Free Kiss at Your Own Risk by Stephanie Rowe

contract for your services. Payment for the kill is your dad’s freedom.” She held out a pen. “Here you go.”
    Trinity scanned the papers. I, Trinity Harpswell, do hereby swear that I am a black widow, and I will use my black widow talents to kill the target— Her stomach lurched and she looked up. “I can’t do it.”
    “Isn’t there another option?” Reina asked. “I mean—”
    “These were the terms we decided on when we sent Augustus after Elijah. You trade the heart of one beast for your father. Nothing less will do.” Her voice became reverent. “Augustus is extremely inflexible in the administration of his duties. Once he’s set into motion, he simply can’t be stopped. He’s as formidable as he is handsome.”
    “Handsome?” Reina echoed. “Hunchbacks and rashes are hot? He smells like rotting bananas.”
    Felicia laughed. “Oh, my dear, you have so much to learn.” She fluttered her hand over her chest as if trying to dissipate sudden heat. “Well, Trinity. Are you going to sign it?”
    Reina put her arm around Trinity’s shoulder and squeezed. “You don’t have to do this,” she said. “Your dad would understand.”
    “He’d be furious if I kill someone to save him.” Trinity could already hear him yelling that if she loved him, she would let him die and take her freedom as his gift to her. But she couldn’t let her dad die, not on her behalf. If she allowed others to suffer for her weakness, what was the point of living? She was more than that. She knew she was. There had to be a way, and she had seven days to find it.
    Martin hadn’t been the real test.
    The real test was now, and her dad’s life and her own soul were at stake.
    “Trin?”
    She took the pen and signed the contract.
    ***
    The kitchen fell silent as the fridge went blank.
    Blaine was stunned. Christian was alive. And he was being tortured by a gal with quite the penchant for it. If they hightailed it back there, he’d be free.
    No. Not free. Spared.
    Big difference.
    Nigel spoke first. “If we return, she’ll hand him over to us, but all that shit will start right back up.” He held up his hand. “Granted, I appreciate the man I’ve become as a result of life’s little challenges, but I’m really done with the prisoner/torture/emasculation crap.”
    Blaine swore and stood up. “No way are we turning ourselves in.”
    “I can’t believe you guys don’t want to go back and party with a psychotic she-demon with questionable ethics. You two are a couple of pansies.” Jarvis yanked open the fridge to get another beer, using a pot holder to grab the steel handle. “You know she’s fixed all the weaknesses in her system. We go in, and we’re not getting out. Ever.”
    “No. Not acceptable.” The skull and crossbones on Blaine’s pec was burning. “But we’re not leaving Christian there.”
    Jarvis retrieved a beer, then scowled at it. “Warm. The bitch heated it up.” He tossed the beer back in the fridge and slammed it shut. “How is it that women are so damn good at knowing exactly what little things annoy men? Is it in their genes? Do they teach it in little study groups? A cold beer. That’s all I want, and she knew it.”
    “She has to die.” Nigel wove a paintbrush between his fingers, a thoughtful look on his face. “It’s the only way for this to end.”
    “Yeah, and good luck with that.” Jarvis pulled open a cabinet and grabbed a bag of beef jerky. Even the simple act of eating whenever they wanted was a gift. “Because she’s such a delicate little thing.”
    “There’s a way to kill everything,” Nigel said. “We just need to figure out what it is.”
    “Hell, it’d be my biggest wet dream to end her existence. I’m game.” Jarvis tore open the plastic and pulled out a large hunk of dried beef. “I’m not going back in there on her invite, though. We take one step inside, and it’s curling irons and mani/pedis again. Been there, done that. Had enough.” He took a