Beautiful Thief (Omertà Law #2) Read online

  Beautiful Thief (Omertà Law 2)

  M.N. Forgy

  By M.N. Forgy

  Copyright © 2020 M.N. Forgy

  Edited by Ellie McLove

  Content Editing by Raw Book Editing

  Cover by Pink Ink Designs

  Proof Reading by Michell Hall Casper

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Author Note

  Prologue

  1. Romeo

  2. Romeo

  3. Romeo

  4. The Girl

  5. Romeo

  6. Luna

  7. Romeo

  8. Luna

  9. Luna

  10. Romeo

  11. Romeo

  12. Romeo

  13. Luna

  14. Luna

  15. Luna

  16. Luna

  17. Romeo

  18. Luna

  19. Luna

  20. Luna

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by M.N. Forgy

  Author Note

  -

  Beautiful Thief might have some elements that some mind find disturbing or unsettling. Such as violence, mental illness, and trafficking. If you find yourself feeling overwhelmed please set the book aside and take a break.

  As this book is meant entirely for entertainment purposes, I want to clarify that Human Trafficking is not a light subject.

  If you believe you may have information about a trafficking situation call:

  1(888) 373-7888

  “These violent delights have violent ends

  And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

  Which, as they kiss, consume”

  ― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

  Prologue

  Romeo

  Age Ten

  Waking up cold, I notice my head hurts, and so does my leg. I blink a few times, the lights from above hazy and not helping the drum banging inside my skull. Using my hands to push to sitting up, I notice I can’t move them. Looking down, I’m in one of those straitjacket things, and my shorts are gone and replaced with a pair of white scrubs. My heart begins to beat so hard in my chest it feels like it’s lodged in my throat. Using my shoulders, I try to inch my arms down in an attempt to get out of the jacket. My body temperature rises with my failed attempt, and I suddenly feel sad, but still angry. How could my father let this happen to me?

  Sliding off the bed, the cold black and white tile beneath my feet, I look to the door that is open, everything slowly coming back to me.

  Sitting in the far back of the class, I’m slouched back, tapping the head of a pencil on the scratched up desk. The lights right above my head are bright, giving me a headache. The hard blue plastic chair is uncomfortable. I fidget in my seat, noticing the shirt clinging to my skin. I’m sweating for some reason, and my legs feel restless. The heel of my black Nikes have constantly tapped the tiled floor since class started over an hour ago. I’m off today, angry and annoyed. Pissed that I have to be here. I tried to stay home, but my mother wouldn’t have it. She made me go, which made me want to lash out even more. Father has suggested that my brother and I stay home multiple times because it’d be safer for us, but my mother refuses to acknowledge that the crime my father runs is as cold as the victims he’s subdued.

  “Romeo, why don’t you read the next paragraph?” Mrs. Honey asked. My eyes peek through my eyelashes, my jaw tightens as everyone turns in their seat to look at me. Mrs. Honey. The sweet teacher that wears long flower dresses and has the hair color of actual honey. She should be teaching kindergarteners, not fifth graders.

  “Pass,” I grumbled under my breath. I hate reading to the class and she knows this. I wish she’d just leave me alone today. I don’t want to be bothered.

  “No, give it a try,” she pushes, and the unusual feeling I had inside of me since I woke up this morning breeds into something hostile and monstrous. Casen and Gunther laugh to themselves from the other side of the class and my eyes snap to them, both of them side-eyeing me. The cool kids, at least they think they are. Both with shaved heads, with band name t-shirts and ripped jeans. They’re just bullies and dumb fucks. Someone needs to show that Casen he’s not as tough as he thinks he is.

  Sitting forward, I sigh heavily and flip the textbook open.

  “Page 356, Taming the shrew,” Mrs. Honey instructs.

  Swallowing the dryness suddenly in the back of my throat, the small black words seem like a lot, and are intimidating. My feet tap harder and faster, and I run my nails across the back of my neck nervously. I can read, but I do struggle with bigger words, and I hate reading out loud like this in class.

  “Sit- sit by my side, and let the world… let the world slip…” My words fade, and I wipe my forehead of a sudden sweat. I’m screwing this up. I can feel all eyes on me, and I wish the book would just eat me whole. Why is it so damn hot in here?

  “Keep going,” Mrs. Honey instructs with that sweet as candy voice.

  “He can’t read, he’s stupid, teach’!” Casen shouts, the entire class erupting into laughter. I shove my book off the desk and look to him.

  “Fuck you!” I snarl and stand from my seat.

  “You wanna go, rich kid?”

  “Whoa! No, both of you take your seats!” The teacher raises her hands, her head popping between me and Casen.

  Not listening, I push through the desks and forcefully wrap my arm around his neck, he grunts, and I tighten my hold. Pulling him down, I punch him in the mouth with my other hand and Mrs. Honey lets out a scream when blood splatters to the class floor.

  Casen cries out with pain, his arms flailing to reach me. Letting go of him, I let him get to his feet and then I shove him into a bunch of desks watching him tumble and fall across the floor like the weak little bitch that he is. Mrs. Honey hurries to separate us, blocking me from coming at him again.

  “Both of you, principal’s office, now!” Her voice cracks with emotion, as if she wants to cry seeing her students do such harm to one another.

  Casen stands, his nose bleeding and staining his white polo shirt. His menacing eyes stab into me, and the corner of my lip quirks up into a smile.

  He sniffs and begins his journey to the front door. Brows furrowed, I start behind him, but something inside of me tells me I’m not done, he’s been running these halls scaring kids for years. A punch to the face doesn’t justify that. I’m angry, a fire burning inside of me so hot that it has me feeling in-human and more animalistic. No, I’m going to show this school what kind of guy Casen is, a boy who manifested his own problems onto other kids.

  Just as Casen reaches the doorway, I grab him by the back of the head and slam his face into the metal doorframe. The sound of bone and metal is one I haven’t hear
d before.

  Everyone screams from the brutal scene unraveling in front of them just as Casen falls to the ground and I kick him as hard as I can, throwing him into the bottom of the trophy case in the hall.

  I can’t stop. All I want is to hurt him, using all my strength and hollering out in rage, making me feel more human than I have in a long time. I never want to stop, I just want to keep beating his ass up and down these halls.

  Just as I’m about to lay into him, I’m shoved from behind and knocked to the ground. My chin bounces off the broken tile, and a knee shoves into my back, keeping me in place. The voice of our coach echoes in my ears as he tells me not to move, the smell of Old Spice deodorant making my eyes water. I try to pull from his grip, but I’m restrained. My fight is over, the roller coaster of emotions spinning inside of my head. Should I have done that? Is it too late to say sorry? Giving in, I let my face fall to the floor, my cheek on the cool tile. Mrs. Honey helps Casen off the floor, and I notice for the first time how beat up he really is. His face is nothing but blood, his lips slit to his chin. I did that in a blackout rage. The wheel of feelings lands on surprise. Surprised I had something so dark inside of me to do that to someone.

  “Get the principal down here now!” Coach Coleman demands, his fat knee still in my back.

  “Get off me!” I grunt, swinging my fists at his body.

  Casen glances down at me, a look of terror now on his face. As much as it scares me to see what I’m capable of, it pleases me to know he won’t be messing with anyone anytime soon. Especially me.

  I smile, that anger that was incased in my chest since I woke up this morning burning a little less hotter than earlier.

  I feel better than I did this morning, but know I fucked up. I went too far, but I couldn’t stop myself. The feeling of relief, of whatever this is inside of me, that uncontrollable feeling was almost snuffed out by letting my rage out on Casen.

  I sigh. There’s something wrong with me. I know this. I have so many emotions going through my head and body that all I ever feel is confused and pain. If only I could grab on to one feeling, sad, anger, happiness, any of them and just focus on it. Maybe, just maybe, I could control what I’m feeling and fix myself.

  But it’s a slippery string of moods I never can invest in. All I know is the pain in my chest, the darkness in my heart.

  Sitting on a bench outside the principal’s office, Coach still restraining me, he sits behind me, holding my arms behind my back. Not only were my parents called, but there are two police officers. All of them talking in the office. Moments later my dad walks out, a grim look on his face. He’s wearing a pinstriped suit, his shoes shiny. His dark hair slicked back aside from a curl rebelling and falling into the middle of his forehead. “Son, you’re going to go to a hospital for twenty-four hours,” he says, rubbing his chin.

  “What? Why? I’m not hurt.” I’m confused, Casen should be going to the hospital. My mother steps up behind him, a black dress with giant water-painted flowers printed on it. Her mascara has run down her face, her eyes glossy as she stares at me with a deep stare.

  “The rage you have is not normal, you could have killed that boy!” Her voice raises, and a tug of guilt throbs in my chest.

  “It’s either this or juvenile detention for who knows how long,” Dad continues.

  It dawns on me I’m not going to a place for injured people, I’m going to a place where you’re sick in the head. My parents think I’m crazy.

  “It’s just twenty-four hours, you’ll be out and we can put this behind us,” Mom says, cupping my cheek, a sniffle before she feigns a smile.

  A group of people in suits and scrubs are walking through the doors of the school. They’re here for me.

  “Romeo, remember, Omertà Law.” Dad’s tone holds a threatening tone. I may be going to a place to help me heal in the head, but I better not even mention the things that goes on behind closed doors.

  “I’m not going,” I grit. I’m not crazy, and I don’t need to go.

  My mother cries, and my dad sighs, running his hands down his face. He’s a powerful man, I learned that years ago when I helped him bury a body. Surely he can stop this from happening. If anything, I should have gone to a mental institute then, I’ll never un-see that body wrapped up in a bloody white sheet.

  “Dad, tell them to go away,” I grumble, looking at him impatiently.

  My mother looks to him with a pale look, and he notices the stare and seems gobsmacked on what to do.

  “Son, as much as I don’t need this shit right now. You have to go.” He rocks back on his shiny-ass shoes, and tears fill my eyes. He’s always going on about how we should have each other’s backs, be there, be a man, and this is what he does?

  “We can fix this at home,” I tell him.

  He shakes his head.

  “Not this time, son.” He runs his hands across my sweaty hair and heads out of the school building.

  A tall lady stops in front of me. She has a long white skirt on with a matching blouse. Her blonde hair pulled up into a tight ponytail making the skin around her eyes tight.

  “You must be Romeo,” she says with the sweetest, softest voice. Bright brown eyes twinkling from the lights above.

  I growl, looking up at her with a dark glare. Everyone is just staring at me, making me feel even crazier than I am.

  She hunches down in front of me, her soft hand on my knee.

  “We’re going to get you better, okay?” She smiles, and I use both feet in her chest, shoving her on her back. I don’t know why I did it, but I did. I don’t want her touching me, and I don’t want her help.

  Her sweet demeanor quickly masks with something ugly and more suiting to her appearance. She snaps her fingers at the two large goons that followed her in and they both look at her.

  “Give him the sedative and get him to the van. NOW!” Her voice ugly and high-pitched. Sedative? What’s that?

  They both come at me, and I scream. Tears filling my eyes. The coach still has my arms, so I can’t grab them or run. I’m cornered.

  “I’m sorry, don’t touch me. Don’t hurt me!” I scream. The coach holds my arms, and one of the goons has me by the feet. The witch wearing white, presents a case and takes out a long needle. I start bucking and hyperventilating. I hate needles.

  “Romeo!” I still, the familiar voice of my brother making me look down the hall. Taking advantage of me being distracted, the sharp piercing needle is jabbed into my leg. My eyes widen from the pain, and I’m suddenly seeing two of Kieran; my brother. The only person trying to save me. He doesn’t even know what I’ve done, but he’s here… having my back. He’s trying to get to me by shoving my mother and principal, panic on his face as he shouts my name. I want to fight my way free, I want to feel regret for what I did to everyone, say I’m sorry, but my eyes are too heavy and I’m out before I can say another word.

  A blood-curdling scream takes me out of my thoughts of what happened this morning, at least I think it was this morning. What time is it? I look around the room but there’s not a clock, just the opened door. Apparently I’m not too much of a threat if I’m not locked in here. I glance around the room, noticing the hospital-like bed, a window with bars, and the one fluorescent light above.

  It’s bare of anything personal. Using one foot at a time, I walk toward the door. The smell of chicken and Clorox unusually strong. The sound of a TV somewhere outside the room can be heard, but I can’t make out what’s playing.

  Reaching the threshold of my room, I peek to the left, seeing nothing but more doors and a window with bars at the end of the hall. I look the other way and find other people, couches with vinyl cushions, and what looks to be an office of some sort. I head that way, passing a water fountain, more closed doors, and one open. I wasn’t going to look into the opened room, but the sound of…

  Thud

  Thud

  Thud

  Has me stopping and looking.

  There’s a girl with rat
ty blonde hair knocking her head into the wall. All I see is her back as she continues to hurl herself at a padded wall. My brows furrow with unease, and I keep walking. The TV is playing Casper the Friendly Ghost, it’s at the part where Casper has to feed all his brothers and the food is falling right through him. Several people sit on the couches and floor, watching as if they’re in a trance. There’re windows lining the opposite wall, blinds pulled all the way up to let the gray clouds dull the room.

  Grinding my teeth, I go to the office. It has three windows that look to be made of plexiglass, and cabinets inside, a desk and what I assume is the nurse.

  I lift my hand to knock and remember I’m in the jacket. Moving my head side to side, I crack my neck and remind myself to breathe and stare at her hoping she will feel me looking at her. Find someone to get this damn straitjacket off me.

  She has dirty-blonde hair, a skinny face with high cheekbones. She rocks her head back and forth like she’s humming a tune as she types away at a computer. She’s not noticing me. She’s probably used to having weird people just stare at her.

  I step closer to the window and nudge the glass with my elbow. Her eyes sweep across the desk to me and surprise takes over her face. She stands, opens the door, and turns toward me.