The Dancing Girl (The Dancing Girl Mystery Thrillers Book 1) Kindle Edition

THE DANCING GIRL by S. HotchkissIn the shadows of Boston Jordan Vance was just trying to survive the night shift at a Boston strip club when an Iranian general’s hit squad comes for her, she realizes her life has been a lie. A man she thought was long buried—is a witness to international atrocities, and Jordan is the only leverage the enemy has left.Forced into an uneasy alliance with a stoic freelance operative with a lethal set of skills, they race to stay ahead of a global conspiracy, Jordan doesn't just hide behind her protector—she learns from him. In a world of heartless predators, Jordan Vance is about to become the most dangerous player on the board.Praise for The Dancing Girl:“Hotchkiss delivers a dark thriller about a young Bostonian who’s hunted by professional killers and adapts to their lethal mindset to survive.... A gritty and entertaining, if sometimes formulaic, international thriller.” — Kirkus Reviews - Our Verdict: Get ItFrom the Prologue of The Dancing Girl:My gaze snagged on a shadow— a man leaning against a car, perfectly positioned between me and my own car.He didn't seem to notice me. Normally, that would have put me at ease, but tonight—dressed in five-inch heels, shiny black vinyl short-shorts, and a crop top that left little to the imagination—someone not noticing me made me highly suspicious. It was as if he was deliberately trying to appear as though he hadn't seen me.I fixed my stare straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact, and tried to pick up my pace—a ridiculous endeavor given the stilettos. I shifted the grocery bag to my left arm, my fingers already fumbling for my car keys tucked into the waistband of my shorts. I just wanted that door open and me inside. Fast.Out of the corner of my eye, I caught his subtle shift; his body straightened, a casual pose turning into a purposeful one. My nerves, already frayed, snapped. I fumbled the keys, and they clattered to the ground.As I squatted down, scrambling to retrieve them, I could practically feel his presence just behind me. Keys back in hand, I quickly shifted them, trying to isolate a single, sharp edge to use as a weapon. I pivoted, ready to strike, but he was closer than I’d thought.His hand was a vise around my throat before I could even complete the turn. The grocery bag dropped with a muffled thud. I lunged, driving the key toward him, but again, I was too slow. His other hand clamped around my wrist, crushing my attempt. The pressure on my throat intensified, cutting off my breath, and a sickening lightheadedness began creeping in.Through the haze of panic and the rush of blood in my ears, only one thought truly crystallized:This night really sucks. Read more