Planning someone’s last song was a bit stressful. I fed the tabletop jukebox and took my sweet time choosing. A good song wouldn’t make the betrayal and ensuing death any easier to swallow, but choosing one might ease my conscience.
Read it now
“This thing’s a museum piece.” Russ unlocked the door. “Literally. The only reason it’s not on display is that we don’t like to advertise.”
Will managed a half-smile as he entered the storage locker. Light flooded gray walls and concrete, making the object within incongruous: a domed cage of wrought copper and treated glass with exposed mechanical parts
“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?
