"Do you normally make-out with the people you're hired to kill? It doesn't strike me as very professional."
"Put the gun down," Gabriel panted, not answering her.
"Why on earth would I do that?"
"Because you're not going to shoot me," Gabriel rep...
*This chapter contains graphic violence. Reader discretion is advised.
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One year ago
Marseille was easily the most beautiful city Ash had ever travelled to.
Then again, other than her foster homes, Rutgers, and D.C., it was the only place Ash had ever travelled to.
But she was here for business, not pleasure. She hadn't screwed over Rin and Kyle – the only two friends she'd ever had – and faked her own death just so she could go sightseeing.
Ash had discovered that one of the people responsible for her parents' deaths was criminal mastermind Alexander Duchont. He owned a club in Marseille, and her plan was to get a job there so she could gather more information to bring him, and everyone else who hurt her family, down.
It was a simple idea, but one that Ash had no idea how to execute. So she was crossing her fingers and hoping for the best.
Ash navigated her way down the streets until she reached her destination: Club Rêve. She had already dropped her things in the cheapest hotel she could find. The thought had crossed her mind to sleep to try to recover from jet lag, but she was too pumped full of adrenaline.
To her surprise, the club's door was open even though it was only noon. Before she could celebrate getting inside, though, a gruff voice startled her.
"Vous êtes perdus? (Are you lost?)" he asked sternly. Ash turned to find herself face to face with a big, burly man.
"Je cherche du travail (I'm looking for work)," she replied.
"American?" the man guessed.
"Yes," Ash replied. "How did you know?"
"Your accent. You have a visa?"
Ash hesitated. She hadn't figured Alexander would run his club by the books. But now she realized that he probably kept his cover businesses squeaky clean to keep the police off his trail.
"You cannot work here without one," the man said, sensing her hesitation.
"I understand," Ash replied, defeated. "I'll keep looking."
"That was your plan? Walk in here and ask for a job without a visa?"
"I was hoping someone would look the other way," Ash replied. "I'm desperate. I ran away from home and I didn't have a chance to take anything with me."
"Why did you come here?"
"My mom was from Marseille," Ash lied. "I just had this stupid idea that if I came here, everything would fall into place."
"The mom you ran away from?"
"No. She's dead."
The man looked at her again, evaluating her carefully. "What's your name?"
