At thirty-two years old, Ana Petrova’s had enough of death. She never wanted to be an assassin anyway. With a young daughter now the centre of her world, Ana’s determined to settle into her new life in Virginia and do whatever it is suburban moms do.
But her friend Emmy has other ideas. A trip to New York proves that even the brightest places can cast dark shadows, and Ana’s forced to consider whether there might still be a need for her skills after all.
Glitter is a novella in the Blackwood Security series that slots in after Ultraviolet, but can be read as a standalone – no cliffhanger!
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Excerpt: The Beginning…
“Nyet! Get off there.”
The dog ignored Ana until she made a grab for it, then the four-legged fiend leapt back, knocking a box of eggs off the counter with one front paw as it did so. Ana stretched for the eggs and caught them, but she forgot about the flour in her other hand. The bag hit the floor with a quiet thump and exploded, covering every surface in the kitchen with its contents, Ana and her not-quite-three-year-old daughter included.
“Gavno!”
Despite the fact that she lived in America now, Virginia to be precise, Ana still cursed in Russian half the time. But quietly so Tabitha didn’t copy. The little girl was meant to be starting preschool soon, something that left Ana twitchy, and being a mom was hard enough without getting hauled in by the principal to apologise for your child’s language.
A cake. She’d just wanted to make a cake. The perky blonde woman on Cooking Channel managed it with no trouble at all, but Ana’s previous attempts had been flat, burned, and squidgy respectively. And now there was fucking flour everywhere. She grabbed a roll of paper towel and began wiping, and that was when she smelled smoke.
“Eto pizdets!”
Ana’s boyfriend, Sam, had insisted on having a fire extinguisher in the kitchen, which said a lot about either his sense of paranoia or his faith in Ana’s culinary skills. Since they’d practically lived together in Russia four years ago and he’d pretended to enjoy her charred offerings several times a week back then, she suspected the latter.
But whatever, today she was grateful for his foresight as she grabbed the extinguisher and blasted what was left of the caramel sauce into a cloud of vapour.
Just as someone knocked on the door.
Ana stiffened. For a person to get to the apartment door, they’d have to get past the external door first. Which meant they either had a key fob, or they’d bypassed the system. Ana could do that in a heartbeat—indeed, she had many times in many apartment blocks, and on none of those occasions was it to wish the occupants a happy birthday. Actually, there was that one time she’d posed as a florist and—
Forget that. Where the hell was her gun?
In another life, she’d kept two pistols on her at all times, but since her goal when she came to America had been to be normal—to fit in and have Tabby grow up like a regular kid—the concealed carry holsters now lived in her gun safe. Probably she should have locked all the guns in there too, but old habits died hard. Still, she only carried one pistol now. And since the damn thing kept slipping in the waistband of her yoga pants, she’d put it on top of the fridge, out of Tabby’s reach, and now it too was covered in a sticky mess of flour and firefighting foam.
Ana wiped it on her apron and ran into the hallway, just in time to see Tabby drag open the front door. How, you ask? Because she’d stood on the fucking dog to reach the lock. Suka sin. How had she learned to do that?
Ana had her gun up when Bradley, her sister’s personal assistant, poked his head around the door. The box he was carrying hit the deck with a squishy sound, and he threw his hands in the air.
“Don’t shoot!”
Ana rolled her eyes and shoved the Glock semi-automatic into her waistband without thinking, whereupon it immediately slid to mid-thigh.
“Dammit.”
Excerpt: Shopping…
Perhaps if she distracted herself by planning a murder, time would pass quicker?
But who to murder? Hmm…
“Earth to Ana?” Bradley waved a hand in front of her eyes.
“Huh?” Oh, right. The dress. She crouched down as best she could considering the restrictions of the outfit. “Tabby, which colour do you like best?”
“Black.”
“Out of yellow and purple.”
Tabby thought for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. Sometimes, Ana couldn’t believe she’d played a part in creating something that cute.
“Purple.”
“Then it’s settled. The purple one.”
Bradley clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Now we just need to find shoes and accessories to match. And don’t groan—this is fun.”
“No, it isn’t,” Emmy said.
“Stop being such a sourpuss and try your dresses on. Anyone would think you’d rather be at work.”
“I would.”
“Dresses. Now.”
Strange how Emmy stood up to criminals and despots, everyone from street thugs to the man who’d ruled Ana’s life, yet she accepted orders from a small man with turquoise-and-pink hair. And not only that, she paid him money to boss her around.
“Try these pumps on.” Bradley set a pair of shiny green shoes with four-inch heels in front of Ana. “And don’t tell me they’re too high because they aren’t.”
Ana had a foot halfway into the first shoe before realisation dawned. Bradley bossed her around too. And she let him.
Dammit.
