BLACK WIDOW
Sloane stepped out of the shower and limped over to the small sink. She wiped the steam from the mirror and winced at the sight of her battered face. She had greatly underestimated the governor’s girlfriend. She was a fighter. Even though Taylor Montgomery was no match for Sloane, she was able to catch her off guard and disarm her. The detective, on the other hand, was a skilled fighter. Putting her down took a bit more work.
However, Sloan definitely wasn’t expecting Taylor’s friend to step in and completely overpower her. Sloane had put down men twice her size. But Taylor’s friend was so much more than an expert. She fought with a skill set and the passion of a woman possessed. Sloane was nowhere near a match for the woman. Her overconfidence had gotten her ass beaten and her shoulder dislocated. Sloane was able to snap it back into place, but she was going to need weeks of recovery.
She wrapped the cheap scratchy towel around her aching body and left the bathroom. She flopped down on the hard mattress and looked around the cheap motel room. She was disgusted by the place, but she couldn’t risk being captured on camera in the expensive hotels that she preferred.
Sloane needed to regroup and she needed to produce results. The client was getting impatient, and her reputation was on the line. She didn’t know why Rosemary Creed needed to die, and she didn’t care. Sloane never asked why a target was a target. The reasons were irrelevant to her. But getting the job done was taking more effort than Sloane had expected. After the ass whipping that she’d received, she realized that trying to find and kill Rosemary Creed might just be the death of her.
