Sin City: A Dame To Kill For Novels & Stories

“The penalty for anyone who hurts you is death. It was our wedding day. I had to do it.” She sighed. “Okay.” “Cam.” Forcing a smile, she kissed a corner of his lips. “How come this city is named Sin City?” “Because we commit so much sin in it.” “Including you?” Camilla mumbled. He didn’t talk but shrugged. He wasn’t a saint or a typical good man, but faced with the possibilities of all his crimes, her adoration faltered. “What kind of sins? Murder?” “When I have to,” he said. “To protect the people I care about. That includes you.”

Suddenly she saw a red dot on his chest and looked at the direction from where it was coming, she ran towards damian and pushed him making him stumble back, turning around she took out her gun from her waistband with left hand and pointed towards the man who tried to shoot Damian, the shooter was standing behind the other car again pointing towards the Damian, rose aimed at him and shot him directly between his eyes killing him on the spot, Damian took out his own gun and shot other man who was trying to shoot rose, his men covered him quickly creating a shield around him, rose was standing behind his back shooting every man who pointed his gun towards damian. Whoever is trying to kill Damia

bra, and that the breeze from the fan was making my nipples hard and quite visible through the nearly threadbare fabric. Josh didn't even try to hide his gaze, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of embarrassing me. My blood began to boil and I gripped the arms of the chair as Josh calmly took another sip. "What is it you want, Josh?" I asked suddenly bursting out of my chair and placing myself in front of him. Josh held the stem of the glass between his thumb and index finger, twirling it thoughtfully, admiring the way the light played with the redness of the liquid inside. "What is it I want?" Josh repeated. He turned to face me. "Why, I want what any man wants my dear, and th

The humiliation had been private, thankfully, but unacceptable nonetheless. So when Victor, my right hand had reminded me about Kevin Sinclair’s debt—twenty billion he’d gambled away, using his foster sister as collateral—I had gone there intending to send a message. Kill the degenerate gambler, leave his body as a warning to others who thought they could default on debts to the Dante family. I hadn’t expected to find the girl. When my men had kicked in the door, the scene before me had been typical of desperate men—Kevin Sinclair, high and panicked, hovering over a woman’s broken body on the floor.

Grace Grace 24, Dean 32 Tonight, I had two choices. Obey my father— or watch Daphne die in that locked attic. Even a little measure of using the power room would be used against me. The gun pointing at the head would, at any time, fire a bullet and end the life. I would have merrily taken the bullet, but the problem was that the gun was pointing at Daphne, who was locked in the attic. Still unconscious, not because of the drug she took last night, but more because the drug was pushed into her system by our father.

Miles said. She didn't turn around. "Go on." He swallowed. "The victim is Adrian Hart." For one beat, she didn't move. Then she looked at him as though the world had just made some grotesque clerical error. "...What did you say?" "It's Adrian." The file slipped from her hand. She stormed into the autopsy suite, crossed to my table, and yanked back the sheet. My face had been battered past easy recognition. Bruising. Splits. Marks too many to count. Yet the second Serena saw me, whatever lie she had still been clinging to died where she stood.

I kept my eyes on my documents. He sat down last. And then, because it was the precise and deliberate choice of a woman who had decided exactly how this first moment would go, I looked up. Damien Sinclair looked older than I remembered. Not badly. Just honestly. The way people look when years have actually happened to them rather than simply passed. He was composed in the way of someone who had been composing himself since the moment my name appeared on that document, which meant the composure was visible as a thing constructed rather than a thing natural.

And to kill his brother is celebrate Tristan too. Damien and the guys went to corner to sit waiting for the perfect time to strike. They haven't sit for two minutes when a naked slut sat on Damien's laps, and he scrutinized her body thoroughly with his eyes. Clean-shaven pu$$y, wide @ss, big breasts and fake plastic surgery face which is so obvious judging by her nose and cheekbones. She leaned in trying to kiss his lips, but he lowered his lids before speaking... "You kiss me, I'll snap your neck. Ion kiss sluts"

her voice grew even softer, "that club we went to? We were able to get in so easily because I knew someone there if not it’s not the kind of club you can just go and also he owns it. It’s a five-star club, Sofia, reserved for… certain kinds of people." I watched Clara, her words painting a horrifying, impossible picture in my mind. A mafia lord? How? How did I, Sofia Chris end up tangled with a man like that? How did I end up saving a man who dealt in violence? That night, that particular unfaithful night! I should have stayed away completely.

Funny because Nico said that’s how I looked when I was taking a life. “It’s over, Sienna. He’s gone.” Another lady in scrubs put her hands on Sienna’s shoulders. I watched as Sienna’s shoulders dropped as she got off. “Time of death, 8:30PM.” Sienna’s voice was firm and flat. “You should go, your shifts are over.” The other lady said. Sienna nodded and turned. She was walking towards me and she didn’t even realize. Seeing as someone was in her way she looked up. She froze when she saw me. A series of emotions washed over her face. Confused and then a little bit of relief? But it quickly forged into anger.