Fisher Stanton, Valley High School’s Nantucket wannabe, has a cheating girlfriend. When he hires Darcy Walker to chase her to a local club, in true Darcy fashion she stumbles upon a dead body. Thing is, this body has secrets...and Darcy’s mysterious friend, Jaws, and the reporter, Tito Westbrook, have a vested interest. Both enlist Darcy to find the person responsible who has eluded them for years, but Darcy doesn’t solve crimes for free anymore—especially where Jaws is concerned. Knowing Darcy’s Achilles heel, Jaws blackmails Darcy into working for him.
In a true test of wills, Darcy and Jaws battle head-to-head—Jaws needs Darcy to help him end a bitter grudge war; Darcy needs Jaws to divulge the mystery surrounding her mother’s death. Haunted by a past that shaped her present, Darcy will stop at nothing to get answers. Even if it means breaking the law and being disloyal to her new boyfriend, Dylan Taylor, in the process.
DEFCON DARCY gives Darcy’s demons a name and ties up loose ends that made Darcy into the verb that she is. What she thinks she knows as truth, isn’t. What she wishes wasn’t true…is.
The problem is, when your life goes DEFCON 1, not everyone lives to tell about it.
“Then let’s talk price.”
Fisher’s eyes went as big as a freaked-out lemur’s. “There’s a charge?”
“New policy as of January,” I giggled. “Payment can be in the form of United Dairy Farmers, Pink, Visa, Starbucks, or Target gift cards. If gift cards don’t work for you, then I’ll always take cash. And for this particular job my fee is fifty bucks.”
“Wow,” he whistled. “Does UDF do gift cards?”
“Not my problem,” I said, “and I can deliver within the week. If I deliver before next Friday, the price is doubled.”
Before we could shake on it, the ground underneath me metaphorically trembled. Only one person held the absolute power to make or break my day. When I met Dylan’s amber eyes, my first thought was I wish he’d get hit with an ugly stick. At six foot two, two hundred and twenty pounds, he was a powerhouse of muscle. Dark skin adorned his body, showcasing a face and abs so chiseled they could cut you. His jet-black hair was the type you wanted to run your hands through—everything to make you a ten on the perv scale.
Wearing faded jeans and a black letterman jacket, his stride was confident and sexy. Laughter Laughter plus a hormonally anxious prayer left my lips as he made his way closer. He’d ruin this for me. One snap of his fingers, and I’d go Pavlov’s dog and wag my freaking tail. “Here comes Dylan,” I nervously giggled. “Help me distract him.”
Fisher looked like I’d asked him to walk on water. “I can’t distract Taylor,” he gasped. “That’s like asking someone to distract God when he was forming the Earth. He’s everywhere, Darcy,” he shuddered. “Scares the pants off of me actually.”
I rolled my eyes. Dylan definitely cast a long shadow, but Fisher put the “c” in coward. “Just distract him." I said, "I don't expect you to shoot fireworks out of your butt, but come up with something when he starts asking questions.”