Page 1 of Rhys

PROLOGUE

Vanessa staredat the blood on her hands. It was almost completely dry now; the dark crimson stains having settled in the slight crevices of her delicate skin.

Her cuticles were thick with the stuff, fingernails coated and caked. But it wasn’t the blood that had Vanessa frozen in place. No, it was the way her hands trembled that had her locked in a sort of unshakable trance.

That, and the the knowledge that the woman who’s blood she was desperate to rid herself of had died in Vanessa’s arms less than thirty minutes ago.

I’m sorry, Rose. I’m so, so sorry.

She blinked, the movement freeing a set of twin tears from her stinging eyes. Turning on the faucet, Vanessa sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the plumbing in the run-down gas station bathroom worked as she waited for the sputtering water to heat up. Once it was as hot as she could stand it, she pumped several drops of liquid soap from the wall-mounted dispenser and dipped her hands beneath the steaming stream.

Minutes passed as she worked at an almost frantic pace with her effort to erase Rose’s blood from her hands. Flashes of unwelcomed images intruded Vanessa’s scattered thoughts; the water gathering in the small porcelain basin in shades of swirling reds.

Vanessa wasn’t sure how long she stood there, nor did she keep track of how many times she washed—and re-washed—her nearly raw hands. But eventually, long after the water had once again turned clear, she turned the faucet off and patted her skin dry.

With a few quick swipes on, in, and around the white basin to avoid leaving any traces of blood or prints, Vanessa wadded up the cheap, rough towels and tossed them into the metal trash can positioned near the door. A quick glance in the dirty mirror reminded her of other things that needed to be dumped.

The wig. Glasses. Jacket.

Removing them all, she pulled her bottle-brown hair from the tight bun that had been hidden beneath the wig’s thick, blonde strands. After running her fingers through the curly locks, she then turned the jacket inside-out before wrapping it around the blonde wig and fake eyeglasses.

With the wadded items in one hand, Vanessa used the other to dig a well through the trove of used paper towels that, thankfully, filled the large metal can over halfway full.

Vanessa shoved her haul deep into the can before covering it back up with the mound of spent trash. Washing her hands a final time, she turned with the intention of leaving. But she didn’t leave.

Instead she stared at the doorknob as if it were on fire. She needed to leave. She’d been here far too long as it was. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to make her legs move.

You’re not ready. Not yet.

Looking back at her reflection, Vanessa realized the tiny voice in her head was right. She needed a minute—one she didn’t really have—to compose herself and regroup.

A memory that would forever be frozen in her mind shot to the forefront of her blurred vision. Rose—sweet, innocent Rose—was staring back at her. Those innocent blue eyes so filled with fear Vanessa could almost stillfeelit deep within herself.

The poor, brave woman had been looking right into Vanessa’s eyes when the first of five bullets struck her down. And because of who she was and what she knew, Vanessa had had no choice but to leave her there, lying dead in the park’s damp grass, as she ran away like a coward.

If you’d stuck around, you would be dead, too.

Though there was validity in the thought, the truth behind it did nothing to absorb the pain filling her heart. Closing her eyes, Vanessa bowed her head, allowing herself a full sixty seconds to grieve all that she’d lost.

Feeling as though she was drowning in sea of sadness, she mourned the loss of an alias that took years to perfect and a case to which she’d dedicated the last eleven months of her life.

Standing in the middle of a shithole gas station bathroom—the kind accessed only from the outside behind the small, cinder block building—Vanessa screamed at the top of her lungs. Her throat became raw with the storm of emotions bombarding her darkened soul.

Helpless and hopeless were never her thing, yet here she was, feeling as though all she’d worked so hard for…all she’ddone…had been for nothing.

The reality of the situation obliterated Vanessa’s usual optimism, the weight she bore every single day suddenly becoming damn near unbearable. For years, she’d been expected to blindly follow orders. To trust the men and women in charge and take them at their word.

It was laughable, really. Especially given the fact that those same people she’d entrusted with her life—and the lives of others—were quite literally professional liars. Masters of deceit who used their skills for the greater good. Or so she’d been led to believe.

I’ve been so very stupid.

With another eruption of anger, Vanessa smacked the palm of her hand against the wall’s cool stone. Again and again, she slapped the rough surface as she released her pent-up fury over what had happened.

To Rose.

To her.

With each new second that passed and every scream that fell from her lips, her frustration grew exponentially. God, she was so sickof this. Ofallof it…

---