“Hate -
to feel hostility or animosity toward.”
Frankie
Sugar. I needed more of it if I was going to make it through this day. The chocolate croissant and caramel latte I had this morning wasn’t near enough to combat the massive lines, the noise, and disgruntled people that filled the DMV. Whatever in hell made me think that working at the Department of Motor Vehicles, here in Alaska, was a good idea?
Maybe it was the good pay. Maybe it was because I got weekends off.
Or maybe it was because I had a moment of temporary insanity that unfortunately coincided with me saying, “I accept,” when I got offered this job.
Besides the fact that the lines were permanently out the door, the computer systems were temperamental at best, and my boss was a complete broom rider, my stash of chocolate and Sour Patch Kids was empty.
That meant someone was going to die today.
I glanced back up at the ninety-year-old woman whose head barely cleared the insanely high counters we stood behind and tried to hold on to my patience. “Mrs. Eldridge,” I said extremely loudly. “Like I told you last week, you have to go and get new glasses before I can renew your driver’s license.”
“I have new glasses,” she insisted.
Lord, save me now.
“You got those ten years ago. You need some from this year.”
Or decade
I finished silently.
She shuffled out of the line like a turtle and I took her slowness as a chance to really search beneath my station and chair for a long-lost piece of sugar. Anything. Even a stray jellybean would likely find its way into my blood stream at this point. Of course there was nothing. I briefly considered hiding beneath my desk until five o’clock.
My car.
I had an emergency stash in my car. I glanced at my watch. I had another hour until I was able to take a fifteen-minute break.
A pair of black pumps appeared before me and I inwardly groaned. Just what I needed—a run-in with the witch. But instead of being greeted by her condescending, screechy tone, an icy-cold red can appeared before me.
Hallelujah, praise the Lord, it was caffeine
and
sugar!
I snatched the Coke out of her hand and popped the top, taking a large, satisfying chug. The bubbles crowded down my throat, slightly burning, and I took another swallow.
“I love you,” I murmured to Lela, the girl who worked right beside me.
She laughed. “I know that look when I see it.” Then she straightened and whispered. “Witch alert.”
I shot up, my head bumping into the counter on the way. I wanted to shout out in pain, but I clamped my mouth shut, not wanting to draw the attention of my boss, Satan’s assistant.
I turned back to my line, my eyes colliding with a broad chest. I looked up, and the can slid out of my hand, hitting the floor with a thud while fizzy liquid poured over my favorite boots.
I didn’t even notice.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I growled as I looked around for something sharp I could stab him with.
A thick brow arched. “So is this where you spend your days? As if the DMV isn’t a horrible enough place to visit without the poor people of Alaska having to tolerate you.”
There wasn’t enough sugar on this planet that would save him. I reached out and picked up the black phone. If I couldn’t bludgeon him to death here at my place of employment, then I could at least call the cops. I began dialing, but he reached over and cut the connection.
I slammed the phone down on his hand, which was still pressed on the hang-up button. Breath hissed between his teeth and his green eyes shot to mine. “Careful, George, you’re pissing off the wrong man.”
“My name isn’t George.”
He shrugged, pulling his hand away from the phone. “When you have a man’s name, does it really matter?”
Forget the police; I was going to kill him. “I do
not
—" I began, but then I stopped. I didn’t have to explain my name to him.
He seemed to take my silence as some sort of victory and smirked.
I rolled my eyes. “Please, like you’re one to talk about names.
Charming,”
I spat.
“You have got to be the least charming person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”
Of course Hagatha the Great chose that exact minute to walk up behind me. “Frankie, did I just hear you disrespect one of the citizens in this building?”
I held back my wince. Charming snickered.
I will not lose it. I will not lose it. I need my job,
I told myself as I slowly pivoted around to face my boss from hell.
“Ms. Toth,” I began, trying to think up some excuse for why I was treating this douche like, well, a douche.
To my surprise he cleared his throat and spoke. “That scarf is beautiful. It brings out the blue of your eyes,” he said, his voice smooth as butter. “You must have exquisite taste to be able to pair it with that blouse.”
Ms. Toth completely forgot I was standing there and her body practically slid into a puddle as she leaned forward closer to him. Then she giggled.
I tried not to gag.
I turned around and saw Charming leaning across the counter, his right elbow planted wide, causing his black leather jacket to fall open to reveal a cerulean dress shirt stretched across his chest. He flashed his perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth at her, and I swear I heard her stutter.
“You’ll have to forgive me,” he said. “I was giving your employee a hard time. I guess I was feeling a little temperamental for being in such a long line.”
“Oh, well.” Her hand fluttered to her neck. “The lines are very long today. End of the month and all,” she explained. He flashed his teeth again and she stopped talking to stare.
Very artfully, he pushed off the counter and ran his very long fingers through his cleverly messy hair, and I swear it made it look even more perfect. If I didn’t know what a complete and utter loser he was, I might fall prey to his… well…. his
charm
. Damn it.
“I promise to behave,” he said solemnly, pulling a paper from the inside of his jacket.
She was still staring, completely dumbstruck. Thankfully, Lela called out her name for assistance with her computer and Ms. Toth managed to tear her eyes away from the oversized Ken doll and walk away.
His eyes, full of smugness, found mine. “What was it you were saying again? That I wasn’t deserving of my name?”
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed.
He stretched the paper on the counter before me. “I need to get the registration for my car renewed.”
I smiled sweetly. “I’m so sorry, sir. I’m afraid you’ve been standing in the wrong line. Registration renewals are in that line over there,” I pointed to the longest line in the building and I felt myself grin with evil glee. Who needed a sugar rush when you could torture the people you hated?
“You’re lying,” he growled.
“Nope.” I waved a couple fingers in his direction. “Buh-bye now,”
He leaned over the counter once more, all trace of his fake charm gone. “I know you can do whatever needs done on that ancient-ass computer in front of you.”
I gasped prudently. “Sir, I take offense to your tone. I can assure you that if I could help you with what you need I would.” I batted my eyes at him.
His perfect teeth formed a grimace and he was about to say something very un-charming, I was sure, when an older man with a cane stepped up behind him. “You heard the lady,” he said, “Now quit holding up the line.”
Before he could shove away, he leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. Gone was the charming air he used on my boss. Replacing it was something cold and calculating, more in line with the man I remembered who came into my best friend’s apartment not too long ago with a gun and kidnapped her. I reached for the phone again, fully intending to call the police and turn in his ass.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said low. “You know exactly what I’m capable of.”
Unease slithered down my spine. I tossed the blond curls away from my face and held his stare. “But you have no idea what
I
am capable of. Get the hell outta my line.”
I watched him go to the other line and insert himself at the end. My heart was beating so fast that I had to gasp for breath. I wanted to demand an early break, to leave this room, which now felt contaminated by his very presence.
I didn’t do any of those things. I picked up my half-empty Coke, took a swig, and called for the next person in line. I worked on autopilot all the while keeping an eye on him as he moved up the line. I should have just bypassed the system and did what he needed. Then he would’ve been gone. And I wouldn’t be stuck in this room, which now felt entirely too small, with a Death Escort.
When he finally made it through and got his stupid little sticker for his license plate, he walked toward the exit, and I swear every single female in the place turned and watched him go. If they only knew what I did—that he was an assassin for the most deadly person on the planet.
Before disappearing into the cold Alaskan spring, he stopped and turned, his eyes spearing mine, and then he smiled, a cocky, arrogant grin. Fury spiked through my limbs, making me shake. I hated guys like him. Guys that thought nothing could touch them. Guys that thought they were God’s gift to the world.
He was right about one thing, though. I couldn’t call the police. Turning him in would only backfire on me and further hurt Piper, who lost too much at the hands of Charming and his boss. But there were other ways to pay someone back for the wrongs they committed.
I felt a smile tug my lips.
“Steam shower -
a type of
bathing
where a humidifying
steam
generator produces
water vapor
that is dispersed around a person's body.”
Charming
Rosalyn Elizabeth Kennedy Sinclair wasn’t a woman I could just “bump” into at the local grocery store in town. She wasn’t the kind of girl that went to the same coffee place every morning for some frou-frou no calorie coffee drink, either. She had people that got that for her. She wasn’t insecure, unpopular, or isolated—all the things that would make her an easy Target. In fact, she was overly popular, beautiful, and had probably been trained since birth to be cautious of people that weren’t in her immediate circle of friends.
For a regular con man, stalker, or assassin, she was practically untouchable.
I wasn’t a regular kind of guy. I was an Escort.
Still, setting up the perfect way to “meet” someone like her took some creative thinking. I needed an in that wouldn’t raise suspicion or look even slightly contrived.
I clicked through another link on the computer and then sat back, rubbing my eye with the palm of my hand. This was the part of the job I hated. Research, learning… work. Rarely did I have to actually try hard on a job. Usually my charm, looks, and money got me to the finish line. Usually I could skate on what I saw and could figure out the rest. It was rare I had to do this amount of research on someone whose days were numbered. It really never made sense. Why bother learning the favorite color, food, and movie of someone I would never really know anyway? It was all about time management. It seemed like a more effective use of my time was to charm my way in and finish the job.
Maybe that’s why the last couple jobs weren’t complete successes,
an annoying voice in the back of my mind whispered.
“I got the job done,” I muttered, arguing with my inner conscience.
I was still here, after all. And it was abundantly clear that if I’d actually failed a job, I would have been Recalled on the spot. Yes, all the Targets I’ve ever been assigned (I lost count over fifty years ago) were dead. Their souls were gone (I had yet to figure out what exactly G.R. did with them), and most of the bodies had become a collector’s item for Mr. Death himself. But… I hated when there was a but. As of late, a few of the jobs… I wasn’t able to collect the money. Paperwork fell through, was lost, or loopholes were found.
Maybe you’re getting sloppy,
the voice taunted.
Maybe you’re losing your charm.
My growl cut through the silence of the kitchen, a firm denial and warning for that voice to shut the hell up. Something on the screen caught my eye and I leaned forward, scanning the information provided, taking in the list of attendees and the guest speaker. I grinned and slapped my hand down on the file and scattered papers across the tabletop.
Bingo.
Research might suck, but it usually paid off. I clicked through a few more links and then picked up my iPhone and made a call.
He answered on the third ring.
“Make sure my background is in place. Make sure it’s good. You know who we’re dealing with.”
“I’ve done my part. When you fail, the only person you will have to blame is yourself,” G.R. said, his voice calm in my ear.
The fact he was underestimating me made me very, very angry. “You remember that when you’re cutting me a check for ten million dollars.”
He chuckled. “Yes, well, all your documents and IDs will be there in the morning.”
I didn’t bother to point out that it took him three days to deliver the documents I usually got mere hours after every assignment. I knew it was on purpose, and so, I purposely acted like I had all the time in the world.
I pulled the phone away from my ear to end the call and the echo of his smug laughter when he spoke again. Even though his words were muffled, I heard them clear as a bell.
“Overconfidence isn’t always a good thing. Even if you have the skills for a job—for a
fight
—it doesn’t mean you’re going to win.” His words touched a part of me that I hadn’t felt in so long I was mildly surprised it was still there. “I would think that you of all people would know this.”
“Was that a reference to my past?” I asked, amusement clear in my tone. “Only people scared of their present drudge up the past.” I lowered my voice, pulling the phone close to my mouth. “Tell me, G.R., are you scared I’ll prove you wrong?”
“Death is scared of nothing,” he intoned and hung up the phone. The cut connection rang with finality.
I stared at the computer screen for long minutes before a slow smile curved my lips. I pushed away from the table and headed for the stairs.
Death might not be scared of anything, but perhaps this time he should be.
* * *
Searing, thick steam rolled through the air, creating a cloudlike effect around me. The humid heat that it carried wrapped around my limbs and turned my tense muscles languid. All the extra energy coiled within me, waiting to be expended, evaporated, leaving me with a feeling that was quite close to relaxed.
This is exactly why I had a steam shower installed in this house. If I had to spend time in this godforsaken place, then I was going to make myself very comfortable. I knew the next six months of my life were going to be as close to hell as I ever wanted to be, so if there was a chance for me to steal any kind of peace—if even only during my shower—then I was going to take it.
I leaned back against the stone tiles and closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath of the fog-like vapor. Research? Check. A plan for a first meeting? Check. Background story, IDs, a home, car, and bank accounts all in my name? Check, check, and check. All I had to do now was go buy a brand new tux (if I could even find one in this town) and the biggest kill I’ve ever attempted would begin.
Energy slammed into me hard and fast, causing my eyes to snap open and my body to shove away from the tiles. I swatted at the steam like I could push it away, and when it didn’t obey, I hit a few buttons on the control panel on the side of the wall.
Someone was in this house.
Not only were they not invited, but they’d also just cut short the only enjoyable thing about my day.
I might not be allowed to kill someone other than a Target, but I could damn sure make them regret they chose this house to creep into.
I opened the glass door to the stall and stepped out, reaching for a towel and slinging it around my hips as I went. I crept, not making a sound, light on my feet from years of practice. I inhaled, taking in the chaotic energy that buzzed through the house. It was a woman, had to be. A man’s energy was more stable, less all over the place. But a woman… a woman’s energy was exactly like the gender it inhabited: irrational and all over the place.
And this lady in particular must be crazy because her energy was practically shoving into me. I’d only felt this kind of forceful,
bossy
kind of vibe a couple times before.
Shit.
It better not be who I thought it was.
A sadistic smile curved my lips and I crept to the top of the stairs where I paused to listen to the sounds of papers being rustled, heavy breathing, and the erratic pounding of a heart.
Pulling another deep breath of her energy, I let it expand within me and then I took off, moving at the speed of light—so fast no one would hear or see me until I wanted them to.
I rushed toward the table where a figure dressed completely in black from head to toe was standing, peering at the screen of my laptop. On my way past, I snapped the lid closed and the force of my speed blew several papers up and away, sending them fluttering to the floor.
The woman gasped—turning around, her back going up against the edge of the table. Her eyes searched the room for me, but I wasn’t done bouncing around. I went from one end of the room to the other, flipping on and off the lamps, turning on the flat screen hanging above the fireplace, and then hitting a button causing the logs in the hearth to burst into flames.
The woman pushed away from the table, rushing toward the set of French doors that led outside, but I caught her around the waist before she took three steps and yanked her back so she was firmly against me, pinned between my arms.
She didn’t miss a beat and stomped down on my bare foot with her stiletto heal, causing me to howl in pain and release her. She ran forward as I recovered, reaching out and grabbing at her, only coming away with the black knit cap she’d stuffed over her head.
A flash of blond filled my vision before I caught her arm and yanked her back against me once more. Her chest was heaving and her nails dug into my arms, but I ignored it all.
“Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my house?” I growled into her ear.
“How did you move that fast?” She gasped.
Her voice. I knew that voice. It grated on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. So much for it not being the infuriating girl with a man’s name.
“You better have a damn good explanation for why I found you in my house, going through my things, George.”
She stiffened and I felt her retort rise up inside her.
“Ah—ah—ah,” I sang in her ear. “Now is not the time to piss me off any more than you already have,” I warned.