Stiletto: The Avengement Series, #1

By Caddy Rowland

The Avengement Series: Sometimes a person gets pushed too far.

Book One: Stiletto

Never underestimate the value of a kick-ass pair of heels. Sexy shoes can make a woman feel beautiful. They can also bring a man to his knees—or worse.

Once John Mickelson slithers out from any blame for the devastation he’s caused with his Ponzi scheme, Jasmine Albertson finds herself barely left breathing. He’s taken everything: her husband, her money, her home, and her child. She can barely see through the haze of pain and hate. 

However, one thing is very clear: John Mickelson is going to pay, and she’s going to be the one doing the collecting.

(Note: Although there is an object tying these novels together, each gritty drama is a stand-alone psychological suspense thriller with a complete story arc.)

Karma really can be a bitch—especially when it scores a willing partner.

Themes in this book: revenge, retribution, vigilante justice, failure of the justice system, abuse of power.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Caddy Rowland
• Release date: Mar 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781502274687

Caddy Rowland

The drama of humanity. We live, die, love, hate, win and lose in a never-ending variety of ways. Often those ways are heart-wrenching. Other times they are not. Why do people make the choices they do? Why do some abuse power? How do the powerless learn to survive? Why do a few dare to be different, while others conform—and why are so many disturbed by those who don't? These are the questions that have always haunted author Caddy Rowland. Those questions keep her pounding away at her keyboard, creating novels showcasing the sublime joy and bitter tragedy of being human. Caddy has always been a nonconformist. She likes to push the proverbial envelope when it comes to characterization and world building. Heroes have warts; villains have soft spots. Main characters don't always learn their lessons because all too often we don't, either. There isn't always a happy ending, but sometimes there is. Otherwise she'd be predictable. She writes for readers who like to think and feel; who like their stories to be raw, graphic, unpredictable, "real" and sometimes brutal. For readers who like their boundaries challenged; to be shown how rarely life decisions are truly black and white, but instead shades of grey. Think of a carnival midway with books instead of rides. She asks you make sure you're the minimum height if you plan on riding alone. You must also leave prejudices and inhibitions behind the entry gate. If you can’t, Rowland's reads might be a tad much for you. Don't worry. There are plenty of safer reads out there. Just step out of the line and find a more appropriate book for your reading enjoyment. No, Caddy Rowland's novels aren't for everyone. But then again, they just might be for you. Sign up for new book release information by copying and pasting this in your browser: http://eepurl.com/rfjaX

Book preview

Book Description

Never underestimate the value of a kick-ass pair of heels. Sexy shoes can make a woman feel beautiful. They can also bring a man to his knees—or worse.

Once John Mickelson slithers out from any blame he’s caused with his devastating Ponzi scheme, Jasmine Albertson finds herself barely left breathing. He’s taken everything: her husband, her money, her home, and her child. She can barely see through the haze of pain and hate. 

However, one thing is very clear: John Mickelson is going to pay, and she’s going to be the one doing the collecting.

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Stiletto

By Caddy Rowland

Prologue

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Her slim, feminine hand caressed the sinfully sensuous shoes with reverence. Such gorgeous little whores they were! If ever a shoe had been a fuck me pump, this pair claimed the title hands down. Shiny red leather and a four-inch stiletto heel; a heel crowned at the back of the foot with a red satin bow. Sexy. Provocative.

What man could resist such a siren call?

But one of the two shoes held a dark, intimate secret. The secret was enclosed in the sinuously skinny heel of the left shoe. Her hand expertly twisted the heel until it could be slid away from the rest of the shoe. Inside was a skinny switchblade, which was exposed with a quick flick of her wrist.

Perfect, really. Simply perfect.

He’d never see it coming. Not unless she decided she wanted him to, which might be fun. Make him realize who she really was; understand what she was about to do. He’d be gagged, of course, so he wouldn’t be able to beg. Or—more likely—scream. Even a macho asshole probably screamed when he knew he was drawing his last breaths, thanks to a woman he’d foolishly underestimated.

He might see it coming—but he’d never guess until she wanted him to know. After all, he thought he was the master of tricking people. He knew how to gain a person’s trust until they put their very lives in his dirty, lying hands. Oh, yeah, he’d screwed many people over, ruining lives and never looking back. They were simply objects to be used until the next sucker came along.

But one person was far more clever than he was, although he failed to see it. She smiled. How could he? She was a woman. Men like him never thought women were intellectual equals.

No matter. He’d soon realize the price his arrogance had cost him. It would be too late.

There was a soft rap on the door to her suite. He was here. Smiling, she retracted the blade, and slid the shoes on her feet. She glided toward her prey, now just inches away.

She opened the door, a seductive smile playing across her face.

Time’s up, motherfucker.

Time’s up.

The End of the World

I

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Casey, darling, you’re my absolute favorite when it comes to caterers. When I think of the word party, I think of you.

Jasmine rolled her eyes as she listened to Casey gush. He was fantastic, but tended to be emotionally over the top.

She interrupted the man before he could get going on a second barrage of appreciation. "You’re welcome, dear. But listen: this time I need you to think more extravagantly than ever. I’ve got a historic home rented for an evening in Hollywood Hills. It’s going to be the event of the year!"

She stopped and listened as the man relayed his excitement. Just as she’d hoped, he was already spewing over with ideas.

Once he’d stopped to take a breath, she jumped in. Everything sounds wonderful. I knew you’d come up with some unique and sinfully delicious ideas for the dinner. Not to mention we need a decadent dessert. I need to see menu choices no later than Thursday.

Jasmine listened to the man on the other end of the line. "Darling, I do not want any repeats of items we’ve served in the last year. She nodded. Perfect. Now you’re thinking exactly along the lines of what I expect. No holds barred, Casey, dear. You know people expect to be wowed every time they attend an Albertson event."

She listened some more, checking the time every few seconds. Darling, I’ve got to go. Stu is due home any second, and I must freshen up before he arrives. I want to look my best when I present my plans to him. He’ll approve them, but not before having a few heart palpitations over the cost. She blew kisses into the phone. Ciao!

Hurrying upstairs to their extravagantly luxurious bathroom, Jasmine touched up her lipstick and ran a brush through her hair. At the last minute she added extra mascara and a spray of Stu’s favorite perfume. Then she went downstairs to wait for her husband.

Jasmine had no idea her whole world was about to implode. She was wrapped in the false sense of security a multi-million dollar home provides. If she had known, it was doubtful she could have done anything but stand in the center of the foyer; open-mouthed but silent as she watched the shit hit the fan.

Instead she’d had a perfectly routine day of going to the salon for a mani/pedi, a brief lunch with a friend, light shopping, and a few hours of planning her and Stu’s next big blow-out of a gala. It was going to be the party of all parties. People expected nothing less, and every time an Albertson party was successful the bar was raised for the next shindig they threw.

She waited impatiently to hear Stu’s car purr up the drive. He’d get a kick out of the old Hollywood theme. In fact, she’d just put a non-refundable deposit on an old home in the hills some big-time star had owned back in the golden days of Hollywood. It was now rented out for special events. Stu would bitch when he heard how much it was going to cost, but he’d get over it. After all, he was crazy about her—and her sense of fun and creativity was part of the reason.

He’d be even more excited when she shared her other news. They’d been trying to get pregnant for the past six months. She’d been at the doctor’s today, and Dr. Paulson had confirmed she was pregnant. She was only six weeks along, but already she felt her maternal instincts kicking in. Many times she found she’d absent-mindedly put her hand on her stomach, as if communicating with or protecting the precious life she held.

Jasmine hoped Stu wasn’t set on certain names. She really wanted to name the baby Kaitlin, if it turned out to be a girl. If it was a boy, she was more open to names. Perhaps Stu would agree to let her pick if it was a girl, and he’d pick for a boy. Either way, their home would soon be filled with the happy sounds of a baby cooing and laughing.

She was truly blessed. Sometimes she still had to just stop and breathe, reminding herself she wasn’t dreaming.

Jasmine had been dancing for three years at the upscale gentleman’s club In Your Dreams. When Stu had walked in it was as if Prince Charming had ridden up on his horse, ready to whisk her away. Their eyes met, and they both felt a premonition whisper this is the one. It didn’t happen often for exotic dancers, but it had for Jasmine.

She’d been almost twenty-two at the time. Young, foolish, and sure she’d always have money. After running away and landing the high paying dancing job, due to a friend she’d been lucky enough to meet in New York, her life seemed to be one of endless shopping trips and travel.

Jasmine had made a ton of money at In Your Dreams, and she had spent every cent of it. When her twenty-second birthday approached she was finally beginning to think about the future. She’d danced long enough to see others who had always assumed the money would continue to be theirs.

As they aged, things changed. Soon they were no longer at In Your Dreams, and she’d heard rumors about how aging dancers went from one smaller city to yet another. It didn’t sound pretty.

To her credit, she didn’t whore. All she did was dance. There was no way she wanted to let men actually use her body—no matter how much cash they promised. She stubbornly refused all offers. Men could look at the menu she offered, but none would actually partake. She was saving herself for marriage.

The other dancers made fun of her still being a virgin. Jasmine didn’t care. She was a romantic and believed in love, so she patiently waited for her knight in shining armor to arrive. Even back in high school she was teased by other girls and shunned by the boys—but not until some of those boys each made a serious attempt to be the one to take her cherry. Once she had turned down enough of the horny, clumsy jerks they stopped asking.

So, there she’d been: almost twenty-two, a virgin who performed exotic dancing for a living, and surviving from night to night on tips. Very good tips, she might add. Most nights she hauled in over a thousand. Weekends were double.

It was hard to believe she didn’t have anything saved, but the young are seldom cautious. For one thing, she had splurged on a luxurious apartment. In New York, any apartment larger than a closet ate up a huge chunk of money.

She had arrived at the club one night and looked in the mirror, promising herself to start over, give notice on her place, and begin to save.

Then Stu had walked in. He’d ordered a table dance from her, and stretched out full length, arms behind his head. Through hooded eyes he’d watched her every move, never once touching even her hair. It made her so hot she thought she’d come just dancing for him.

It went on the same way for months between the two of them. When at last things progressed, he’d been shocked to find she was a virgin. He gently taught her the ways of love, and she was an avid student. For seven nights they went back to her place, where she and Stu made love repeatedly. Then, on the seventh night, Stu asked her to marry him.

She half expected him to laugh in her face after saying it. What man seriously courts an exotic dancer and then marries her? But he didn’t. Instead, he pulled out a ring box. Inside was the most stunning diamond ring she’d ever seen.

From then on she lived in an enchanted world where there were no worries, and she was worshipped by her loving husband. Sometimes she’d get the nagging feeling things were too good to be true. How could any one woman have it all? But she did, and eventually the worry stopped. Jasmine became immersed in her life of privilege and wealth.

Her ears perked up as she heard his car approaching. The garage door went up, came down, and she headed to the door to meet him, a sexy smile planted on her face. It never hurt to give him a little sugar before blasting him with the news of an upcoming exorbitant bill.

A few minutes passed. Frowning, Jasmine wondered what could possibly be keeping her husband from coming in the house. It wasn’t like him to tinker around in the garage.

Jasmine turned away to search out some sandals. She didn’t want to go barefoot in the garage, and she was curious to see what he found so interesting out there.

Before she got any further the door opened.

There would be many days in the future when she would wish the door would have simply remained closed.

Stu looked like he was about to collapse.

Baby, what’s wrong? Jasmine’s worried face reflected her concern for the man standing before her. He was only thirty, but right now he looked at least sixty-five. His mussed hair and red eyes would have made her think he’d been drinking, except his skin looked a sickly greenish gray. What’s wrong? she repeated again, wondering why he simply stared past her as if she didn’t exist. A tremor of fear tickled at the back of her skull, but she tried to ignore it.

She reached out to gently shake him. As soon as her hand made contact, Stu flinched. His eyes found her face and grew wild. The fear and panic she saw there made her shudder. Something bad had happened. Something real bad. Stu never panicked.

And yet he was panicking now.

Oh, Jazz. My—I, he wiped at the saliva gathering in the corners of his mouth. I—we—it’s... His eyes drifted from her face to the floor. Suddenly he pushed past her and stumbled to the powder room off the foyer, where he promptly heaved all over the travertine tiled floor.

When he came back out a few minutes later, he looked like a man who’d been issued a death warrant. Now she was terrified. Trying for calm, she steadied her racing mind. Nonetheless, her voice, when it came out, was shaky. Stu, what’s—

We have to talk. His hand played nervously with his red tie. We have to talk now.

Let’s talk in the front room. She silently led him to the formal room off the foyer, aware that her own legs were now shaking almost as much as her husband’s. Jasmine sat down beside him on the sofa she’d had imported from Paris.

Afraid to face what she instinctively knew was going to be life-changing, she glanced around the room. She hated the way this room had turned out. It was stuffy and pretentious, whereas the rest of their house was chic, but comfortable. Why she’d gotten the urge to do a formal room was a mystery. It was the next thing on her agenda to spend money on, as soon as this next party was over. Let’s see, she thought, I could hire a decorator—

I think we both need a drink, mumbled Stu, as he rose and went to mix cocktails. I’ll make you a gin and tonic.

No, thanks, I—I’m not in the mood. She suddenly remembered the baby. Now was definitely not an appropriate time to give him her good news. Stu, you’re scaring me! Please, just tell me what’s going on! Unconsciously her hand reached to protect their unborn child.

He ignored her pleas, returning with cocktails for both of them. She shook her head no when he held one out to her. Remaining standing, Stu downed his drink and then hers. Then he looked at her and announced, I’m no longer employed. In fact, it’s worse than being unemployed.

Jazz looked at him in confusion. I don’t understand. You’re a partner in the company. How can they let you go? I mean— she laughed hysterically. Enough! You can’t be serious. Can you? Stu? Her eyes pleaded with him to tell her this was a badly delivered joke. Stu couldn’t be fired. It was the middle of a recession for Christ’s sake! You’re kidding, right?

Stu sighed, running his hands through his hair. I wish I was. He sank to the sofa. I fucking wish I was. Tears sprang to his eyes as he picked at the sofa arm. I’m—well, John and I, we’re being investigated.

Jasmine’s stunned face made him sob.

What the hell do you mean, you’re being investigated? For what? The creeping sensation of disaster strengthened, crawling through her stomach, up her spine. Her hand tightened against their child. Tell me what’s going on!

It’s a Ponzi scheme, Jasmine. A fucking Ponzi scheme. Our business is shadier than the redwood forest. Christ! How could I have been so stupid?

What’s a Ponzi scheme? asked Jasmine, frowning in confusion. She’d remained clueless as to what Stu did to bring in all the money. She’d tried asking a few times, but when he’d start explaining her eyes would glaze over, and once she’d fallen asleep. Finally she gave up asking. Who cared, as long as they were happy?

It’s a business built on bullshit. People invest, hoping to make windfalls, based on the lies the business owner invents. Instead, a few people on the top keep all the money, borrowing from new investors to pay the older clients a pittance to keep them from asking questions.

He frowned, shaking his head. Once enough time had gone by, some of the original investors got antsy and started poking around. They called the police, and guess who’s looking like they knew all along it was a grand scheme of theft? A tear ran down Stu’s face. Me. That’s who. I look guilty as hell, just by association. Hell, I signed up as many as John did. I had faith in what John told me. How was I to know it was all bullshit?

You mean you didn’t dig into the company before jumping on board?

Why would I? John and I were friends through college. When he called me, asking if I wanted to help him with a start-up, I was thrilled. He was a dynamo in school. Everyone said he had success written all over him. And he picked me to tag along on his path! I was so grateful I didn’t even consider it might not be legit.

You mean he just calls you up, offers you a ground floor opportunity and you jump? Jasmine looked accusingly at her husband. What kind of business major does something so impulsive?

Look, jobs weren’t exactly being handed out on the street corner. You know what the economy’s been like for several years. Besides, I thought I had looked into John’s business. Hell, I met him in the offices we work in now! The offices reek of success. The brochures and presentation he showed me fully convinced me the guy had done his homework. After all, he’d had investors who made it possible to afford the rent in prime office space. Not to mention the money spent on furnishing the place. If jaded investors backed him, why would I question anything wasn’t honest?

Jasmine nodded. I can understand how you could be tricked into believing he was already successful. But how did he pull it off?

I imagine he built a network of lies. And now it’s all crashing down. The cops say John could go away for a long, long time behind bars—and I could go right with him! He took her hand. "I didn’t know, Jazz! I swear to