Making the Cut by A. J. Macey

Author:A. J. Macey [Macey, A. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-04T22:00:00+00:00

“You? You’re The Cat?” I felt my entire body stiffen, the remnants of the adrenaline from the stand down just minutes earlier flaring again.

“Uh, yes.” She shook her head as she looked at me. “I thought you knew that.” As if she had some internal revelation, her eyes narrowed and shifted to Garrett. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”

“I said you knew The Cat, not that you were the professional thief who’s climbed their way up the ranks in the Nevada underground,” Garrett snapped. “You know how I feel about your extracurricular activities. I mean, fuck, Kiera! You went after Cory Harbold, do you even realize he’s Frankie Casterelli’s personal lawyer?” Another surge of adrenaline flooded me as she pointed her gun at Garrett again, but with her lap dog holding his weapons, I wouldn’t be able to do much.

“Of course I fucking knew that! Why do you think I went after him in the first place? Frankie,” she sneered the name, “is my ultimate target, and I’m not scared of that fat fuck either. Hell”—her hands flew up in the air—“he already tried to have me killed.”

“Wait, let me get this straight.” Brooks' head shook back and forth quickly, his hands out to stop the conversation. “Frankie ‘Smokes’ Casterelli tried to have you killed? Who the hell did he send?”

“Oh, that would be me,” the man, Chase, added gleefully, giving us a small bow.

“You’re an assassin?” Brooks asked with a skeptical huff.

“Yes sir, I am. Skill Shot, at your service.” When he tucked his second gun under his arm and stuck his hand out for Brooks to shake, I jumped between them.

“The highest paid assassin on the market? The one who went off the grid and retired?”

“That’s right, I found something better than killing. Didn’t I, Kittycat?”

Fucking shit, Garrett would leave out the fact that his stepsister is a thief and her lap dog is a skilled assassin, I thought as I watched Chase poke Kiera in the side.

“He latched on to me,” she explained, laughing as he continued to prod her ribs. “Like a leech or a barnacle.”

“Now, I’m her partner in crime!” he squealed, scooping her up in his muscled arms. “Ain’t that right?” These two were some of the weirdest that I had ever met, a killer cuddler and a snarky thief with the temper of a two year old.

“Why would Frankie ‘Smokes’ want to kill you?” Brooks continued his questioning.

“Seriously? Did you not tell them anything? Well then, it’s nice to meet you, Brooks. My name’s Kiera Casterelli.” The news was surprising, and my brows dipped down as I looked at her closely. There were no photos of Frankie’s daughter; the man ran his mob like the tightest ship I had ever seen, and his family’s personal privacy was one of those things most other criminals didn’t know much about.

“Ex-hit man turned mob boss, Frank ‘Smokes’ Casterelli is your father?” I questioned, making sure I had actually heard her correctly. This situation just keeps getting worse and worse.

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