Page 1 of Dirty Daria
Prologue
AKA: What’s happened so far:
Dirty Ex-Mas, introduced the first few characters of the Dirty Darlings World:
Daria Limonov, owner of Dirty Dar’s Bar and Grill, descendant of Lidya Limonov—the original femme fatale and famous Russian military sniper in WWII. And thanks to such lineage, Daria is a secret assassin of bad guys, along with The Dirty Darlings, her small crew of cold-hearted killers moonlighting as bartenders and cocktail waitresses.
Quinn Foster, Daria’s best friend, an under-employed goofball with questionable taste in men except for her incessant crush on Reed Roberts.
Reed Roberts, an FBI agent with a secret crush on Quinn that he won’t do anything about it because she used to date his best friend, David Tremblay. (More on David in a minute.)
Mack Murphy, Reed’s FBI partner and Daria’s ex. She broke it off when she found out he was a Fed. Mack, being the kick-ass agent that he is, already knew Daria was an assassin and was trying (unsuccessfully) not to care. But once she found out Mack knew, she became determined to save him from himself—and save his career—by distancing herself. Quinn and Mack both know Daria’s secret, Reed does not.
David Tremblay, Reed’s best friend from childhood and potential bad guy. As in “selling women into the sex slave trade to work off a debt” level of assholery.
* * *
And now a quick recap . . .
During an investigation, Mack and Reed stumbled across information that implicated David in a local kidnapping/human trafficking ring. David is about to be married and Reed is his best man, putting Reed in an awkward position personally, professionally, and emotionally. Mack and Daria teamed up and used Quinn as a distraction to crash David’s engagement party.
Reed caught Quinn at the party and the two had a moment while Reed tried to pin Quinn down as to her motives for being there. Meanwhile, Daria and Mack kidnapped David and later forced him to confess his involvement in front of Reed.
Reed and Mack agreed to let David go with the understanding that he will help lead them to the guys David delivers the girls to, the ones involved in the selling of the women.
Which about brings us to now . . .
1
Reed
I can’t even force myself to look at David right now. To hear him admit that he’s involved, regardless of his reasons, makes me sick. He’s cuffed and sitting next to me in the back seat of the SUV. His left eye is puffy and closed over, the skin over his right cheekbone is split, and the blood under his nose and on the side of his chin is dry and crusty. He groans in pain whenever the truck rolls over a pothole or uneven wear in the road. I don’t feel sorry for him. Not at all.
I watch the varying holiday light displays blur as we speed past them. It’s always amazing to me just how much effort people will put into decorating their homes for Christmas. It’s not something my parents ever did. A string of lights along the eaves of the front, but that was about it.
These houses have inflatable snowmen and reindeer looming large on rooftops, Santa statues with picturesque backlighting, and strings of lights on every surface—some blinking, some white, some colored. Holiday light and decor viewing has become an annual event for families. Homeowners associations give awards for the best presentation. Entire streets shut down and join together to partake in this universal greater good.
And then, of course, you have assholes like David who embody the exact opposite of coming together for the greater good. He makes me sick.
I turn away from the window to face him. “You remember the cover story, right?”
He nods in response.
“Use your words, David,” I instruct.
“Yes,” he forces out.
“Tell me.”
He opens his mouth to speak, splitting his lip open anew from the effort. “Three guys dressed in masks jumped me in the back room of the house before you guys could get to me. You rescued me and got me to the safe house.”
“Close enough,” Mack calls from the front seat. “Do not veer from the story. Don’t improvise, don’t embellish, and most of all don’t answer any questions. Got it?”
“Got it,” David confirms.
We are nearing his house, where we’ll be dropping him for the night. He’ll have twenty-four-hour surveillance for the next week—through the day of the wedding. I still plan to attend as his best man, after which Mack and I will tail him on his honeymoon. A romantic two-week trip to Maldives with my FBI partner is not exactly something I’m looking forward to. We still have to work out the logistics, so maybe it will end up being better than I think it will.
That’s a lie. I don’t believe that at all. Having Quinn go with me would be much nicer. Seeing Quinn in a bikini would make everything better. I think back to earlier tonight, when I had her in my arms and we almost kissed. How hard I was, how good she felt; her soft body pressed against me—
