Devil's Cut: Immortal Keeper Vampire Paranormal Romance Series

Devil’s Cut
Immortal Keeper Vampire Series


L.A. MCGINNIS


Copyright L.A. McGinnis 2021
All rights reserved
Editor: Arran at Editing720
Cover Design: Glowing Moon Designs
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or distributed in any printed or electronic form or by any means, without express permission from the author or publisher. Please do not participate or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
Please contact the author for any use in a review.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, including businesses, companies, events or locales is purely coincidental. This author acknowledges the trademarked status of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
ISBN-13: 978-1-970112-28-3
ISBN-13: 978-1-970112-32-0
Published in the United States of America by Fools Journey Press, 2021
Please visit my website at www.lamcginnis.com


“Whisky, like a beautiful woman,
demands attention.
You gaze first, then it’s time to drink”
Haruki Murakami


Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Queen of Swords, Book 1
Also By L.A. Mcginnis:


1 Langston-Forge Distillery’s boardroom
“Selena, you must sign these,” Emerson urged gently, leaning in so the other men couldn’t overhear. “There’s no options left.”
I looked at the documents my lawyer had set in front of me, then lifted my gaze high enough to skim the faces of the board of directors seated around the table—a table my great-grandfather brought from Scotland—while trying to rein in my anger.
I was so goddamned pissed at the whole situation. At my father. At the board for pushing this takeover, right when the company—and me—were at their most vulnerable. But mostly, I was pissed at my brother.
I was twenty years old with the weight of the world on my shoulders, and everything was about to come crashing down. I picked up the pen, set the point to the paper, then hedged, as if I believed there was a chance—
“What if I ask for another extension?”
I knew that’d never happen, but I wanted to hear my lawyer say it out loud, because once I heard there was no hope, I could move forward with my crazy—maybe suicidal—plan. Someone across the table impatiently cleared his throat as I hesitated. I’d never learned to play chess, but I did know how to read a room, and these men were glad I’d failed.
“You know as well as I do that the bank won’t grant another extension. They’ve already given you far more leeway than usual.” Emerson Holloway had been Granddad’s lawyer, then Dad’s, and now he was mine. He might be old, but he knew his shit, and always told me straight. Unlike the rest of the vultures gathered around this table, practically salivating at the prospect of the company going under.
While my mind grappled with the utter finality of signing away my family’s company, my mouth desperately bargained. “Three days. Give me three more days and I’ll fix this.” God, I sounded like an addict. Maybe I was. “If I can’t raise enough working capital, I’ll sign the agreement and you’ll never see me again.” My desperate bargaining brought faint smiles to their faces, since they thought I was coasting on my family name and had no real business experience. Worst of all, I was a girl, and girls don’t run distilleries. At least, not in their eyes.
Three days wasn’t a lot of time, but I’d either save the company that I loved, lived and breathed, or I’d sign the fucking papers and hand everything over to the jackals around this table. Something inside of me rebelled at the thought of my company in the hands of these men. They’d sell it off piece by piece, starting with the copper stills.
Holloway studied my face carefully, then laid his hand on my shoulder as he made his recommendation. “I say we give Selena three days. As hard as she’s worked to keep the distillery afloat after her dad’s death, we owe her that.”
From the way their faces fell, you’d have thought I was asking for the moon, not one last chance. At least there was one good thing about the board—they always listened to their lawyer.
“All in favor?” Holloway’s lined face relaxed slightly as the board members reluctantly lifted their hands, surety written in their faces that I would fail at this, just like I’d failed at bringing the company back from the edge of bankruptcy.
I didn’t care about their derision. They were just a bunch of old men who wanted to continue feeding off my family’s hard work like a bunch of starving lampreys. I didn’t care how much I had to debase myself. I didn’t care if I had to lie. I would save this company, and I’d do it by defying my father’s number one rule:
No matter what happens, Selena, don’t you ever contact Bastian Forge.
Yeah, contacting a two-hundred-year-old vampire was probably risky, but choosing between my life and my family business… I’d do anything to save this company that had been in my family for over two hundred years.
Because without it, I’d be nothing.


2
Langston-Forge had been in my family since 1771, and we still did business in the same building in downtown Philadelphia that we did in those early days. My office was the same one my great-grandfather occupied, and I’d always felt the sense of history—and responsibility—of that bond especially deeply.
Deeper than my brother, who signed a five-million-dollar promissory note with a local loan shark and then had the nerve to die before he paid it back. Which wouldn’t have