ey illuminated the man lying in the puddle. He was wearing a bespoke Savile Row sui

ick wall, his chest heaving. His right hand gripped a black Glock pistol.

echoed from the street. Two men were talking in low,

but his arm shook violently from blood loss

metal on the man's wrist. It was a limited-edition Patek Philippe watch. A watch that cost more than a house.

h the back of her bruised hand. Crying was for the weak. Amelie Pierce was dead, ripped apart in the mud. The woman breathing in this alley was Gena, a ghost resurrected solely for revenge. She needed power to crush Hubert and Ara. S

istol backward, aiming for her skull. Gena jerked her head b

to live," Gena whisper

arp eyes locking onto hers. He saw a soaking wet g

nd dragged him deeper into the narrow gap between the dumpster and the wall. She pu

, blinding beams of tactical flashlights swep

s pressed flush against the man's chest. She could feel the

the man's soaked shirt and hit th

ing. The heavy footsteps started w

fingers tightened around the metal car keys

e top of the dumpster, knocking over a stack of empty gla

beam swung away. "Nothing here, just trash. Let's check t

ore she pushed the wet cardboard off them. She let out

A cynical, lazy smirk touched his pale lips. "Thank

ed directly into the inner breast

el vice. His grip was painfully strong despite his injury. His

st free, reached back in, and pulled out his black leather wallet

card hit her like a physical b

He was the black sheep of the Pierce family, a notorious playboy, an

ed the massive wave of shock and vicious joy down into her stomach. Fate hadn't ju

icro-expressions on her face. "You know m

o his chest. "I know the Pierce family. Didn't expect to find

nt pulled his wound. He wasn't offended

her voice flat. "You owe me. I n

piercing wail of NYPD sirens erupted from the mai

e seen by the cops right now," he

t. Together, they limped out of the shadows, moving toward the rusty fire esca