SynopsisBeing framed for murder sucks. Being framed for the murder of your old friend-turned-enemy-turned-maybe-friend-again sucks even worse. The old Sheldon would’ve raised hell, but no, I’ve been nice. I’ve been quiet. I’ve not said a word while the headlines rip me to shreds, but now? All bets are off. I’m going to find out who did this to me and I’m going to make them pay. I don’t care who will get hurt in the process.
I brandished the knife, waving it back and forth. It was almost pretty as the light reflected off it. “So I’m going to give you an incentive.”
“W-w-what are you talking about?” He swallowed again. “What kind of incentive?”
I grinned at him.
He sucked in his breath, knowing his question had been the wrong question to ask.
I said, “I’m glad you asked.”
Then I flipped the knife in the air, flicked my hand around, caught the handle, and slammed it into his leg.