PREVIEW
... scratch that—this was fucking poetry. I couldn’t have scripted a better opportunity if I’d tried.
Four hundred thousand credits for some fancy ring that shoots ice. That was the thing about the rich—they didn’t know how to be poor. And Natalia? Classic case of champagne taste on a beer budget. Sure, eighty grand a month was obscene to most people, but in the world of Hunters and their gear, it was barely enough to keep up appearances.
I set my laundry basket down on the washing ...
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