Lacy Hennessey is hunting the last man linked to an ambush that led to her father's death. As an heir to her father's role as the enforcer for the Irish mob in Boston, Lacy is armed and dangerous when she arrives in a small Colorado resort.

Dr. Josh Davenport missed his flight for a little R & R after an avalanche blocks the road, when he meets Lacy at the Hotel bar. Lacy easily manipulates Josh into offering her a place to sleep for the night. But Josh is aware Lacy isn't just another gorgeous blonde in a red dress with legs that go all the way up.

Lacy enjoys Josh's company and his bed, but business is business when she leaves his arms to face the man who killed her father. And if Josh makes any more connections about her real identity, Lacy may have to add him to her list.

Excerpt:

The man in front of her let the chair fall with a loud clatter. He staggered away into the smoke. She ignored him and the other men leering at her as she downed her drink. The fire burned a path to her stomach. She gritted her teeth, letting the tequila take some of her painful loss away.

Sean Hennessey was dead. Her father, who'd beaten every man who'd ever come after him, had been ambushed in a seedy motel by three men hired by the Italian family in Boston. Two of those three bastards were now dead by her hand and she'd been sanctioned by Paddy O'Keefe himself for the last. Paddy expected Lacy to take her father's place in the organization and she wouldn't fail.

Sean had been all she had and he'd taught her everything about being an enforcer for the Irish Mob. When the Boston Italian family sent three enforcers to take her father down, they hadn't factored her into the equation. Tanner had been lucky to escape, forcing Lacy to use up two days and two thousand miles just to end up in some crappy Colorado mountain resort. Her only clue, apart from physical description given by her snitch back home, had been that Tanner drank alcohol as if he expected a shortage. He'd be in a bar tonight; Tanner hadn't been in his filth-encrusted apartment when she stopped by earlier.

Lacy scanned the room for red hair, bad skin and a tall, wiry frame. The bastard had lost the genetic lottery and he wouldn't be hard to find in a sea of dark-haired, overweight barflies. The redheaded butcher's physical attributes weren't his only claim to infamy. Tanner used a knife on his victims, carving his initials on their chest with a T circled with a C. Unique, identifiable, the tag would be his undoing when she returned the favor.

"Hey, do you want another?" A curly, bleached mop of a woman leaned down to take the shot glass.

"Not yet. Do you know Tanner, Bunny?" The nametag said Bunny, but the forty-something woman resembled road kill.

Lacy pulled out a twenty and lifted a brow. "The man gave me the clap."

The woman grinned, exposing crooked teeth, snatched the money and shook her head. "Fuck, that man gets more pussy than he has a right. Saw him last night, but he hasn't come in again since Beaver punched him for steppin' on his new boots."

"Know where he'd be this evening?" Lacy forced a laugh at the server's story, wishing Beaver had hit him harder.

"Try the Lakeside Hotel and Bar on Eighth Street; yesterday, Tanner bragged he had a meeting for a big job." She winked at Lacy. "Slap him twice, honey. Tanner gave me the same shit last spring."

She nodded. "I'll do that."

Bunny moved away into the crowd. Lacy put her shoulders back and headed for the front door. The man would be in the only bar left she hadn't visited tonight. She'd need to change in her rented SUV. She'd need to blend in and become one of the trapped ski enthusiasts if she wanted to get close to her target.

Then Lacy would gut him like a fish.