Page 1 of Hard Luck (Blackstone House)

CHAPTER 1

JEZEBEL

The complete upending of my life started one sunny April with a hastily arranged wedding in the Black Diamond Hotel, Las Vegas. Not mine, thank fuck. I didn’t do marriage. Hell, I didn’t even date. My one and only attempt at a serious relationship had ended in death—his and not mine, clearly—and I’d long since returned to the world of superficial hookups and no-strings sex.

The loved-up fools in question were my former roommate-slash-fuck-buddy and his girlfriend of roughly a week, although she’d worked for him for several months, so I guess that him bitching about his emails counted as courtship in their book. Anyhow, I’d been invited to witness him make what was possibly the second biggest mistake of his life, and since Vegas was the closest thing I had to a home, I figured I’d go for the free food. And also, it turned out, for the handsome-in-the-rough guy at the bar.

That had been five and a half hours ago. Now, I felt for the next step, toes outstretched, the wood cool against the soles of my feet.Nice knowin’ ya, hot stuff.In thirty minutes, I’d be back in my own bed, ready to snatch a few hours’sleep before I hit the gym at six. Did sex count as cardio? I mean, it had certainly raised my heart rate. Cole had been a ten until he tried the whole cuddling thing afterward—I’d signed up for a quick fuck, not a cosy tête-à-tête. This was why I usually hooked up with assholes. They didn’t give one single shit about my feelings.

They didn’t ask for anything more than a wet pussy.

They didn’t abuse my trust and put my career—and my life—in danger.

Silently, I shifted my stilettos to my other hand and checked my watch. Ten past two. If I picked up a pizza on the way home, would that be classed as a late dinner or an early breakfast?

What if I chased it with vodka? Dinner, right?

On second thought, it was almost lunchtime in Italy, so a glass of vino would be more appropriate.

In the hallway, a grandfather clock ticked steadily, and I timed my footsteps with the movement.Step, step, step.The house wasn’t quite what I’d expected from a man like Cole. I’d figured him for an “untidy hotel room” kind of guy, but what I found when he took me back to his place was a big old ranch-style home set on a generous lot in McNeil, full of old tchotchkes and vintage furniture that looked like the real deal. A small part of me had wanted to ask him why he was living in a time warp, but the bigger part wanted a fast orgasm and a full night’s sleep. One orgasm had turned into three, all better than expected, which was why I was exiting stage left in the early hours. Cole was snoring softly in his king-size bed, face down and dead to the world.

I’d taken one last lingering look at his ass before I walked out the door.

So long, angel. It’s been fun.

I paused in the living room to check my phone. It was my lucky day—an African prince wanted to send me fifty million bucks, and all I had to do was pay the admin fee. Ifthe poor dumb schmuck had known what I did to African princes with dubious ethics, he’d have tried his utmost to stay off my radar. I clicked over to the Order of Service app. I forget who came up with the name for our group chat. Probably Echo, the team geek.

Me

Anyone near McNeil?

Storm

Yes, but twenty thousand feet up.

Me

Then shouldn’t you be concentrating on flying the plane?

Storm

I’m a woman. I can multitask. Besides, this baby practically flies herself.

Storm was the newest member of the Choir. Our pilot. She split her time between testing experimental aircraft that didn’t officially exist and supporting our little team.

Three years ago, our mentor, Priest, had taken over the project with one simple brief: build a new special forces unit, but make it female. Overload that estrogen. Harness that feminine rage. We were an experiment. What, if anything, could women do that men couldn’t? The answer? A lot. We were smart, and we were sneaky, plus we had a genetic advantage—nearly everyone underestimated us.

Tulsa

It’s 2 a.m. Just stay until morning. Ride the dick again.

Uh, no. It would be harder to sneak out in daylight, and what if Cole was an early riser? He might suggest getting breakfast, or worse, want to talk. I shuddered at the thought.

Me

Negative.

Sin

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