The Devil’s Angel Read Online Jenna Rose

Categories Genre: Biker, Crime, Dark, Insta-Love, MC Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)

Anna is on a terrible date with a handsy guy when she is rescued by a man who steps in on her behalf. Little does she know her rescuer is the kingpin of the city, the notorious Blake Lockwood, and in return for his help, he is demanding she go on a date with him. And who says no to Blake Lockwood? Nobody.

Blake Lockwood, feared kingpin of the city, has had his eyes on Anna ever since he saved her from the worst date of her life. As his reward, Blake is forcing Anna to join him on a real date so he can treat her like the queen she truly is. It’s been years since a woman has made the cold gangster’s soul move or his heart feel this way about anybody. But Anna is hiding a secret, Blake is sure of that – a secret that could change everything.

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It’s warm and sunny, but I feel none of the day’s heat. My heart is ice, and the colors of the world seem dull through my eyes. Muted, like I’m seeing through a desaturation filter.

All of this is the result of bloodshed. Of clawing and crushing and killing my way to the top.

This is what happens when you seal yourself from what could be called a normal life. But that’s what had to be done to get to where I am today. If not, I would be one of the bodies lying dead in my wake, not the man sitting on top of the throne.

The throne…

So many men beneath me look up and wish they were sitting where I sit now. In their eyes, I have it all. And honestly, they’re not wrong. I have power, I have riches, I have women. But there’s one thing that still eludes me.


Love is a weakness. That’s what life taught me. You let it in, and you get hurt.

But without it, all I feel is this gaping hole in the center of my chest every morning when I wake up, every day as I go about my business, and every night paining me horribly when I go to sleep alone in my bed.

Anything I want I can have. I simply buy it or I take it. That’s my life as the kingpin of this city. But you can’t buy love. You can fake-buy love by buying companionship, but you can’t buy the real thing.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m even capable of feeling the real thing anymore.

All these years living life as the animal that world forced me to become. Is the man I once was still even inside? And if so, would the right woman even want to be with me now? Could she even see me for who I truly am?

All these thoughts whirl through my mind like a storm as my driver takes me back to the house. I clip and light a cigar and crack the window to let out the first puff of smoke. Cuban. Impossible to get in this country, but I have my connections.

I remember the first box I bought for myself. I thought I was such a bigshot. Now I can get them by the caseload. That’s the kind of life I live.

I watch the city go by, sunshine reflecting off the windows as we pass. People going about the business of their normal lives. What would it be like to be one of them? I’ve imagined it many times, and many times I’ve thought it might be a better life than the one I’m living now.

No one trying to kill me. No worrying about treachery or betrayal among my organization. But that would also mean giving up the power I’ve worked so hard my entire life to cultivate. That would mean making myself vulnerable to normalcy. Something I swore I would never allow myself to do again.

We’re passing through the restaurant district when something catches my eye out the window.

A face. A gorgeous girl’s face shining more radiantly than the sun.

“Stop!” I snap at the driver, who instantly obeys my command. He pulls the car over by the curb, and I look out to see a girl sitting at a circular table on the curb outside Dante’s, one of the local Italian restaurants known as a popular date spot.

An orchestra sparks inside me—something I haven’t felt in a long time. It actually catches me off guard, and I have to grab the back of the passenger seat in front of me to hold myself steady.

Look at you, gorgeous. What is your name?

Seated across from her with his back to me, is a young man. He’s talking with his hands, being over-animated, clearly doing whatever he can to make her laugh. But from what I can see, she doesn’t look like she’s having a good time. Not at all.

And what a shame too. Because she is gorgeous.

For a brief moment, the idea that this guy might be her brother or a cousin runs through my mind, but then I come to my senses.

No, this is definitely a date. A date that she’s not enjoying and is just trying to be polite enough to not let on and insult the guy.

Maybe it was a blind date. One a friend set her up on. Or maybe they met on one of those stupid dating apps and the guy lied about who he was on his profile. Because this girl has the looks to be a model and should be on my arm at a real, high-class restaurant, not sitting out on the curb with whoever this loser is.

He reaches out and grabs her arm, but she instantly pulls away. My chest tightens.

Her lips purse, and she forces an awkward smile, but the son of a bitch doesn’t take no for an answer. He does it again.