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However Maria expected to spend her weekend, it wasn’t like this—tied to a chair in a Bellagio suite too rich for her blood. Her suit jacket and weapons lay discarded across the queen bed in the middle of the room, leaving her with nothing but a halfway torn, rumpled white dress shirt over black slacks.
She didn't have plans, per se, but her expectations of Vegas are spoiling by the minute. All things considered, the company could be better.
More feminine, in any case.
A low growl expels rancid breath inches from her face. “Who sent you?”
-Sequel to Masquerade.
Written for Flash Fiction Friday #353: Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
Series
- Part 7 of Tumblr Prompt Fills