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Chapter 1
Sammi
10:07 AM SATURDAY
The Bangkok heat beats down on my body like a toddler trying to hammer a square peg into a round hole. The humidity hangs heavy on my skin like a fur coat on the 4th of July.
Pretty much, it fucking sucks.
It’s not just the sun or the humidity or the heat, though. It’s the fact that every cell of my being still feels full of tequila—except for my head, which feels full of spiders, and my stomach, which feels full of worms.
“What the fuck did I do last night?” I mumble to myself.
And then, it hits me.
I don’t fucking remember.
Oh god, no. Not again.
See, I’ve learned my lesson about dancing with Jose Cuervo. I no longer patronize Patron. It might take two to tango, but it only takes one of me to tequila—
And these days, I know better than to indulge in the devil’s happy hour. Give me a glass of wine with dinner or a nip of bourbon before bedtime, but dammit! I’m not in college anymore, and this isn’t Las Vegas, either.
Slammin’ Sammi B. is dead and buried beneath a clinking mountain of empty bottles of silver label. And Samira Brighton—that’s me—she’s no longer the kind of girl who gets blackout drunk and ends up naked on a dick-shaped pool floaty, adrift out in the middle of a hotel swimming pool.
Unfortunately for me, it only takes two agonizing seconds of having my eyes open to realize that no, actually, that’sexactlythe kind of girl I am right now.
In fact, I’m probably going to have to hold onto this damn floaty’s big inflatable balls just to try and paddle my way back to shore.
But even that much effort…that’s fucking beyond me now. My head hurts. My whole shoulder feels swollen and tender. And my mouth…my mouth is so goddamn dry that I’m feeling the surface of the pool lapping at my toes and thinkingwater, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.
So I just fucking lay there for a while.
Floating on an inflatable dick and hoping that if I keep my eyes closed for long enough, maybe—just maybe—when I open them again, I’ll beliterallyanywhere else.
Doesn’t fucking work.
Imagine that.
I’m tentative to get too splishy splashy in this pool right now—and if you knew me, you’d know why. Last time I woke up like this, there was a shark in the pool with me.
And I fucking like sharks. Love them, even. Hell, I’m spending my whole life trying to save the noble hammerhead from extinction, y’know?
But I don’t want to get eaten by one.
Imagine that.
It takes me a while, but finally, I get there. With a lot of tentative little flutter kicks and a lot more holding my breath, I make it to the edge of the pool.
I’m thinking I’m going to go into my hotel suite, drink some water, pop some aspirin, and see what my BFF Percy has handcuffed herself tothistime. Maybe grab some sunglasses on the way—because while my future might be bright, right now, there are better reasons I could use some serious fucking shades.
In fact, I’m shielding my eyes with my hand just to try and stop that nasty Thai sun beaming straight through my eyelids and into my soul.
But then the weirdest fucking thing happens.
Some big, hulking object shifts at the edge of the pool and eclipses that sunshine.
And even though it fucking kills me to do it…
