Ha!
The worm has turned!
It’s Kalili here, filling in for Kendra (who’s somewhere way past Kepler 31 and can’t do an interview) who would normally fill in for Adam. However, since he’s the subject of this interview, well, he can’t exactly interview himself, now can he?
I promise not to harass him too much.
Oh, who am I kidding? He’s taken liberties telling my story, so I’m going to get some of my own back! My comments will be italicized. (See? Even a demon can learn new tricks!)
So why am I doing this? Why is he doing an interview? I mean, it’s his website, his blog, right?
He's part of the Fantasy Box Set Storybundle that he’s putting together!
He gathered a bunch of authors, and they all put in a BOX SET - MULTIPLE NOVELS AND NOVELLAS - for a bundle you can get, starting July 31!
You can check out the current bundle at www.storybundle.com - the rules are the same for every bundle. You can get ALL of the books in the bundle for $20 (or more, if you're so inclined). That's going to be such AMAZING value for you! But if that's a stretch - and let's face it, sometimes you need to prioritize (I know, I know, gas over books? Heresy!) - that's okay; for $5, you get four books. In this case, you'll get four collections, so you're already winning.
For the past few weeks, and for a couple more, he’s been featuring authors who are part of the bundle. Now it’s his turn in the barrel, and I’m the one calling the shots!
Adam Gaffen is the author of the near-future, hopepunk science fiction universe that starts with “The Cassidy Chronicles.” The heart of the universe is the indomitable Kendra Cassidy and her wife, Aiyana, as they struggle to drag humanity to the stars. The series The Artemis War follows the conflict that breaks out around the launch of the world’s first FTL starship, and the follow-on adventures launch with “The Ghosts of Tantor” and "Tracking Tantor." Two collections of short fiction, a technical manual, and a MG novel round out the universe for now.
He’s also venturing into fantasy/romance with the Godsfall trilogy, and into heist novels with “The Vault & the Vixen,” all of which inhabit the Cassidyverse.
He’s been honored with awards from Writers of the Future, Colorado Authors League, the Go Indie Now network, AllAuthor, Read Free.ly, and the Drunken Druid.
He lives in Colorado with his wife, five dogs, five cats, and wonders where all the time goes.
Winner of the Top 25 Indie Books of 2023 (The Heart of Space), 2022 (The Ghosts of Tantor), and 2021 (Triumph’s Ashes)
You can follow him all over social media, starting right here with his website, www.cassidychronicles.com
He’s also active on
Threads: https://www.threads.net/@adamgaffen
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/adamgaffen/
Star Trek or Star Wars? I’m a Trekkie from way back. I remember watching the animated series – not Prodigy, but the original nineteen seventy-mumble series – Saturday mornings. The format of the universe that Trek has created is so much broader and more evolved that others, because it’s been largely series-driven. There are literally hundreds of hours of canon from which to draw, where others have a few dozen hours.
I’m not sure I can agree with you on this, but I know Kendra’s in your camp.
Firefly – gone too soon or overrated? Don’t hate, but I missed it entirely. When it aired, I was busy with work and family; then I just never got back to it.
What? How the Heaven did you manage to miss it? It is a classic work of science fiction and laid the groundwork for so many other amazing shows! And you call yourself a SF writer…
Reboots – a great idea or a lack of creativity? Every writer builds on the work of the authors who came before them, so in a way, everything is a reboot—
No way, you’re not dodging the question like that! It’s a simple question. Did Ocean’s Eleven need to be remade by George Clooney? Yes or no!
Well, when you put it that way – sometimes.
Augh!
Hear me out. There are some media which need to be updated to revise potentially outdated and problematic messages and themes. When you have a piece of SF that posits a future which is obviously rooted in the values and societal norms of the era it was created, then it’s ripe for rebooting. A great example is Battlestar Galactica. The two iterations fit their eras perfectly – but would be totally out of place if you swapped them around.
Hmm. I’ll give you this one.
A book that pleasantly surprised you? I’ve been on a Sabrina Kane kick lately. Her new book, “Stealing the Shepherdess,” is a really creative take on “The Thomas Crown Affair.”
Is this one of those reboot things you were talking about?
Maybe. Or maybe it’s an author looking at a movie and getting inspired to put their own spin on it.
Favorite hangover recovery recipe? Don’t drink to excess.
You’re no fun.
I’m lots of fun; I just prefer to remember my nights the morning after.
Where do you get your information or ideas for your books? Where every great author gets them – I steal them.
What?
You’ve never heard that? “Good writers borrow, great writers steal.” It’s attributed to T.S. Eliot, among others. One of my favorite authors, Robert Heinlein, even put a couple versions of it into his books when the main character was a writer. What I take it to mean is I read/watch/listen to something, and it gets filed away. Sometime later, my brain pulls it out of storage and looks at it with a critical eye. What did the creator get right? What didn’t they? Where would I change it? And I’m off and running.
So you’re not using their words?
No, just inspiration. Your universe, for example—
Watch what you’re about to say, author.
Maybe later, then.
What is your work schedule like when you’re writing? I start in the morning with marketing, move to creative projects like images or videos, then editing, and then I get into writing. I don’t write words every day, but I don’t worry about it, either. As an indie author, all of the other things are part of the writing process, from idea to book in a reader’s hands.
When did you write your first book and how old were you? Book is such a flexible term.
Answer the question!
Well, the first story I wrote which hit novella-length – so could stand alone when it got printed – was in 1994. Vampires were big then, with “Ínterview with the Vampire” hanging around, so I did a mash-up of vampires with George Pal’s vision of “The Time Machine.” What I ended up with was called “Refuge,” and it’s the oldest book in my catalog. Of course, it’s gone through multiple revisions, and is currently in its fifth edition. It sells pretty well, since it’s as close as I get to horror.
Is there a trope you find yourself going back to in multiple works? Or one you avoid? I’m not picky, honestly. If you were to look at my entire body of work, I think the “badass heroine” trope would be the most prevalent.
Yes, I am pretty awesome, aren’t I?
I wasn’t specifically thinking of you, though you’re included. Just look at the others, like Kendra and Aiyana Cassidy, Lexie Marsh, Chloe Resler, Nicole Crozier, Dakota Chase – the list just keeps going and going. I suppose, then, the trope I avoid is “helpless female.” It simply doesn’t seem valid these days, if it ever did.
How many books have you written? Which is your favorite? My favorite is usually the one I just finished, which means “The Vault & the Vixen” is currently top of the heap. But I’d say that the top three – and you won’t get me to narrow it down any more than that – are “The Cassidy Chronicles” (the first original novel I published), “Into the Black” (the first collection of stories and lots of fun to write), and “Godsfall: The Book of One” (because damn, you were a fun character to channel).
I know I am.
Do you have any suggestions to help someone become a better writer? If so, what are they? Two suggestions. First, keep writing. Don’t take lengthy breaks from it – and by lengthy, I mean weeks or months or years. I took seven years off, and I really wish I hadn’t. It’s much harder to get back into writing than it is to simply produce a few lines, a paragraph, a chapter. Second, you’re gonna write crap. Don’t worry about it. It’s supposed to be crap. Then you go back and edit it, move things around, put them in the right order (like April comes before June). The important thing is to have words to edit.
Do you like to create books for adults? I do. The vast majority of my characters are adult, and not new adult (20ish). They’re thirty- and fortysomethings, and the way they experience the world is different. While I say that anyone from teens on up can read most of my books, they resonate most strongly with mature adults.
Don’t forget about me! I’m seven thousand. What does that make me?
You’re an exception. How old do you look?
Well…
Exactly. You keep your appearance young, don’t you?
That’s how Faith got to know me!
No excuses, and it’s not a problem. But you’re immortal, and can alter your appearance at will. Your behavior, your attitude, your approach to life, though. That’s definitely more adult.
First time anyone’s ever accused me of being grown-up.
What is the most unethical practice in the publishing industry? I loathe vanity presses. They call themselves “hybrid presses” too, but no matter how you look at them, they’re in the business of separating authors from money. They promise the moon and stars and deliver poisoned dirt. I get it, though – it’s awfully tempting, as an author, to listen to the promises. Writing is hard enough; as an indie, you also have to do (or arrange for) editing, formatting, cover design, marketing, publishing to outlets… A company that promises to do all that for you? AND pay you royalties? No wonder so many authors sign up.
But there’s nothing there. The editing, if it’s done, is simply running it through a spellchecker. Formatting? Drop it into Kindle Create (a free program) and it’s good. Cover design? Canva has all sorts of templates that can be customized. And all of these things can be done by the authors themselves – as well as publishing – for free or very little cost!
Did you ever consider writing under a pseudonym? I did, and I did for a while. It didn’t go well, so I’m keeping all of my books under my name going forward.
Do you want each book to stand on its own, or are you building a body of work with connections between each book? It’s funny you ask this.
Funny? Why?
Because, until you and Faith came along, I was happily writing science fiction, my own little universe—
You mean Kendra’s universe. She might have a few words with you about whose universe it is.
Fair point. But I’m the one who brings the stories into this universe. Would you agree with that?
I suppose.
Anyway, I was a SF author. Yes, I’d done a couple short stories which seemed to have fantasy elements, but even Aiyana will admit there are things in the universe that science can’t explain yet. And then you happened.
Me?
You. And Faith. And suddenly I had a fantasy universe.
How is this my problem?
It’s not a problem, but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want you to stand alone, so I told Kendra that you and she shared a universe.
I’ll bet that was a scene.
It was…interesting. Anyway, what was I going to do? I stalled. I wrote the Dakota Chase novel—
Which we’re in!
Yes, you’re in it. That tied Dakota to the fantasy side, but it was obviously not a fantasy novel. Then what? Well, I’m working on another novel which involves you two, Dakota and McKenna, and maybe others, with events and places which are canon on Kendra’s world. By the time I finish that, I’ll have unified both sides, and so you have your answer.
What was the question again? I forgot, you took so long to get here.
Because you keep interrupting. The question was, do my books stand alone or are they part of a body of work? They’re all going to be part of a single universe, but there will be books that can be read separately from the rest.
How many unpublished and half-finished books do you have? Oddly enough, none. I tend to be linear in my writing – I’ll start a book, then work my way through it and add it to the publishing queue. Once it’s in the queue, I’ll work on the next one. There are always ideas percolating, but I don’t start them until I’m finished with what I’m working on.
What is the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything? Well, according to Douglas Adams, the answer is 42. Of course, we don’t actually know what the question is, so that makes knowing the answer a bit problematic. There’s a theory that suggests the question and the answer are mutually exclusive; you can know one but not the other, like an electron.
An electron?
An electron.
Explain.
You can know where an electron is at any given moment, but if you know that, you don’t know where it’s going or how fast. You can know where an electron is going and how fast, but you can’t know where it is at that moment. Either/or. It’s the same with the Answer and the Question, though if we do ever discover them both, the theory says the universe will be replaced with something even more improbable.
It might take me a minute to wrap my head around that, so let’s finish up. What do you have coming next? After the Storybundle?
Hmm. Good point. Let’s talk about the bundle first.
Well, for the bundle, I have the Godsfall Omnibus—
That’s my story! I’m going to tell about it!
Hijacking my interview? Pretty cheeky.
Former demon. Sue me.
I was a senior demon, caught in the eternal struggle between divine and demonic forces. For millennia, I've mastered the art of seduction, corruption, and navigating the treacherous waters of supernatural politics. When Faith, a determined yet inexperienced angel, is sent to end my existence, she unwittingly ignites a series of events that bind us together in ways neither of us could have anticipated. Her presence forces me to confront the monotony of my immortal life and the unexpected allure of forbidden love, even as we are swept into a web of cosmic intrigue and power plays.
Faith and I find ourselves in a world where our roles as angel and demon blur, challenging everything we thought we knew about duty and desire. Our interactions are fraught with tension, betrayal, and passion, set against a backdrop of supernatural machinations. As we navigate the complexities of our relationship, we uncover deeper truths about ourselves and the immortal beings we serve. In this omnibus, our journey explores the thin line between good and evil, the intoxicating pull of redemption, and the unbreakable bonds forged in the fires of love and conflict.
Well, yes. Nicely done, Kalili.
Thank you. Okay, what after that?
This is an easy one to answer. I’m stepping out of fantasy AND science fiction and dropping in on Elmore Leonard and Donald Westlake with a novel that combines the heist thriller with romantic suspense with enough humor to keep people chuckling.
It wasn’t funny when we lived it!
You know what they say about adventures?
…no?
Something terrible that happened to someone else, a long time ago and far, far away. Humor is like that, too.
Good to know.
Anyway, “The Vault & the Vixen” is coming September 3, 2024.
Dakota and McKenna!
Exactly. Do you want to tell people about it, or can I?
I’d apologize, but instead I’ll call your bluff.
You know what they say about the best-laid plans? Yeah, well, they clearly never met Dakota Chase. See, Dakota’s the mastermind behind some of the most daring heists Brooklyn’s underworld has ever seen—except, her plans have a habit of blowing up in the most spectacularly unfortunate ways. I should know; I’m Kalili, her partner in crime and chaos.
This time, I brought her the mother of all jobs: a heist so big it promises retirement-level riches. The look on her face when I laid out the plan was priceless—a mix of skepticism and reluctant excitement. We rallied the crew, each member more colorful than the last, including our newest recruit, McKenna. Dakota’s bad luck with big scores is legendary, so I knew we were in for a wild ride.
From the get-go, things went hilariously off-course. The getaway car? Broke down. The high-tech safe? Turned out to be – well, spoilers. And McKenna? Let’s just say she added a whole new level of unpredictability to the mix.
But through all the mishaps, missteps, and madcap moments, Dakota’s quick wit and dry humor kept us going. Every time something went wrong—and trust me, it did—she’d flash that crooked grin and we’d somehow muddle through. It’s not just about the heist; it’s about the laughs, the camaraderie, and the sheer thrill of defying the odds.
So, if you’re up for a comic thrill ride where even the best-laid plans hilariously go awry, join us in "The Vault & the Vixen." Trust me, with Dakota at the helm, it’s a heist you won’t forget!
That’s pretty good. Maybe I should hire you.
You can’t afford me, pal.
True. Anyway, here’s a little excerpt from the novel. Readers will be able to get it anywhere they want. It will be out in paperback, hardback, and ebook on September 3, and I hope to get an audiobook version done too. The link: https://books2read.com/VaultAndVixen
BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE!
As of TODAY, you can back the KICKSTARTER and get your copy of "The Vault & The Vixen" early! I've set it up so it's a fast burn - starts today, ends August 1st - so I can deliver the rewards before the book launches in September.
What are the rewards?
Pledge just $1 and get my gratitude for believing in me!
Pledge $5 and get the ebook (with a link for the bonus scene)
Pledge $25 and get the paperback - signed, shipping included in the US
Pledge $35 and get the hardcover - signed, shipping included in the US - but you have to pledge to this level by JULY 23!
And there are stretch goals, too!
At $400, everyone gets an ebook copy of "The Vault & The Vixen"
At $600, everyone gets ANY ebook that I've published!
And at $1000, everyone gets a code for an audiobook I've published!!
Don't hesitate - make your pledge today HERE: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/thebookofone/the-vault-and-the-vixen
The Vault & the Vixen Chapter 1: The Best Laid Plans
“Don't worry; my plans hardly ever fuck up.” Kalili's voice echoed in the dimly lit bar, a confident proclamation that should have sent shivers down my spine. Instead, I remained rooted in my spot, my natural skepticism overshadowed by the promise of easy money.
I really should've known better. After all, Kal's track record with crazy ideas was as reliable as a politician's promise during an election year. Yet there I sat, mesmerized, ready to follow her lead. That’s when I should have run, but I didn’t have enough sense. Instead, I gave her a look.
“What? Dakota, how long have we known each other?” Kal's eyes gleamed with a mischievous twinkle, daring me to doubt her again.
I gave it a few seconds’ thought, tracing the lines of our shared history through the haze of memory. “Um. About five years. Maybe six. Most of it seemed to make some sort of sense at the time. Why?”
“Have I ever gotten you into trouble?” Kal's question hung in the air like a dare, challenging me to refute her track record.
I paused, weighing the evidence in my mind. “No, I suppose not. Nothing permanent, at least.”
“See? You should trust me now.” Kal's grin widened, her confidence unshakeable in the face of my lingering doubts.
I sighed, resigning myself to the inevitable. “Tell me how this is going to work again.”
“It's simple, really,” Kal began, leaning in closer as if divulging the secrets of the universe. “We hit the location, grab the emeralds, and make a clean getaway. Piece of cake.”
I raised an eyebrow skeptically. “And what about the security guards, the alarms, the inevitable police presence?”
Kal waved away my concerns with a dismissive flick of her hand. “Don't worry about that. I've got it all figured out. Trust me, Dakota. This is foolproof.”
Famous last words, as they say. But at that moment, surrounded by the familiar scent of stale beer and the distant hum of the city outside, I allowed myself to believe her. After all, what could go wrong?
Normally, Kal would have found me holed up in my humble abode, a fourth-floor walkup in East Flatbush that could barely be called an apartment. It was a cramped space, with a bedroom masquerading as a sanctuary, a living room that begrudgingly shared its space with a makeshift kitchenette, and a window that offered a less-than-scenic view of the Holy Cross cemetery. But despite its shortcomings, it was mine, a refuge from the chaos of the outside world, albeit a rather dingy one.
My parole officer, bless his bureaucratic soul, knew exactly where to find me, but had long since given up on his fruitless attempts at surprise visits. As far as he was concerned, I was another cog in the wheel of society, a model reformed citizen working at a nondescript restaurant and bar nestled in the heart of the Little Caribbean. To reinforce this illusion, I occasionally pulled a shift behind the bar, often enough to keep up appearances and ensure that my coworkers didn't forget my face.
It was a delicate balancing act that had served me well over the years. On that particular Tuesday night, fate had other plans in store for me, as evidenced by the arrival of Kal, the harbinger of chaos, in the most unlikely of places. Kal's presence was like a splash of color in the monochrome monotony of my existence, a reminder that life was anything but predictable. As she danced to the beat of her own drum, oblivious to the curious glances of the other patrons, I couldn't help but be drawn into her orbit again.
I should've known better, of course. But then again, where's the fun in playing it safe? So, with a resigned shrug and a silent prayer to whatever deity watched over fools like me, I braced myself for whatever madness Kal had cooked up this time. After all, what's life without a little adventure?
She’d sauntered into the bar. a whirlwind of red hair and reckless abandon, her grin wide enough to give a sane woman pause. Alas, sanity had never been my strong suit, so I greeted her with a matching grin, a silent acknowledgment of the trouble that inevitably followed in her wake. I’d just finished making a pair of margaritas for two of the few customers I recognized, Rebel and Sarah, when she dropped onto a stool with the grace of a fallen angel, her fiery mane of hair a stark contrast against the muted backdrop of the bar. “Emerald,” she declared, her voice carrying a hint of excitement.
“Not your usual poison,” I remarked, my hand already reaching for the familiar, if underused, bottle of Bushmills. If Kal wanted an Emerald cocktail, she'd get it, no questions asked.
But then she clarified, and my hand froze mid-reach. “No, I mean emerald,” she said, and I knew exactly what she meant.
I hesitated, tempted, my fingers hovering uncertainly over the bottle, before sanity asserted itself. “No.”
“It's just sittin' there, I swear it,” she insisted, her hand over her heart in a mock gesture of sincerity. “Scout's honor.”
I couldn't help but scoff. “You were never a scout.”
Kal raised an eyebrow, unfazed by my skepticism. “No, but the little fucks don't lie.”
“You do,” I countered, my tone laced with a hint of exasperation.
Feigning offense, she plastered a look of mock horror on her face. “Moi?”
“Yeah, you,” I confirmed, shaking my head in resignation. “Not interested, Kal. After our last narrow escape, I’m about ready to hang it up for good.”
But she was undeterred, leaning in closer with a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “You want to hear this. How much do you have left in your retirement fund?”
“Enough for now,” I muttered reluctantly, visualizing the diminished stash and already dreading the inevitable rollercoaster ride that awaited me.
I didn’t like crime. Never had, never would. In my topsy-turvy world, sometimes it was the lesser of two evils. A necessary evil, if you will. At least, that’s what I told myself as I navigated the murky waters of my less-than-legal career. Sure, pulling capers had its moments of excitement, its adrenaline-fueled thrills, but make no mistake, it was still a job. A tedious, mind-numbing job that left me yearning for the simplicity of a nine-to-five gig, at least until I came to my senses.
If I wanted to spend my days pilfering and plundering, I’d have followed in my brother’s footsteps and taken my talents to Wall Street. The thought of selling my soul to the corporate machine was enough to make me nauseous. No, thank you. Instead, I lived in a state of perpetual semi-retirement, dancing the tightrope between legality and lawlessness with the finesse of a seasoned acrobat. My humble abode may have been a far cry from the penthouses of the elite, but it was mine, damn it. In this city, that counted for something.
I tried to escape to a more permanent retirement. Repeatedly. Every so often, a big score would come to me, the word carried on the network of cons that populated New York’s underworld. Time after time I’d pull my crew together, make my plan, run through it a dozen times to eliminate flaws, then pull the heist. Twenty-plus years, dozens of jobs, any of which could have set me up for life, and what did I have to show for it? Two stints upstate and a crappy apartment. It was like the Fates had decreed I’d be able to see my promised land but never reach it.
I was sick of it.
Small jobs, I could do in my sleep. Those kept me in luxuries like food and shelter. Bigger jobs, my retirement fund jobs, came by less frequently, but with my crew? No problems at all. It just seemed that every time we had our sights on a big haul, something would happen between grabbing the loot and divvying up the proceeds, like the last time Kal had come to me with a jewel heist. There was a clearance house that was going out of business, and as part of the cutbacks had reduced security to stupid levels. Getting in and out with the jewels was easy; unfortunately, when we’d brought them to the fence, he’d discovered almost every one was microetched with a serial number. Microetching could be beaten, but it was costly. Instead of a haul that should have netted each of us a quarter-million, we split sixty grand. Nothing to sneeze at, no, but a far cry from what we’d hoped for.
My gig at the bar was a lifeline, a threadbare safety net that kept me from plummeting into the abyss of destitution, stretching my retirement fund without impinging too much on my desired life. The pay was meager, the hours long when I needed to show up, but it put food on the table, kept the lights on, and got me out and interacting with people on the regular. Ish.
But semi-retirement had its drawbacks. Money had a nasty habit of slipping through my fingers like sand, leaving me scrambling to make ends meet. It was a delicate dance, a high-wire act that required equal parts skill and luck. And friends like Kalili.
“It better be good, Kal. I'm not in the mood for any more of your wild goose chases.”
With a grin that rivaled the Cheshire cat's, Kal leaned back, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, it's good, Dakota. Trust me.”
“Go ahead. What’s the score?” I muttered, my patience wearing thin as Kal's grin widened further.
Her face lit up like a Christmas tree, her excitement infectious. “Eighteen two-carat emeralds, six three-carat, and a six-carat behemoth. All AA or better. We’re talking a half mil easy, and I happen to know that Max is looking for emeralds right now and will pay double his usual.”
That got my attention, all right. Max was my preferred destination to unload my questionably acquired goods, a man of peculiar integrity in the underworld of Brooklyn, or maybe he was simply the most adept at concealing his dishonesty. Regardless, his reputation as a fence preceded him, and if there was one thing I could count on, it was his willingness to pay top dollar for the right merchandise. Double his usual payout meant a handsome sum – a cool hundred fifty grand, thirty percent of the total take. It was the kind of payday that could keep a woman in rum for months, maybe even buy her a few nights of relative luxury in a seedy motel.
I couldn’t help but feel a jolt within me, despite my better judgment. It was a tantalizing prospect. Financial security? All my life, it had dangled just out of reach, and here it was again. I knew the saying: if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Still, a half million dollars was nothing to sneeze at. If anyone could pull off the impossible, it was Kal, so I allowed myself to entertain the possibility that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.
“After work. Round up the gang,” I instructed, the wheels of the scheme already turning in my mind.
Kal's face fell, a shadow passing over her features like a cloud on a summer day. Not the reaction I was expecting. “Can't. Astrid’s been pinched for three to six.”
The news hit me hard. Astrid, with her absentminded charm and her knack for slipping past even the most fortified locks, was an indispensable member of our crew. She’d been running with me for eight years, almost nine, and without her, my nebulous plans threatened to unravel like a poorly knit sweater.
“Can't do a snatch if there’s a lock involved,” I muttered, a note of frustration creeping into my voice. It’s not that we didn’t have anyone else who could crack a lock. I could get through most, if not quickly, and Kal was capable but lacked Astrid's finesse, her delicate touch.
Kal, ever the optimist, refused to be deterred and bounced right back. “No problem, I got another girl. Checked her out for you and everything.”
I hesitated. A new member of the team was a wildcard, a variable that could make or break our operation. But everyone was new, at one point. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and I found myself nodding in reluctant agreement.
“What's her name?” I asked, steeling myself for whatever curveball Kal had in store for me this time.
“McKenna,” Kal replied.
I should have run, slipped out the back door and disappeared into the night like a ghost. Failing that, I could have tossed Kalili out onto the street on her ass. But where's the fun in that? No. The challenge of a big score called to me, something I had a hard time resisting. I sent a silent prayer to the gods of fortune and steeled myself for the chaos that awaited me.
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