Though I was eager to rush into a burning building once, now I sit on the sidelines, watching friends risk their lives to quench the flames, knowing they will hate me if they discover the real reason I’m in this wheelchair.
Bill stumbles out of the building with a pale-faced boy in his arms.
There are three rules for being an assassin. Don’t hesitate. Don’t question. Don’t feel.
Emotions get you in trouble, and the pain of the past is a distraction.
I glide through the crowd, sipping my champagne and smiling at everyone who meets my eye. I know how to act like just another beautiful woman. I used to be one, after all.
The deputy intercepted Travis in the parking lot. “What are you doing?”
Travis glared at the man whose perjury had cost him ten years. “Depositing my paycheck.”
Doug crossed his arms. “This bank has five other branches in this county.”
Shouldering Doug aside, Travis strode into the satellite bank.
When Dad took him out of school and drove two hours south to his favorite state park, Carl thought it was an early birthday present. When Dad strapped five-gallon jugs of water into the extra passenger seats of the rented dune buggy, Carl wasn’t sure what to think.
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Damn. Tahnee hit the floor. This guy is good.
Good thing she was better. However, it was time to end their little dance despite the fun she was having.
“Wait—”
“Sorry, mate.” She clipped her opponent’s legs, driving the guard to the ground.
“Last mission before you retire, eh? Ready to go home?”
Home. Kiera immediately pictured red double-decker buses, Big Ben, and intimate theaters. Her small studio, overlooking the Thames, would still be unfurnished after her months away. And Justin—was his corner cafe still in business?
Mathis twisted the shovel and winced as a splinter stabbed into his palm. He made a mental note to look for a better one, or a pair of gloves, in the next pile of garbage. Behlovek certainly wouldn’t give him anything.
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They call us the Misfits. They don’t give us battle armor. Just what we can collect from the bodies of fallen friends and foes.
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Here lies Hazel. If nothing else, she was considerate.”
Hazel ignored her taunting subconscious and reread the note to her landlord.
Dear Mr. Baxter,
Send authorities to apartment 412. They will find my body inside. Do not come yourself. It is too late. I tried to prevent any mess. Please accept the extra rent enclosed and my apologies.
Hazel
The tall stranger sauntered through the dark alleyway. His long fingers trailed across the rough brick of the buildings on either side of him, and his arm span filled the alley. He moved at a lazy pace, no hurry to be anywhere. His stroll this evening wasn’t about destination but discovery—about finding someone, finding the one, the perfect specimen to assuage tonight’s hunger.
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“Do you remember your name?” A woman’s voice echoes in my mind.
My eyes open. Fluorescent lights stare back at me from the ceiling as my surroundings begin to register. I am lying on a steel gurney, wearing a dingy set of medical scrubs.
“Nelson. Nelson Duran.” I cock my head at the sound of my own voice. Is that right?
I was surrounded. There, atop the ruins of what was once a great symbol of power, I lifted my hands in surrender.
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