If you saw his face, you’d have a death wish too.
My life sucks. More accurately, I suck—blood.
I woke up on a cold slab in a morgue, two weeks ago, with no memories, and a new drinking habit that seriously cramps my ability to make friends.
Now I’m hunting for answers in Sin City about my past and who I was, but someone else is hunting me.
When Death, himself, comes to collect me, I find myself facing the most magnificent, terrifying being imaginable. Who knew the grim reaper wore a tailored suit, and ran the most exclusive hotel on the Vegas strip?
He wants to hold me prisoner? Fine, I will rattle the cage and make his life a living hell until I get my freedom.
And I absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, let him know his hand is wrapped around my soul.