Harlow

Harlow DRESSED TO KILL KATIE MAY R.A. SMYTH Copyright © 2023 by Katie May and R.A. Smyth All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Edited by Lindsey Loucks of Midnight Library Cover by Jodie-Leigh Plowman oof JODIELOCKS Designs To the girls who like their men dark, damaged, and dangerous. We feel you. Why have a Prince Charming when you can have the beast himself? Contents Foreword Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Epilogue Dressed to Kill Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Katie May About the Author Also by R.A. Smyth Foreword Harlow is a part of the Dressed to Kill shared world. However, it can be read independently of the other books in the series. This book contains strong language, sexual situations, violence, and violence against children. Reader’s discretion is advised. Prologue HARLOW I stare down at my latest victim with bland apathy. Middle-aged, thinning brown hair, age lines along his eyes and mouth. There’s nothing altogether different about him. Nothing that would make him stand out from the crowd. And yet he’s vile enough to have warranted my little visit tonight. His death means nothing to me. It’s simply a job. If anything, I’m happy to have rid the world of one more monster, although I’m enough of a realist to know that another one will only pop up in his place. With only the final part of my ritual left to complete, I cautiously lean in, careful not to touch any other part of him, and press my violet-colored lips to his cheek. It’s still warm to the touch, but it won’t be long until any remnants of life leach out of him and rigor mortis sets in. When I pull back, a perfect imprint is left on his cheek. The only sign that I was ever here. Ritual complete, I sit back on my heels and simply take a moment, even though I know I shouldn’t. There’s something about the peacefulness that comes after taking a life. It’s heavy and permanent, and the only time when I feel wholly myself. For one single moment, the chaos falls still, and that silence is blissful. Killing is what I was made for. It’s what I’m best at. It’s Chapter 1 HARLOW I’m going to murder Royal. No, not just murder. I’m going to slit her throat and then bathe in her blood as she screams in utter agony, writhing on the ground as I laugh hysterically. My right eye begins to twitch as I stare at the stack of letters on the white kitchen countertop. They’re not of any importance—bills, more than likely, and the occasional solicitation—but did Royal really have to move them? When I took up the mail this morning, I placed the letters exactly where I wanted them—in the wicker basket near the edge of the table. However, Royal must’ve snuck inside the kitchen while I was showering and moved all of the mail so it’s now on the countertop directly behind the bar, beside the coffee maker. Grumbling in irritation, I cross the bamboo floorboards, grab all of the letters, and shove them back into the wicker basket, making sure that all of the edges line up meticulously. If there’s one thing I learned over the years, it’s that it’s hard living with nine other girls. Tabitha always smells vaguely of grease and oil from all of the time she spends in the garage. Karma constantly has smudges of flour on her face from her creations in the kitchen. And Darcy? I wouldn’t be surprised to find the girl balancing on the edge of the kitchen table with pasta sauce dripping