A Harmless Little Game (Harmless #1)

 

This will never end, will it? They’re relentless. They’re not going to back off. In fact, they’re emboldened now.

 

They should be.

 

They’re succeeding.

 

It only stops when I’m dead.

 

Or when they are.

 

I find the text from my hacker contact and reply with the pre-determined code. A picture appears on the screen. It’s Blaine Maisri, shaking hands with my dad, Anya in the background, beaming.

 

A second picture appears. It’s Drew, on his side, naked, the top half of him exposed, his body limp with sleep. In the upper right-hand corner, the tiniest hint of red cloth appears. His face is bruised, his hip a deep red.

 

I go cold.

 

I know that red cloth.

 

It’s one of the scarves. One of my scarves.

 

You have a choice. Drew’s words chill me now, a premonition he didn’t realize he was making. He meant I had a choice about touch and sound and feel and goodness, but I also have a choice about stopping those bastards once and for all.

 

Or do I? Maybe I have no free will.

 

Maybe I can’t control what needs to be done.

 

Moonlight shines through the slit in my curtains, drawing my attention to steel and leather.

 

Drew’s gun.

 

An idea pours into my mind, like concrete into a mold, injected and fully formed. I can’t fight it, though my rational mind tries. It flails and objects, but impulse overrides it, pinning logic in place, smothering it.

 

I look at the gun.

 

I stare at Drew, his steady breath so vulnerable and strong at the same time. He trusts me. He gave himself to me. What does that picture of him mean? And why would my darknet contact from the Island send that?

 

A third picture appears.

 

It’s Blaine.

 

Making a kissy face at me.

 

Can your heart start and stop in the same second?

 

I look at the gun again.

 

I know what to do next.

 

I know how to protect myself.

 

Revenge is finally mine.

 

 

 

Read the next book in the series, from Drew’s perspective, A Harmless Little Ruse:

 

 

 

She has no idea what she’s doing. Loose cannons never hit their targets.

 

And they take out plenty of collateral damage.

 

Four years ago Lindsay experienced the unspeakable right before me, and I couldn’t stop them.

 

But that’s all changed now.

 

When her father, Senator Bosworth, contacted me two months ago to ask — demand — that I protect her, it was a second chance. A shot at redemption.

 

An opportunity to right an unfathomable wrong.

 

Controlling Lindsay as she seeks her revenge on the monsters who hurt her won’t be hard.

 

Containing my own out-of-control feelings for Lindsay and keeping up this ruse of cold-blooded distance will be.

 

Even harder than admitting to her what really happened that night four years ago.

 

It turns out I don’t have to, though.

 

Someone else did it for me.

 

And I’ll make sure they regret it.

 

 

 

Here’s how the next book starts:

 

I wake up to an empty bed.

 

It’s not mine.

 

Lindsay’s gone.

 

I can feel a change in the air. I jump to my feet, instantly alert, blood pumping to arms and legs that are battle-ready.

 

I grab my gun belt and --

 

What the hell?

 

My gun is missing.

 

Gun’s gone.

 

Lindsay’s gone.

 

Oh, shit.

 

She didn’t?

 

She did.