by: Kitty Thomas
Genre: Dark Romance/Romantic Comedy
Release Date: December 18, 2024
Publisher: Burlesque Press
“Be honest with me, Brian. Are we going on a cross-country killing spree?”
“I’d hardly call it a spree.”
Brian Sloane is a pure psychopathic monster… to everyone but Mina.
She was looking for a good man to scratch a particular itch but instead ended up bought by the violent enforcer of a submissive training house.
Against all odds, the villain became her hero. She was the light to his dark until the lights went out, and the darkness inside her came out to play.
Now they’re both killers, chasing the blood lust, running toward their demons, each hit job more dangerous than the last. From a twisted Easter hunt, to an explosive Fourth of July, from a deadly masquerade ball, to an even deadlier Krampus run, culminating in the Do or Die Valentine’s Day Kill that will either seal their doom or their happily ever after.
Do killers even deserve a happy ending?
“Stop fidgeting,” I whisper as I ring the doorbell.
“Sorry. I’m at the house of a guy named Gremlin for weapons. This is my first arms dealer meeting. Cut me some slack.”
“You’ll be fine. Just stay close to me. And don’t call him that to his face.”
“Does he not know everybody calls him Gremlin?”
“I’m sure he knows.”
Not for the first time today I think maybe I should have left Mina at the motel. We’re walking in without any weapons after all. I generally trust this guy, but Mina is a new variable, and I don’t know how much I trust him with her.
We’re greeted by a rather posh butler and led down several corridors until we get to a large open space that was probably originally intended as a ballroom, but serves as this guy’s weapons gallery.
Gremlin spots me and ambles over. He’s five foot four and balding on top. I’m nearly a whole foot taller than him. He’s got bad skin, to put it mildly. Old acne scars—and the knife scars don’t help anything. He’s got enough money to fix some of this, but I guess he figures, what’s the point? The only way he manages to not look like a homeless vagrant is the Italian bespoke suits and shoes he wears.
How a man of his small stature gained the level of power he has in the criminal underworld is anybody’s guess, but at this point he’s got bodyguards, so his height challenges no longer really matter to anybody but him.
“Sloan!” he says.
I nod and shake his hand when he reaches me. “Good to see you. I haven’t been out this way in awhile.” No one knows his actual name, but respect is a thing, so pretty much nobody addresses him as anything—except for his staff who call him Sir.
Gremlin’s gaze slides over to Mina. He takes his time appraising her in a way I don’t like. “And who is this lovely flower?” He actually licks his lips, as though he expects to be allowed to eat her later.
“This Venus Flytrap is with me,” I say with the subtlety of a car alarm.
He chuckles. “Fair enough. Why harm a business partnership over a broad, right?”
Mina stiffens beside me, and I know if she actually had a gun right now, Gremlin would be lying in a pool of his own blood—fuck his status—and we’d have a big reputation problem. It’s ideal in my line of work that we don’t kill business associates. It makes it hard to find new business associates who want to work with you. It’s not like we’re all getting hazard pay.
“We’re kind of on the clock, Gremlin,” I say.
His eyes widen that I actually had the nerve to utter the handle he’s known by. I mean, he started it, calling Mina a broad like he’s in some 1940’s gangster noir film. We all have reputations to protect here, and he should know better.
“Look,” I continue. “I’m going to let your disrespect of my partner slide, and you’re going to let me saying your handle out loud, slide. And we’re going to do business and keep things professional, right?”
He definitely could have me killed right now. We are sort of surrounded by his armed thugs. Nine of them in total. Overkill if you ask me, but if Gremlin routinely runs his mouth like this, maybe not.
But again, it’s bad for business so I’m guessing he’s not going to destroy a fifteen year working relationship over this.
He wisely chooses to let it go and sweeps a hand in the direction of the glass cases filled with weapons. “What were you looking for?”
“Guns. Obviously. We need appropriate holsters, ammunition… give us all 9mm. And silencers. Knives and holsters also.”
“Throwing stars,” Mina interjects.
She loves her throwing stars.
“Knives and stars I’ll have to sell you. We don’t like our merchandise returned bloody. And of course the ammo.”
“Of course,” I say. It’s not as though you can rent ammunition. And knives and stars often get left behind on kill sites anyway depending on the situation. If we do body disposal, we keep and sterilize them, but otherwise they just stay where they’re planted.
Gremlin loads us up with the requested weapons, I pay the man, and we grab the bags.
“See, Killer? Easy peasy, lemon squeezy,” I say as we walk out the front door.
Mina just laughs.
“Sorry. I’m at the house of a guy named Gremlin for weapons. This is my first arms dealer meeting. Cut me some slack.”
“You’ll be fine. Just stay close to me. And don’t call him that to his face.”
“Does he not know everybody calls him Gremlin?”
“I’m sure he knows.”
Not for the first time today I think maybe I should have left Mina at the motel. We’re walking in without any weapons after all. I generally trust this guy, but Mina is a new variable, and I don’t know how much I trust him with her.
We’re greeted by a rather posh butler and led down several corridors until we get to a large open space that was probably originally intended as a ballroom, but serves as this guy’s weapons gallery.
Gremlin spots me and ambles over. He’s five foot four and balding on top. I’m nearly a whole foot taller than him. He’s got bad skin, to put it mildly. Old acne scars—and the knife scars don’t help anything. He’s got enough money to fix some of this, but I guess he figures, what’s the point? The only way he manages to not look like a homeless vagrant is the Italian bespoke suits and shoes he wears.
How a man of his small stature gained the level of power he has in the criminal underworld is anybody’s guess, but at this point he’s got bodyguards, so his height challenges no longer really matter to anybody but him.
“Sloan!” he says.
I nod and shake his hand when he reaches me. “Good to see you. I haven’t been out this way in awhile.” No one knows his actual name, but respect is a thing, so pretty much nobody addresses him as anything—except for his staff who call him Sir.
Gremlin’s gaze slides over to Mina. He takes his time appraising her in a way I don’t like. “And who is this lovely flower?” He actually licks his lips, as though he expects to be allowed to eat her later.
“This Venus Flytrap is with me,” I say with the subtlety of a car alarm.
He chuckles. “Fair enough. Why harm a business partnership over a broad, right?”
Mina stiffens beside me, and I know if she actually had a gun right now, Gremlin would be lying in a pool of his own blood—fuck his status—and we’d have a big reputation problem. It’s ideal in my line of work that we don’t kill business associates. It makes it hard to find new business associates who want to work with you. It’s not like we’re all getting hazard pay.
“We’re kind of on the clock, Gremlin,” I say.
His eyes widen that I actually had the nerve to utter the handle he’s known by. I mean, he started it, calling Mina a broad like he’s in some 1940’s gangster noir film. We all have reputations to protect here, and he should know better.
“Look,” I continue. “I’m going to let your disrespect of my partner slide, and you’re going to let me saying your handle out loud, slide. And we’re going to do business and keep things professional, right?”
He definitely could have me killed right now. We are sort of surrounded by his armed thugs. Nine of them in total. Overkill if you ask me, but if Gremlin routinely runs his mouth like this, maybe not.
But again, it’s bad for business so I’m guessing he’s not going to destroy a fifteen year working relationship over this.
He wisely chooses to let it go and sweeps a hand in the direction of the glass cases filled with weapons. “What were you looking for?”
“Guns. Obviously. We need appropriate holsters, ammunition… give us all 9mm. And silencers. Knives and holsters also.”
“Throwing stars,” Mina interjects.
She loves her throwing stars.
“Knives and stars I’ll have to sell you. We don’t like our merchandise returned bloody. And of course the ammo.”
“Of course,” I say. It’s not as though you can rent ammunition. And knives and stars often get left behind on kill sites anyway depending on the situation. If we do body disposal, we keep and sterilize them, but otherwise they just stay where they’re planted.
Gremlin loads us up with the requested weapons, I pay the man, and we grab the bags.
“See, Killer? Easy peasy, lemon squeezy,” I say as we walk out the front door.
Mina just laughs.
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