Huntress

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Sitting at the right foot of the devil could give a girl a complex about her pedicure. At least, that’s what Lilli Corbin had to assume when she walked into the designated meeting place and surveyed the tableau laid out before her. The small strip-mall nail salon had five nail stations ranged along the right wall and an equal number of pedicure chairs opposite. While three of the pedicure chairs were currently occupied, only two of the customers in them appeared to be availing themselves of the services of the frighteningly efficient nail technicians. The third lounged in the high, faux leather chair as if it were a carved and gilded throne.

Rounding the front desk, Lilli leaned back against the black laminate surface and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Busy night, Sam?”

Neither of the female patrons glanced up from their toes or the workers bent over them, but the man between them moved his mouth in a smile as dark as envy.

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