All Chapters of A Bed Of Roses : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

82 Chapters

Bloody Hell

Martinez's POV "Fuck!" I roared, my fist smashing violently into the drywall right next to Rodah’s head.I pulled away from her bare, trembling body, leaving her breathless and flushed against the wall, her chest heaving as she stared at me with wide, dark eyes. The residual heat of our desperate embrace was still burning like wild fire in my veins, making my cock throb heavily against my tactical pants, but the empire was bleeding."Stay inside, lock the fucking door," I growled over my shoulder, buckling my heavy belt back into place with a sharp snap.I bolted out of the bedroom, sprinting down the marble stairs and out into the smoky courtyard. Gustavo was already inside the lead armored SUV, the engine roaring like a caged beast. I threw myself into the passenger seat, slamming the heavy door shut before the tires even caught traction."Go!" I barked.The convoy tore out of the estate gates, blowing past the smoldering ruins of the western boundary wall. The bastard who planned

The Phantom Mirror

POV: Martinez’s POMy breath locked in my throat as I stared at the glowing phone screen. The live security feed from my private study was crystal clear, but the sight inside made my blood turn to pure, churning ice.The slender figure in the black silk cloak was standing right at my terminal, the silver flash drive blinking as it sucked decades of Rinaldi blood money records out of my encrypted mainframe. When she turned her face toward the lens, her dark red lips stretched into that familiar, wicked smile. The facial structure, the high cheekbones, the cold arrogance—it looked exactly like Seraphina Meyers.But as I stared closer, my predatory instincts roared a warning. Something was fucking wrong.The way she stood, the slight thickness in her shoulders, the precise, military efficiency of her movements as she pulled the drive out—it wasn't Seraphina. Seraphina was a spoiled, venomous mafia princess; she didn't possess the cold, tactical discipline of the ghost on my screen. This

Hunting Season

POV: Martinez’s POVThe dial tone screamed in my ear like a mocking laugh before I slammed the phone back onto its cradle. My chest was heaving, my muscles locked so tight they felt like iron bands. Lawrence Freeheight wasn't playing a standard mafia game of territory and muscle anymore; he was leveraging high-level corporate espionage to swallow my entire organization whole.Evelyn. A professional lookalike. A flesh-and-blood corporate asset trained to mimic a target's blind spot. There was nothing mystical about it—it was cold, calculated, and deeply illegal. Lawrence had used Seraphina’s dramatic exit as the perfect psychological shield, knowing my guards would hesitate to shoot a woman they recognized as my former fiancée if they caught a glimpse of her in the dark."Boss!" Gustavo stormed into the foyer, his tactical boots leaving streaks of dirt on the white marble. "The tracking dogs have a scent at the edge of the eastern boundary. The perimeter fence was cleanly clipped. No

Keep Her Head Down!

Martinez's POV The heavy rattle of Gustavo’s rifle echoed off the rusted iron of the train car, throwing up a cloud of lethal gravel and wood splinters right around Evelyn’s boots. She was pinned down, her suppressed pistol useless against the wall of lead covering the tracks."Keep her fucking head down!" I roared into my radio, already moving.I didn't wait for a response. I dropped low and ruthlessly flanked the rusted train car from the blind side, my combat boots cutting through the tall weeds with silent speed. On the other side of the embankment, the hum of the extraction vehicle’s engine was getting louder, the tires spitting dirt as they waited for her.Evelyn reached into her black silk cloak, her fingers frantically groping for a signaling device. Before her hand could clear the fabric, I burst from the shadows of the rusted wheel well.I hit her at full speed. My massive frame tackled her straight into the sharp, jagged gravel of the railway bed."Ah!" she shrieked as the

Fractured Fortress

POV: Rodah’s POVThe master bedroom felt like a luxurious cage. I paced the floorboards back and forth, the silk of my loose robe brushing against my bare legs. Down in my core, the lingering heat of Martinez's bruising departure was still humming in my blood. My lips still felt swollen from his tobacco-stained mouth, and my skin ached where his heavy tactical vest had pressed against my bare breasts. The raw, aggressive energy he left behind was a drug, making me restless and wired.Every distant siren or shout from the courtyard made my heart jump. I was completely trapped here while the estate burned outside.The heavy lock clicked. The door swung open with a violent shove, and the thick tension in the room finally snapped.Martinez stepped inside. My breath hitched. His tactical clothes were torn, his broad chest heaving beneath the armor. His massive hands were stained with dried, dark red blood—the phantom's blood. He didn't look at me immediately. He strode straight to the mah

Blood Paint

Martinez's POVThe snap of the darkness lasted only a few seconds before the emergency backup power groaned to life. Instead of the bright overhead chandeliers, a dull, blood-red glow flooded the master bedroom.Before I could even register the red light, the distant, heavy rumble of armored engines shook the floorboards beneath my boots.*CRASH.*The main security gates at the end of the driveway were completely pulverized. Tires shrieked against gravel as multiple heavy tactical vehicles swarmed into the courtyard."Martinez..." Rodah choked out, her fingers digging hard into the canvas of my vest. The red light painted her flushed skin, her green eyes wide with a mixture of raw terror and the lingering heat of our unfinished friction. "Is that the Meyers clan?""No," I growled, my hand dropping to my hip, drawing my Glock with a heavy, metallic snap. "Those aren't cartel engines. That’s the government."The phantom, Evelyn, had been on the terminal long enough to send a localized p

boom

POV: Martinez’s POVThe red emergency lights stained the white marble of the grand staircase like fresh, wet blood. Down in the foyer, the federal agents kept their weapons locked onto my chest, their flashlights cutting blinding white streaks through the gloom. At the center of them all stood Lawrence Freeheight, his arms crossed over his tailored suit, his smirk wider than ever."Tick-tock, Martinez," Lawrence called up, his voice echoing off the high ceiling. "The agents are getting restless. Sign the papers, or they’ll go up there and drag you down in chains. And trust me, they won't be gentle with whatever you’re hiding in the back room."My hand tightened around the grip of my Glock. The urge to blow his brains out right across his pristine suit was a violent, pulsing ache in my knuckles. But a street war wouldn't fix a federal warrant. I needed time. I needed to fracture his confidence right where he stood.I didn't look down at him. Instead, I turned my head slightly toward

Evading Orange Vests

POV: Martinez’s POVThe heavy mahogany headboard slid shut behind us with a solid, mechanical thud. The sudden silence was absolute, cutting off the violent bangs of the federal ram against the bedroom door. We were plunged into a pitch-black, narrow stone corridor that smelled of cold dust, old concrete, and the sharp musk of Rodah’s skin.Beside me, Rodah’s breathing was loud and frantic. She stumbled against the rough stone wall, her bare feet scraping over the cold floor."Keep moving," I ordered, my voice a low, commanding whisper.I didn't wait for her reply. I grabbed her upper arm, my fingers digging through the thin silk of her robe, and pulled her along the tight passageway. I knew every turn of these tunnels by heart. They were built to survive a total siege, cutting straight under the eastern wing and emptying into a concealed garage a quarter-mile past the outer boundary wall."Martinez, I can't see anything," she panted, her voice tight with anger and fear as she hurried

Right On My Chest

Martinez’s POVThe armored sedan tore through the dense, overgrown brush of the boundary woods, the heavy V8 engine snarling as it pushed us down the old logging trail. Mud and gray gravel sprayed against the wheel wells while the dark, foggy morning air whipped past the windows.My eyes were glued to the rearview mirror. No flashing lights. No sirens. Gustavo’s frequency jammer was still holding the federal task force blind back at the mansion, but the clock was ticking down fast.Beside me, the passenger seat felt like an open furnace. The raw, heavy scent of Rodah’s skin filled the tight cabin of the car. She sat stiffly, her bare legs tucked tight under the loose black silk of her robe, her fingers still wrapped hard around the grip of the SIG Sauer. Her green eyes were fixed on the dashboard, her breathing coming in sharp, shallow bursts."Are you going to tell me what happens when we hit the city?" she asked, her voice tight, cutting through the deep rumble of the exhaust."We

Behind My Spine

Martinez’s POV The elevator doors hadn’t even fully opened before my Glock barked three times in rapid succession. The heavy center-mass rounds punched straight through the chest plates of the two lead guards. They crumpled onto the white tile floor like sacks of wet cement, their rifles clattering loudly against the glass partitions. The third guard dove to the right, his boots scrambling for traction as he tried to bring his submachine gun up to target my chest. I didn't give him the chance. I stepped out of the elevator box, my massive frame completely covering the opening to keep Rodah shielded behind me. I fired twice more. One bullet shattered his shoulder, spinning him around, and the second caught him right under the jaw line. He hit the wall hard, leaving a thick smear of dark blood against the pristine white paint before sliding down into a heap. The echoes of the gunfire slammed against the glass walls of the server floor, followed by the sudden, piercing wail of the bu

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