Page 1 of Sweet Animosity

CHAPTER 1

VIVIAN

Crashing down into his arms from the ceiling was trouble enough, but his furious gaze was worse.

I was now in serious danger.

The problem with working with criminals was that they were, well… criminals.

I couldn’t trust a single one of them as far as I could throw them.

This bastard owed me money and was skipping town without paying.

I didn’t care that he was some big, fancy dictator of some country I’d never even heard of.

A deal was a deal. I’d held up my end. Now he needed to pay up.

Although it wouldn’t provide much protection, I stuffed a switchblade into my Marc Jacobs tote bag before storming down to the warehouse.

The knife was more of a novelty item, with its pink pearl handle covered in silver glitter hearts, but strictly speaking—it was still a freaking knife.

And would show him I meant business.

After entering the warehouse from the loading dock, my first warning was the horrible, rotten egg smell. This differed from the usual moldy wood and stale urine stench that permeated the century-old brick and cement building.

The hair on the back of my neck rose as I approached the hallway, which led to Abakar’s office. My ears strained to hear the usual banal conversation about dog track races and women from the two bodyguards, who were usually stationed outside the door.

Nothing.

The hallway wasn’t silent as much as there wasn’t any sound.

It was too silent.

Like a forest with no bird song.

If I didn’t need the money, I would have fled.

That stupid commission took me six months. I worked on it to the exclusion of all other projects. I had rent due, a car payment, bills, and a designer purse addiction to feed.

Abakar owed me a lot of money. I couldn’t afford to just walk away.

My steps slowed as I neared a corner. I cautiously inched forward and peeked around the brick edge.

Several large men dressed all in black and holding guns marched down the opposite end of the hall. My gaze shifted to Abakar’s reinforced steel office door. Two twining curls of smoke rose from the hinges. The source of the acrid sulphur stench.

It was a hit squad.

No amount of money was worth my life.

With panic overwhelming me, I turned and sprinted up the closest staircase.

The moment I reached the landing, I realized my mistake. The second level of the warehouse was just a massive open space filled with litter and dust, but nothing else. Nowhere to hide.

Before retracing my steps, I heard the hollow ping of metal clanging against cement echoing down the hall. Then raised, angry voices.

It was too late.

As I spun in a circle, I spotted the maintenance access panel. I thrust my hand into my purse and shifted it around the bottom, searching by touch for my switchblade.

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