Page 1 of Dirty Ex-Mas
Prologue
Quinn
The instructions had been clear, broken down into steps for me to follow. What should have been fool-proof, I messed up somehow. In my defense, I’m not a professional assassin. Tonight, I was supposed to break my contract-killer cherry. Instead, I’d proven to Daria, my best friend and now boss, that I had the attention span of a gnat on speed in a room full of light bulbs.
Step One - Dress the part.
The invitation to the fancy party called for black tie attire. Wearing a dark green, sheath-style, floor-length, strapless Armani knock-off gown with a slit up to my chin, my fierce three-inch, closed-toe, suede heels matched perfectly. Platform, so I could run if I needed to. I styled my hair half up half down all curled and elegant-like. Minimal makeup and dark red lipstick—non-smudge of course—finished my look.
Step Two - Don’t be late.
I’d arrived on time to the venue—a crazy huge mansion on the hill, complete with valet parking and a thirty-foot, fully decorated Christmas tree outside. Made it into the party with ease, grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter so I would blend in, then checked and double checked my surroundings. Still with plenty of time to spare. Piece of cake.
Step Three - Blend in.
That was a cinch. I’m good in a crowd: social and seen or aloof and unnoticed. I’d gone with the latter tonight and had been way ahead of the curve, if I say so myself. I held a glass of champagne just like everyone else—which I wasn’t drinking so I could keep a clear head just like Daria cautioned—and I’d been quietly mingling. Playing the part of a holiday engagement party goer.
Nothing to see here, folks. Just another ordinary girl at an everyday party.
Step Four - Identify your mark.
According to the instructions, I’d know my mark once the speeches started. He would be the first one up, starting out by thanking everyone for coming. Since the speeches hadn’t started yet, I’d felt safe skipping to the next step for the time being.
Looking back, I realize this was probably where things started to get a little dicey for me, I just didn’t know it. I mean, I don’t want to get ahead of myself here, but I should have known to abort mission right then. But, I didn’t.
Instead, I’d moved on.
Step Five - Get into position.
To me step five was presumptuous and based entirely on step four. If I hadn’t found my mark yet, no way was I going to know where to be in position. Right?
So, I’d skipped it.
Step Six - Double check your weapon.
Obviously, I’m not a pro. Not like Daria and the rest of her girls. Tonight was the trial run for me. A chance to prove to Daria that I was up to doing some of herdirtierwork. So, for me, checking my weapon meant finding a corner somewhere, turning my back to the party, and making sure the gun was still in my clutch. It was. I’d turned the safety off, made sure the silencer was in place, pulled it out of my bag, kept my hand firm on the grip, and my finger away from the trigger. Then hid my hand, holding the gun behind my clutch and turned back around to face the party.
And saw him.
Reed Roberts. The man I’d been in love with most of my adult life. Well, really the past year or so, but it felt like much longer.
In a tuxedo.
It was one of thosebe still my heartmoments. I’ll take a man in a tux any day, I tell you, but Reed in a tux is something else altogether. I think I got knocked up just looking at him. I mean, I could have leaned forward and licked him if I’d wanted to. It was just me and him, sharing the same airspace, at the same exclusive party.
Was that mistletoe he was standing under?
Now I realize that’s how I made mistake number one.
Because it didn’t even occur to me to wonder why Reed was at the party. So caught up in the magic of seeing him in formalwear was I, all common sense flew right out the window. I’d maneuvered myself around and tried to see who Reed was talking to, hopping in place to get a clearer view only resulted in spilling my champagne. So, I’d made my way over to the giant fireplace to stand tiptoe atop the hearth, steadying myself with the branches of the decorated Christmas tree nearby. One of themanydecorated trees inside the house. But it gave me those few extra inches in height I so desperately needed to—
Holy crap, what washedoing here?
Reed was talking to David Tremblay.
My ex.
The same one who was responsible for friend-zoning me with Reed to begin with. I mean, sure they’re friends, the best of friends, so it made sense that they’d talk when they saw each other. But I definitely did not have room in my plan for David tonight. Not to mention, David was bound to remind Reed that David and I had once been a couple, brief though our interlude may have been. Which would then remind him (Reed) I was persona non grata in his world. After which he wouldn’t want anything to do with me.
