g. High, sharp cheekbones. Dark, almond-shaped eyes framed by naturally thick lashes. Her lip

om the dispenser and slowly wiped

led groan brok

y went perfectly still. Her dark eyes flicked to the reflection of the bathroom st

feet and moved soundlessly across the tiled floor, the cheap heels making

tween the door and the fr

wall. The young man had messy blond hair and a sharp, expensively-bred jaw. One thug had a thick rag clamped over the blond boy's m

kid. Your daddy's company is gonna pay a fortune to get you back in one piec

d. The muscles in he

r-old body was soft, underfed, utterly unconditioned. She couldn't rely on power. She had to rely entirely on flawless technique, leverage, and absol

slammed directly into the thug's spin

tumbled forward. The blond boy slid down

rage when he saw the girl in the pink dress standing in t

at. She stepped fu

d spent a decade drilling. She dropped her center of gravity, twisted her hips,

was preci

horrible, wet choking sound gargled from his mouth as his knees buckled a

handled switchblade from his combat boot, and pressed the rel

ng the blade strai

t. The blade sliced through the air, missing her cheek by a m

ving hard into the nerve cluster. Her right hand locked around his forearm. She twisted her entire

ap cracked thr

rs went limp, and the switch

ade. She flipped the knife in her hand, gripping the blade flat against her

ed like a sack of wet cement, landing

nly by the boy's ragge

on was a blur of swimming shapes, but he could see her-the girl standing over two uncon

ndle clean on the thug's leather jacket and tossed it casually ove

had bunched at the waist. She gripped the hem and pu

g man. She didn't ask if he

er the pink fabric. This body was far from its peak; the impact had nearly bruised her own bones. Ginny ignore

chest heaving, and burned the image of her

lass door and stepped back in