Cruel Sanctuary (Wages of Sin Book 1) Read online

  Copyright © 2019 Tara Leigh

  First Edition

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the publisher. Please protect this art form by not pirating.

  Tara Leigh

  www.taraleighbooks.com

  Cover Design: Regina Wamba, Mae I Design

  Editing: Becca Hensley Mysoor, Edits in Blue

  Karen McVino, Expressive Editing

  Marla Esposito, Proofing Style

  Formatting: Mesquite Business Services

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Print ISBN: 978-1-7328010-4-2

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-7328010-5-9

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  I. Throne of Lies Excerpt

  1. November 2007

  Let’s Keep in Touch!

  Also by Tara Leigh

  About the Author

  Dedication

  This book was written for all my readers who fill up my inbox asking for “dark”. I heard you, and I give you: Damon King.

  Acknowledgments

  My readers—you are EVERYTHING!!! I love reading your reviews and value your honest feedback! And all those messages/posts/tweets/e-mails you send as you’re reading—they make my day! **hugs** In so many cases you have become friends. Thank you for letting me into your lives!!

  A huge thank-you to, Jessica Alvarez of BookEnds Literary Agency. Your critiques and career guidance are invaluable!

  Becca Hensley Mysoor, I absolutely love our long phone calls. Your insight on story structure and plotting is invaluable. You are stuck with me forever!

  Karen McVino, I love all your comments and voice messages! So thrilled to work on another story with you!

  Marla Esposito, thank you for your attention to detail and taking my book baby on vacation with you!

  Regina Wamba, thank you for this GORGEOUS cover! (and for putting up with me!)

  Devyn Jensen, thank you for ALL THE THINGS!!! You are an expert at everything I don’t know how to do and I am so grateful!

  Danielle Rairigh, working with you is such a pleasure! Thank you for four feedback, encouragement, and friendship.

  Trilina Pucci, I’m not sure what lottery I won when we linked up, but you are one hell of a prize. Luv you!

  S.L. Scott, you have become one of my very favorite people. I love our chats about book world business and nonsense, writing and kidlets!

  Melissa Teo, I know you have a “real” job now but you are never getting rid of me. Thank you for your friendship, daily have-you-heard? messages, and so many gorgeous graphics and teasers!

  Sarah Sentz, what would I do without you? I am a near-constant thorn in your side and you love me anyway! Mwah!!

  Tiijuana Turner, you will always be extra, even when you forget to email me. ;) I love all our phone calls and there is never a question you don’t know the answer to!

  Serena McDonald, I heard your voice in my ear as I was writing this book—I hope Damon is dirty enough! Thank you for encouraging me when I’m feeling lost, and helping my books reach more readers. Your minion messages always make my day.

  Amy Halter, you are one of the sweetest and most supportive women I know. I am so lucky to have you in my corner!

  Lana Kart, getting your seal of approval was a career goal of mine—thank you so much for the multiple chances, lol! I was so nervous to reach out to you, but you couldn’t have been nicer. And I love our ridiculously long voice message chains!

  Nadine Killian, I love that you always speak your mind. Your honesty and thoughtfulness are a gift—thank you for sharing them with me.

  A.L. Jackson, thank you for sharing your fabulous daughter with me. You are an inspiration and a role model in this crazy, chaotic, wonderful business.

  Nicole Westmoreland, thank you for your friendship and helping me with the VIPs! I love all our message chats!

  Maria Kusel, you make such pretty things for me. I love my banners and bags and bookmarks. And I love you, too!

  Ava Harrison, what a small world! Beefalo BFFs 4eva!

  Abby O’Shea & Christina Westrich, thank you so much for taking a chance on me. It is such an honor to be a part of The Romance Reveal Book Box, and I am truly grateful for the opportunity!

  Julie Linhart, you are the queen of swag and make every order a pleasure!

  Mary Dube, no matter where you are in social media land, I will follow you. Although … my favorite place is in my messages. Love, you!

  Angie McKeon, connecting with you over my Lies Duet was completely surreal, and you are every bit as sweet as your reviews. Thank you for taking a chance on me!

  Lauren Layne and Anthony LeDonne of Last Word Designs, thank you for my gorgeous logo and website, www.taraleighbooks.com!

  Lexi Smail, you taught me what great editing is. I miss you and the team at Forever Romance, and hope we will work together again one day!

  Skye Warren, you are incredibly generous with your expertise and the 2018 Romance Author Mastermind conference was a career highlight. Thank you for everything you do for this industry.

  Sierra Simone, I devour every word you write and come away inspired and refreshed. (after shaking my fists in the air and wishing for one thimbleful of your talent).

  Moments by Andrea, thank you for the fabulous head shot.

  To my family & friends—I adore you all . . . and I’m sorry for ignoring your calls when I’m writing!

  My neighbor Cindy, you are a wonderful friend to me and an absolute blessing to my kids. Moving next door to you was one of the smartest decisions Stephen and I ever made!

  My Beta Beauties: Amy B, Amy H, Danielle, Lana, Melissa, Nadine, Sarah, Serena, & Tijuana—thank you for your insight and encouragement! Each of you helped breathe life into Damon and Aislinn, and they are so much better for it.

  Thank you to all the amazing bloggers and author assistants who have become a virtual cheering section for me, and I hope that I do the same for you. You are the unsung heroes in this wonderful place called Romancelandia and I am so grateful for your support.

  In particular, Andrea, Ashley, Astrid, Aurora, Brigid, Brittany, Carol, Cat, Chele, Christ
y, Elizabeth, Emma, Gemma, Jackie, Jemima, Jen, Jenn, Jessica, Kelly, Liana, Lisa, Mary, Mariela, Marta, Megan, Meghan, Nikki, Paramita, Pernilla, Pavlina, Sara, Sarah, Sheila, Siobhan, Stephanie, Vanessa, Wendy, Weronika, Yamina… and so many more. I can fill the pages of this book with everyone that has made me laugh and smile and cry with your incredible reviews and personal messages. I hope you enjoy this book—believe me when I tell you, you are the reason I spend endless hours at my laptop. I hope you enjoy this one!

  My ARC Team, you remind me why I write. Thank you for your encouragement and honest feedback. Writing is a solitary endeavor, but because of you, it isn’t a lonely one.

  My Bookstagram Team, I am in awe of the creativity, energy, and effort to put into your bookstagrams! I hope you enjoy playing with this duet!

  My In The Loop Group & Private Party Book Club authors, I adore you all. Thank you for being my tribe.

  RWA and CTRWA, I wouldn’t be published without my membership in these incredible organizations, and I’ve met some of my best author friends at meetings and conferences.

  Grandma, you left me nearly twenty years ago, and not a day goes by that I don’t miss you. For any smokers reading this—put the cigarette down. Think of the people in your life who will one day watch you struggle to breathe and, when you lose that battle, will miss you desperately.

  Thank you to my mom for never ripping all those “bodice-rippers” out of my hands as a teen/tween, and to my dad for showing me what it means to work hard. (Who needs weekends or vacations, anyway?)

  Stephen, thank you for being a wonderful husband and supporting my dreams. I love you. Logan, Chloe, and Pierce, thank you for being such great kids & genuinely considerate of my writing time. I am blessed to be your mother.

  Our lives are enriched by our sweet rescue puppy, Pixie. The wonderful organization that brought Pixie into our lives is Goofy Foot Dog Rescue, and if you would like to welcome a dog into your family or donate to their organization, please visit their website: www.goofyfootrescue.org

  And if you would like to see more pictures of Pixie and get updates on new releases, sales, and behind the scenes snippets, please sign up for my newsletter at http://bit.ly/TaraLeighNwsltr.

  1

  Aislinn

  “We have a problem.”

  “What kind of problem?” My voice is a whisper as I throw an apologetic wave to the instructor of my favorite Barre class.

  She’s used to me rushing out of class to take a call. In my line of work, it comes with the territory.

  “The kind that can’t be discussed over the phone. We need you to come back to the office.” Chad Lytton is my father’s chief of staff. I know exactly who he means by we.

  Wedging the phone between my shoulder and my ear, I close the studio door behind me and grab my things from my locker. “Be there in ten.”

  At eight o’clock on a Friday night, One Hogan Place, the seat of Manhattan’s District Attorney, is mostly empty. Not even my father’s assistant is at her desk. I enter his office with a single knock, dumping my gym bag, purse, and briefcase on the couch. “I’m here. What are we dealing with?”

  As a political strategist, I’m accustomed to working odd hours, although I’m still getting used to working with my father. And with Chad.

  For entirely different reasons, of course.

  Tonight, my father’s face is blotchy, his lips so tense they’re white around the edges. He pins me with an infuriated stare. “Something that needs to go away.”

  I was in this room just a couple of hours ago, reviewing polling data and potential fundraising opportunities. My father had been his typical self, impatient but unflappable. I cast a perplexed look at Chad, unable to imagine what would have him so riled up.

  Tugging at the Gucci cufflinks I recently gave him, Chad avoids my eyes. “There’s a recording of—”

  “For God’s sake,” my father breaks in, the flinty edge to his glare abrading my skin. “We were grabbing a bite at Forlini’s. Nothing new except that some fucker must have planted a bug at my booth.” He eats dinner at the classic Italian restaurant so regularly, often with Chad, that they keep his favorite table open for him on weekday evenings.

  I take a deep breath, feeling like I’m back on steady ground. New York politics is a filthy business, and I’ve spent the past seven years deep in the mud, working for the top political consulting firm east of Washington, DC. I’ve dealt with enough scandals to know that no elected official makes it over the finish line without being dragged through the dirt. You need thick skin and a spin doctor on your payroll to survive. Propping a hip against the arm of the sofa, I keep my voice neutral. “Any idea who that might be?”

  Chad clears his throat, running agitated hands through his hair, yanking at the ends in a way I’d never seen before—and we’ve known each other for the better part of a decade. “No. It could have been anyone.”

  I look between the two of them, trying to determine the scope of the problem and what must be done to contain it. Is this a line item in the gossip pages … or a career-ending scandal? “I’m going to need the recording, but for now, just tell me what’s on it.”

  “It’s just a short clip. Under two minutes.”

  My father interrupts again. “We were discussing cracking down on the Los Muertos cartel.”

  No one will ever accuse my father and me of being close, least of all me. But when he shared his plans to run for mayor in the next election, of course I agreed to leave my cushy political consulting firm to run his campaign.

  After all, he is the reason I chose to work in politics. James Granville may not have been a particularly engaged father, but he is the most principled man I know. He’s done wonders for Manhattan as district attorney, and I know he will make a fantastic mayor.

  But he didn’t raise a fool. If cracking down on a Mexican cartel was the extent of their discussion, I wouldn’t be here right now.

  Eyebrows raised, I turn back to Chad who adds, “It was a little more than that.”

  “Just audio—no video recording?”

  “Audio is all I received. But you and I both know …”

  An understanding look passes between us. In situations like these, rarely are we given all the information up front. An audio recording could be cast in doubt but video—it is practically unassailable. At least in the court of public opinion.

  And in politics, that is the only court that matters.

  I run my tongue over my front teeth. “Who sent it to you? Any demands?”

  “The email came from an unknown address an hour ago. And no. Not yet.”

  My father exhales a deep sigh. “Fuckers. They have no idea who they’re dealing with.”

  “Frankly, neither do we. Is this extortion? Blackmail? A political opponent looking to get you out of the way?” I cross my arms. “Let me hear it.”

  Throwing himself into his desk chair, my father spins to face the view of lower Manhattan from his window.

  Chad shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Now?”

  My brows extend toward my hairline. “Is there a better time?”

  My father: Hugo Cruz thinks I’m going to hand him the keys to New York. Well, Los Muertos drugs are no longer welcome here. Let the Colombians or the Albanians take their place. And while you’re at it—make sure everyone knows my rates have gone up. Distribution in New York is a goddamn privilege, and I expect to be paid for it.

  Chad: Consider it done. But truthfully, this couldn’t come at a better time.

  My father: I agree. Coordinate with all necessary agencies but make subpoenas and search warrants on Los Muertos affiliates a top priority. With any luck, I’ll ride Hugo Cruz’s back all the way to Gracie Mansion.

  Chad: I’m on it. After the El Chapo trial, the public will vote for any candidate cracking down on Mexican cartels. Crush Los Muertos and the election is yours.

  Chad shoves his phone back in his pocket. “So, that’s it. I emailed back, but t
he message bounced. For obvious reasons, I can’t hand this off to anyone associated with the DA’s office.”

  I stare at him blankly. Who are these men? This recording changes everything I thought I knew about my father. Everything I thought I knew about Chad.

  Everything I thought I knew about everything.

  “I can’t—” I stop myself, struggling to hold a thought or take a deep breath. “I can’t … That conversation … this PR nightmare you’ve created … can’t be handled.” My arms flail as I add air quotes. “Not by me. Not by anyone.”

  My father slams a hand down on his desk and I jump. “It can and it will.”

  I try in vain for the aloof, nothing-fazes-me demeanor I use with my clients. “How?”

  I’ve dealt with sex scandals and embezzlement accusations, drug addictions, and bribery claims. I know how to spin a story. Not only that, I’m damn good at it. But … this.

  Our strained relationship notwithstanding, I’ve idolized my father for my entire life. Discovering that he’s the kind of crooked politician I despise has me reeling.

  My father and Chad answer in unison. “Damon King.”

  I blink, my eyes bouncing between them. “Damon King? Are you trying to make things go from bad to worse?”

  Damon King is practically an urban legend. Rumor has it, he’s a fixer in the same way the devil is. He might offer to solve your problem, but only at the expense of your soul. Or worse.

  I pivot, wishing I could erase the last five minutes of my life. “I need to go. I haven’t—I haven’t even showered.” And now I feel so, so dirty.

  Chad catches my elbow. “Aislinn—”

  Nausea swells as I pull my arm from his grasp, another thought occurring to me. “If you already knew how you wanted to handle this, why am I here?”

  “Aislinn.” My father pastes a sober smile on his face, standing up and straightening his suit as if he’s standing before a judge. He comes around his desk. “I need you to run point on this.”

  “Me?” I jab a finger at my chest, my voice rising several octaves.

  “Yes. King requested to work with someone on my team.”

  His tone reeks of familiarity. “You’ve dealt with him before, haven’t you?”