Starr has faced some tough times but in this third book... life gets tougher! Some people turn against her and she's going to have to decide what's real and what's just another trick to get her to do what the Organization wants. Here's an excerpt...
Ding-dong the bitch is dead. Which old bitch? The wicked bitch… and her flying monkey, slack jawed next to her. ’Tis a night to remember is what it is. ’Tis a night to remember. Well, except for Frank. I wish I could forget that nanosecond that he leaped in front of Starr as Sami pulled the trigger.
Now, I blot Starr’s hoodie into his wound, staunching the blood, praying to any god who will listen to save this heroic man.
The EMTs burst into the room behind Ben. They hurry over to the tangled bodies of Sami and Jody, but Ben stops them before they drop their bags. He points. He motions. They argue. Shake their heads. Pump their fists. He points again. At Frank. At me next to Frank. Covered in blood.
Eyes wide, they rush over. I lift the hoodie away from the wound. Blood slowly seeps out, but it’s not the geyser of a few minutes ago when Starr was still here, when Frank professed his undying love for her. She would have stayed. She would never have left Frank’s side. If not for Christian physically removing her, she’d be here still. She would have risked it all—her life, her freedom for Frank, but she won’t be a martyr. Not with her team here.
Sami and Jody will take the fall for their hand in this sordid mess. So will the Organization and General Treadwell if I have my way. The story I have begun to weave will lead the authorities exactly where I want them to go.
I don’t know what happened to the girls, Officer. I came into the room, saw Frank, and dialed 911. The girls were already on the floor.
Law enforcement doesn’t need to know about my Taser. The thrill of firing it into two bitches is one I will not give up without a fight and a full body cavity search.
The EMTs roll Frank onto a stretcher. I follow behind, past the two prone bodies, past the two officers talking to Coda, and out into the ambulance. “I’m his sister,” I say to the seated EMT.
She raises her eyebrow. She raises her hand to stop me as I climb in. “In the front. Ashley, passenger coming!”
I climb back out. The metal stairs made for someone with far more reach than me. I drag my hand along the side of the ambulance as I go. The smooth, flat, unforgiving surface reassures me that Frank’s safe. That no one will get him in there. No one would dare try. I climb up on the running board and swing myself into the cab. The driver, not a woman as I assumed with a name like Ashley, fixes his large amber eyes on me. They seep with kindness, removing any stereotypes I may have garnered with name, gender, and common decency. “Buckle up,” he says. He flicks the siren on, then hits the gas. My body smacks against the back of the seat. “I warned you,” he chuckles.
I shoot him a glare as I slip the buckle in.
A Starr gone. A team betrayed.
You never know who your true friends are until a gun’s pointed at you. One will take a bullet, and the other will pull the trigger. Starr learned that lesson the hard way.
The perfect smile. A killer attitude. General Treadwell wanted nothing more than to turn Starr Bishop into the ideal assassin, but she’s far more valuable as Jessica Chamberlain, granddaughter and heir to Chamberlain Chocolates. Luckily, he’s found two enthusiastic replacements. They lack Starr’s intelligence, but no matter, they possess their own weapons of persuasion along with a flair for the dramatic, and that’s never a bad thing.
Di, along with Christian, Frank, Ben and Coda, are determined to keep Starr safe, but the depths of betrayal crack the very foundation of the team. When Starr becomes a pawn in a game of power, money, and manipulation, Di channels her WWSD (What Would Starr Do) to rally the team. She owes her best friend that much. No... More.
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