What you give is what you get.
True statement when it comes to Karma Montgomery, the Supreme Being that issues just what her name implies. Karma
A flick of the wrist, a twitch of the nose and her charges always got what they reaped. Some good, most not. A trip to hell was in the cards for her current charge and she was going to make the bastard pay. When her raging libido gets in the way of performing her job, and an evil soul escapes capture, there is no way of knowing she’ll be personally responsible for spawning Armageddon. Armed with her witty personality, and her five inch heels, she’d do practically anything to set the record straight. Especially if it meant working with the man she’d been trying for a decade to seduce. Her Reaper.
Reap was damn good at his job. Soul extraction was his specialty. There wasn’t a soul or demon in Hell that would think twice about going up against him. So when his partner, the feisty little five foot redhead, lets her raging libido get in the way of their latest extraction, he’s assigned to help her right the wrong. The sweet taste of his own personal revenge dangling as a prize for completing the task, he’d keep his eye on the ball, and not on her ass, to save the world – even if it killed him.
A rogue soul, an unruly Essence, and an unquenchable desire brewing between Reap and Karma might be more than either one of them bargained for.
Karma adjusted the knife in her thigh-high black boots and grinned. She’d been called lots of things during her existence and bitch was sitting pretty high on top of the list. Tonight she was going to prove the name had been created just for her. Another bar, another asshole, even worse than the last one she’d sent to hell. She stepped into the barely lit building and paused while taking in her surroundings. Squinting through the smoke, she inhaled, taking in a mixture of cheap perfume coupled with expensive aftershave and tainted with the undeniable smell of sex. This wasn’t your typical let’s hang out with friends on a Friday night and get drunk type of bar. It wasn’t even the type of bar to drink your sorrows away. This bar specialized in prostitutes and men who thrived from being unfaithful. An underlying sense of desire coursed through the establishment walls. She was in the right place. No other seedy joints for miles.
The bar was darkened to hide the sins of the patrons in the nearby booths, but she knew what they were doing. It was her job to know. She was Karma. The one and the same that comes back around ten-fold when you’ve been naughty. Judge, jury, and executioner all in a pair of her favorite five-inch-heel studded boots.
She sauntered into the bar, ignoring the glares from the partially clad women and the arousal of the businessmen, in stiff suits, out for a quickie and good time. Her black leather skirt conformed and stretched over her generously endowed ass, pulling and shifting with each step. A quick glance at her watch and she sighed. Her target was late. Had her best friend, Destiny, been wrong with the when and where?
Pressing her fire engine red lips together, she slid onto the nearest bar stool. The move inched her skirt a little higher on her legs, giving the man beside her a glimpse at her silky thigh-highs attached only by a matching black garter. She was sex and sin, and she was in the right place for that. There was only one way to take the bastard down and to win her bet, and she was dressed for the part.
The bartender appeared immediately in front of her, eager and willing to serve and, from the looks of it, he’d much rather serve her more than a simple drink. “What can I get you, doll?”
“Vodka straight up.”
“Sure thing, honey.” His eyes, hooded with desire, and his black pants did little to hide where his thoughts had strayed.
She watched the reflections, of the people behind her, in the mirror hanging behind the bar. She didn’t have to see him to know when her counterpart appeared. His essence alone drifted through the air, caressing her skin like an old lover. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Fresh rain and sex, the scents dampened her panties every time. She opened her eyes and continued to watch him through the mirror, never turning to offer her location. He’d find her soon enough. He always did. He scanned the rough smoky bar, past the women drooling and the men puffing out their chests. It was the same wherever one of the essences went, another reason why she was tired of this damn job. His crystal blue eyes met hers in the reflection. His mouth hardened in barely contained fury and she had to press her legs together to ignore the throb. This man defined sin.
He moved with long, sure strides until he stood behind her with his bronzed, bulging arms crossed over his chest. His normal sky blue eyes swirled with gray like a darkening sky during an approaching storm. She’d barely contained herself at the last meeting and had reached for the cannons he called arms. A million times, she’d been left horny and wanting while waiting for the day he’d take her in his arms and fuck her like the wanton woman she turned into when he was around. One roll in the hay, was that too much to ask for?
“What are you doing here, Karma?”
She slowly spun around, seductively crossing her legs. His eyes never strayed, never even acknowledging the move she’d performed just for his benefit. Bastard. Maybe the rumors were true. It was the only thing that made sense.
“Have a seat, stud. The party is just getting started, and you won’t want to miss this.”