Steel
The Trinity, #3
by J.L. Lora
Publication Date: March 6, 2018
Genres: Adult, Romantic Suspense, Cartel, Organized Crime
Synopsis
Only the Devil you know has the power to really hurt you.
Strong, daring, and loyal to a fault, Amelia Solis is the soul of The Trinity. Yet, this leader of New York’s top cartel has become a pawn in the game of revenge. All to hurt Leandro, the man she wants more than life but cannot be with.
The enemy’s always watching, biding his time.
Leandro Masseur, Lieutenant in the McLean crime family, earned his position through loyalty, shrewd business, and ruthlessness. His enemies never see the bullet until it’s ready to lodge between their eyes. When a dead woman is found in Amelia’s bed, his world is flipped off its axis.
Their Devil knows what buttons to push.
Four women will die before a killer finishes a macabre target list, with Amelia as his crown piece. Leandro and Amelia must dodge the barrage of bullets and bombs to keep her safe. Tragedy has left them scarred and broken. But love won’t be denied, won’t wait, and Leandro won’t stop fighting for a chance. The only woman he’s ever loved has been marked for death. Leandro won’t let that happen.
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Excerpt
The pounding on the door wakes me and I look around the room, wondering how the hell I got here. I'm in our old apartment, sleeping in the room I once shared with my sister, Nelly, before we all got rich and got our own places. Back then, all we had to worry about was Calum's tired ass trying to get us.
I'm still wearing the pink bridesmaid's dress, a color that only Gia could force on me. Nelly's pillow's in my hand and, as I do every morning, I dwell on the thought that she's gone. But my chest is not as tight and the tears don’t come today.
Since my sister died, I have two states of waking up: pissed off and agitated. If I dream of her, I wake up shaken, scared, sad. She's still dead, because I overprotected and under-protected her in equal amounts. The guilt is a reminder, firming up my resolve because when I wake pissed off…I've dreamt of things I shouldn't.
Better said, someone I shouldn't. Doing things I really shouldn't. Not that I haven't done him, which is why I'm really messed up in the head these days.
Someone pounds on the door again and I jump off the bed. "Hold on. I'm coming."
I fling the door open, ready to skin my bodyguards. Instead, I find my friend Jamie. The strain on his surfer-cop face makes him look like he's got a sweaty tummy ache. He throws his arms around me, his hug so tight he squeezes the breath out of my lungs. It hurts and I pound on his bicep. "Let up."
He pulls back. His lips are ashen, and his eyes dart over my face like marbles, as if he's going down a mental checklist of all my features. What the hell is going on?
"Jesus, Mel. I'm so happy to see you. You fucking scared me. Carissa is bugging the hell out." He drags himself to the rack where we keep the alcohol and grabs a bottle of rum so old I can't remember when we bought it. Jamie removes the cap and tilts the one eighth of a bottle into his mouth and drains it.
My hands are trembling, my knees sending me a firm warning. They're about to fold. I can't wait anymore. "What are you talking about? Why is Carissa flipping out? I fell asleep here, waiting for Byanca. She made me get on a plane last night, saying she needed my help, then stood me up for some dude."
Jamie slams the bottle on the rack and moves closer to me. His lips do the cop pucker-and-purse. "Who was she meeting? At what time was that? Why didn't you call her?"
I feel a slight pull on the back of my neck, like someone's yanking my hair at the root. "I don't know. I took the red eye after the wedding and when I got here, she wasn't around. She sent me a text saying she’d met some hot piece and would be here right after she took care of business…why?"
His shoulders sag, fall along with his gaze. He doesn't need to say it, I know. I know, because I've gotten bad news before. A lot. I've seen the footsteps of death in other people's eyes.
I'm still wearing the pink bridesmaid's dress, a color that only Gia could force on me. Nelly's pillow's in my hand and, as I do every morning, I dwell on the thought that she's gone. But my chest is not as tight and the tears don’t come today.
Since my sister died, I have two states of waking up: pissed off and agitated. If I dream of her, I wake up shaken, scared, sad. She's still dead, because I overprotected and under-protected her in equal amounts. The guilt is a reminder, firming up my resolve because when I wake pissed off…I've dreamt of things I shouldn't.
Better said, someone I shouldn't. Doing things I really shouldn't. Not that I haven't done him, which is why I'm really messed up in the head these days.
Someone pounds on the door again and I jump off the bed. "Hold on. I'm coming."
I fling the door open, ready to skin my bodyguards. Instead, I find my friend Jamie. The strain on his surfer-cop face makes him look like he's got a sweaty tummy ache. He throws his arms around me, his hug so tight he squeezes the breath out of my lungs. It hurts and I pound on his bicep. "Let up."
He pulls back. His lips are ashen, and his eyes dart over my face like marbles, as if he's going down a mental checklist of all my features. What the hell is going on?
"Jesus, Mel. I'm so happy to see you. You fucking scared me. Carissa is bugging the hell out." He drags himself to the rack where we keep the alcohol and grabs a bottle of rum so old I can't remember when we bought it. Jamie removes the cap and tilts the one eighth of a bottle into his mouth and drains it.
My hands are trembling, my knees sending me a firm warning. They're about to fold. I can't wait anymore. "What are you talking about? Why is Carissa flipping out? I fell asleep here, waiting for Byanca. She made me get on a plane last night, saying she needed my help, then stood me up for some dude."
Jamie slams the bottle on the rack and moves closer to me. His lips do the cop pucker-and-purse. "Who was she meeting? At what time was that? Why didn't you call her?"
I feel a slight pull on the back of my neck, like someone's yanking my hair at the root. "I don't know. I took the red eye after the wedding and when I got here, she wasn't around. She sent me a text saying she’d met some hot piece and would be here right after she took care of business…why?"
His shoulders sag, fall along with his gaze. He doesn't need to say it, I know. I know, because I've gotten bad news before. A lot. I've seen the footsteps of death in other people's eyes.
Other Books In The Trinity Series...
Amazon | Paperback
B&N | Kobo | iTunes | Google Play
Amazon | Paperback
B&N | Kobo | iTunes | Google Play
About J.L. Lora
J. L. Lora is a Dominican-American author. Her stories explore the dark side of good characters, people living in the gray areas of life while playing the cards life has dealt them. She loves strong heroines and their equally powerful Men. She currently lives in Maryland, pursuing her dream of writing compelling, sexy, can’t-put-down stories about empowered, badass alpha heroines and take-your-breath-away alpha heroes
If you wish to know more information about J. L. Lora, you can visit her website: www.JLLora.com.
B&N | Kobo | iTunes | Google Play
Amazon | Paperback
B&N | Kobo | iTunes | Google Play
About J.L. Lora
J. L. Lora is a Dominican-American author. Her stories explore the dark side of good characters, people living in the gray areas of life while playing the cards life has dealt them. She loves strong heroines and their equally powerful Men. She currently lives in Maryland, pursuing her dream of writing compelling, sexy, can’t-put-down stories about empowered, badass alpha heroines and take-your-breath-away alpha heroesIf you wish to know more information about J. L. Lora, you can visit her website: www.JLLora.com.
You can also sign up for J. L. Lora’s newsletter for news, releases, events, more information, and extras related to Boss, Made, and The Trinity Series. Visit www.JLLora.com/newsletter to sign up and never miss a thing!
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