Page 3 of Saving Scarlett

Bane’s gaze dipped to my mouth and then lower, a slow perusal that had heat pooling low in my belly. I shifted on my feet, torn between embarrassment at my reaction and a reckless urge to move closer to him, to close the space between us.

When his eyes returned to mine, a knowing glint lit their depths. As if he sensed the effect he had on me. As if he relished it. I didn’t doubt he had that effect on all the ladies.

A blush stained my cheeks and I took a step back, breaking the spell. “Well,” I said, a bit breathless, “let me know if you need any more book recommendations. I’m always here.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.” Amusement lurked in his tone and he gave a slight bow of his head. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Scarlett.”

Saving me from embarrassing myself any further, the bell above the door jingled, telling me new customers had entered the store. I smiled at him once more before turning to look back toward the counter, my hands twisting in my apron.

“That’s my cue, but if you come to the register, I would be happy to give you a cup of coffee—on the house, of course. Since you have such good taste in books.”

Chapter 2

The Savior

The moonlight glinted off the blade of my favorite knife as I crept through the shadows toward my target. My footsteps were silent, my breathing steady. I was in my element.

Pausing behind a pillar, my eyes scanned the lavish ballroom before they fell on Auguste LaRoche, the corrupt businessman who had made far too many enemies. His receding hairline did nothing to hide the look of smug entitlement on his face as he laughed loudly with a group of partygoers. Little did he know those would be the last laughs he ever shared. Moving away from the group, he lifted his whiskey to his mouth, watching his guests.

I adjusted my grip on the knife, the leather of my gloves creaking ever so slightly. LaRoche’s personal bodyguards stood several feet away, oblivious to the predator in their midst. Fools. Their complacency would cost their boss his life.

In one swift movement, I slipped behind LaRoche and pressed the cold steel to his throat, pulling him behind the pillar with me. His laughter transformed into a strangled gasp. The bodyguards whirled around, hands flying to their hip holsters, but they were too late. I’d already pulled him into a back hallway—out of sight.

“Please, I’ll give you anything. Just don’t—“

His begging turned into a gurgle as I slashed the knife across his throat, scarlet spilling down his white tuxedo shirt as he collapsed onto the white marble floor. As chaos erupted in the ballroom a moment later when his guards undoubtedly found him, I was already gone, disappearing into the night.

Another contract was completed. It was another day my niece would live to see, thanks to the funds from the night’s kill. For her, I would paint the world red. For her, I would be a monster.

The sterile scent of antiseptic hit my nose as I walked through the automatic doors of the hospital. So late at night, the lights in the hallways were dimmed, the bustling crowds of the daytime replaced by the soft footsteps of nurses on night shift. I made my way to the pediatric intensive care unit, the one place in this world that made my chest constrict with emotion. It was past visiting hours, but no one ever stopped me from entering when I showed up. My money paid for part of their salary.

I nodded to the nurse at the desk before continuing to room four hundred and twenty-eight—Evelyn’s room. Pushing the door open with a gentle hand, my eyes landed on my seven-year-old niece’s tiny body lying motionless in the bed, the steady beep of the heart monitor the only indication she still clung to life. Her skin was pale, her bald head covered by a pink knitted cap. Dark circles stood out under her closed eyes, eyes that should have been filled with joy and laughter rather than pain.

Pulling a chair up next to her bed, I took her tiny hand in mine. So delicate, so fragile. Hard to believe that little hand once felt strong enough to grab onto my fingers as I swung her around the yard.

“Hey kiddo,” I whispered. “I’m back.”

No response, not that I expected one. The experimental treatment kept her unconscious most days, her body too weak to face the world. But I knew on some level she could sense I was there.

“I did it. I got the money for your next treatment.” My voice caught, wishing I could take away her pain. “So, you just hang in there. You’re going to get better soon, I promise.”

Bringing her hand up to my lips, I kissed it before setting it back down. I had to believe she would recover. The alternative was too agonizing to face.

“I love you, Evie. Be strong for me.”

I sat with her a while longer, keeping a silent vigil over her fragile form. For her, I would walk through the fires of hell. For her, I would make sure she survived—no matter the cost.

The door opened and I turned to see my sister entering, her black hair pulled back into a messy bun. Dark circles stood out under her eyes as well, testament to the many sleepless nights she’d spent at Evelyn’s bedside.

Sitting beside me, Caroline placed a delicate hand on my shoulder. “She’s fighting hard. Our girl’s a warrior.”

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. Evelyn was the strongest person I knew, enduring endless treatments and pain with seldom a complaint.

Tapping the white, two-by-three piece of cardstock in my hand, I listened as the stiff-shirt CEO across from me droned on about the hit he wanted to take out on his unsuspecting wife and exactly how he wanted it done. Killing was my thing. It was the one thing I was really fucking good at, and I didn’t need this asshole telling me how to do my job. Still, I didn’t interrupt him. The more he spoke, the redder his face became, and I secretly hoped he would have a heart attack and keel over in his chair. I already had his payment in my pocket, a stack of unmarked bills that he wasn’t getting back, even if he did croak in front of me.

Whenever I met with a potential client for the first time, I always tried to come up with their story in my headfirst just to see how close I was—just to see how good I was at reading people. This guy was easy, no matter how hard he tried to convince me otherwise. He wanted to convince me that his wife was evil incarnate, the devil in disguise, but it all came down to greed. That’s all it ever was for these white-collar assholes looking for a hit on their spouses.

From what I gathered, he wanted her out of the way, but he wanted to keep all the money. Simply put, his mistress was pregnant, and he wanted to marry her. Out with the old and in with the new. He knew if his wife found out, she would take him for all he was worth, but if she died… If his wife died in any way other than suicide, he would make a killing on her life insurance. Pun intended. Then, he would be able to marry his current mistress and find a new side piece as well. In other words, he would be able to move on with his life by repeating the cycle.

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