“No.” The man smiled sharply. He had a small heart-shaped mouth that gave his whole face a sort of pointy, foxy look. “I’m a thief.” His gaze flickered toward the door with a distinct frown and Julien instinctively did, too, just as a loud banging sounded.

“What’s that?”

“Some cultures call it knocking. You wouldn’t be familiar,” the man murmured, slipping past him with a sway in his hips that did interesting things to the silk.

Julien looked purposefully away and followed him into the lobby just as the man opened the door. On the stoop stood a woman, dripping with blood.

Julien swore and hurried closer. “What the hell!”

The woman took one wide-eyed look at him and sagged forward, forcing Julien to reach out and catch her. Her body felt cold and fragile against his and she let out a long shuddering sob and began murmuring something frantically into his chest. Julien looked over her head for help, but the man in the robe had backed away, expression closed, almost wary, and Julien felt a corresponding prickle of unease. “Are you hurt? What happened?” he asked.

“Sweet Pea,” she cried. “I saw the monster!”

Don’t miss Pack of Lies by Charlie Adhara, from Carina Adores!

www.CarinaPress.com

Copyright © 2022 by Charlie Adhara

Keep reading for an excerpt from Hot Copy by Ruby Barrett.

Chapter One

Wesley

This elevator is sweltering. Or maybe it’s just the combination of my nerves and this suit that’s making me feel like the air is thick enough to choke on. I tug at my tie. After two years of wearing nothing but jeans and T-shirts, the silk feels like a noose. The only piece of clothing I am comfortable in are my socks.

I stand shoulder to shoulder with a guy almost my height, in a similar suit and tie. Though his looks much more expensive and he seems more at home in it. His blond hair and Rolex glare under the fluorescents. The volume on his phone is turned up so loud I can hear his horrible taste in music clearly through the earbuds.

“Hold the elevator!” a woman calls as the doors start to roll closed.

I step forward, pressing my hand to one side of the sliding doors as she darts in. Her head is down, her thumb scrolling quickly across her phone’s screen.

“What floor?” I ask, but she doesn’t respond, instead tapping the toe of her high-heeled shoe in a metallic rhythm. She sighs audibly, shaking her head at the screen. I shrug and step back again.

“You part of the Hill City internship?” Bad Music Guy pulls an earbud out. The tinny sound of his music fills the small space. What I wouldn’t give for the dulcet tones of the Beastie Boys’ mid-’90s discography so I could avoid conversation with him. I was such a nervous wreck this morning I forgot my earphones on my bedside table.

I nod and hold out my hand. “Wesley Chambers.”

“Mark.” He smiles wide, showing all his teeth. Like a chimpanzee. “Who’s your mentor?”