Wings of Death by Stephanie Mirro

Good news? I’m no longer a thief. Bad news? I’m no longer a thief.
Some may consider that only good news since I’ll no longer run the risk of getting my ass thrown in a grim reaper prison for the rest of my extremely long life. Longevity comes with the phoenix nametag. Except I happen to enjoy the thrill of the hunt that comes with relieving goods from my unsuspecting targets.
Too bad a sadistic vampire messed it all up for me.
But things never stay boring for long. When I find a necromancer’s undead creation stumbling across a Miami beach – a highly illegal practice these days, I’d like to add – I get pulled into an investigation by the Death Enforcement Agency. Sounds like fun, right?
Wrong.
There’s one huge problem. I’ve been recruited by a man I can’t seem to resist, a sexier-than-sin grim reaper who sets me aflame in all the best and worst places. The attraction is unnaturally strong, but I can’t focus on solving that problem until we find the necromancer responsible for the newly undead.
Because if we don’t nip this dead-man-walking situation soon, we may have a rising zombie apocalypse on our hands.