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PROLOGUE
The dark, tacky substance stuck to my skin like honey, my eyes fixated on the way the translucent film popped when I pinched my fingers together before prying my thumb from my middle digit.
Blood.
At this point, I didn’t know if it was mine or not. If I’d killed someone or met the jagged edge of a beer bottle after one too many bar fights. If I was in the middle of a job or working on the cleanup. Not that it mattered. Now or ever really. I lived and breathed this shit. Embodied the sort of lifestyle that was less than…aboveboard. Thrived on the corruption that was pumping through my veins like second fucking nature.
Couldn’t tell you how old I was the first time I felt the rhythmic bolt action of a 357 Magnum beneath my grip, or inhaled that biting sulfuric smell of a crisp copper jacket whirling through a freshly primed barrel, or even watched some fucker’s brain splatter red against the gray of a concrete wall. Shit was ingrained. Like a core memory that had always been there. What Icouldtell ya is I was born for it. For theviolence my last name brought to the dinner table with a side of depravity.
So, no, none of the gory details bothered me. Going for the jugular was just another ugly part of what made mankind tick. Let ya survive in this dog-eat dog-world, where the only thing that mattered was how sharp your teeth were. Sure was funny how easy your morals could twist, bend, come undone with just the right amount of coaxing… when you suddenly realized it was you or the other guy. Yeah, I had no doubt humanity was nothing more than one fuck-up away from total anarchy—you were lying if ya told yourself otherwise.
However, the not remembering, the not knowing what I was doing right now? That shit was a real kick to the lady balls.
“Bitch, you shot me!”
Well, that answered that. Not my blood.
“Please, it barely grazed you.” Because if I actually shot the fucker, he’d be dead.
Shoot to kill, Dani. Always shoot to kill.There was a lot less chatter that way.
“Hey! Headcase!” The man-child with barely enough stubble to deem it a five o’clock shadow was squawking in my ear again. “Are you going to untie me or what?”
My glare dropped to the fresh red streak pooling on the fucker’s cheekbone before skimming along the blood that was already beginning to coagulate. I cocked my head to the side, noting how his hands and feet were hogtied using my preferred brand of flex cuffs, and then glanced out the window that told me we were closed inside one of my many storage units, each registered under an alias. And couldn’t help but wonder how much time had passed.
My best guess was two to eight minutes. Two to eight minutes of lost time.The blackouts were getting more frequent. Not that it really had much effect on my operation. My bodywould switch to autopilot, muscle movement, and instinct. It was my brain that always seemed to remain a little foggy.
Wish it had the same effect on my hearing.Because he was spitting mad now.
“Hey! Bitch!”
Good looks, if you could even call 'em that, sure as hell didn’t make up for bad manners. Someone should have taught the fucker as much.
The sound of his nasal cavity caving in beneath the force of my ruptured knuckles was worth the throb now radiating up my arm.
Guess I was that someone.
1
Ipeered up at the neon green sign flashing over the door of Mollies, a club I had no business standing outside right now. Or ever really. Not in this area of the city with a name like mine. Which I had to admit was also a big part of the appeal. I especially enjoyed the things in life that weren’t good for me. And quickly tugged my ID from my pocket and passed it over to the bouncer.
“Sorry, no dice, dollface. Better luck next time.” The boy too pretty to be called a man smiled and winked while shooting out one of his overly inflated arms to nudge me back a step. Farther away from the fucker I’m sure was hiding out somewhere just beyond the tacky velvet rope that separated me and my next paycheck.
“I don’t need luck,dickwad.My name’s on that list of yours. So, go on. Tuck your cock between your legs and let a lady through.”
“Lady?” He quirked a brow, and I didn’t appreciate the way the word came out of his mouth more as a question.
I could be a lady if I wanted to be. I glanced down at my leather riding pants and matching vest. The black ankle-highboots that had seen better days and over to my broken nail beds that still had dirt and blood staining the cuticles.
All right, not a lady.But that was beside the point.
“Yeah, lady.” I crossed my arms, knowing that the stance would pop up my tits in that way that was irresistible to the male brain and the hormones that were sure to flood it as soon as pretty boy got an eyeful.
“Okay, then,ma’am,” the fucker mocked. “This name most certainly is on the list.” He paused to tap my ID card against his clipboard. “But it ain’t yours.” My posture sank and he raised a brow. “Should probably invest in a better fake. I know a guy… if you’re lookin’…”
“Really?” I shouldn’t have sounded so eager. I knew it even as I said it. But a good counterfeiter was hard to find.
“Fuck no!” He laughed. A real, genuine laughter that accentuated the creases around his too-fucking-pouty lips. “But you dropped that scowl for a second, didn’t ya, baby girl?”
