Launching November 10th!

She would kill him tonight. When Parker had handed Leisje the file, he’d said she had thirty days to get the job done, but she liked to work fast. She wore a strapless sharp red dress that was snug from the top of her breasts down to a few inches above her knees. In one hand, she carried a sleek black clutch, the same shade as the straight dyed hair that hung a few inches past her shoulder. Around the emerald green of her eyes, she wore a heavy layer of black eyeliner and long fake lashes, her “fuck me” package, as she liked to think of it. The mark was a forty-two-year-old playboy who’d gotten himself mixed up in business that was way over his head, and on the wrong side of national security. Despite his apparent stupidity, he’d built a great deal of wealth and established a number of high-profile contacts, both in the government and New York financial circles. But he had become arrogant to the point of gross carelessness, flashy, anxious to impress, and quick to shoot off his mouth. By the time Leisje had concluded her analysis of his file, she felt he would be an easy target. She started simple, repeated eye contact and a welcoming smile, nothing he wasn’t getting from a handful of women milling around the cozy ballroom at The Cotton Club. She circled at a distance and waited for the right moment. It didn’t take long. As he finished a conversation with a silver-haired gentleman and his young wife, three men she recognized from his file joined him. One of them aimed his eyes at a twenty-something-year-old whose dress revealed more than enough cleavage to make it clear how she intended to end her night. He mumbled something under his breath, and the four of them laughed loudly and clanked their classes together. Leisje eased her way through the crowd. “I’m Leisje,” she said as she extended her hand to the mark. His smooth fingers wrapped firmly around hers. “What kind of name is Lesh-ee?” “Belgian,” she said. Leisje had a gift for analyzing people right down to the marrow of their bones. It was one of her skills that most impressed Parker. She needed only a moment, and could be deadly accurate. The files were always helpful, but nothing compared to a face-to-face analysis. “Belgian?” he said. “But you’re from here, right?” He cast a cocky grin at his friends. “Are they going to keep us company?” she asked. He turned to his friends and poked his chin up. The three of them strode away, nodding confirmation to one another that their ringleader had again proven himself the supreme lady-killer. The conversation was one-sided, and while she pretended to resist his clumsy attempts to impress her, his words spilled out like a well-practiced monologue. From time to time she’d look around the room or fiddle with the stirring straw in her drink. Slowly, she let him in. The more impressed she pretended to be, the more he talked about his company, his accounts, his famous connections, his East Side penthouse, and his clothes, namely the $5,000 silk blazer he’d picked up that morning for the evening’s event. She asked if she could touch the fabric. Before he responded, she slid her hands down his chest and around both sides under his arms and then along his waist from back to front. She didn’t expect him to be carrying a weapon, but it was an easy check just to be sure. He met her eyes and then kissed her forehead. “I’d invite you to my place,” he said, “but—” “I’m staying at The Delorian,” she said, “a short walk.” “I know the Delorian,” he said. When they stepped outside, he waved over a car that sat a few spaces down on the opposite side of the street. The passenger stepped out. He stood a few inches taller than the mark and was in better shape. His black pants and black blazer over a white dress shirt appeared modest compared to most of the crowd. But he wasn’t there to impress. Despite there being nothing on record to indicate the mark needed security, he kept three or four guards nearby at all times. Leisje assumed he did it simply for show, but it made no difference. They would be little more than an inconvenience. The mark positioned himself between her and the security guard and turned his back to her. She heard him mutter that he’d be about an hour. They walked two blocks to The Delorian and passed through the spacious, ornately designed lobby on their way to the elevators. As soon as they began the ride toward the 67th floor, he wrapped one arm around Leisje and jerked her body tight against him. He slid his free hand underneath the hair on the back of her head and forced her mouth to meet his. His tongue pushed so hard on hers that she nearly choked, but she greedily accepted it. Her dress wrinkled as his hands slid forcefully up and down her body, stopping only when he clenched her ass and breasts. When they stepped into her room, he took her hands and walked her backward toward the bed and then began to undress himself. Despite the desire in his eyes and the brisk, purposeful movements with which he made for the prize he had undoubtedly won, he made it no further than tossing his blazer to the floor. Leisje kissed him deeply, and while his hands groped her body from shoulder to thigh, she opened her clutch. When he separated from her to continue undressing, she deftly drew a sleek .32 caliber affixed with a silencer and fired twice at his chest. His eyes betrayed a flicker of dumbfounded pain, and he was dead before he landed on the bed. Leisje raised the gun and listened for any sign that his security may have followed. They hadn’t. She tucked the gun in her clutch and assessed the scene. She picked up the black silk blazer lying on the floor, folded it in half, and tossed it on the bed next to the body. He was on his back. His polished shoes dangled a few inches above the floor. Leisje retrieved a small white cloth from her clutch and wiped down his watch, then pressed her hands underneath his waist and wiped down his belt. “You missed a print over there,” her younger sister Anna said as she emerged from the bathroom. Her face bore no expression. It never did. The tattered Columbia University sweatshirt she wore hung well past the waist of her faded jeans and made her appear small and helpless. Leisje glanced at her sister and rolled her eyes. It comforted her to know she didn’t look so pale. “Another one?” Anna asked. She hadn’t moved from where she stood just outside the bathroom. “Yes,” Leisje said. Her response was soft but distant and devoid of emotion. “What do we do next?” Anna’s voice hovered like a shadow. Leisje ignored the question. She moved around her sister and went into the bathroom. A few minutes later she emerged wearing a casual gray and white pantsuit. A slim silver clip held her hair back in a ponytail. She had washed off her makeup and reapplied a modest layer. “Tomorrow morning, I have to go to Virginia,” she said. Her sister had moved to the bed. She sat close enough to the body that her knee rested against the mark’s slack leg. Her shoulders were slouched, and she rested her hands in her lap. “Why Virginia again? What happens after that?” “I’m not sure,” Leisje responded in a tone that simmered near exasperation. Leisje had always considered that Parker wouldn’t keep her forever. For the work they had her do, they needed to be able to sever from her quickly. She figured they’d kill her when the time came, or maybe they’d use her as an offering to get information, or as recompense for some action they’d taken in the past. But for the last several years she had been valuable, and nothing in Parker’s eyes led her to believe they had plans to terminate the relationship anytime soon. “I’ll see what he has to say,” Leisje continued. “He might assign me another case right away or tell me he’ll be in touch, same as always.” She looked over the room one last time as she reached for the door handle. “Hopefully, I’ll get at least a short break. It’s time to start looking for a permanent place to live for when this is all over.” Anna hadn’t moved. Her dull eyes hung beneath the limp shoulder-length hair that looked as though it needed to be washed. Leisje clenched her jaw. There was little need to offer her sister an explanation. In the end, she recognized that all decisions were hers to make and that she needed to make the ones that worked for her. Besides, her sister had been dead for twelve years.