Mississippi Smoke Series

Calculating, cold, often without emotion, was how I was described by those closest to me. I had thought perhaps there was truth to their depiction until this endless searing pain took the place in my chest where my heart used to be. Vengeance now ate away at my soul. The wrath I planned to unleash would make the demons in Hell appear mild. At least, that was until… The twisted crux came in the form of eyes bluer than the sky on a warm summer day, a slightly upturned nose with a scattering of freckles, a pink cupid bow mouth, and a smile that made a man's knees weak.

Was it a sin to hate the dead? It was something I had pondered many times over the past ten months. Although it wasn't why I required medication to sleep at night. I wasn't truly concerned about the level of darkness that resided in my soul. It was the images of the night I had watched a bullet take down the boy I had loved most of my life. Seeing the life leave his body, the way his eyes had gone void. It haunted me. Even now that I knew he'd betrayed me. That what I thought had been real had all been a lie. Crosby Cash had been in love, alright, just not with me.

Taking her was a means to an end. The task was to weed out the man who had stolen millions from us. He may have succeeded, but he'd pay with his life. Hiding from us was a grave error he'd regret soon enough because once he found out that we had taken the one thing he cared for as repayment, he'd show up. When a man had a weakness, it was foolish to make a mistake like this. He would come for her, and when he did, he wouldn't walk away unscathed, nor would the sister he adored.