Ninety Days Left: The Dying Wife's Revenge

avy blackout curtains, hitting Tessa directly in

muscle in her body ached with a deep, unfamiliar soreness. The memories of

n the pillow. A man w

xposing a wide, muscular back. Long, angry red scratch marks trailed down h

sound of her movement

as a dangerous, predatory stillness about him. He was wearing the silicone mask, though she ha

heart hammering against her ribs. She forced her facial

x," she said, h

roat. Tessa frowned slightly, her drug-addled brain processing the unnatural, electronic edge to his tone, but quickly dismisse

she reached over to the nightstand and pulled her clutch to

terms. I want to hire you exclusively for the next thr

ntract' were printed at the top. The temperature in the r

aper crumpled. He looked back at her, his eyes narrowing into danger

red voice dripping with mockery. He held up three fingers.

gasp, to call him i

ot even bli

row away three hundred million dollars just to keep a male prostitute

g her against the headboard. The sheer physical dominance of his proximity made Tessa's

page of the contract. He pressed the pen down and slashed the name 'A

"Signal," he demanded coldly. "Down

she downloaded the encrypted messaging app and generat

ed out a burner phone Zane had provided. He scanned her code. A

side and stood up. She did not bother to cover herself a

he way the morning light hit the bruises he had left o

e confirmation screen, displaying a ten-million-dollar wire to the agency's holding account. "Your first advance payment," she said, her tone la

n. The veins in his forear

ng around the cold metal handle. She pulled it open and stepped

of the lock ech

e glass exploded against the far wall, raining down onto the carpet in a shower of sharp s