And then there is Mara Jade.
Not only has she spent the entire fucking night looking for her car that had been stolen by a valet attendant, whom she’d had to seduce -- to some degree -- and then drug him to get the car back. But she’s also filthy, sleepless, and trembling from her anger. She would have killed him if thirty plus people hadn’t seen them together while she was working to get the damn car back. Mara is in a country that, while familiar to her on some level, is still largely foreign. At first getting back to the car had been a matter of retrieving a thumb drive that had been hidden within the upholstery. But soon it became a matter of her own sense of justice.
That and rescuing the poor car.
“Find me your best mechanic.” The redhead, while seemingly tiny, glares at her tow driver in such a way that he’s instantly fumbling over himself to put distance between them.
“You want Miss Kas,” he mutters, quickly working to pull up any kind of info he can find about the mechanic’s shop online. He shoves the phone in her direction. A Yelp review pulled up.
Mara doesn’t take it. “Yes, fine. Just get it there.”
At the shop, she paces, cursing under her breath in Russian. She’s still in the formal gown she wore the night before. Her feet are killing her. But none of that is enough to match the rage that still flows through her. When the woman, whom Mara assumes must be Kas, appears, she turns to face her. “Он испортил мою машину.” She stares at the woman. “He wrecked my transmission,” she manages in English, rolling her r in wrecked a little too much and making the e sound in mission so that it sounds more like transmeeshun. “I need you to fix it so I can go back to DC and kill him.”
