Series: Penny Dee
Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
In the silence of the morgue, she fixes what violence ruins. Bullet wounds disappear beneath careful stitching. Evidence vanishes. Secrets are buried with the dead. Every crew in the city relies on her.
All except one.
The largest. The most powerful. The one even other criminals fear.
She has spent years avoiding them.
Until the night their leader walks through her doors.
He does not shout. He does not threaten. He simply watches her work, calm, immaculate, disturbingly intrigued. When he tells her she will be working for him from now on, it sounds less like a request and more like fate closing in.
She refuses.
He returns.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The more she resists, the more fascinated he becomes. He calls her extraordinary. Says her talent is wasted on small men with smaller ambitions. Says beautiful things belong in powerful hands.
He thinks she will bend.
He has no idea she has been surrounded by monsters her entire life and survived them all.
Written consecutively by three authors meaning every twist, betrayal, and obsession forced the next writer deeper into the dark
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
LEONORE
The dead never bothered me. It was the living who made a mess. It’s one of the reasons I chose this work. Above all things, I enjoy it. To the normal person, that sounds weird, but not to me. The music blasts through the speakers that I had installed when I took over this place more than four years ago. My assistant walks in with her noise-canceling headphones and her chocolate hair tied up in a bun on her head because she said she’s sensitive to sound, when in reality, Tori just hates my music. Her hands fold over one another as she stands on the opposite side of the stainless steel table. She looks at the body, chest split open, as I begin to stitch it up, humming to the music, in my happy place.
My music suddenly goes quiet as she presses a button and removes her headphones.
“Time of death?” she asks, her face slightly pale. She hates coming in here, but I pay her well. And despite how much she detests it here, or even working the night shift, she does it without fail. I went through two employees before finally landing on Tori. She has a smart mouth, which I appreciate and need, considering who I work for. Not only is she efficient but most importantly, she’s discreet.
“Two hours ago,” I tell her, looking over my handiwork so far. “Give or take.” I shrug.
She swallows hard, her gaze sweeping over the body again of a man who looked to be in his mid-fifties. “Give or take,” she repeats with a grim expression. I get it. For most people, looking down at a dead body is unsettling, but I’m the opposite. Each body that arrives in my morgue is like a new puzzle. “They’re waiting for you,” Tori says, visibly uncomfortable.
I sigh, annoyed that they’re already encroaching on my fun.
Tying off the final suture and wiping my hands, I peel off the gloves. Officially, the man lying on my table choked on his own blood during a robbery gone wrong. Unofficially, he was executed in the back seat of his car by someone who knew exactly where to aim.
After disposing of the gloves, I catch my reflection in the stainless steel bins as I walk out to where I know they’re waiting. My long, deep-plum hair is pulled back in a braid so it stays out of my way, and my scrubs are black, which is fitting, really. Glancing away, I push open the door to find four men in the receiving room, all dressed in black, guns hidden beneath their tailored jackets—the Hayes crew, the third strongest family in the city. I watch as Cian slides an envelope across the counter in greeting.
“You did good work,” he says with a smirk. Cian knows he’s attractive, and every time he comes in, he looks at me a little too long with rich brown eyes that are anything but kind.
Most women probably melt under attention like that. Maybe that’s why he does it, because he is used to people folding for him. But not me. His attention doesn’t make me nervous. It irritates me more than anything. The arrogance of it. The way he acts like every look is calculated, every word designed to chip away at me until I finally crack open for him.
“I know.” I don’t need him to tell me I do good work. When I don’t make a move to touch the money, he makes a point to lean his elbows on the counter so he is a little closer to me. I don’t back up. I stay exactly where I am. He always tries to unravel me, but it hasn’t worked yet.
His eyes flutter to the money, and he looks back at me.
“You don’t want it?” he asks.
Without a second thought, I open the drawer in front of me and slide the envelope inside without counting it.
He smirks. “You trust I gave you the right amount?” he asks as he pushes off the counter.
I don’t like Cian. He’s the kind of man who stares at himself in the window reflection a little too long. With his dark hair and custom suits, he looks like he should own the room when he walks in. But he doesn’t.
I don’t hide the contempt on my face.
Cian tips his head at me when I don’t answer. One thing I know for certain about men like Cian is that they like the chase and the game, so I simply don’t play. They’ll get bored trying soon enough.
A smile twitches at his lips, but he has the better sense to leave with his men. I watch them as they walk through the door and wait to see the headlights on the car disappear before I walk into the back room where Tori’s office is.