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Drake
They call me a flirt. ‘Detective Sl()ts-A-Lot’ when they’re feeling frisky, because my morals are loose, and my choice in women, according to the haters, is unfussy.
But they don’t know I’ve been watching her.
Waiting for her.
The problem is, she’s half my age, and has no business being with a man like me.
***
Rory
They call me clumsy.
Jinxed.
And when they’re feeling a little dramatic, doomed.
I’m the girl who minds her own business, and still somehow ends up hanging off the side of a cliff with a busted leg and death stalking closer, all due to someone else’s bad choices.
But don’t worry. I lived. Obviously.
Three months after that unfortunate incident, I’m walking the streets of Copeland City and happen to witness a murder.
Lucky me.
Now the mafia are after me, and the only man who can keep me safe hasn’t called in months.
I jinxed myself when I said chivalry is dead.
But unless Drake Banks brings me the skulls of my enemies—like he promised—it might be me who ends up buried in a shallow grave.
