Selena

SELENA DRESSED TO KILL MAY DAWSON CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 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 Epilogue A Note From May Also by May Dawson CHAPTER 1 Selena I’d spent the last twenty-two hours awake and tracking a killer through the internet. The evidence collected about my parents’ murderers had been ‘lost’ forever, and all that was left was one bit of DNA from the crime scene, entered into the national DNA database. Now someone had gone in and erased every electronic file on my parents. The DNA trace had been deleted. But my heart pounded as I worked on my code, and it wasn’t just from my excessive caffeine consumption. They’d left a digital trail, picking up the bug I’d set up long ago in case anyone ever came after this evidence. After all these years, the killer had finally popped back into existence. I was following the trail of whoever erased my parents. And that meant I really needed another Diet Mountain Dew. The perfect soda, pure caffeine in lemon-lime form, the nectar of the gods. I got up from the desk and stretched before I headed to the vending machine I’d installed in one corner of my room. It made a constant noisy hum and was far less energy efficient than a fridge, but I wasn’t paying the power bill. There was just something fun about having my own vending machine. But as I fed quarters into it, I realized it was out of Dew. It had been a long quest, after all. I groaned and raked my fingers through my hair, feeling it snag on a few knots. I’d have to face people. Admittedly, they were people I’d lived with for twenty years, since Man took me in, but my tolerance for people swung from not at all, nope to we can talk but please don’t touch me. As I made my way into the kitchen, Karma said, “I see the world’s best hacker is once again wearing sweatpants.” She was stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce. “I’m number six, at best,” I said. “Think of what you could accomplish if you didn’t spend hours a day on your hair and makeup.” “I’m not taking life advice from number six.” “Strong words coming from a girl who once locked herself out of her own cell phone.” I said. Then I added, “Anyway. If I’m number six, Darcy is fighting to push me down to number seven.” Darcy sauntered in then and hopped up onto the countertop. She looked up at me wide-eyed. “I’m not trying to push you down anywhere!” “Too fucking sweet for an assassin,” I told her, and she stuck her tongue out at me. She glanced at the pot, and Karma said, “All I need is gratitude that I’m cooking. I don’t want to hear about how you’d rather have pizza.” “I didn’t say a word!” Darcy protested. Karma aimed a spatula at her. Darcy widened her eyes and took a bite of garlic bread, then held one out to me. “I just came in here for Mountain Dew,” I said. “You need to eat actual food, crazy,” Karma said to me. I rolled my eyes, but I took the garlic bread. The warmth of the kitchen—and of the other girls’ banter—surrounded me, and it made me feel itchy. “Sit and eat with us before you go back to your cave,” Darcy suggested. I just swiped my Mountain Dew from the fridge and didn’t answer. Assassins have a short lifespan. Sooner or later, everyone who lives by the sword—or switchblade or poison or rifle—dies by it. We might’ve grown up together, but it was a bad idea to get attached. Just then, the door banged open, and Royal walked in. She looked exhausted from her last mission, but she perked right up—in a bad way—once she saw the state of the kitchen. “How can you cook with all those dishes in the sink?” “They’re not on the stove,” Darcy pointed out helpfully. “Welcome back, glad you aren’t dead,” I told Royal, already backing away toward the door. Sometimes the girls trapped me. Karma looked at me in exasperation. “Take a bowl of food with you if you must live solely in your room.” “Which smells bad,” Royal said. “Like Ramen.” “You haven’t been here in weeks!” And I only ate Ramen every other day, at most. “We’ve lived together for a while, my friend. I know how it smells.” Royal looked thoughtful. “What you need is a plant.” If I took care of a living green thing, it would quickly be followed by a brownening… and Royal’s ire. I would have to pass. I needed to escape, but Karma convinced me to take a bowl of spaghetti—and a piece of garlic bread clutched between my teeth—as I fled back into my room. There was something about the way they had family dinners that just reminded me a little too much of how different this life was from the life I was supposed to have, before my parents were murdered. Back in my room, it felt as if I were too lost in my thoughts about my parents. I had the faintest wisps of memory about them. My father, picking me up when he came home from work; the silver badges on his dark blue uniform. He’d always put his hat on top of my head because it made him laugh. I tried to focus on the code instead. That was all that mattered. The past was foggy and dark. Revenge was a clear, bright path into the future.