Her sigh came out as a sob and she let her head fall loose on her neck, her face twisting into a grotesque mask of pain. Fuck. Fuck him. Fuck them all... She was done. Out of here. There was no way she was going to put up with this bullshit anymore. People walking all over her, treating her like she was some kind of communal whipping post just because she wasn’t In The Band. Hell, she paid rent here, too. More than her share most of the time, the broke-ass motherfuckers. And cleaned up after. That's where it all happened, where it all began; the most terrifying, most thrilling forty-eight hours of her life. Idly, she wondered how they had managed to cover it up? After all, the kidnapping of the Princess of Wales was major headline news, but not a word had been printed, and according to Scotland Yard, only a small, select few actually knew what had happened. Of course it was all deniable; the terrorists were all dead, killed by an action team from the SAS; the Special Air Service.. More

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