What do you do when you’re a hit man … who’s terrible at his job?

At first, I thought it would be an easy payday. A few pew pews for bad people, a couple of suitcases of cash for me. People have done worse for an honest living. Probably.

The problem is that after a couple of jobs, I’ve never actually managed to unalive someone, and not for lack of trying. Apparently, a basic requirement of a hitman is being a good shot.

Despite my constant duck-ups—that my boss knows nothing about—I’m given another name, and I very nearly follow through. Only after obliterating this guy’s ear and his fervent pleading to spare him, I’ve sent him into hiding and collected the cash anyway.

But wanted people are hard to hide, and bad guys don’t like paying big money for loose ends.

Now that Van Gogh has shown his face again—sans ear—I’ve scammed my way into his security team, which is sort of ideal since I’m now highly wanted as well.

Unfortunately, we have some “trust issues” to “work through” from our meet-shoot, and with the gorgeous bastard’s brother missing, he refuses to lay low until they’re reunited.

I’m not sold on the plan, honestly, but this guy has me questioning my sexuality along with my career path, and I’m at the point where I’m determined to see a job through to the end.

Or die trying.

But hey, at least then I’d finally deliver a body.

FOREWORD

Hey. Wow. Okay. We’re doing this. I’m Perry, and I figured this section was for me since I’m the one driving this thing. Totally heroic and serious star of this show. Trust me, when it comes to the guy who saved the day, that’s on me, no matter what St. Clare might say.

I’m a lover of smiley faces and a maker of headaches (just ask Saxon), but considering she’s only giving me the ONE book (we’ll see) to tell you my story, I figured I better make the most of it and get this book as big and beefy as I can.

Besides, I’m all about literacy and furthering our minds to … okay, that’s a lie. The book just makes one hell of a weapon.

CHAPTER ONE

PERRY

There comes a time in every man’s life when he needs to grow up and get on with things. Granted, I’ve always been a late bloomer, and it might have taken my apartment being broken into a third time, a disappointed big sister, dead parents, and an apparent murder car for it to happen, but it’s time.

I’m here.

Ready to take charge of my life and give my sister approximately one hundred fewer things to stress about.