Evangeline Cross

Tracking the Black Widow of Vegas to a smoky backroom table, I cornered Evangeline Cross—a silk-draped, cold predator linked to a string of dead gamblers. Instead of running, the sharp-eyed siren met my gaze with a lethal smile, daring a hard-boiled veteran like me to play her game. As her smoky perfume and razor wit blurred the line between duty and obsession, I was left wondering if I was hunting the murderer, or walking straight into her web.