From the moment we met Tierney and Achilles in Bad Bishop, we knew their story would be unhinged in the best possible way. She broke his heart when they were teens, and then, years later, sold him to the FBI to punish him for ruining her life. Now, he’s tasked by the mob to assassinate her for her betrayal. What could be more romantic than that? 😝 As we impatiently wait for their book to come out next week, enjoy a little morsel of it…
Excerpt
He glanced down at me with the interest a panther afforded a mouse, an unabashed menace. For a moment, his gaze flicked to the cut on my cheek. His eyes darkened, like a light had been switched off behind them. “You gonna invite me in?”
“Not in this lifetime.”
He shouldered past me, giving zero fucks, as per usual. I watched his back through the thin, black material of his shirt, the corded muscles of his arms, the two sleeves of intricate black tattoos. He had three crosses inked on the right side of his neck and an imprint of a kiss on his left side, the shape of my lips.
Back then, we thought the kiss was just the beginning. Not a parting gift to symbolize the end.
His gaze skimmed to the moka pot on my stovetop. “Hmm. Espresso Italiano. I’ll have some of that.”
“That’s already spoken for, Achilles. Go get yourself a cup at the deli down the street.”
He had a weird fixation with trying to make me make him coffee. I didn’t know why. However, what I did know was that I’d willingly cut off my own two hands before giving him what he wanted.
I discreetly wiped my palms over my pants. I was scared of him, scared of what he came here to say, and scared to ask what he did to Hamish because I already knew.
My brother was family to him. I knew Achilles wouldn’t kill me without a damn good reason, which he currently didn’t have. But I also knew death wasn’t the worst punishment. What he did to me now—the controlling, the bodyguards, the surveillance, the forced loneliness—that was the ultimate punishment.
“Everything okay?” Achilles catalogued my apartment, running a hand over the back of my credenza to see if the place was bugged.
“Yeah. Why?”
“I’ve been here for a full minute and you still haven’t hurled any sharp objects at me.”
“I’m reserving all my energy in case I need to claw your eyes out.” I crossed my arms over my chest, popping one hip bone out.
“It’s your lucky day, Little Flame, because I’m about to give you a great reason to.”
I carefully schooled my face to look bored.
“I found you a husband.”
Two seconds. Five words. That was all it took for my entire world to crumble at my feet.
I didn’t move, let alone cry. Fuck that. He wasn’t going to get the pleasure of seeing me break. I’d wait, like I always did.
“Is he tall? Dark? Handsome? Rich?” I purred.
“Relatively. Yes. I guess so. And very. Respectively.”
“You’re not handsome, Achilles.”
But he was, to me. I didn’t see the scars, the cuts, and the burns everyone else did. I saw that fourteen-year-old boy with the peach fuzz who tucked me into bed and guarded me all night to keep the nightmares at bay.
“Me?” He tossed a caustic look behind his shoulder, snorting. “No, sweetheart. I’d swallow you whole.”
“You’d choke on me.”
“I don’t doubt it. But it’s still not me.”
Of course it was. It had to be. He wouldn’t give me up so easily. Even if he hated me. He murdered men for touching me. How could he ever let me go?
I snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“I’ll be delivering you to him shortly, so I suggest you start packing. I need his business, and he needs a wife.”
My brain short-circuited. He was serious. It really wasn’t him.
But I couldn’t… I mean, how did he plan to…
It felt like he stabbed my chest with an icicle.
“Wait, what? Achilles, no.”
“Yes.” He stopped in front of an Emilia Spencer painting on my wall, his mere tone giving me frostbite.
“But I thought—I mean, I—I…”
What did I think? That he’d defy his father to marry me? That he’d forgive me after what I’d done to him? Of course he handed me over to be someone else’s headache.
“You didn’t really think I’d risk the don title by marrying some lowly Irish slut, did you?” His brow crumpled in mock confusion, a sly grin twisting one corner of his mouth. “I thought we knew each other better than that.”
His words were more painful than fists. Deadlier than bullets. They would leave scars that were beyond skin-deep.
“Oh.” Achilles tsked, tilting his head sideways. “That’s too bad.”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move a muscle in my entire useless body.
“Don’t do this,” I warned, voice quivering.
“Already did.” He was halfway out the door.
His back was the last thing I saw before I fell to my knees and let a raw shriek burst from my throat.
He finally did what he promised he would all those years ago.
He destroyed me.
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Society of Villains - Recommended Reading Order
(standalone stories with interconnected characters)
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