I should never have gotten involved with her. Now, the Zappia family is after her and she’s lost everything. Hell, even Snake Eyes — the deadliest criminal organization on the planet — wants to see her in the ground.

It’s all my fault. A few blissful nights in my bed and her life is ruined.

Lucy wants payback. She wants to watch them burn for what they did to her and I can’t say she’s wrong.

But I won’t let her become a killer.

Not like me.

LUCY

I was a dancer. The star ballerina of my father’s dance company.

Until one day, Dante Hart came strolling into his office and whisked me off to his place.

The next thing I knew, my entire world burned around me.

The Zappia family took everything from me.

I want to return the favor in blood.

Luckily, I know a man who knows a little something about killing but Dante ain’t interested in teaching me much outside of his bed.

I will have my revenge. With or without him.

Now, where did he hide the keys to these cuffs?

The SNAKE EYES Series

Standalone Romances.

Interconnecting Stories.

One Unforgettable Adventure.

Chapter 1

Dante

I walk into his office with a smile on my face.

Mr. Vaughn looks up at me from his desk. A bit of frustration crosses his eyes but it quickly disappears once he sees my grin. He doesn’t say a word. No salutations or pleasantries. I can’t really blame him, though.

He knows he’s about to die.

“Good evening, Mr. Vaughn.” I stay on my feet, ignoring the chair at the other side of his desk. Intimidation 101. Always stay standing.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat. “Good evening,” he says. He lowers his pen to hide the shaking in his fingers.

I stare down at him. What a pathetic man. Middle-aged. More gray than brown in what’s left of his hair. He let himself go years ago. The world will get over his death quickly. “Do you know who I am?” I ask.

He’s not sure how to answer. He may not know my name but he sure as shit knows
who
I am. “Yes,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“My name is Dante Hart. I work for Antony Zappia.”

He presses his fingertips into his desk but it doesn’t have the calming effect he hopes for. “I just need a little more—”

“You’ve run out of time, Mr. Vaughn,” I interrupt. “And besides, I am not a debt collector. I’m the one Mr. Zappia sends in when the money doesn’t matter anymore and he requires something… a bit more personal instead.”

He lowers his head. “Please… don’t kill me…”

My eyes wander his office. I’ve heard this part before. They all do it. Each and every one of them tries to reason with me or appeal to my humanity.

“I’m begging you, Mr. Hart.”

I admire them for the attempt, I really do, but they’d be better off reaching for a weapon instead. They have better odds trying to kill me first than of me letting them walk.

“I’ll give you
anything.”

I look behind his back at his bookshelf. He’s not big into fiction. Books on business and ballet and music line the shelves with no real order or system from what I can tell.

A lonely photo sits on the middle shelf, about eye-level with him if he were to gaze over his shoulder. A girl. Young. Long hair tied back in a tight bun on the top of her head. Petite and fit. She wears a skin-tight, pink leotard and ballet shoes with one pointed foot raised high against a beam. Graceful, elegant.

Familiar.

I sit down on the edge of his desk and point at the frame. “Is that your daughter, Mr. Vaughn?”

He glances back. “Yes, sir.”

“May I?”

His eyes shake with confusion but he reaches back and grabs the frame. I take it from him and hold it closer to my face to take in the finer details of her. Green eyes. Brunette hair. Not a single wrinkle in her creme-colored skin. Athletic, but not overly muscular. Poised to perfection.

I lick my lips. “How old is your daughter, Mr. Vaughn?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Does she dance for your company?”

“Yes.”

I flick my eyes up. “Is she here tonight?”

He furrows his brow. “Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

“L— Lucy.”

I offer him the frame and he takes it back. His hands jitter so badly, he can barely set it on the shelf behind him. Finally, he gives up and lays it down flat before spinning around to me, no doubt too frightened to keep his back to me for very long.

I smile. “Mr. Vaughn, how much money do you owe Mr. Zappia?”

“Uh…” He twitches even more. “Twenty thousand, I think.”

Chump change. This guy must be deep in the red if he can’t handle that. This hit is hardly worth the effort at all. I stand up and step behind his desk. He tremors in his chair beside me. “Mr. Vaughn, what if I told you that you and I could come to an arrangement?” I grab the frame and stand it back up. My eyes fall on hers again and I pause, blissfully stunned in my shoes.

He stares at me over his shoulder, his eyes jerking down to my hands in search of a knife or anything else I might shiv him with. Not my style, but I’ll let him fear it anyway. “What kind of arrangement?”

I wander back around to the front of his desk and take a seat in the chair across from him. “I will be more than happy to take care of your debt to Mr. Zappia tonight, Mr. Vaughn. In exchange, I’d like to meet your daughter.”

“What?” He shakes his head. “I don’t understand…”

I gesture to the frame. “She’s rather beautiful. I’d like to meet her.”

His cheek flush red with fear. “No, please. Don’t hurt my daughter, Mr. Hart. She’s all I have—”

“I don’t want to hurt your daughter, Mr. Vaughn,” I say. “I simply request the pleasure of her company for the evening.”

“You…” He shifts in his chair. “You’ll pay my debt for a night with my daughter?”

“Yes.”

He deflates and awkward laughter spills off his lips. “You can’t be serious.”

“You will pay me back for the loan, of course. I am not in the business of good deeds.”

“And Mr. Zappia…” he stutters, “will allow this?”

“Mr. Zappia deals in money. He doesn’t care how he gets it. I go back to him tonight with enough to cover your debt plus interest and he won’t bat an eye as he marks your name off his books with a big, green pen. Then, you will be indebted to me instead and I am
far
more lenient than Mr. Zappia.”

There’s hope in his eyes. Fearful hope. “And my daughter?”

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll send her back to you with an adjusted sum and a plan for payments that you will make directly to me until your debt is paid… assuming she cooperates, of course. If not, I’ll send her back with a few broken toes and you and I will have another conversation.”

“Please,” he begs. “She’s innocent. Don’t bring her into this—”

“The choice is yours, Mr. Vaughn. Your life or her virtue. In fact, we can safely say the more
enthusiastic
she is, the more reasonable your payment plan will be.”

He closes his eyes in defeat. “You won’t hurt her?”

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