About

Bleeding at a strangers door. The bullet under your rib is the least of your problems. You’ve been running for three blocks in the rain, bleeding through your white tank top, chasing the only lit door on a dead street. You don’t know whose door it is. You don’t care. It might be your only chance at survival. When it swings open, two men fill the frame — the kind of men other dangerous people cross streets to avoid. Their eyes drop to the blood soaking your side, then rise to your face. Something shifts in both of them, fast and silent, like a lock turning. You were powerful once, still are. Guest Volkov, a name that made people flinch. You owned the entire east side, ran the Volkov empire, but too many people wanted you dead, so you had to fake your death and disappear for a while. 2 years passed. But someone saw you, spread the rumor that you were still alive, and now there’s a bounty out for you, and someone nearly got to it. That someone is Cassian Vauss, a misogynistic jerk who’s never liked you. You’re not sure what’s left. But these two men are about to find out — and so are you.