegal weapons that didn’t exist. Mounds of dirt remained where they’d dug holes, expecting to discover hidden bunkers of assault rifles and handguns.

All done carelessly.

All done without regard to my sister’s well-respected reputation.

And all because of the pissant standing in front of me.

My lieutenant stood behind me while two of my soldiers held the treacherous pig by the arms. I’d heard the agony in Elena’s voice when she’d called. I was the only one in the family she’d kept in infrequent contract with, knowing she could trust me.

She also knew I’d be her champion if needed, something she’d been lucky enough to avoid over the years. Not any longer.

My sister might not be a killer, but I was, born and bred into savagery.

There were no second chances in my operation, no apologies acceptable. There was truth. There were lies. The black and white of reality removed the guilt.

I had little time to waste with the first man who’d betrayed her, my sister’s well-being more important. But I could take a few extra minutes to relay my message.

“I’m going to ask you this once, David. Who paid you to falsify information to the police?”

When Elena had called, she’d been hysterical, the police raiding her winery that very moment. By the time I’d arrived in Napa Valley, she’d been placed under arrest. Now I was seething, bloodlust on my mind.

“No one. I did nothing of the kind.” The usual tremor in his voice didn’t surprise me. Only the strongest of men accepted their fate without the annoyance of becoming emotional.

As Jonas moved closer, I noticed his jaw was clenched, eager to carve a piece from the guy’s skin. His knife work rivaled my own. As my second in command, Jonas Kazan had been tasked with performing several harsh punishments, but not today. David’s punishment belonged to me.

When a familiar pungent stench assaulted my senses, I lowered my gaze to the front of David’s jeans, shaking my head.

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