It was the part she’d been waiting for since she’d moved to L.A. two years ago, and she knew she’d nailed it. She kept staring at her cell phone, willing it to ring. Euphoria didn’t come close to how she felt, until she took that call from Detective Arturo Loomis of the Santa Monica police warning her she was on a list and could be the Starlet Slasher’s next victim. He told her the smart thing to do was to leave town for a while. Like that would ever happen, not when the gold ring was nearly on her finger. Besides, she wasn’t the kind to run away.She cursed herself for not getting a gun when she’d first arrived in L.A., but thanks to Detective Loomis, she’d get one now. She drove her Toyota to East L.A. and bought a .22 revolver from a street kid who’d knocked a hundred bucks off the price for the butt-ugly little gun because she was so beautiful.One of her long-ago boyfriends in Toledo, a bad boy her parents knew nothing about, had taught her how to ride a hog, roll a joint, and how to aim and shoot a pistol.
