You’ve been a liability to Dom since the day you were born.

I stayed silent for the rest of the drive to my apartment.

“You’ve got twenty minutes to pack, and then we need to be on the road before it gets leaked that you’re leaving town.”

Angelo’s words started my internal clock ticking down as soon as we stepped into my apartment. My mind chaotic, I strode into my room and stared at all the clothes in my closet for a full minute before I realized I couldn’t pack anything until I decided where I was going.

Spinning around, I headed for my office and the bulletin board of all my maybe somedays. Clippings from magazines, printed articles, postcards, and pictures of skylines covered it. Must Do lists for each city hung along the bottom.

Just pick one, I told myself. But decision paralysis set in. What if this was my only chance to see a piece of the world?

“Can I leave the country?” I yelled to Angelo.

“Are you fucking nuts? No, you can’t leave the fucking country.”

Disappointment slammed into me, but I shoved it down. Good-bye, Paris, Rome, Dublin, and Barcelona.

Focus on the positives. It narrowed down my choices. I paced my small office, my gaze flicking to the bulletin board with every pass.

“You got fifteen minutes, and I don’t hear any fucking packing,” Angelo called.

“Stop rushing me!”

“I’m not fucking around, Eden. We gotta move when your time is up.”

“Fine. Now stop yelling at me.”

Just pick a place.

Pictures of San Francisco, Nashville, Seattle, and Miami all hung there, but my gaze zeroed in on something else.

New Orleans.

I’d seen ads on top of cabs for the last two weeks, advertising an upcoming Mardi Gras party at a club, and wished that someday I could see a real Mardi Gras parade.

I’m taking it as a sign.

I was going to New Orleans. I reached out to grab the Must Do list, but snatched my hand back. If someone came into my apartment and noticed it was the only one missing . . . wouldn’t that be giving away my location?

I reached out again, grabbing the lists for both New Orleans and Nashville off the bulletin board.

Spinning on my heel, I ran for my bedroom and stuffed my carry-on with all the clothes I could possibly make fit before exchanging my ID, phone, and credit card for five thousand dollars in cash from the safe bolted into the back of my closet. I stripped out of my trench coat, skirt, blouse, and pantyhose, and tugged on jeans, a polo shirt, and a lighter jacket.

When I wheeled the bag into the living room, Angelo was staring at his watch.

“You ready?”

Ready to leave the tower and experience life without a bodyguard dogging my every step?

“Yes. I’m ready.”

When we pulled up to the curb at JFK, I gave Angelo a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Take care, big guy.”

“Be safe, Eden. If you need anything—”

He cut off his offer because he knew I couldn’t call him.

“Thank you for everything.”

When I got to the ticket counter, I pulled my new ID and credit card from my wallet. When I laid them on the counter, I got my first look at my new name. Elisha Madden.

“I need a ticket on the next flight to New Orleans. One way.”

WIPING BLOOD AND INK FROM the smooth, pale skin beneath my tattoo machine should have been calming, but today, the fine lines of the butterfly mocked me. I wanted this tat over and done with. I should have made Delilah take the girl, but we were taking turns on the flash work that got so much action during Mardi Gras season.

The girl, whose name I couldn’t remember, kept glancing up at me from beneath her fake lashes in a way that was probably supposed to be sexy, but didn’t stir my interest in the least. I’d had enough party-girl pussy thrown at me in the last week to put me off the species completely. If it wasn’t a challenge, then what the fuck was the point?

“How much longer do you think? I can’t wait to get back out and grab a drink.”

Even her voice annoyed me. Too breathy and high pitched.

“Ten minutes,” I said, trying not to breathe in the cloud of vanilla perfume wafting off her in clouds.

“Is it cool that I’m going to go back to party after it’s done? I’ve never had a tattoo before, so I don’t know the rules.”

I lifted the needle away from her skin as she shifted for the fiftieth time in half an hour. “You can do whatever you want. Care sheets are on the counter out front if you want to do it right.”

Her lips twisted into a pout at my answer, but it didn’t deter her for long.

“You wanna come?” Her glitter-slicked lashes batted again as she twisted around to face me. “My friends and I would show you a real good time.”

“You quit moving and we’ll be done a lot quicker.”

She returned to the position I’d asked her to take with a huff.

What in the hell would make this girl think I was remotely interested in joining them? I’d done nothing but shut her down over and over when she tried to start a conversation. Customer service at its finest, right? My boss would probably kick my ass, but then again . . . maybe not. He had as little patience for this shit as I did.

“Just think about it.” She didn’t move this time, but the plea came through loud and clear.

“Got plans.”

My short answer finally did the trick. She let me finish my work in silence, and the minute I taped the clear plastic over the tat and snapped my gloves off, I stood.

“You can settle up with Delilah.”

I had to get the fuck out of the room before her heavy perfume suffocated me, so I strode out into the main area of the shop. My sister’s laughter followed me as I headed straight for the front door and fresh air.

“Can’t get any peace, can you, Bish?” Delilah tapped a pencil against her sketch pad as she grinned at me.

It was her running joke that four out of five female clients would hit on me, and the fifth would hit on her. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she actually kept track of it. But she was the only family I had, and I loved the shit out of her.

“Don’t go too far, hot stuff. I’m heading out to pick up our food in a few.”

I flipped her off and ducked outside to suck in a lungful of fresh air. Well, as close as I was going to get in this town. Pockets of smokers congregated among the crowd, clouds wafting away from them, but the urge to light up didn’t hit. Damn, maybe I’ve actually outgrown that shit.