Dirty Gambit

By Airicka Phoenix

For a girl with no family, no job and a rap sheet as long as her arm, eighteen-year-old Angelena Ramos never stood a chance at happiness. So, when her blood is found at the scene of a robbery that ends with three dead, Lena does the only thing a foster kid knows how to do — she runs. But she's not going alone.

Jaxon Westwick has never met anyone as fierce, beautiful, or haunted as Lena . . . or as crazy. No one else has ever seduced him into handcuffs just to kidnap him, hold him hostage, and drag him clear across the country.

But Lena's on a mission to find peace and nothing is going to stop her, not the cops, not the mob boss out for her blood, and definitely not her gorgeous hostage, no matter how he tempted her. After all, how could someone like her ever belong in a world as untainted as his?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Airicka Phoenix
• Release date: Aug 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9798215324646

Airicka Phoenix

Airicka Phoenix is a multi genre author of over twenty-five bestselling novels starring strong female leads and sexy alpha heroes. She started her journey after never finding the type of books she wanted to read. Her love of tortured souls and forbidden romance carried her into writing her own hard-earned happiness. Currently, she lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her babies and can be found hard at work on her next project. For more about Airicka, visit her at AirickaPhoenix.com

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Dedication

To my family.

Thank you for loving me,

Despite my scatterbrained ways.

DIRTY GAMBIT BLURB

For a girl with no family, no job and a rap sheet as long as her arm, eighteen-year-old Angelena Ramos never stood a chance at happiness. So, when her blood is found at the scene of a robbery that ends with three dead, Lena does the only thing a foster kid knows how to do — she runs. But she’s not going alone.

Jaxon Westwick has never met anyone as fierce, beautiful, or haunted as Lena . . . or as crazy. No one else has ever seduced him into handcuffs just to kidnap him, hold him hostage, and drag him clear across the country.

But Lena’s on a mission to find peace and nothing is going to stop her, not the cops, not the mob boss out for her blood, and definitely not her gorgeous hostage, no matter how he tempted her. After all, how could someone like her ever belong in a world as untainted as his?

Chapter One

LENA

––––––––

Once you do this, there’s no turning back.

Angelena Ramos stared, transfixed by the sleek .38 caliber handgun resting in the palm of her hands, hands that may as well have belonged to someone else for all the attachment she felt to them. Everything from the oval nails to the long, slender fingers were alien, but they wiggled and curled inwards around the chunk of steel when she willed them to. 

Nothing to go back to anyway, she murmured, snapping the safety into place. 

She pulled out the magazine, checked the full clip before snapping it back into place and loading one into the chamber. Her insides roiled at the resounding crack. Her spine tensed under the march of a thousand invisible insects scuttling along her skin. She shuddered at the phantom assault and tightened her jaw.

Pablo sighed. "Don’t do this, chica."

Bolting down her resolve and courage with the same iron nail, she raised brown eyes to his, lit with fierce determination. 

I have to. She took a deep breath. It’s only a matter of time before he shows up. I can’t leave her here with these people. They can’t protect her like I can.

As though to prove it, she stowed the barrel of the gun into the waistband of her black trousers and pulled the black vest over top. She smoothed a quick hand over it, checking to make sure no bumps were visible before facing her best friend. 

Her only friend.

The only person besides Lissa that had ever mattered to her.

How do I look?

Pablo studied her a long moment, his dark eyes sorrowful over down turned lips. Like you’re about to do something incredibly stupid that’s going to get you killed.

Refusing to be deterred from the plan she’d worked six weeks to put into motion, Lena squared her shoulders. She ran a quick hand down the long, straight length of her dark ponytail and exhaled. 

Is Marie ready?

Pablo nodded. Everything is in place.

Lena gave a brisk nod. Okay. Good. She took in a deep breath. Let’s go.

Without having been fired, the gun burned through the soft material of her dress shirt with the severity of a block of ice. Its unforgiving weight leeched at her heat, draining her resolve, and reminding her just how out of her element she was. Her stiff fingers trembled around the tray of something that could have passed for cat puke. It must have tasted better than it looked because no one else seemed to be complaining. They couldn’t get enough.

Rich people, she mused bitterly. They’d eat dog shit if it came on a cracker. But she kept the thought to herself. She was only there for one reason and one reason only. 

Her gaze scanned the room, moving over faces and furniture, searching for the only person that mattered. The playing field was too large, an open concept of a sitting room, dining room, and some even fancier sitting rooms divided only by a series of pillars. A lot of the party had spilled into the backyard and clustered around the pool. She’d memorized the floorplan of the three-story modern stone and glass structure, but all her studying hadn’t prepared her for the possibility that so many people would be loitering all over it. It was making locating the Westwicks that much harder. It also made executing the plan that much riskier.

She continued to mingle, holding the tray aloft as Marie had shown her. She smiled politely, but made no eye contact, nor did she stick to a single place for long. It was unlikely anyone there would recognize her — their circles being worlds apart — but she couldn’t have anyone remembering her face once she left, either. That was the risk. It would only take one nosy waitress, or a pervy guest or any airhead with a cellphone to put her at the scene, to remember her face. 

`Lena tightened her hold on the cool silver. It was the real deal. No phony plated shit here. Even the glasses were legit crystal. That didn’t include the diamonds, rubies, and emeralds dripping from the ears and necks of the people floating around her in a colorful flurry of expensive silk. Thousands of dollars just waiting to be plucked ... if she still did that kind of thing. In her golden days, that room would have been cleaned out before the hour was out and not a soul would have been the wiser. She was that good. But those days were behind her. She wasn’t reformed or anything stupid like that. She just didn’t have the time. Plus, she was there for a much bigger job, a job that was proving to be a challenge when the guest of honor seemed to be missing from her own party. 

Where the hell are you, Jessie? she muttered under her breath, closing yet another circle around the room, then another. 

She was on her sixth tour through the house when Lena finally spotted her, a tiny, smiling figure perched in the lap of a man Lena only knew from her notes — Jaxon Westwick, the only child of Nicole and Chief Justice Richard Westwick, heir to a multibillion-dollar corporation on his mother’s side and New York Time’s most eligible bachelor three years running. The guy seriously had it all, including the one person Lena needed back.

The object of Lena’s entire purpose was tiny for her age, a doll-sized creature in a beautiful, satin dress the shade of ripe plums. A matching ribbon looped around her head, containing a dark pixie cut that was so much like Lissa’s the last time Lena had seen her that it momentarily tore her from that moment and pitched her into a time when she’d watched Lissa blow out her own candles. It hadn’t been fancy. The shithole they’d been calling home at the time hadn’t been full of people. It was just the four of them around a melting ice cream cake their mom had gotten half off due to it having expired the day before. Lena had been five, but she remembered watching her mom peel the yellow sticker off before putting the box down in front of Lissa.

Happy birthday, baby!

The memory was shattered by a riotous cackle from some woman in a blue dress. Lena sucked in a breath and focused on the Westwicks, shoving her past where it belonged — in a dark box tucked deep in the recesses of her mind.

The entire family was crammed inside the library, perched around a leather fainting chair while a man barely out of his twenties rushed around them, tweaking and adjusting postures to snap photos. Jaxon and Jessie sat in the center with his parents on either side, leaning in, everyone beaming. Lena kept out of sight and studied the group, assessing the possibility of making her move ahead of schedule. She took an unconscious step forward, her feet having already forgotten the plan in lieu of her urgency and impatience. Her brain caught on just in time to stop the rest of her from grabbing the child and running. She dared a glance at the milling crowd trespassing around her, expecting someone to have noticed her misstep, but they resumed their drinking and dancing as if she didn’t even exist. 

Taking the win, she slipped carefully into a corner and surveyed her opponents from the shadows. 

Nicole and Richard Westwick were a striking and elegant couple. Average in their sleek haircuts and professionally tailored outfits. Nicole was stunning, despite being in her fifties. Her heart-shaped features were flawless with the smooth, taut skin of a thirty-year-old. Her son had her eyes, a stormy green of an ocean. They were surrounded by thick fans of lashes beneath high, arched brows. She had the body of a swimmer, lean and graceful beneath an ivory gown that scooped at the neckline and swirled beautifully around her slender ankles. Next to her, Richard seemed bland and uninteresting, but man, he was as gorgeous as his son, a finely crafted specimen of male ferocity and strength. The jaw angles alone could have been showcased in a museum. 

But where Richard Westwick had a head full of dark curls and hazel eyes, his son was a masterpiece of angelic beauty. He had his mother’s sandy blond strands shorn short at the back and left recklessly long at the front. In the articles she’d seen of him, they weren’t normally swept back, but left wild and unchecked falling over his brow and into those turbulent eyes. His jaw was freshly shaven, but she’d seen it dark with a path of stubble around a full and lush mouth. In person, he was a head taller than his father and mother and broad across the shoulders and chest. The suit he wore, a black number with no tie and two undone buttons at the throat, strained around the hard muscle barely contained underneath. It was the body of someone who worked for it. It was a good body. A really, really good body, and face, and jaw, and chin, and nose, and mouth, and hands... 

Fuck.

Lena squeezed her eyes shut just long enough to mentally shake herself. She reminded her brain they had a job to do that required all her senses to be present.

She blew out a breath before letting her eyelids open again.

At long last, her attention settled on the tiny figure perched on Jaxon’s knee and Lena’s breath caught.

She’d seen photos of Jessie before that night. She’d scoured the internet and even paid a guy Pablo knew to get the really good stuff. It hadn’t been cheap, but wasn’t that the first step to a job, learning absolutely everything about them, all the dark and gritty little secrets they kept hidden from the world?

Unless your name was Westwick.

The family was disgustingly clean. There wasn’t even a closet alcoholic in the mix, or a mistress. Hell, not even one parking ticket. Instead, all she learned was how generous and upstanding they all were. The sheer number of charities they funded only convinced Lena they had to be hiding something. No one was that good. No one cared that much about anyone else. It was a lie or a coverup. Rich people covered shit up all the time. They had an army of cops in their pockets, and everyone knew you couldn’t trust the justice system. Those guys were as shady and crooked as they came, and Richard Westwick was a fucking judge. He could probably make anything disappear. So, the little display of a happy family all huddled together for pictures didn’t fool Lena one bit. It only convinced her all the more that Jessie didn’t belong with them.

Thoughts of the girl had Lena’s attention redirecting back to where Jessie bounced happily, tiny hands clapping together in glee. The excitement flushing her rosy cheeks reminded Lena so much of Lissa that her arms physically ached to gather the girl up and squeeze her close.

That ache had been a growing force since coming across the folder six months ago. Seeing Jessie for the first time, seeing her soft, round face and dark fringes, it hadn’t skipped Lena’s notice just how much the child mirrored her mother as a little girl. It broke Lena’s heart. The guilt was suffocating; at that age, Lissa had only known the dark side of humanity. She had already seen far more than any child ever should.

The toddler in question laughed, delighted by the buzzing sound the photographer was making while waving a camera in her face. It clearly wasn’t her first rodeo; she was perfectly at ease in front of the lens. She posed with the expertise of someone accustomed to getting photographed often and enjoyed it. She smiled and laughed and let herself get showered in kisses and the stroking hands of the trio surrounding her.

But she didn’t belong with them. Lena knew that even if Jessie was too young to. Jessie belonged with her family, with people who knew her, knew her past and could protect her. The Westwick family, even with all their money, would be powerless to stop the monster coming for Jessie.

She tore her attention away from the trio to her watch. There was just enough time to start her own party. First, she needed Nicole and Richard to leave. Jaxon was less likely to show his true colors with mommy and daddy hanging around. But they seemed determined to make that moment last, smiling and hugging and being the very picture of a joyous family. No doubt Nicole was a coke fiend and Richard had a whole folder of kinky porn on his computer, and Jaxon was some sleazy playboy with an Adonis complex. The façade only made Lena more adamant to get Jessie away from them.

Biting back her annoyance, she pushed away from the wall and slipped into the crowd, keeping one eye on her target. The blobs of cat vomit were snatched off her tray with every round, a warning that — if she wasn’t careful — she’d need to make a run into the kitchen for more and miss her opportunity. 

Her chance finally came when Nicole Westwick scooped Jessie out of Jaxon’s arms and cradled the girl against her chest. The display was a good one. Even Lena was nearly convinced the light in her green eyes was genuine, but she’d been in enough foster homes, seen enough fake affection to recognize when it was bullshit; that woman didn’t see Jessie as anything more than a pretty prop to show off to her wealthy friends.

Taking a deep breath, Lena looked across the room to where Pablo stood, offering a group his tray of champagne. He glanced up as if sensing her gaze on him and their eyes locked. Lena gave an imperceptible little nod which Pablo returned before turning his attention back to the group. 

Cotton mouthed, Lena waited until Nicole and Richard Westwick had left the library with the photographer in tow before making her move. Tray in hand, she slipped her way through the crowd in the direction of the only figure left in the library; Jaxon was just unfolding miles of lean, hard muscle from the chair and adjusting the cuffs on his suit when Lena stepped into the room, inciting his full attention. 

The consequences of that single mistake rocked Lena to her toes. The ground beneath her feet shifted. It gave a violent jolt that she felt to her soul as physically as a punch. The hard collision of his eyes hitting her nearly knocked the damn wind out of her chest. She told herself it was just nerves, that once she got through that part, she’d be fine, but the longer he stood there painting the length of her with eyes too breathtaking to be real, the less she was so sure. 

Hi there, he murmured, at last, breaking the coiling tension in the room.

He was tall, taller than she’d anticipated, despite having already known all his measurements. All. Being near him, however, was another experience entirely. Being that close made her aware of just how incredibly dangerous he could be if she made one wrong misstep. With even two feet between them, his looming presence forced her neck back. He made her feel so small and out of place standing before him.

Are you lost? he teased, slipping large, strong hands into the pockets of his trousers. The gesture shouldn’t have been as provocative as it was. 

Lena caught herself and hastily shoved the tray at him in offering. Somehow, she’d managed to stubbornly save him eight pieces from the grabby hoard at the party. They sat in two neat rows, two rows that made a clean path down gleaming silver to the three undone buttons of her blouse and just a hint of black lace where the fabric parted.

Caviar canapés? 

It didn’t surprise her when his gaze dropped to the tray she held out to him. It didn’t surprise her that they lingered on the black blob of alien eggs with mild interest. What surprised her was when he bypassed the lacy display and went straight to her face without pausing or detouring. Most of the men at the party had gone for the cleavage shot first, then the tray. Some never even made it past her shoulders. But this guy seemed more interested in her face.

Lena drew her head back a notch in slight amusement but also wary suspicion; she couldn’t do her job if he didn’t do his. She needed him to be lecherous and sleazy.

No, thank you. He offered her a slight smile. Caviar has never been my thing, but I wouldn’t say no to your name.

There it was. Finally. But the thrill of it was lost under his bold scrutiny. The scalding spotlight of his attention made her want to fidget. Every nerve in her body battled with itself not to bulk, to maintain rigid eye contact at all costs. She struggled with the nervous need to moisten her dry lips and lost when her tongue snaked out and swiped before she could stop it. The gesture only seemed to heighten the glimmer in his eyes.

Lena, she said finally, hoping the low chatter of voices spilling into the room and the soothing hum of violins and flutes filling the house muffled the squeak. 

His grin broadened and something pitched in the pit of her stomach at the appearance of the twin indents on either side of his mouth, grooves she’d seen a million times in his photos, but in person may as well have been a fist slamming into her gut.

Crap! Focus, Lena! You’re a goddamn professional.

Not a professional at this. She didn’t seduce men for a living. Steal the wallet from his pocket and the watch off his wrist, fine, but stand like some sacrificial lamb in the radius of his sheer magnetic power was something else. It was a whole other ballgame. But it was still a game and if Angelena Ramos was good at anything, it was learning on her feet.

And you’re Jaxon. Smooth and flirty, just the way she’d practiced. The return of her calm helped reset her nerves. She could feel control crawling back into stiff limbs. Your picture is kind of everywhere, she explained when a brow etched up in surprise.

Her response incited a chuckle out of him that seemed to reverberate across his chest, deep and masculine. The kind of sound that knew how to hit every pressure point in a woman’s body to make her weak.

My mom is very big on capturing family moments, he said, slanting a glance in the direction of a massive oil painting of the entire family, minus Jessie hanging over a clean fireplace. Jaxon was younger in the portrait, early twenties if Lena had to guess. She’s worried her children will grow up, move out and this will be the only way she’d ever see them again.

So, she’s building a shrine?

His laugh was imposing and booming, and echoed through the room, bouncing off the spine of the books and collecting along the vaulted ceiling. The absolute carefreeness of it elicited a grin from Lena she wasn’t prepared for or expecting. 

Yeah, I guess in a way she is. He sobered and peered down at her, laughter still shining in those bottomless eyes. 

Well, it’s not that bad. No hair dolls yet, she explained when he raised an eyebrow. That’s when you might need to worry.

Jaxon snorted. I don’t think I have enough hair for a doll.

Lena widened her eyes and sucked in a breath of air. Maybe that’s why you don’t.

His second bout of laughter elicited a chuckle from her. That’s disturbing. He ran a hand over the smooth lines of his jaw, attention never wavering off her face. Thank you for putting that image in my head. The scary truth is, it wouldn’t surprise me.

Lena grimaced. Hey, it could be worse. Does she own a sledgehammer?

Oh my God! The same hand jumped up to cover his eyes. "Now that’s a scary thought."

It worked for Annie Wilkes.

His eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. You remember her name?

She offered a flippant shrug. Research. You never know when you might come upon your favorite author stranded in some snowdrift. A girl has to be prepared.

Jesus! His laugh echoed through the room. I need to keep you away from my mom. She doesn’t need any more ideas. Still grinning, he extended a hand, catching Lena off guard. It’s been a pleasure, Lena.

She stared at it a moment too long, mind a mess of pros and cons of touching him before it was time. But the fact that he didn’t pull back or lower his arm made the situation unavoidable. 

She accepted, slipping her tiny palm against the hard, rough square of his. Long, lean fingers closed around the fragile bones of hers, encompassing the digits entirely. Excruciating tendrils of fire burst up her arm from the spot his skin met hers and exploded through her veins, leaving carnage in its wake. Lena gasped before she could stop herself and the amusement in his eyes darkened. His grin grew sharp and knowing.

Shit!

Lena yanked her arm back, involuntarily staggering a step. The tray in her hand wobbled dangerously, nearly sending the canapés to the smooth marble below. A few of the crackers slid sideways to the edge before she caught the tray and righted it.

Sorry! She gasped, not sure if she was talking to the entrees or the man watching her with hot, hooded eyes. I should get back, she told him, relieved when her voice didn’t shake half as hard as she was. It was nice meeting you.

He said nothing, nor did he stop her when she quickly pivoted on her heels and darted away, but his gaze burned like strips of fire down the length of her retreating back. 

She didn’t breathe properly until she was in the safety and sweltering heat of the kitchen. The tray made a loud cluttering sound as she dropped it down on the stainless-steel counter space. Bits of canapé scattered and lay forgotten as she bent over the mess, hands braced on either side and her head hung in shame. 

Get your shit together, Lena! she hissed aloud to herself. She had to think of Jessie. Their future depended on her sticking to the plan. This was not the time to fall apart over some spoiled, rich kid. 

Lena? Pablo came into the kitchen behind her and quickly set his tray down. He rested a hand on her back. What happened?

Lena quickly straightened with a shake of her head. Let’s do this. She checked her watch, set the timer. Midnight. In the office off the corridor.

He nodded after a moment of hesitation, but Lena didn’t stick around to hear the list of complaints she knew he was waiting to pull out. She grabbed a fresh tray of canapé and strode for the door. 

There were very few glimpses of the actual birthday girl. Jessie stayed fixed on Nicole or Richard, or Jaxon’s hip. She seemed content there as if it were a routine. Her ease and comfort with the Westwicks prickled Lena’s apprehension; the transition would be harder if they had become a habit for the child. Lena had seen enough children torn from their homes and dumped into a new family and expected to assimilate or get sent back. Jessie would be different. She was still just a baby and they adapted quickly. Within a year, she would forget all about those people and accept Lena as family. That was the plan, at least.

Despite her wanting to be nowhere near Jaxon, him being her primary target forced her to