Chapter One
Somewhere in the Midwest
Sometime in the 1990s
A shiver ran across her bare legs as she watched him dive into the pool.
His tanned and lean body cut through the turquoise water, and when he surfaced at the other end of the pool, he gave a triumphant yell and shook the water out of his hair.
Then he turned and gave that grin that made every girl at Edison High School involuntarily sigh.
But she was the one sitting in the lounge chair in his back yard on this warm summer day.
Only because his sister was her best friend. But still. Nearly every girl at school would kill to be in her place.
For the millionth time, she wished she were in his league and not some awkward sophomore girl with pimples on her back and somewhat chubby thighs.
There was no way Caleb would ever be interested in her. He was a senior and not only a star basketball player but also a quarterback on the football team. Wherever he went in school, the eyes of all the girls followed him, and titters of nervous giggles erupted spontaneously.
He’d had the same cute girlfriend up until about a month ago.
The news spread like wildfire through the school—Caleb was on the market.
Meanwhile, despite all logic, she’d gotten up her hopes. Like a dope. She’d known him since they were all in grade school, when she and Karla had become best friends. Over the years, he’d made it clear he thought she and Karla were the most annoying girls on the planet.
Last summer, though, he had stopped ignoring her. It was weird.
It was the summer she got boobs. The first time she noticed him actually paying attention to her was when they were out at the pool. She’d caught him watching when she self-consciously tugged off her shirt and shorts with her swimsuit underneath. His gaze had both thrilled her and disturbed her. She hated her big boobs. She wanted to be skinny and small-chested like Karla.
A few months later, he actually spoke to her.
That summer, she’d spent nearly every Monday and Tuesday night sleeping over at Karla’s house. At the time, her parents both traveled for work. They had a schedule worked out so at least one of them was home with her during the school year, but that summer, things got wonky, and it ended up both of them would be gone those two nights of the week.
Karla’s mother, who’d always treated her like a daughter, stepped in and offered to have her sleep over those nights, saying it would keep Karla out of her hair.
One night, Karla’s mom and dad went to bed early. It was just her and Karla and Caleb watching TV. When Karla got a call from a boy, she disappeared into her room.
After a few minutes, the show ended, and Caleb turned on Doom.
“You play?” he said, turning toward her.
Her eyes widened. He’d actually talked to her.
In fact, she did play. A lot. And was good.
She shrugged.
He tossed a controller toward her. She caught it easily, and he raised an eyebrow.
If you’re impressed by that—just wait, she thought.
At least an hour passed, and she found herself laughing and having fun. He shot her a few admiring glances. “Damn, girl. You aren’t half bad.”
She blushed even though she knew he was talking about her gaming skills.
Karla came in, yawning.
“What are you doing? Why are you still up with this loser? I’ve been waiting for you. I want to tell you what Ryan said.”
“Just showing your brother how this game is played,” she said deadpan.
He guffawed loudly, and she hid her smile.
“Be right there,” she said. “I just have to finish kicking his ass.”
He didn’t laugh this time, but she saw out of the corner of her eye that he was grinning.
Karla yawned again and disappeared down the hall. “Well, hurry up.”
A few minutes later, the game was over. She’d lost. But she had put up a fight.
She and Caleb stood and both moved to put the controllers away. Suddenly, they were standing next to one another.
“You’re a shrimp,” he said, towering over her.
“I’m not. You’re just unnaturally tall.”
“Whatever.”
“It’s true.”
He shrugged and then stretched up and pretended to dunk a basketball. “Nobody on the basketball team is complaining.”
“Oh,” she said, feigning ignorance. “You play?”
He made a face, squinting at her as if he wasn’t sure whether she was fucking with him or not. Then he smiled.
She turned to leave.
“Hey, Shorty,” he said as she walked away. “You busy tomorrow? Because I think I need another ass to kick.”
She paused and turned, blushing at the nickname, but managed to roll her eyes. “Fat chance of that happening.”
“After lunch. You. Me. Here. Don’t be late.”
She smiled and nodded. Just then, a cool breeze flooded the room, pushing the curtains open and sending a shiver down her spine. Goose bumps appeared on her bare arms, and the most mortifying thing happened—her nipples grew into hard little nubs. She was wearing a thin tank top, since it had been in the nineties that day.
She felt Caleb’s eyes on her. His gaze was fixated on her chest. She threw her arms over her chest. Her face was blazing hot.
He looked at her for a second and then cleared his throat. “What?” he said as if she had said something.
“Nothing,” she said and hurried down the dark hall.
The next morning, when she woke, Karla was already down at the pool. She retrieved her still-wet bathing suit and tugged off her babyish pajama shirt. Remembering Caleb’s stare the night before, she examined her bare chest in Karla’s vanity mirror. She still wasn’t used to having boobs. Karla had told her the other day that she needed a bra. But she’d been too embarrassed to say anything to her mother about it.
She remembered how Caleb’s eyes had flickered down to her nipples the night before. Yeah. She needed a bra to hide those embarrassing nipples. So gross.
Karla’s dog was suddenly at her feet, wagging its tail and whining. He must have snuck in, pushing the closed door open with his nose. When she glanced over at the door, she nearly screamed. Caleb was standing in the doorway, staring at her.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was looking for Karla.”
And then he was gone.
Heart pounding, she felt something unfamiliar course through her body. A tickle of something between her legs. Had he been looking at her naked boobs?
She was pretty sure he had. Just like the night before.
Maybe he liked them? Maybe having big boobs was good. A lot of boys liked them, right?
When she got down to the pool, she was hoping Caleb would be there to see her new bathing suit. It was a bikini top not a one-piece like she normally wore.
But he wasn’t around. And that afternoon, instead of playing Doom with her like he’d said, she saw him leaving the house a few minutes before the appointed time.
She looked out the window and saw that he was being picked up by Michelle Carmichael in her white Jeep. He’d ignored her the rest of the summer and for the entire year at school. When they passed each other in the hall, he’d look away.
But now it was summer again, and they were all out at the pool like every summer.
Now, watching his body slice through the water, she felt that same tickle between her legs. But now she knew what it was. She was horny for him. So fucking horny. And it wasn’t just the sex part, which she’d never had but imagined was amazing. She loved him. Really loved him. Like wanted to marry him and have his baby.
But he would never give her the time of day in a million years.
When she first heard he and Michelle had split up, for a tiny second, a flame of hope had flickered deep inside her. Just as quickly, she extinguished it. No way. Look at her. She was nothing special. And Caleb was everything special.
Still, she remembered the admiration in his eyes when she’d done so well playing Doom. For months after that, she’d practiced day and night, trying to impress him the next time they played. But after he saw her naked boobs that day, he never asked her to play again.
It made her wonder if she was hideous. She thought boys liked boobs. Obviously, not hers. Hers must be misshapen or deformed or something truly ugly.
Or maybe he liked her boobs and was just being a good boyfriend to Michelle.
Yeah, that must be it. He liked her boobs and then avoided her because he was a good boyfriend.
But now, all bets were off. She was older. And he was now single.
A smile played across her face as she thought this and watched him swim underwater again, coming right toward her seat at the edge of the pool.
His head popped up out of the water in front of her, his longish hair slicked back sleekly, making her think he looked like a seal.
A super-hot, sexy seal.
“Whatcha staring at, Shorty?”
She blushed and glanced over at Karla, who was in the chair beside her. Karla had earbuds, on and she could hear the faint sounds of Kanye West filtering out. She couldn’t tell if Karla, who was flat on her back, body gleaming with oil, was asleep or just ignoring them.
Karla’s skin was already turning dark like her brother’s. He now pulled himself out of the pool in front of them. He stretched and flexed, keeping his eyes on her. She could feel her face grow red.
He stood there, his eyes roaming over her body, water dripping from his wet hair, down his sleek chest with the small trail of hair leading down into his swim shorts … She caught her breath.
“You like what you see?” Caleb said in a low voice, glancing at Karla, who didn’t move. “Because I like what I see.”
They were staring at each other when suddenly Caleb’s friend, Jackson, came flying out the back door. “DUDE! Cannonball!”
Jackson went racing past them, dropping a wad of clothes and jumping into the pool, sending a large arc of water spraying all over the three of them.
Karla sat up, shrieking, and the moment was over.
Chapter Two
The sun was setting by the time Rose finished her walk on the beach with Dylan and headed toward their hotel. A few people had stopped them during their walk to exclaim over the big black dog.
He was ferocious if someone tried to hurt Rose. Otherwise, he was a big baby with huge brown eyes who wiggled wildly when someone petted him.
He loved the attention he got on the Miami beach. And hated the leash. He tugged at it, fighting being restrained that way the entire walk. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t used to being leashed.
Most of their travels throughout the world had been to places where dogs didn’t need to be leashed. America was different, though. As soon as she’d landed in Florida, Rose had put the leash n him.
Even if he hated it.
Rose hoped the attention he got and the exercise made up for it.
“What kind of dog is he?” one woman asked, crouching down so her face was near Dylan’s face.
Rose shrugged. “Sort of a mutt. Pit bull and Lab, I think.”
The woman drew back. Smart woman, Rose thought.
While Dylan was docile, he was still an animal.
Rose never offered that useless platitude that some dog owners did: “He won’t bite.”
Nobody could truly say that about a pet. You never knew.
She, for one, would never put her face near an unfamiliar dog’s face. That was an invitation to get mauled.
Dylan had only been fierce a few times—when someone had tried to hurt her. While she’d tried to keep him away from the dangerous side of her life, sometimes, that was impossible. For instance, when some men had come after her in Indonesia, he’d attacked.
A man had stabbed him, or he’d have fought to the death.
As it was, he had nearly died.
He was Rose’s Achilles’ heel.
It was the only way the men had convinced Rose to go with them.
They’d threatened to let Dylan bleed out if she didn’t cooperate.
She’d gladly give her life if it meant her dog would live.
Now, the woman had drawn back on hearing Dylan was part Pit bull, which was kind of silly. Any breed of dog could be dangerous.
But usually, unless someone was an asshole, Dylan would lick them to death before he’d harm a hair on their head.
Rose wanted to tell the woman she should be more afraid of Rose than of Dylan.
It was so bizarre to Rose that people could look at her and not automatically see she was a killer.
Every once in a while, she would meet eyes with someone who saw right through her. It was usually someone else who was up to no good: some type of criminal, she’d guess. And the funny thing was, when they made eye contact, the other person was the first to look away.
It didn’t matter if it was a muscled, two hundred fifty-pound gang banger; they saw something in her eyes that made them not mess with her. It was rare that a true badass confronted her.
The people who confronted her were usually the inexperienced, wanna-be tough guys. Like the douche on the plane who had tried to sit by her.
She’d been in the aisle seat and saw his gaze rake over her body. She’d watched him from behind her sunglasses as he lifted his carry-on bag into the compartment above her head.
At first, she hadn’t been too concerned. The flight was nearly empty, and the three seats across from her were vacant.
But then the man tried to scoot past her into the seat directly beside her. Immediately, she’d stuck out her boot, blocking his way.
He’d looked down at her, annoyed. “Excuse me,” he’d said, towering above her.
“This seat is taken,” she’d said and turned back to her magazine.
“I’m the last one on board,” he said.
She lifted her sunglasses and met his eyes, raising one eyebrow.
He scowled.
“Are you going to let me in or what?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “Or what.”
“Sir,” the flight attendant said, “Can you please take your seat now?”
“I’m trying to,” he said.
He started to push his way past her knees. Rose responded by stomping down on the spot where his foot met his ankle. She didn’t do it as hard as she could. She didn’t need to break his bones, just get him to back the fuck off.
He drew back in pain and nearly lost his balance.
Rose bent her knee, drawing her leg up, ready to stomp again if he tried to get past her.
“Sir?” The flight attendant said, “This row is vacant.”
He glared at the flight attendant and then sat down heavily in the seat across the aisle. “Bitch,” he said.
Turning toward him, she stared him down before putting her sunglasses back on and pulling her hoodie up as a makeshift shield against the rest of the world.
But he’d left her alone for the rest of the flight.
Rose figured her main advantage was that people looked at her and underestimated her.
When she looked in the mirror, Rose tried to see what they might see—a young, thin woman with dark hair and olive skin who wore a uniform of cargo pants and a black tank top and hoodie.
They didn’t see what she truly was—a cold-blooded assassin.
She’d fought that identity for years, but the truth was that she couldn’t escape her destiny.
Even after she’d turned her back on that life and attempted to live a normal life as a teenager in Barcelona, her fate had caught up to her.
In the worst possible way.
The same night she realized she was in love with her best friend, Timothy, and he loved her back, he was taken from her by the sultan.
Now, she had one thing left to live for: making the sultan pay.
She was prepared to spend the rest of her life hunting him down if that was what it took.
Everything else was a distraction.
Even Damon, the boy she’d come to Florida to be with, was a distraction from her true calling.
It hurt like hell that he’d stood her up and not met her at the airport.
Seeing the Facebook picture of him drinking again with his arm around a blonde who called herself Beach Body Babe had felt like a knife to the heart. But Rose knew she had to move on.
If Damon had begun drinking again, she knew enough to know she couldn’t compete with the bottle.
Instead, she’d love him from afar and hope that one day, when he got his shit together, they might try again.
Meanwhile, she’d fulfill her destiny to hunt down and kill the cult leader who had taken Timothy away from her and who continued to prey on young girls around the world.
Nothing was more important than that.
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