Greed: The Deadliest Sin Series, #16

By Gwyn McNamee

Since the day my life was ripped apart, I've only wanted two things...
Revenge against those who destroyed my family and to find what was taken from me.
Now that I've accomplished both...
A new enemy rises.
One intent on ripping away all I've worked for.
But a hail of bullets can't stop me or even slow me down.
The only thing that can is a feisty little blonde with a smart mouth and no common sense.
She has no idea what's she's stepped into.
How deeply she's now dug her own grave.
I can't let anything get in the way of my plans for Chicago.
My plans to take it all.
Not the other families.
And definitely not her.

***Greed is the sixteenth book in The Deadliest Sin Series about organized crime in Chicago. This series is best read in order, as the stories are chronological and each sin builds on the events of the previous one.***

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gwyn McNamee
• Release date: Feb 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201901028

Gwyn McNamee

Gwyn McNamee is an attorney, writer, wife, and mother (to one human baby and two fur babies). Originally from the Midwest, Gwyn relocated to her husband’s home town of Las Vegas in 2015 and is enjoying her respite from the cold and snow. Gwyn has been writing down her crazy stories and ideas for years and finally decided to share them with the world. She loves to write stories with a bit of suspense and action mingled with romance and heat. When she isn’t either writing or voraciously devouring any books she can get her hands on, Gwyn is busy adding to her tattoo collection, golfing, and stirring up trouble with her perfect mix of sweetness and sarcasm (usually while wearing heels). Gwyn is the author of The Hawke Family series, The Slip Series, The Deadliest Sin Series, The Inland Seas Series, The Supernatural Love Stories in the Absurd (written as her alter-ego, DP Payne), and several stand-alone novels.

Book preview

GREED

GREED

THE DEADLIEST SIN SERIES - BOOK 16

GWYN MCNAMEE

GREED

© 2022 Gwyn McNamee

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All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

CONTENTS

Preface

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

About the Author

OTHER WORKS BY GWYN MCNAMEE

To everyone who has ever wanted something they knew was bad for them…

Greed makes man blind and foolish, and makes him easy prey for death.

- Rumi

1

GALEN

Gunfire tears through the church and everyone in it, the sharp cracks of the bullets coming from automatic weapons echoing across the vaulted ceilings and all the marble and wood. The place was meant to be a safe meeting ground for the five families, neutral territory, a house of God, now bathed in blood.

Instinctively, I dive into the closest pew, but the sharp bite of pain in my left arm proves I’m not fast enough. I slam against the hard, cold floor with a grunt.

Fuck.

The barrage of shots continues from the rear of the church, where several of us had left some of our men, which means they were either taken out or are involved in a fight for their own lives back there. Even if they’re alive, they won’t be any help to us now.

What the hell is going on?

Everyone is here—the heads of all five families are in this damn church at the same time.

So, who the fuck is shooting?

I press my hand against the wound on my upper arm. Blood trickles off my elbow to plop in tiny little droplets on the white marble.

Galen! Valerian’s deep voice comes from the pew to my right.

At least he’s not dead…yet. But given the way the bullets continue to rip through the church, the shooters are firing relentlessly and without apparent care who or what they hit. That doesn’t bode well for us getting out of here alive.

Here.

You hit?

I'm okay. As long as I can get out of here quickly, at least. You?

He mutters something under his breath in Russian. Yes, who the hell is firing?

The shots continue—the wood of the pew splintering just above my head.

Fuck.

I remove my hand from the wound, pull out my gun, aim over the top of the back of the pew, and return fire at the unknown assailants while trying to stay tucked behind the only protection I have. Which doesn’t seem like very much at all.

More splinters fly past my face, falling to the floor to mix with my blood dripping there. More shots sound from my right—someone else firing back at the assailants. Others have survived. So far.

Dropping back down, I scan across the center aisle, trying to find Rowan and make sure she’s okay.

After everything I went through to find her. All the sacrifices. All the promises I made to God…I can’t lose her now.

But down here on the floor, tucked into a pew, my view is limited to what is directly across the middle aisle, where Kat huddles next to Rose.

Or whatever the hell his name is—the one not fucking my sister.

Blood splatter mars the side of Kat's pale face; though, it's impossible to tell whose blood it is from my vantage point.

I hope it’s hers.

That woman has caused Valerian and me nothing but trouble since the minute she set foot in this city as Kat. Our tentative truce with Michael had paved the way for us to make big moves, then she shot him in the fucking head and ended any potential future we might have had with the Albanians as allies. Kat firmly cemented where we stood after she lied to my face and told me she had no intention of interfering with my business and then hit my gun shipment in the same fucking breath on the same night she hit Valerian.

But where is Rowan?

I drop slightly and lean down to try to scan under the pews on that side of the church, but the continued fusillade of bullets from the rear of the church prevents me from moving any more.

Who the fuck is back there?

None of the families would be stupid enough to fire on all of us in a church, putting themselves in danger. I guess, in this moment, it doesn’t really matter who it is. Blood continues to ooze between my fingers and over my gun, where I press my hand against my wound. The real concern here is getting the fuck out.

"There has to be a side door to this place," I call out loudly enough for Valerian to hear over the shots, hoping he might know the layout of the place, but he doesn’t respond.

Fuck.

Sliding down farther, I peek down to look under the pew and make sure he's not passed out or dead on the fucking floor…but he isn't there.

Shit.

Apparently, it’s every man—or woman—for himself when you’re stuck in a damn firefight.

I glance behind me toward the dark outer walls of the church. There has to be another door out of this fucking place, and there’s no way I can go out the way I came in. Despite leaking like a damn sieve, I don’t have any choice but to move and keep moving until I can get the fuck out.

Inching backward in a squat, I fire off a few more rounds over the top of the pew, conscious of the fact that I only have a few left in this magazine and only one spare magazine. The opposing gunfire continues to rip through the place of worship—pinging off the marble and shattering wood pews like they're made of fucking toothpicks.

Whoever's pumping this kind of lead into us means business. You don’t pull out automatic weapons unless you intend to cause serious carnage without care. And they’ve done exactly that, from what I can tell.

I grit my teeth against the agony in my arm and make it to the end of the pew closest to the outer side of the church. Three feet separate me from the marble wall. One of the Stations of the Cross hangs directly in front of me.

Jesus is condemned to death…

Flashes of my childhood in the church back home in Ireland flit through my head. Memories full of joy and happiness