Margo Kess Novels & Stories

“You don’t get to kiss me and pretend that you didn’t leave me talking to two dudes who kept asking me who my art tutor was as a kid so they could get their grandkids in with them.” “Did you have an art tutor?” I ask, fairly confident Margo grew up in Iowa. Or was it Ohio? I don’t remember what state it was, but I know it wasn’t New York. Margo laughs, shaking her head as her almost-black pieces of hair dance with her movement. “I had an art teacher, Mrs. Kiebler, and she was a saint. But my family couldn’t afford an art tutor. They could barely afford the supplies I begged for.”

Margo took a deep breath and began to spill all of her secrets. Blanchette, Alec, and Bruce were standing in the room adjacent to the interrogation room, watching them through the glass and listening from the speaker box. Margo had on a sleeveless black top where the collar covered up her neck, matching black slacks, and black flats. She had on light red eyeshadow. Her hair was clipped behind her neck, letting the strands rest down her back. Margo looked classy and ladylike even in cuffs. Bruce held his breath as he watched her sign the deal. He watched her intently as she started telling her story.

Kane said confidently. “I hope so.” Mary whispered. “I know she did. Everything that happened that night was her plan. Well, except for me being there. I don’t think she was planning on that. I don’t think she was planning on anyone else being there.” Kane said, knowing Margo was a shrewd and calculating person. “Margo fought for her freedom that night. She fought to walk away from captivity and when I say she fought, she fought. Margo did something that most people wouldn’t have had the balls to do. She killed that night to be free. The Margo we know is still there but she’s allowed her courage to take over instead of being swallowed up by her fear. That’s something that most people couldn’

Mr King Keisha Martins is what you would call a thief. A good thief; at least that's what she says. She practically steals from the bad people and delivers to the good people; at a hefty price, of course. And she reckons it's a win-win situation. Bad guys lose, the good guys win and she gets some hard-earned money in the She is quite content with her perfect little existence and risky way of living because hello, adrenaline? Yes, she absolutely loves the adrenaline that comes with the danger.

"I am Veronica Vane. I am your one and only true Queen and Herald. No impostor can bring me down to the ground." I flew in front of Elspeth and whispered to her ear, "Even you, Elspeth… don’t have the capability to overpower me."

she says, eyeing me over the rim of her teacup with a mischievous glint, “tell me again how you ended up joining a secret society run by Abigail Winchester, who, by the way, could stop traffic just by walking into a room?” I grin, already sensing where this is headed. “She’s not my type.” “Right,” Margo says, drawing the word out, “but then there's also Dr. Madison Petrosky, the human embodiment of a cardiac arrest—who just so happens to cause and treat them.” I chuckle, leaning back against the cushions and draping my arm across the back of the sofa. “This sounds like an interrogation.” “Oh, it’s not,” she says with faux innocence. “Just a woman trying to understand her fiancé’s motivations

I dropped my keys on the console, already tugging at my tie as I started up the stairs. Then came the knock—three crisp, deliberate raps. I paused, exhaled through my nose, and went back down to open the door. A woman stood there: polished designer coat, perfect hair, and a smile dialled to charming. “Hi,” she said brightly. “I’m Margo. Eve’s cousin. She must have told you about me. Anyway, she told me I could drop by anytime for a family visit. Is she around?” Eve had never mentioned a cousin named Margo. Not once. I haven’t even seen her before.

If only I hadn’t been such a coward… “Ma’am, please. You cannot barge in like this. It’s terribly inappropriate,” Margo’s tense voice filtered in through the partially open door of the conference room. I had never heard such panic in her tone before. Whatever was happening outside, whoever she was speaking to, held my attention completely. As I stepped out, Margo’s back came into view. She appeared to be blocking someone from advancing further. There were guards behind the person whom my assistant was earnestly trying to dissuade.