Seven Crows

by Kate Kessler

  “You should become a cop,” Shannon suggested.

  She almost choked on her own spit. “Uh, not going to happen. Even if I wanted to, they don’t let people like me become cops. Hey, what happened to Cody?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care,” Shannon replied. “I’ve blocked him on my phone.”

  She smiled. “Good girl.”

  Shannon smiled back. “What do I call you now?”

  “Aunt Killy, same as you did before.”

  “But…”

  Killian pointed at Megan. “That’s your mother. It doesn’t matter which one of us popped you out. She’s the one who has always been there for you when you needed her. She’s the one who always will be. She’s more of a mother than I’ve ever been or ever could be. Oh shit, Meg. I didn’t mean…”

  Her weeping sister waved a hand at her. “I’m not upset. That’s just the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  And that proved Megan was more of a mother than she ever was, because Killian hadn’t really thought of it as a compliment, just the truth.

  They talked a little while longer, until there really wasn’t any awkwardness left between them. Nothing had changed except that the secret—the one she’d sworn never to tell—was finally out in the open. She didn’t have any secrets anymore.

  Well, maybe a few.

  They ate dinner at the dining room table. Willow kept feeding Hank scraps under the table, earning her the bulldog’s lifelong adoration and affection.

  “Maybe we should get a dog,” Megan mused. “A little extra protection around the house.” She said it lightly, but her words still pierced Killian’s heart. It was going to be a while before Megan and Shannon felt safe again. There was nothing she could do about it, no way she could make their world the happy little bubble it had been before this. She wasn’t going to take that on as personal baggage if she could help it. It just was what it was.

  After dinner they had dessert, which was ice cream because that was all Dash had in the house. Then the three of them lingered a little while longer before leaving.

  Willow hugged Hank first, then Dash, and then Killian before heading to the door. Megan took her out to get her in her booster seat and Dash took Hank out for a walk, leaving Killian and Shannon alone.

  “Are you honestly okay?” Killian asked.

  Shannon nodded. “I think so. I don’t know. I will be, though.”

  “Yeah, you will.”

  “And hey, Aunt Killy? What you said earlier, about Mom being more of a mother than you?”

  Killian nodded, too apprehensive to speak.

  “I think that’s kinda bullshit? You’ve always been there for me when I needed you. You risked your life to save me. I think that’s what being a mother is all about. So, maybe it’s okay if I have two moms now?”

  Emotion wrapped around her throat and squeezed like a pair of large hands. “Yeah,” she rasped. “That would probably be okay—if it’s okay with your mom.”

  Shannon grinned. “Which one?” Then she hugged her—stiffly, because both of them were pretty banged up. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, sure.” And then she was gone. Killian stood at the door, remembering that moment years ago when the nurse took Shannon from her for the first time and put her in Megan’s arms. She’d known then that it was the right thing to do, that it was the best thing for Shannon. That Megan would hold her close and protect her like a mother should, but damn if her arms hadn’t felt empty ever since.

  They didn’t feel that way anymore.

  A little more than a week after the shootout at Rank’s compound, Killian was back to work. She told Donna—and work—that she’d fallen down her apartment steps while taking out the garbage. She didn’t think either of them believed her, but they said they did. Donna replied that she hoped she felt better soon and work grumbled about having to find someone to cover her shifts. As though it was all that difficult to find a beer monkey.

  She hated the job. Hated being back in that place, chafing under someone else’s rules for lousy money and mediocre tips. She’d actually started looking at the pamphlets Donna had given her about college courses. She was barely thirty-one, for Christ’s sake. There had to be more available to her, even with her record. Maybe she’d even start her own company, though she had no frigging idea what she’d do.

  She crossed the dark parking lot to the Impala. Her leg was still healing—from being stabbed, shot, and beaten—but her mobility had improved tenfold in the last couple of days. The limp wasn’t nearly as pronounced. Still, she played it up at work because it sold her lie.

  “Ms. Delaney?” She’d just slid the key into the lock when someone said her name. Slowly, she turned. She had no gun. No weapon at all except for her fists.

  Standing there was an older woman of maybe forty. She was incredibly put together and built like what her old man used to call a brick shithouse. Tall and strong, she had a perfectly coiffed weave that hung in waves around the shoulders of her long leather coat. Her makeup was perfect on a face that looked like it belonged on a goddess. Her red suit was precision-tailored, and Killian was pretty sure the woman’s boots cost more than her rent.

  This was no thug. No street queen. This woman exuded power.

  “Do I know you?” Killian asked, certain that she would remember such a face had she seen it before.

  “No, but we have mutual acquaintances.”

  “We do?”

  As if summoned by magic, someone else stepped out of the shadows behind the woman. Killian’s heart gave a strange thump as she recognized the newcomer.

  “Raven?”

  Her old cellmate, friend…lover smiled slightly. “Hey, Killy.”

  “Well, isn’t this a surprise,” she said drily. Her attention turned back to the larger woman. “Would Dash Clark be another mutual acquaintance?”

  She nodded. “Dash, Raven, and Story have worked for me for quite some time. A little longer than I’ve been interested in you.”

  “So it wasn’t a coincidence that you ended up in my cell?” she asked Raven.

  She shook her beautiful head. “Someone had to help you stay alive. I left the same day you did.”

  Killian wasn’t going to shame herself by asking if it had all been an act. It didn’t matter. “So you’ve had your fingers in my business for a while, then.” Oh, Raven’s fingers had definitely been in her business.

  “Not to manipulate, I assure you. But to…assist,” Maxine said.

  Assist. That was one way to put it. Killian leaned back against the Impala to take some of her weight off her injured leg. It was starting to ache after standing all night. “Are you the one who paid Story to protect me?”

  “That was me.”

  “Why?”

  Hands in her pockets, she shrugged gracefully. “I thought you could use a little backup, and I wanted to see what you would do to Mr. Cirello.”

  “He did it himself.” She wasn’t admitting to having anything to do with Rank’s death, especially not to a stranger.

  “Only after you broke him like a china figurine. You have a beautiful way with violence, Ms. Delaney.”

  “Thanks?” And how the hell did she know what Killian had done to Rank? Had she seen his body?

  The woman laughed. “Forgive me, I’ve been rude. I’m Maxine Hollander. I don’t imagine either Dash or Story ever mentioned me by name?”

  “No.” She glanced at Raven. “She didn’t, either.”

  “No, Raven was to keep that a secret. You may have noticed that I tend to employ people of very impressive skill sets.”

  “Very.” This time she made a point of not looking at Raven.

  “You, Dash, and Story make a very interesting…team.”

  “Throw in a stoner and we’re a regular Scooby Gang.” Plus Hank, of course.

  Another smile. “I’d like to make you an offer of employment, Ms. Delaney.”

  “Doing what?” Killian asked, giving the woman a dubious glance.


  She held out her arms as though it was obvious. “What you seem to do best. Fighting for people who can’t fight for themselves.”

  It sounded good. So much better than dealing with drunks. More rewarding.

  There had to be a catch.

  “What’s the pay?”

  “You’ll be paid by assignment as well as given a vehicle, and help finding a place to live, plus access to our entire network.”

  “What’s the average price per assignment?” She hated being all about the money, but really, she was all about the money. And the freedom.

  The number the woman gave her was astronomical. “Of course it depends on the individual assignment, but that will be the least amount you’ll make.”

  It was too good to be true. “You know I’m on parole.”

  “Of course. Donna Grant, yes?”

  Okay, this woman knew way too much about her life. “Do you really need me to verify it?”

  Maxine chuckled. “No, of course not. I know Donna. A brief discussion and you’d never have to worry about infractions again.”

  This was ridiculous. “You have parole officers who work for you?”

  Maxine gave her a child, please look. “We have all kinds of people working for us—it’s why we’re as powerful as we are. Our operatives put themselves in danger for us and we reward them handsomely.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch. You scratch our back and we’ll scratch yours, plain and simple.”

  “In my experience nothing is ever plain and it sure as hell isn’t simple.”

  “No,” the woman said with a smile. “I suppose not. I appreciate your reticence, Ms. Delaney, I truly do. What’s your gut telling you?”

  “That what you’re selling is too good to be true.”

  “It is a good offer. You won’t get a better one, but you’d be foolish to jump in without educating yourself. Talk to Dash and Story. Listen to what they have to say.” Maxine pulled a business card from her pocket and handed it to her. “Call me if you’d like to discuss things further. Maybe we can have lunch. My treat, of course.”

  The card was heavy stock, velvety paper. Not cheap. It had just her name and a phone number on it. No title. No business. “Sure,” Killian agreed.

  “Wonderful. I look forward to hearing from you. Have a good night.”

  “Good night.”

  The woman began to walk away, then stopped. “Oh, and, Killian? I’m glad your daughter is safe.”

  Killian drew back. “How do you know that?” Dash hadn’t told her; she knew he hadn’t. He wouldn’t.

  Maxine smiled that enigmatic smile. “I know all kinds of things. I want you to know that if you come to work with us, you’ll never have to worry about anything happening to her or the rest of your family ever again. We take care of our own.” She turned on her heel then and walked across the lot to a black sedan parked by itself.

  “See you around, Killy,” Raven promised. Then she pursed her perfect lips and blew her a kiss before following after her boss. Killian watched her open the door for Maxine, and the two of them climbed into the sedan. The driver’s window came down and the person behind the wheel waved. It was Story. Killian waved back. If Story liked this woman, and Dash liked her, too…well, the money was fucking awesome, and she’d be doing something good, wouldn’t she?

  Although who was she trying to fool? Her moral compass didn’t really register good or bad.

  But she really didn’t like knowing Raven had been a plant. Maybe getting that close hadn’t been part of the assignment, but maybe it had. How much did it matter now? It wasn’t like she’d fallen in love with her.

  She put the card in her pocket, climbed into the car, and drove to Dash’s house. They were spending the weekend together, and since it was Friday, he’d be waiting up for her.

  They’d fallen into something comfortable and hot at the same time. Maybe it was the history that made it seem easy, but every time she saw him she was more attracted to him, more desperate for whatever he wanted to give her. Maybe they were just two messed-up souls looking for a co-dependent, but it felt right when they were together. He accepted her and she accepted him—no judgment. It was nice. She’d only had one other serious relationship in her life, and that had been a teenage girl’s infatuation. She had clung to Jason like tar in the hope he’d fill the emptiness she felt inside. Somewhere along the way that emptiness had filled itself and now she realized that Dash had been the one she ran to when she needed support. Jason had been her obsession, and that wasn’t really love.

  Hank met her at the door along with Dash. When she was there the dog was never far. He even slept on the carpet near her side of the bed. She loved it. Megan had already started looking for a bulldog puppy.

  “Maxine Hollander came to see me tonight,” she told Dash as he handed her a beer a few minutes later.

  He arched a brow. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Did you know about Raven?”

  He looked confused. “Maxine’s assistant?”

  “She was my cellmate. I probably wouldn’t have made it out alive without her.”

  There was no faking his surprise. “No. Maxine…she never said anything.”

  “Guess she had her own reasons for looking out for me. She offered me a job.”

  “What did you say?” he asked as they walked into the living room together. He still looked bewildered by the whole thing.

  “I told her I’d think about it.” She sat down on the couch and put her feet up on the coffee table. He did the same. “What do you think of her, honestly?”

  “I like her. Look, Kill, I’ve already told you how much this gig has changed my life. It’s not without risk, but I love it. Obviously she’s had her eye on you for a while. What did she ask you to do?”

  “Help people who can’t help themselves.” Something like that.

  He nodded. “Now it makes sense. Did she tell you she was trafficked as a girl?”

  “No.” Jesus.

  “She was. She was rescued from an international ring by a couple of mercenaries overseas. She told me that seeing them working outside the boundaries of the law—getting things done—is what inspired her to form the network with her co-founders. I wouldn’t necessarily call them good guys, because they’re more gray hats than white, but they’re fair.”

  “I like the idea of doing something that requires me to hit people on a regular basis, especially people who deserve it. She told me I had a beautiful way with violence.”

  He grinned. “You do make it an art.”

  “I could move out of my apartment.” She’d also be working for someone who liked to know too much about the people who worked for her. That was a definite drawback, but if Maxine already knew her secrets, what difference did it make?

  “Yep.” He took her hand. “And if you wanted, we could spend more time together. Maybe even work together sometimes.”

  “Will you trick out the Impala?”

  “You know it.”

  She squeezed his fingers. “I do like the idea of us spending more time together. If you’re up for it, that is.”

  He leaned over and kissed her. “I am.”

  Killian kissed him again. Things were just starting to get interesting when his cell phone rang. He answered it—which was a little annoying.

  “What’s up?” he asked whoever was on the other end. Killian watched as he frowned. “What do you need?” He listened intently for a few seconds. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Story needs help.” He was already rising to his feet. He turned and offered her his hand. “Come with me?”

  She stared at his fingers. “We’re hardly in any shape to be much help.”

  His gaze locked with hers. “It’s Story.”

  If she did this, it would be as good as saying yes to Maxine. She’d be signing up to work with a “network” she knew very little abou
t.

  Except that they had backed her up when she needed it. Dash was one of the best people she’d ever known, and Story was well on her way to becoming an actual friend. How long had it been since she’d had one of those? If Story needed help, she owed her.

  Or she could just go to bed and go work at the club again tomorrow.

  She could give her notice instead.

  She slipped her hand into his and practically jumped to her feet. Her injured leg didn’t even mind.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  Acknowledgments

  I’ve been wanting to write about a character like Killian for a long time, and I need to thank a few people for helping make this book a reality. First of all, thanks to my editor, Bradley Englert, who greeted the idea with enthusiasm and support, and who really went to bat for the book. Also, big thanks to the team at Redhook for getting behind the project. Also, to Lauren Panepinto, Lisa Marie Pompilio, and the folks in the Art Department—oh my gawd, I love this cover!

  Big thanks to my awesome agent, Deidre Knight, for her encouragement and support. I adore you, lady!

  Also, thanks to Detective Tanya Campagnone for answering all my questions involving the law and/or the breaking of it. Any errors are mine and mine alone.

  Discover Your Next Great Read

  Get sneak peeks, book recommendations, and news about your favorite authors.

  Tap here to learn more.

  meet the author

  Photo Credit: Kathryn Smith

  As a child, KATE KESSLER seemed to have a knack for finding trouble, and for it finding her. Kate now prefers to write about trouble rather than cause it, and spends her days writing about why people do the things they do. She lives in New England with her husband.

  if you enjoyed

  SEVEN CROWS

  look out for

  DEAD RINGER