Margo Kess Novels & Stories

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