Spider's Bite

You're late." "Sorry. I was busy talking about my feelings and killing people.

You're just jealous." "Hardly. Been there, done you. Adequate, but unremarkable.

Luck hadn't smiled on me tonight. Capricious bitch.

You picked that out?” Caine asked. “That pink, plastic toy?” I turned to look at him. “I happen to have been a little girl, once upon a time, detective. I know what they like. Every little girl wants to be a princess.” A thoughtful frown overcame the angry tension on Caine’s rugged face. “And what happens when they grow up?” I thought of my mother and sisters and all the horrors that had happened the day they’d died. A bitter laugh escaped from my tight lips. “Then they just want to be little girls again.

Executive Vice President? That's a nice way of saying he's someone's corporate bitch.

Emotions were for those too weak to turn them off.

You can work with me—or you can wade through the blood and bodies after I'm done.

I might be an assassin, but never let it be said I wasn't as gracious a hostess as the next gal.

Finn raised his coffee öug to me. "That's my girl. A bitch to the bitter end." I saluted him with my sadwich. "Always

I'd come to terms with what I did long ago. The bodies, the blood, the tears of those left behind. Even the fact I was probably going to burn in hell didn't bother me. Much.

This is really good,” Donovan Caine said, attacking his third strawberry pancake. “You sound surprised,” I said. He shrugged. “I just didn’t think an assassin would be able to cook like this.” “Well, I do get lots of practice with knives. You could say I’m multitasking.” The detective froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “I’m kidding. I enjoy cooking. It relaxes me.

Oh, Finn isn’t an assassin,” I cut in. “He’s much, much worse. He’s a banker.

Maybe I find him...interesting. Attractive in an uptight sort of way. But that won't keep me from killing him if he does something stupid—like try to double-cross us. That is something thats nonnegotiable, no matter how much fuck potential he might have.

They’d played “Sweet Home, Alabama” so many times I wanted to crash the party, kill the radio, and knife whoever was selecting the music.

He gave me his word. That means something to a man like Donovan Caine. Yeah, it means you'll realize he's an exceptionally good liar when you're clutching your intestines and choking on your own blood on his living room floor.

Still, I'd do anything for him. Even smear his clotting blood inside the vehicle of his choosing.

The two men eyed each other. Assessing strengths. Looking for weaknesses. Measuring dicks once again

...he was muttering my name over and over. Gin, Gin, Gin. Like it was some sort of prayer—or a curse. Sexiest damn thing I’d ever heard.

You've got a thing for Donovan Caine. You have ever since you killed Ingles, his partner, and he went all dogged and determined on you.

Easy was for people too weak to suck it up and do what needed to be done. And I wasn’t weak. Not anymore.

Donovan Caine naked, water droplets sliding down his lean body, his muscles clenching and relaxing as he washes himself. Mmm. Nice image. Despite our earlier confrontation, I still found the detective extremely sexy. He'd be even more attractive if he'd lose the righteous anger and the stick up his ass. But no man was perfect.

Killing someone was easy - getting away with it was what was truly challenging.

Asylum. The word always made me smile. Such a pretty name for a hellhole.

Ding-dong," I said. "The bitch is dead.

Handcuffs. Kinky. But I prefer to have a bit more freedom during sex. Don’t you?

Honesty will get you killed in this city.

I’d never been one to take the easy path in life. Easy was for people too weak to suck it up and do what needed to be done. And I wasn’t weak. Not anymore.