Loaded Angel: Rose Darling Series, #1

By M.E.Croft

Loaded Angel is a book series by M.E.Croft about Vivian "Angel" Shannon, a successful serial entrepreneur who also runs three brothels. Despite her refined and classy exterior, Vivian has a dark past marked by abuse and trauma, including sexual assault and witnessing her father commit crimes. She meets Louis Sykes on a dating site and they fall in love, but Louis becomes abusive due to drug abuse and mental illness. Together, the duo were able to commit various crimes—they left behind no clues. Vivian may look like everybody, but she's not like anybody. How do you catch a killer that leave no clues? 

The series explores themes of love, crime, and murder, with plot twists and suspense.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.E.Croft
• Release date: Sep 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223116479

Book preview

2

Prologue

Vivian

My initial encounter with the Shannons is etched permanently in my memory. I vividly recall that moment—clutching my worn and grimy ragdoll for solace, dressed in one of my better but still modest outfits, trying my best to shrink into the director’s office. And there they were, beaming brightly, exuding elegance in their impeccably neat and expensive attire. They seemed so innocent, open, and warm.

Vivian, the director, Miss Dorothy, a woman in her fifties who oversaw the group home, softly beckoned me. There are some people here to meet you.

I could see them, but I had no desire to meet them. I shook my head and huddled closer to her massive desk, the hard edge of the wood digging into my back, but I remained unmoved. I understood what their presence signified—I was going to be taken away, adopted. I didn’t want to go. I loved it here; it felt like home. But the choice was not mine to make.

Miss Dorothy’s broad smile dimmed slightly as she gazed at me, silently urging me to respond with my eyes. I whimpered and reluctantly shuffled toward her, clutching my beloved ragdoll, Libby, for added comfort. Her smile widened again, and she turned to the visitors.

Children can be a bit wary of strangers, she reassured them. You don’t have to worry.

It’s perfectly fine; we can take all the time we need, the woman replied. Her voice drew me in, and I found myself captivated by her as I met her gaze. The more I looked at her, the more enchanted I became. She was different from the people I was accustomed to seeing, and she was breathtakingly beautiful.

Sensing that she had my attention, she held my gaze and said softly, Hi, Vivian. We are the Shannons, and we’re going to be your new family. She gestured toward her husband, who watched our exchange with a gentle smile. My eyes didn’t linger on him for long; they quickly returned to the enchanting woman.

Her smile grew wider. We promise to take the best care of you, and you will lack for nothing, I promise, she vowed earnestly.

That’s so sweet, Miss Dorothy cooed behind me and gently nudged me toward the woman. My new foster mother wrapped her arm around me, drawing me close. I caught a whiff of her perfume, a scent that was unfamiliar yet comforting, carrying hints of vanilla—my favorite scent.

The fragrance sent a comforting signal to my brain, and I leaned into her without uttering a word. Her embrace tightened, and she ran her fingers through my hair, whispering indistinct words into my ear. They were soothing, so I didn’t feel the need to understand their meaning.

That went better than I expected. It seems Vivian has taken a liking to you both, Miss Dorothy observed, turning to my new foster father, Mr. Shannon. How about we leave these two and start working on the necessary paperwork so you can take Vivian with you?

Mrs. Shannon responded and moved closer to Miss Dorothy’s desk, while I stayed comfortably nestled in her embrace. As they interacted with Miss Dorothy about the necessary paperwork, my initial reluctance to leave began to fade in the presence of their affection and warmth. I allowed myself to entertain the notion that this new chapter in my life might not be as terrible as I had feared. They seemed to be genuinely good-hearted people, and the scent of vanilla that enveloped my new mother was particularly comforting – it happened to be my favorite fragrance.

The scent conveyed a sense of comfort to my senses, and I leaned further into her embrace without a word. Her hold on me tightened, and she continued to run her fingers through my hair while murmuring words I couldn’t quite discern. They were soothing, so I didn’t attempt to understand their meaning.

But what a joke that turned out to be, I thought to myself. If I had a time machine, I would have screamed at my three-year-old self to do anything imaginable to avoid getting adopted because that’s where it all began—the nightmare that introduced me to hell. It was a decision I would come to regret, one that haunted me at every waking hour.

3

Chapter 1

16-year-old Vivian

Vivian, come this way, I raised my gaze to spot my mother beckoning with an inviting smile. In response, I nodded to acknowledge her and gracefully navigated through the crowd of unfamiliar, extravagantly wealthy people, all while adorned in my expensive dress and matching heels. Although I felt like a fish out of water, I concealed it well, putting into practice everything I had been taught—taking short, elegant steps, making eye contact with strangers and greeting them with a gentle smile, and above all, carrying myself with unwavering confidence. This mantra had been ingrained in me from a young age, and now it was time to put it into action. This gathering marked the first time my parents had brought me to such an event, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was some kind of test. Well, I was determined to excel at this, too.

Now, let’s briefly recap my life since the last day at the group home. I had become Vivian Shannon, the adopted daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Shannon. Mr. Michael Shannon aspired to be a politician, while Mrs. Gwen Shannon took on the role of a dedicated homemaker and caretaker for me. It had been quite an adventure, but at least they had kept their promise to provide for me and ensure I lacked nothing.

I had everything I could desire or need—attending one of the finest schools in town, enrolling in every possible class and academy that could enhance my future. On the surface, I was living the best life a foster child could hope for. However, appearances can be deceiving, and I had learned from a young age to wear a flawless mask to shield the truth.

And here she is, my mother’s voice interrupted my thoughts. She was regarding me with affection and a broad smile. I wished, for once, to see myself through her eyes. She always had the same look in her eyes. Was I still the helpless and unloved child from before? Or perhaps she was content with how she had molded me into her idea of perfection, someone who did everything right? Or was it something else entirely?

Oh my, an unfamiliar woman cooed, and I acknowledged her with a slight bow of my head, offering her my well-practiced and charming smile. She’s absolutely stunning. She swiftly assessed my face and figure before turning back to my mother. I had no idea you had this beauty right under your nose all this time. Michael is so lucky to have you both.

Gwen giggled and waved away the compliment, saying, Oh, please, we’re the lucky ones to have her. She straightened and realized her slip. Oh, Vivian, meet Mrs. Fairclough. Her husband is hosting this charity event, and she also owns a prominent and fascinating art gallery in town. Mrs. Fairclough, this is my beautiful daughter, Vivian.

It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am, I replied softly, offering a slightly brighter smile. I refrained from moving in for a hug even though she seemed inclined to it.

Please, no need to be so formal, she corrected herself. I’ve been eager to meet you for a long time. It’s truly delightful.

I feel the same way, I responded.

Gwen, you should bring her to more of these events. There’s no need to keep this beauty hidden away at home all the time. It could be a break from school, and she might even meet potential suitors. You never know, she chuckled, and my mother joined in. I tried to hide my discomfort at the implied meaning of her words, though it didn’t come as a surprise; after all, birds of a feather flock together.

That depends on Vivian. She prefers to stay indoors and focus on her studies. She’s the top student in her class, and she’s been that way since middle school, my mother chimed in, a hint of pride in her voice.

Really, that’s impressive, Mrs. Fairclough replied. Honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I would say she’s your spitting image in both looks and grace. You’ve raised her exceptionally well.

My mother blushed modestly, I’m glad you think so. And she’s my daughter in all the ways that truly matter, so there must be some shared traits after all. This was why I included adoptive in parentheses earlier—my parents never failed to emphasize that I was their daughter in every sense that counted, despite being adopted. In a way, I appreciated that perspective, as it made me feel truly part of the family.

Besides, Vivian has always been an extraordinary child, so raising her wasn’t much of a challenge, my mother added, reaching for my folded hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Then you’re fortunate to have each other. It’s as if you were destined to be together, Mrs. Fairclough remarked.

We feel the same way, Gwen agreed, My husband and I refer to her as our Angel. She’s nothing less than an angel to us, a true blessing.

And there was my answer. She saw me as an angel? That was both amusing and sad. Perhaps I was her Angel because I reminded her of the daughter she had lost at birth. She often spoke of the little girl who never had the chance to take her first breath and claimed that I was her salvation and a second chance at finding happiness.

I was glad to be that for her, but I felt nothing like an angel. In fact, I felt more like a demon, hiding behind the facade of the perfect angel. It was suffocating. I might have looked innocent, but I certainly didn’t feel that way, nor did I believe I ever could.

They could continue to call me their angel, and I would do my best to uphold that image. Until the seams of this facade finally gave way, allowing my darker side to emerge. I just hoped they wouldn’t be too shocked when that day came, because I was, after all, their creation.

4

Chapter 2

Vivian

I gasped and made a frantic effort to stifle the sob that threatened to escape, but it was too late—the damage was done, and my presence had already been noticed. Frozen against the wall, I couldn’t move, my gaze locked on the unsettling scene before me. I mentally urged myself to look away, but my willpower failed me.

I assumed he was aware of my presence, yet he continued his actions. I watched as he ran his finger through the growing puddle on the floor, his face reflecting sheer euphoria. He seemed elated and intoxicated by the gruesome sight. A sudden burst of loud laughter erupted from him, transitioning from soulless to maniacal, and when he appeared satisfied with himself, he stood up and slowly approached me.

Any moment now, Vivian, my consciousness urged, but my limbs remained unresponsive. I couldn’t move, and a sense of helplessness washed over me. Soon enough, he was right in front of me, crouching down to my eye level. His eyes bore into mine, as if attempting to read my thoughts. In an attempt to shield myself, I closed my eyes, but it only led to another bout of his eerie laughter.

That won’t work, darling, he replied softly, his composure remaining unsettlingly calm given the circumstances. Acting as if nothing was amiss was even more disturbing. Open your eyes for me.

I tried to resist his request, but the continuous tapping against my cheek, coupled with the wet sensation, gradually unnerved me. I reluctantly opened my eyes, meeting his shiny brown gaze.

His lips curled into a smile as he said, That’s my girl. Closing your eyes and pretending it didn’t happen won’t resolve the situation. His words hung in the air. It’s better to seek a solution, Vivian. Whenever something occurs, make sure never to dwell on the past but to keep looking forward. Understood?

I shook my head in shock and fear, causing his smile to widen. He patted my head, then glanced back at the macabre scene he had created.

So, how about we have a little more fun? he suggested, gesturing behind him. I promise it will be enjoyable. I began nodding frantically. I needed to escape this situation immediately. However, my reaction seemed to displease him.

You don’t want to? His tone turned menacing, a side of him I had never witnessed before. You’d deny me the pleasure of spending time with you? You always said you wanted to work with me, so why are you refusing?

He clutched my small hand in his and smeared more of the fluid on me, as if marking me. You wouldn’t want to deny daddy, right? So, come on.

I felt myself being drawn forward, helpless as I was led into a new nightmare.

A sudden screech pulled me out of my slumber. I gasped loudly, scrambling upright in bed. My breathing was heavy, and despite the room’s air conditioning, I was drenched in sweat. This always happened—whenever I had these episodes, I felt disoriented and breathless. Well, they weren’t nightmares but fragments of my memories, ones that had shaped me. I clutched my blanket and tried to steady my breathing. As I gradually reoriented myself to my surroundings, the source of the screeching finally registered—it was my alarm.

I reached blindly for my bedside table in the darkness and pulled the lamp string. The room dimly illuminated, providing some comfort and helping to calm me down further. I also turned off the alarm. I was still jittery from my dream, but I couldn’t afford to sit around waiting for the unease to subside.

Walking into the bathroom, I flicked on the light and approached the sink for a refreshing face wash. After splashing my skin with water a few times, I began to feel more awake, and the air conditioning kicked in, offering some relief. As I studied my reflection in the mirror, I noted my shiny black hair styled into a chin-length bob, my unremarkable brown eyes, and my full pink lips. I was no longer the exceptional person I had once been, or maybe it had all been a figment of my imagination.

Straightening up, I observed my reflection, a smile slowly forming on my lips. It widened until all my teeth were visible, and I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. After a few moments, my mirth subsided, leaving me with a wry smirk.

You’re safe now, Vivian, I reassured myself. It was just a memory. No one can harm you. I tilted my head. You’re in control now.

As always, my mantra worked its magic, dispelling the lingering effects of the episode. I exhaled and ran my hand through my hair. It was time to face the day.

***

Vivian? I looked up from my laptop towards the door, where Stephanie was leaning against the frame with a smile. I nodded to acknowledge her and waved a hand, signaling her to come in. She continued, So, when are you calling it a day? It’s almost eight o’clock.

I glanced at the small clock on my desk and realized she was right. The day had flown by faster than I had anticipated. Ah, my voice came out slightly husky, and I cleared my throat. I’ll be finishing up soon. I just need to wrap things up here and ensure everything is in order, I replied with a small smile.

Stephanie raised an eyebrow playfully. As expected of our star employee, she teased, earning a chuckle from me. Well, the rest of us are heading out for dinner. Would you like to join us? We can wait for you, she offered. It shouldn’t take too long, right?

I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting, I argued. You all can go ahead without me. Maybe next time.

She nodded slowly and straightened her bag. Sure. Just remember, you’ve used up a lot of your ‘next times.’ You’re not allowed to bail on us next time, got it? She snapped her fingers in a playful manner, and we both giggled. Deal, I replied with a mock salute.

"Any progress on Cupid Delights? Stephanie inquired, breaking the silence. My lack of response served as a sufficient answer. She let out a sigh and crossed her arms. You should consider downloading that app. It’s a good platform for people like you who rarely go out."

But I’m not interested in dating, I argued, reclining in my chair. To emphasize my point, I lifted a file. I already have more work than I can handle; adding dating to the mix isn’t on my agenda.

Who said it’s only for dating? You can use it for socializing as well, she countered. Just give it a try. I’ll help you set up your account, so you don’t have to worry about it.

Sure thing. Now, you should get going so you don’t keep those people waiting, I nodded toward the entrance. She straightened her bag and waved.

See you tomorrow, Counselor, I replied with a smile as she exited, and the door closed behind her. The cheerful atmosphere Stephanie had brought with her lingered in the room as I continued my work. I clicked the save button and stretched, releasing a loud yawn.

My gaze drifted to a picture on the wall across from me, and a fond expression washed over me. It was the day I had finally received my law school diploma. I was beaming, standing between my parents, proudly displaying my certificate to the camera. Those were wonderful times.

It was still somewhat surreal to think that the girl in that photo had grown into a successful and accomplished defense attorney at one of the city’s most prestigious law firms. Sure, you could say the job came through my parents’ connections, but I was also excellent at what I did, so I more than made up for it.

My phone vibrated, and I checked the caller ID, instantly feeling the cheerful mood dissipate. I answered the call and walked closer to the window, which offered a view of the parking lot.

Yes? My voice was steady and businesslike. Any updates on the cases involving the girls?

I listened intently for a moment and responded, Understood. Don’t worry about it; I’ll handle it.

Sure, just send over the details, I added before ending the call. A moment of silence filled the room as I examined my freshly painted nails, the bright red polish still vibrant. A smirk gradually crept onto my lips as I exhaled.

It was time to go hunting.

5

Chapter 3

Louis

And here is your beer, the bartender’s voice pulled my attention away from my phone. I placed the device on the counter and acknowledged him with a nod. Though the temptation to down the beer and request more was strong, I decided to exercise restraint. Getting drunk here today, of all places, would only lead to trouble. I traced my finger around the rim of the bottle, silently wishing it contained something stronger. But I took a sip of the beer instead, letting its bitterness momentarily distract me.

My phone had lost its appeal, so I shifted it to the side and shifted my focus to people-watching mode. Bars always attracted an array of characters, and they were prime places for gathering information, as alcohol often led to loosened lips. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking for yet, but when I found it, I’d know, or so they said.

The dancefloor at the far end of the room caught my attention, and I watched as couples danced and men tried their best to entice women to join them. The whole courtship game was amusing to observe until a new arrival at the bar blocked my view.

What initially caught my attention was the tantalizing scent that announced her arrival. Even without looking up, I knew it was a woman—after all, who else would wear a fragrance so enticing it bordered on edible? Most men opted for musky or more robust scents. Adjusting my posture on the barstool, I took another sip of my cold beer, allowing me to sneak a glance at the newcomer. She was as captivating as the scent she wore, even though her choice of attire—a pair of form-fitting trousers and a cashmere sweater—was more suited for a casual evening than a night out. Despite the initial appearance of innocence, there was an underlying aura of something more beneath the surface. Judging by the glances directed at her from the men across the bar, it seemed they shared my curiosity. Sorry, but I was here first.

I didn’t realize how intently I had been staring until a pair of brown eyes locked onto mine. She gave me a quizzical look, arching an eyebrow in my direction. What was she trying to convey?

Y-yes? I stammered, my attempt at playing it cool going awry.

Do you perhaps want something? she asked softly. You’ve been staring at me since I walked in. Is there an issue? Staring is considered rude, you know.

Here was my chance, a voice inside me urged. I sat up straighter and managed a small smile. Oh, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It’s just that you smell really nice, I blurted out, immediately realizing how creepy that sounded. I quickly added, Well, that’s what initially caught my attention.

Well, thank you, she responded, brushing off my compliment and turning back to the bar. The bartender, however, was busy attending to patrons on the other side, giving me an opportunity to make a better impression. I knew I should be focused on something else, but an opportunity with a woman wouldn’t hurt either.

I was actually going to ask if you’d like to dance, I began, but it appears you’re not dressed for the dance floor. If not that, would you mind joining me for dinner? She turned her head slightly toward me, her gaze fixed on mine.

Or perhaps you’d prefer to be left alone?