“This is good,” she says and frowns at the water. “Is this tap water?”
“Yep.”
“Because I’m not drinking that $15 water Gideon bought.”
“It’s tap,” I say again. “You’re just too drunk to taste it.”
Ally shrugs and finishes the glass. Then she hands me her empty glass.
“You want more?”
“No,” she grins. “I want something else.”
“We’ve got chips, but that’s about it. And Rachel can’t close a bag to save her life, so they’re probably stale.”
She shakes her head, grinning.
Then I realize what she’s saying.
“Oh.” I smile. “Okay.”
She crawls over the pillow between us and pulls herself into my lap. She straddles me, wrapping her arms around my neck. She kisses me once on the cheek, probably a missed target rather than a sweet gesture, and then manages to get my mouth the second time.
She pulls back. “God, is it you or is it really hot in here?”
“We’re still wearing our coats.”
She laughs and looks down at herself. “Oh. Right.”
I reach up behind her and pull her jacket off. “Better?”
She snuggles up to me. “You’re still hot.”
“Thanks for noticing.”
“Let me help you take your coat off.”
“Okay.” I let her attempt to pull off the jacket, but it’s not really going anywhere and she accidently pulls my hair twice. So I help her get my jacket off and throw it over the arm of the sofa. One of the throw pillows falls to the floor with a poof.
Ally doesn’t stop there. She slips her hands under my shirt, giving me a curious look. “Is this okay?”
I try to find the voice to tell her it’s more than okay. She would have been naked an hour ago, in the grubby bathroom of some bar if she wasn’t such a germaphobe.
She is so beautiful. Her eyes are bright, reflecting the lamplight in her dark eyes. Her face is flushed from the alcohol, her smile lazy. Her eyes half-closed. My heart pounds in my chest, thudding against my ribs so hard it hurts.
“What’s wrong?” A frown creases her face and I think she can hear my heart throbbing. “Don’t you think I’m pretty?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
I reach up and pull her down into my arms. I kiss her, even more deeply than I did on the balcony. I slip my hand under her shirt and unsnap her bra with one twist of my fingers. So much for moral standing.
She gasps in my mouth and the sound of it makes my whole body shudder.
“Lay down,” I command.
She laughs, surprised, but her voice goes all deep and breathy. “Yes, sir.”
I climb on top of her, positioning myself between her legs. I kiss her neck and she squirms, bucking her hips up against mine.
“Do you love me?” she asks.
“More than anyone.”
“Are you sure?”
I cover her mouth with mine. “Please stop talking.” I pull back. “Unless you want me to stop.”
“No, no.” She grabs the front of my hoody, twisting it up in her fists and pulls me down on top of her.
I have the button of her jeans between my forefinger and thumb when a voice calls behind me.
“I am very sorry to interrupt, but you need to see this.”
Gideon stands in the living room, his back to the bedroom he shares with Rachel.
“Great timing.” I glare. “Can it wait?”
Gideon frowns. “No.”
“Ugh.” I pull myself off of Ally.
“I’m fine.” She fusses with her shirt, trying to make it lay right, but that’s hard to do with an unclasped bra bulging through the front. Ally crosses her arms over her chest and Gideon has the decency to let his gaze slide away.
“I’m not fine,” I grumble as I pass him.
“The news ends in a few minutes. Then you can go back to doing whatever you like, if you can stomach it.” Gideon’s voice is grave.
I search his face for the source of his tone. He points to the bedroom, where the blue light of the TV dances along the walls.
I creep inside, trying to be quiet, until I realize Rachel is snoring louder than a train. Gideon put her in her PJs, but the glass of water sits untouched on the nightstand beside her.
Gideon lifts the remote from the bedside table and turns up the volume. I don’t need to hear to know I’m not going to like this.
Caldwell, my homicidal father, stands behind a podium, his face a mask of grief. Tears that I’m certain are fake as hell stream down his cheeks. Even in his beautifully tailored suit and nice haircut, he looks like shit. The woman beside him, Maisie’s mother Georgia, doesn’t look any better. Her hair is disheveled and thick black smears from her eyes to her chin.
“We want our daughter back. We want all of this to end.” Caldwell panders to the sympathetic crowd. The camera sweeps the masses, and there isn’t a dry cheek in the house.
“When was this?” I ask Gideon.
“It must’ve run earlier today. I’m surprised they didn’t broadcast it in Times Square,” he says, deep creases forming between his eyes.
“We want the people responsible for this to be brought to justice. We’ll give a reward to anyone who provides information on our Maisie.”
The camera cuts to the reporter, who also has tears in her eyes. “The following suspects are wanted for questioning in this case: Jesse Sullivan—”
My mugshot from last year flashes up on the screen. Not the most flattering picture, I must say.
“Rachel Wright—”
Rachel wearing her mental hospital gown flashes up on the screen next. At least she looks a little worse than I did. If she sees this, she’s going to go ballistic. The idea that she was on television without makeup and dressed to the 9s will definitely cause an uproar.
“Alice Gallagher—” Ally’s driver’s license photo fills the top right of the screen, making our square ¾ complete.
“Captain Gloria Jackson—” An old photo of Gloria from her days in the military is the last to appear. She looks sharp in her uniform, her face and eyes somber.
“A fifth suspect, possibly a radical Islamic terrorist, is believed to be assisting them. They are responsible for the bombings in Chicago that took so many lives.”
“What racist bullshit.” I half-choke on the words. “Caldwell blew up the city himself!”
“Any information leading to the capture of these criminals or the return of Maisie Caldwell will be generously rewarded.”
Gideon turns off the screen. “The first part of the program presented Maisie’s disappearance as an attack against the Church. They are arguing that some have radicalized against the unification of the Church and seek retribution by harming the daughter of its leader.”
I squeeze my head as if to keep the anger from splitting in two. There are so many problems with this I don’t even know where to begin. I end up shouting, “You’re not a terrorist!”
“It doesn’t matter.” He flashes me a weak smile. “I look like a terrorist, and my devices can’t hide us from the public. We are only hidden from technology. Someone will spot us on the streets.”
“We aren’t abandoning the plan!” No, no, no. We are so close to killing him once and for all. Caldwell, the evil son-of-a-bitch who murdered my handler Brinkley, abandoned me, mentally abused Maisie, and is responsible for the genocide of hundreds of thousands of people. No. I won’t stop until he is cold in my grip.
“Jesse.” Ally places one hand on my arm. Her eyes are big and round, and more alert than they’ve been in the last few hours. “If we’re caught and we go to jail, we won’t get our chance.”
She’s right. Dammit.
I look up at Gideon. “But what about our plan?”
“It can still work. With a few minor alterations, it can still work.”
I accept his answer with a sense of unease. I wish I could ask Gabriel what he thought, but I’ve only seen him twice since we left Chicago. Until he became absolutely inaccessible, I hadn’t realized how much I’d come to depend on the advice of my angel. I know he’s still there. I can feel him so to speak, but he can’t materialize as long as Rachel, Maisie, and I are together. Inconvenient.
“Just don’t tell Maisie,” I say at last, looking from Ally’s face to Gideon’s. “If she knows, she’ll do something stupid and heroic.”
Gideon clears his throat and cuts his eyes over my shoulder.
I turn and find Maisie standing in the doorway, her expression grim. Winston sits at her feet, his collar and leash still around his neck.
She’s heard every word.
Want more? Get your copy here.
Also by Kory M. Shrum
Dying for a Living Series: The Jesse Sullivan Novels
Dying for a Living (Book 1)
Dying by the Hour (Book 2)
Dying for Her: A Companion Novel (Book 3)
Dying Light (Book 4)
Worth Dying For (Book 5)
Other work
Badass and the Beast: Ten “Tails” of Kickass Heroines and the Beasts who love them (with Angela Roquet)
Acknowledgments
I would like to gratefully acknowledge all of the proofreaders and editors that helped me bring Jesse’s story fully formed into the world: Angela Roquet, Monica La Porta, Kathrine Pendleton, Karen Sahagian, Katrina Pitts, Juliann Krute, Colleen McGuire, Andrea Cook, Joe Thomas, Rachel Menzies, Ashley Ferguson, Wendy Nelson, and CC Ryburn. A special shout-out goes to Michelle Pike for her keen eye and take-no-prisoners approach to editing. Without you guys, the story wouldn’t be nearly as good.
Many thanks to family, friends, bloggers, and Twitter-ers who first showed love for Dying for a Living and no less enthusiasm for this fourth book. There are too many to name, but I adore every single one of you. Your encouragement makes the hard days easier.
Thanks to John K. Addis for his help with the cover and author photo. If you haven’t read his awesome book The Eaton, you’re missing out.
And thank you, Kimberly Benedicto, for your unending support and encouragement. You’ve given me five beautiful and happy years. Life wouldn’t be the same without you.
About the Author
Kory M. Shrum lives in Michigan with her partner Kim and her ferocious guard pug Josephine. She is very fond of naps and foods made of sugar, which is, as you can imagine, a deadly combination. But she tries to compensate for her extreme physical laziness with her overactive imagination. She’s an active member of SFWA, HWA, and the Four Horsemen of the Bookocalypse, where she’s known as Conquest. She’s the author of five contemporary (and somewhat dark) fantasy novels in the Dying for a Living series: Dying for a Living, Dying by the Hour, Dying for Her: A Companion Novel, Dying Light, and Worth Dying For.
When not writing, she can be found teaching, traveling, and wearing a gi. She’s very likely to tempt you to an ominous tarot or palm reading—anything spooky-foo to pass the time until Guardians of the Galaxy or Sherlock return. She’s not-so-secretly dying for the next season to begin. The two of you could also kill time socializing on Facebook, Twitter, or her website.
If you like free stuff, be sure to sign up for Kory’s mailing list, and be the first to hear about giveaways and updates on her work. And don’t forget to leave a *very much appreciated* review (however short! Good or bad!) for this book wherever you can. Kory and fellow readers really do depend on you.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62