ONE
TASH
Wicked high ponytail? Check.
Thigh-high boots with stiletto heels? Check.
Tight black jeans and a corset top? Also check.
Mascara and a dash of eyeliner? Absolutely.
A swipe of poison red lipstick across my lips? Priceless.
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, hoping I was the only one who saw the trace of desperation in my eyes.
Notdesperation, I told myself.Determination. With a hint of 'what the absolute fuck was I about to do?'
I teetered over to grab up my phone and wobble out the door. I could do this. It wasn't like I had a choice. No way out. Only through.
I ignored the glances and wolf whistles from the construction site across the road as I made my way down the street. An ordinary street in Dusk Bay.
Ordinary from the outside. Crazy as fuck on the inside.
I glanced at my phone. Checked the email again. Blue door. No number on the building. No windows facing the street. A box of bricks.
Inconspicuous.
Harmless.
Deadly.
I found the place. Three buildings from the corner. 'Knock on the door three times,' the email said.
I knocked and waited.
And waited.
I was about to risk the cracks in the pavement and wobble home when the door swung inward.
A man stood just inside, dark hair falling across the side of his face. He regarded me with dark eyes. A lip ring glinted in the afternoon sun that slanted across the rooftops.
"Hi," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "My name is…"
He turned and walked deeper into the building, leaving me to hurry along behind.
"Natasha Clay," I finished. Speaking to myself, apparently.
This wasn't the welcome I expected. But then again, I wasn't sure what to expect. Not confetti and champagne, that was for sure. Maybe a hulking giant like Lurch, gesturing the way with a huge hand.
This guy was no Lurch, but I had to admire the curve of his ass in faded jeans.
I reminded myself he might be my competition, but my gaze kept dropping down anyway. Hell, these might be my last hours on earth. I might as well enjoy a good ass while I could. Right?
He led me toward a single elevator that looked as though it predated the extinction of the dinosaurs. Was that rust on the door? He pressed a button beside it and slouched down to wait, not meeting my gaze.
"Is that safe?" I asked. "Because it doesn't look safe."
Was he leading me to my death prematurely? If he was going to travel down with me, he'd be going to his death as well. That would suck. His ass was too pretty to die. So was mine, come to think of it.
