Whatever for Hire

by RJ Blain

  If I had reason to believe someone in the Stewart family used Hagnar’s services, things would’ve been different. I would’ve been able to bribe Hagnar into giving me information, unless they had paid for his silence. Most didn’t.

  When I finished, he nodded. “Seems fishy to me. All right. I do agree with your base tactic. A conscious capture is best. If you have the twenty thousand, I have a suppressor bracelet that can rein in most talents, no matter their strength. Someone strong enough and determined enough can bust through, but most can’t. It would be keyed to you, and you would wear a matching bracelet. It won’t suppress your magic; it’ll let you control the matching bracelet, so you can give your prisoner access to his magic at your whim. If he does have magic, he’ll be able to use it. However, it comes at a price beyond the payment of cash.”

  I worried, as twenty thousand seemed cheap to me for such a potent tool. “What price?”

  Hagnar’s smile transformed my worry into full-fledged anxiety. “You’ll be attuned to him. His emotions, good or bad, will feed back through the bracelets. You’ll know if he’s sick or injured. You’ll feel his pain as if it is your own. If he has a lot of magic, he might even be able to sense things from you. If he breaks through the bracelet’s suppression, you’ll be hit with the backlash. It’s dangerous magic. Short term, these side effects aren’t bad. I can’t tell you what will happen if you wear it for six months. It’s dangerous, untested magic.”

  Great. I’d be playing Russian roulette with the most potent weapon in my arsenal. “Backlash? What do you mean by backlash?”

  “All the magic he uses to break the suppressor will hit the matching bracelet, which means it’ll hit you. It could be lethal. It all depends on the type of magic he uses, what he’s trying to do when he breaks the bracelet, and his talent rating. At the very least, it’ll hurt. But for what you need, it’s the safest option—for him. For you? It’s a very dangerous gamble.”

  Well, I appreciated the main perk of dealing with the devil: health insurance. “I have a good health insurance policy for this job.”

  “Good. You’ll need it if he breaks the suppressor, assuming you make it to the hospital at all.”

  I appreciated Hagnar’s candor about the situation almost as much as my new health insurance policy. “I have the twenty thousand. I’d prefer it if no one gets killed. I’m treating this as a protection gig, and the body I’m protecting is completely unwilling. If this is a set-up to get him killed, I want the best odds to thwart my client and fuck up his plans.”

  To make matters worse, I had a double dose of paranoia to work with. I could easily believe the devil would double cross me. He was the Lord of Lies, after all.

  “You have a good reputation on the small jobs. The big ones are a different story, but you’re smart about protection work. Maybe your client is counting on your tendency to shy away from the heavy lifting.”

  “There’s just one of me. That’s why I’m not a big job girl.”

  “You’re also not the type to kidnap people, either. That might work to your advantage, assuming you have a professional game plan. You will. I find these sorts of jobs entertaining and complex.”

  “How much is your wisdom going to cost me?”

  “A thousand if you spend below fifty thousand, on the house if you spend more.”

  Considering I was already at thirty thousand and counting, I’d be walking away with free advice. “How much is the influencer going to run me?”

  “Thirty darts, the appropriate gun, and ten vials is going to ding you five grand. For an extra thousand, I’ll give you two extra vials and syringes for them. I’ll make sure to label them carefully; they’re made differently and have different dosages. There’ll be a reference chart for both types. At twenty-times human metabolism, the batch should last you a little longer than a month.”

  “Perfect. I need a six-month supply. My current plan is to rotate through prepaid credit cards to pay for car rentals, which I’ll change in each state at least twice, swapping companies and using after-hour return services. That way, I can book several days for the rental and return them early to throw potential pursuers off my trail.”

  “I can make fake identification cards for you.”

  I shook my head, and the beads in my hair tinkled. “No, I appreciate it, but it’s better that I don’t. I’m not used to acting out fake identities. All I’ll do is get busted if I try it. Realistically, I need to avoid detection altogether and stay off law enforcement’s radar.”

  “Can a sphinx even drive a car?”

  Laughter burst out of me at the doubt in Hagnar’s tone. “I have my ways.”

  “A humanoid form?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me see what I have to work with. You might need body armor.”

  I thought it through and realized my best hope was for him to kit me like I was going into a firefight, and not the type involving hot Scots in fire-retardant gear. Rising to my paws, I stepped away from his desk and shifted. I expected my human form but ended up imitating Bastet in her full Egyptian glory. Instead of my usual gypsy dancer attire, white linen clung to my every curve, accented with silver, turquoise, and cerulean jewelry. My hair remained the same, and a turquoise and silver usekh clung to my throat and draped down my chest and shoulders.

  Hagnar’s eyes widened. “You’re Bastet.”

  “No, I just look like her. I’m a sphinx.”

  “You’ll leave a trail looking like that. Everyone will remember you.”

  I sighed. “If you think this is bad, when I’m human, I look like Cleopatra.”

  My gypsy attire and Russian heritage would help protect me, even from Hagnar. I told the truth yet lied by omission at the same time. The devil and his two archangel brothers were obviously a bad influence on me.

  “Not the sphinx, not Bastet, but an embodiment of Egypt. Fascinating. I’d thought personifications had died out long ago.”

  “Personifications?”

  “Every culture has a personality. Thousands of years ago, when it was believed magic had existed as it does today, sometimes someone would be born the ultimate example of their culture. They usually took the form of one of their gods or spiritual entities. In Egypt, it’s believed the pharaohs are those entities. Myth and legend have to come from somewhere.”

  I didn’t feel like I personified Egypt, a place I’d never been, a home I’d never visited. “This information remains with you alone.”

  “I gave you my word in exchange for your money. Our bargain still stands.”

  If it meant saving my life, Hagnar would tell my secrets, but it wasn’t much of a secret. I’d struggled for years trying to get people to believe the truth. If anything, if Hagnar had to speak, his word would validate my existence. Everything came at a price, even something as simple as my peace of mind. Pulling out my wallet, I handed over my new debit card. “Let’s process that payment then, shall we?”

  Hagnar took my card but set it on my desk. “I’ll start the inventory and pull together the total amount owed. It’s easier to run the payment at one time. You’ve provided enough of your secrets to serve as collateral. Do you trust me to supply you for your venture?”

  “Please do, but justify and explain the expenses. I want to know what I’ll be working with, plus I’ll need lessons on how to use any new equipment.”

  “Deal. Sit. The real work is about to begin.”

  My phone rang halfway through inventorying, and Hagnar gestured for me to answer while he kept working. It amazed me he had reception so deep underground. “Kanika, Whatever for Hire.”

  “I have the information you need,” Bubba Eugene announced.

  “Good. Email it to me. Have you deposited my funds?” Without the deposit, I’d be spending a great deal of money without someone to kidnap, which would sour my day.

  “I’ll email you with the confirmation.”

  “Were you able to get all the information I requested?”

  “Yes.”


  It amazed me how one little word could contain so many lies. The trick would be separating the truth from the lies. “Good. I’ll review the email and contact you if there are any issues.”

  I expected a lot of issues. Until I reviewed the information, I wouldn’t be able to guess if he was lying, which I anticipated, but I feared the lies involved my target’s vital statistics, which would make my task of drugging him dangerous—and potentially lethal. If Bubba Eugene wanted his cousin dead, after my warnings, that’d be the way to go about it. Listing the wrong metabolism and weight could turn a kidnapping into an assassination.

  I’d have to do my own research and confirm everything I could about Malcolm before I made my hit.

  “When can you grab him?”

  “You’ll know when he disappears.” I hung up on my client and checked the call time. “Twenty seconds. Is that long enough to do a trace?”

  “Traces are instantaneous if you have access to the towers,” Hagnar replied. “On that call, you’re covered; I mask signals to here. It’ll register as an unknown location. I recommend you use burner phones once you’re on the move. Dump them after each use. I can give you a few—two hundred a phone. I recommend you take twelve; that’s all I’ve got set up right now. Once you’ve burned them all, you can get cheap phones without a contract and pay for minutes individually. It’s expensive, but it works.”

  “I’ll take them, and add fifty per phone to keep those extra secret. If someone needs to reach me in a life-or-death situation, you text the burners with the number I need to call.”

  “You’ve improved at this game. Done. I’ll teach you a trick to better hide your location once you’ve used the phones. Keep them off until you make a call, then dump them in someone’s car or some other vehicle on the move. Putting them in a box and shipping them somewhere by courier is a good way to get a lot of movement. They’ll go on a wild goose chase tracking the phone. For a thousand, I’ll give you a special phone. It’s so old it doesn’t have GPS technology. It barely works, and it’s only compatible with one cell network. Reception’s terrible, the battery life is shit, but if you’re in a big city, it should work.”

  What was an extra thousand when it came to buying a little extra security? Nothing. “I’ll take it.”

  “I recommend you keep that one off unless you need it. While it lacks GPS technology, if they have the number, they can still track you to the tower you’re using for the call. That’ll give them a rough idea of your location.”

  “Better than nothing. How much for you to charge my phone and send it on a trip somewhere? Maybe New York City?”

  “Why there?”

  “There’s reason I might go there. It’s as good a place as any.” While my aunt wouldn’t appreciate someone sniffing around her house looking for me, she’d be telling the truth when she claimed she knew nothing about me. I doubted the woman even knew I’d become a mercenary.

  “Fifty dollars, and that includes cleaning off finger prints, removing any DNA evidence, and postage.”

  “Add it,” I ordered. “Got a laptop handy?”

  “The one you want is in the main warehouse. All location services are permanently disabled on the machine; the chips enabling GPS were removed, and the wireless chip is custom made. It’ll get you on the internet, plus it’ll help cover your tracks. Don’t ask about the technology that does it; I’m not at liberty to say. The laptop is new enough to do anything you might need, it’s fast, and it’s encrypted. If you type in the password incorrectly five times, the entire machine will be erased and then destroyed. I recommend you give it space, as approximately twenty seconds after the fifth wrong password is input, a small explosive inside the machine will detonate and blow apart the insides. No one will be getting any data off it. It’ll become a very expensive paperweight. It’ll cost you five thousand.”

  I liked the sound of that. “You have yourself a very nice sales pitch there. What’s my total bill so far?”

  “Seventy-six all in.”

  Ouch. I hoped my sexy Scot was worth his price tag. “How much else do you want to add?”

  “Maybe a few thousand. Eighty’s a safe bet. The good news is this: you’ll be as protected as I can make you.”

  While foolish, I believed him. “Sounds good. Finish my inventory and pack this up.”

  “You’re going to need a vehicle. I’ll loan you my SUV tonight and have someone pick it up tomorrow, you just tell me where you’ll leave it. I’ll give you a magnetic holder for the keys, just stash it beneath the car somewhere difficult to spot.”

  “Kingsport.” I was staying in Bristol, but I’d ditch the emptied SUV there and fly back to my hotel where my rental waited. If he was tracking his car, I’d be making stops in several other towns and cities the same length of time I would stay in Bristol unloading.

  Trust only went so far when it came to black market operators.

  My phone rang. Grumbling a curse, I answered, “Kanika, Whatever for Hire.”

  “Must you insist on using that wretched company name, cupcake?”

  “Ah. It’s Satin. How nice of you to call. My evening wouldn’t be complete without you bothering me. What do you need?”

  “I wanted to find out when you’d really be putting your bank card to use rather than doing a tiny test transaction to make sure it worked. I’d like to confirm there are no issues with payments beyond the basics.”

  Of course Lord Satin of Hell would think a five-hundred-dollar purchase classified as basic. “Don’t worry. I’ll be charging eighty thousand in a few minutes. I went shopping. I love shopping sometimes.”

  “What are you buying for that much? A new car?”

  “I’ve never had my own car before,” I admitted. I spoke the truth, too.

  “Hmm. It’s your money, cupcake.” The devil hung up.

  “It’d help if you stayed on the line while I processed the payment, asshole,” I muttered.

  “Seventy-nine thousand, three hundred and twenty-two dollars even,” Hagnar announced.

  “Charge it.” There was no turning back, not with so much invested already. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d taken on a losing proposition. I’d landed on my feet then.

  I’d land on my feet again, somehow.

  Chapter Six

  It took several hours to gather what I needed, and I held off on checking my email until I returned to my hotel room. Before I investigated my target, I needed rest. I stayed awake long enough to lock my balcony window and door.

  Eight hours of sleep did me a world of good.

  One pizza delivery later, I booted my new laptop to get a better look at my victim-to-be. Fortune smiled on me; Bubba Eugene Stewart had taken me seriously, sending over a lot of information. Unfortunately, I couldn’t trust it.

  I doubted glorious, muscularly sexy Mr. July was a slick six feet even, weighed a hundred and ninety pounds, and had human-standard metabolism. Not even most humans had human standard; magic had a tendency to fiddle with its host, turning practitioners and the talented into something a little more—and a little less—than human.

  If Bubba Eugene thought his falsified information on his cousin would lead to Malcolm’s death, I’d enjoy surprising him. As long as I didn’t give Mr. July a lethal dose, he’d burn it off faster and keep me on my toes. Keeping my victim alive was my top priority. To accomplish my goal, I needed to thwart my client at every turn.

  Blackmailing a client wasn’t my usual style, but with so much at stake and the devil’s interest in the matter, I needed every advantage possible. If Bubba Eugene attempted to double-cross me, I’d recruit an unexpected ally: Malcolm Findlay Stewart.

  According to Bubba Eugene’s intel, Mr. July did business as Malcolm Montgomery, and a single search confirmed I had reason to worry; I’d been hired to kidnap a millionaire investor and businessman, one with a reputation for fair business dealings with everyone except his competition.

  It didn’t take long to figure out why Bubba Eug
ene wanted his cousin gone. He wanted to operate a business on M. Montgomery Enterprises’ turf. I rolled my eyes at the pettiness of the situation.

  Why did money always have to make a mess of things? With Bubba Eugene’s motive exposed, once I got my hands on Malcolm, I’d work around his business responsibilities. Spiting Bubba Eugene and getting paid for it—by him—seemed like my sort of fun.

  Catching Malcolm would be the problem. A man worth millions wouldn’t be easy to grab. He likely had some sort of bodyguard, which would cause me problems. I muttered curses and regretted having ditched my phone.

  Then again, if I called Bubba Eugene and tore into him for shortchanging me so badly, I’d blow my opportunity for some payback. I clacked my teeth and returned to my email, reviewing what I’d been sent. With the exception of my target’s true vital statistics and value, Bubba Eugene had provided a fairly comprehensive schedule of Malcolm’s behavior and general activities.

  Kidnapping him would only be the first of my problems. I needed to find a way to contain a man who liked to be kept busy. Great. Intellectual types needed a lot of stimuli or they started trouble. Books might keep him occupied for a few minutes.

  If he had a taste for revenge, I’d be set. I’d just tip him off to Bubba Eugene’s activities and watch the problem resolve itself, maneuvering Malcolm so I got paid and his cousin took the fall later. I’d have to think about it later, after I put together a plan to capture him and make him mine.

  Taking him at his home wouldn’t work; a man with Malcolm’s wealth would have an alarm system at the minimum. If Bubba Eugene’s information was accurate, the only potential openings occurred when he drove to and from work. To help with my efforts, my client had included a photograph of Malcolm’s car, a rather lovely Jaguar.

  Meow.

  The man was hot enough to melt metal, and his car came a close second. Too bad I couldn’t get away with taking both.