Courtney W. Dixon

FBI analyst Dalton Reed’s name is on my hit list, but I know I won’t do it. Though I haven’t seen Dalton in twenty-seven years, we have a history together. He saved my life many years ago, and he doesn’t even realize it. Now, it’s my turn to save him and his young son.

Just the sight of Nico ‘Stix’ Jamieson makes me want to hurt something. Between his stupid smiles on that annoyingly handsome face and the constant drumming of anything that makes a sound with those drumsticks of his, I want to throttle him. No one is that happy.

I ruined my cush life five years ago. I came from wealth and was kicked out with nothing but the clothes on my back. Even the man I’d been with, who had mastered my mind and body, turned his back on me. Since then, I haven’t found anyone who could meet my…needs.

I’m broken, hiding my pain behind fake smiles and pretend joy. Inside, I’m a mental mess between being tossed into conversion therapy and foster care as a kid. I struggle to focus and suffer anxiety, panic attacks, and nightmares.

I’m stubborn, but even I can admit I need help from my family and Harley. Hudson’s mother abandoned us six years ago, leaving me to pick up the pieces of my son’s distraught heart. With therapy and hard work, life is good.

So what if I relish in the mayhem of slaughter or enjoy feeling the life blink out of someone? I am who I am. It was Malik who eventually brought me to his home and trained me to hone my skills to work under him as an assassin.

Nicholas Theodoropoulos had been my stepbrother since I was fourteen. Mom died when I was twelve, and I resented Dad remarrying so soon. Even worse, my stepbrother had grown into a gorgeous man.

He calls me his dark angel, but I’m merely a killer. A bringer of death.