by Kim Linwood
For fuck’s sake. Play music a little loud one night and everyone thinks I’m trouble. I’m a killer, not a hooligan. This city has issues.
The cashier hands Nora her coffee. “Here you go. If my boyfriend was as hot as yours, I’d take my time too.” Blondie glances over at me, though she looks away as soon as she catches my eyes. “I wish I had a guy that was so crazy about me.” And then she fucking chews her lip.
“He’s not—God, why am I still here?” Nora snatches the cup and practically runs out the door.
“Your girlfriend’s cute,” the blonde directs at me with a smile.
I grin. “Yeah, isn’t she?”
7
Nora
Alderman Trabucco is ornery, grumpy, picky and comes with a delightful dash of old-fashioned misogyny. By the third time he asked me to move my cute ass to go buy him another one of those raspberry mochas, I was ready to kick him in the balls.
Do I look like his assistant?
No, I mean really. Do I? Because I saw her once and then she took off for the rest of the day and I’m starting to understand why.
On top of it all, I’ve been smelling paint fumes all day. The brand new office next door to City Hall is nice and all, but they could’ve waited a few more days before moving in, in my opinion.
Well, at least the day is over. Almost home. With my arm hooked behind the passenger seat, I back in for a perfect parallel park, if I should say so myself. A good solid nine out of ten, and only four blocks away. It’s a day of miracles.
Maybe there’s something about me that attracts annoying men. And to think, a couple weeks ago I was sitting around binging on ‘90s TV and wishing for my life to get more interesting.
Running errands for the alderman, and a crazy ex-special forces neighbor who thinks he’s Captain Planet is not what I hoped for. On the other hand, if this was a quirky sit-com, he’d probably end up being the man of my dreams.
Which he already is, but literally just that. Only in my dreams.
In person he keeps opening his mouth and screwing everything up.
My fingers slip into the pocket where his business card still rests tucked up against my thigh. I swear I could feel where he touched me for hours afterwards, and as much as I hate to admit it, I was a little disappointed when he wasn’t there on my next coffee run.
Alright, time to brave the outside. Pushing the door open, I force myself out into the cold wind. I lock up my car, remembering at the last second to put the deicer I picked up into my purse instead of leaving it on the seat where it would taunt me tomorrow morning.
I’m almost to my building when my phone rings. I push wisps of hair out of my face, only to have them bounce right back while I pull off a mitten with my teeth and fumble in my jacket to find it. It’s Dad again. Probably eager to hear how my first day went, and to make sure nobody’s shot me yet.
“ ‘eh,” I say with a mouth full of wool. I jam the phone up between my ear and my shoulder, putting my mitten back on. “Hey.”
“Hey Pumpkin, it's Dad.”
Yes, I know. “Hey Dad. What's up?”
“How was your first day? Everything go alright?”
I stop at the curb, looking both ways and waiting for traffic to die down. “Yeah, everything was fine. Alderman Trabucco mostly sits at his desk all day ordering people around.” Like me. “I’ve only been there for a day, so I haven’t exactly set my stamp on local politics yet, ya know? It was a lot of standing around.”
He laughs. “I'm sure. Do you have a good pair of shoes? Sometimes the cheap ones at the supply place aren’t very—”
“Yes, Dad, my shoes are great. They’re the kind you told me to get, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Right.” He chuckles. “I guess I’m just not used to you actually listening to me. So was it as boring as Palmieri insinuated?”
“Yep, and then some. Still, it beats desk duty.” A blast of cold air throws my hair back into my face and makes me regret not putting my scarf back on. Winter’s particularly bad this year.
Unlike all those other years it was particularly bad.
“Don’t knock desk duty, Pumpkin. It’s all work that needs to get done, and one day you might find yourself missing it.” He pauses, both of us all too aware that he’d love to be back at work, even if it’d mean sitting at a desk. “Trust me.”
It's a sobering thought. He used to be like me, out on the street, thinking everything happens to other people. We all know it can happen to us, but I don’t know if you can believe it until it does. Even me, who’s had a closer view of the consequences of our job than most.
The traffic parts and I make a break for it. “Alright, I’ve got to get going. I just got home and there’s leftover Chinese calling my name.”
“Take out, again? How about you come home for dinner tomorrow?” Dad's voice makes me pause. “We should celebrate your new assignment, just the three of us. We’ll make lasagna.”
“We, Dad?”
“Oh, fine. Your mom can make lasagna and I’ll chop some lettuce for the salad. Sound better?”
I grin and step up onto the sidewalk in front of my building. “This week really is pretty crazy, but how about Sun—”
A loud screech, followed by the sound of rubber grinding against asphalt cuts me off. There’s a thundering bang, and I turn my head just in time to see a gigantic truck grille much closer to me than it has any right to be and getting closer by the second. It must’ve been coming way too fast, since the curb has launched the front of the car well clear of the pavement.
And right at me.
Time slows down. My phone slips from my hand as every detail of the world becomes crystal clear. It spins end over end at the edge of my vision, tumbling slowly towards the snow for what seems like forever, but is probably just the space of a few heartbeats.
Someone screams, but all I notice is the way the snow slides off the little bulldog ornamenting the hood of the truck as it comes closer. He looks cold.
Making my limbs do anything is like trying to wade through molasses. Is this how I die? Frozen in place as some poor trucker slams on the brakes sending grey, exhaust-tinged slush up into the air?
Inches away, I can practically trace the letters spelling out MACK in the lower right corner. I’m about to meet my maker, but oddly I mostly feel bad for the driver or whoever gets the job of cleaning little bits of me out of the front of the truck. Dad’s right, there are worse things than desk jobs.
Apparently, the person screaming is me.
The truck moves sideways—no, the whole world moves sideways. I spin and land heavily on ice and snow covered pavement, my breath knocked right out of me. The truck continues on, its tires still spinning wildly as they try to find purchase in mid-air. A second later it crashes back down and screeches to a halt as the cab bounces back off the sidewalk and into the road.
I gasp like a newborn baby whose lungs are finally her own, and look up into two pools of green. Payne’s got one arm around me, and the other braced on the ground as he holds me against his chest.
He’s breathing hard, and even through our winter clothes, I can feel his heart race alongside mine. Sound assaults my ears as time speeds back up to normal with a rush.
I’m not going to die. I let that thought linger for a moment. I’m not going to die.
Not right this second anyway. The adrenaline fades and my body begins to shake uncontrollably. Big, fat, wet tears explode from the corners of my eyes, and I can’t make them stop. I'm wet, bruised, broken down and still not grasping exactly what just happened, but I'm not dead.
I'm not dead.
“Shh, it's alright. You're okay.” Payne’s powerful arms hug me closer, and I swear to forgive him for every annoying thing he’s ever said or done. “Listen to me, Nora. You're fine. C'mon, you didn’t think I could let an ass as perfect as yours get taken out of this world that easy? Did you?”
Tears streaming down my cheeks, I butt him gently in the chest with my forehead
even as my mitten covered hands cling to his sides. “Stop ruining the moment.”
He laughs, rubbing my back gently with one hand. “Never.”
8
Payne
Holy shit, that was close. The wet slop of the Chicago streets is soaking into my jeans and people are gawking at us, but everyone is in one piece and there’s a beautiful woman underneath me.
“Did you see that? She almost—”
My head snaps up, fixing the speaker with a look that cuts them off mid-sentence. “Do you see a fucking hat to toss money into? No? Then maybe we aren’t goddamned street performers and you can move the hell along.”
“Payne,” Nora whispers.
The jerks who watched us like a zoo exhibit try to act all cool about it, like they were totally about to start walking anyway.
“That’s right, assholes. Keep going.”
“Payne,” Nora says again, this time wiggling beneath me in a way that gets my attention much faster than calling my name. “You saved my life.”
She looks up at me with bloodshot eyes, and without thinking, my lips brush away a tear clinging to her cheek. For a second, she stiffens but doesn’t pull away. Her body fits so perfectly under mine, like it belongs there.
“Just happened to be in the neighborhood, officer.”
Nora smiles cautiously, flat white teeth with just a hint of a cute little snaggletooth peeking out the side. “Much appreciated, but if I don’t stand up soon, I think my butt is going to freeze to the sidewalk.”
With a relieved laugh, I pull her to her feet, holding on until I can tell she’s not going to fall back over. “Never let it be said that I didn’t do my all to save a nice piece of ass. Let me know if you need a hand or two to keep it warm.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but she’s more amused than angry. “Oh, no.” Nora spots the bag of takeout I’d been carrying. It’s half buried in snow and the paper is soaked through. “Was that dinner? Shit! Dinner! Where’s my phone?”
She scrambles around, and I crouch down to help her look. Sirens are coming closer, and I’d really rather get into the building before the cops show up and start asking for names and taking statements. It doesn’t take long before I spot it in the road next to the curb.
I wipe the screen on my already ruined jeans, getting the worst of the gray sludge off it. “Here, looks alright. Hopefully there’s no water damage.”
“I was talking to my dad, and—oh God—I have to tell him I'm alright. He's probably mobilized half the city already.”
Nora snatches the phone from my hand and taps a contact. “Yes, it works!” There’s a muffled male voice yelling before she’s even gotten it to her ear. “Dad. Dad. Stop. I'm alright. Call off the SWAT team or the Army Reserve or whatever you've done. I'm okay.”
She waits while he yells out the rest of his fear, her expression slowly growing impatient. “Seriously, Dad. I'm alright. There was a bit of a traffic situation but the only thing hurt is my pride. And my butt. Fortunately, one of my neighbors was here and he saved the day.” A pause. “Yeah. No, you don’t know him. He’s new.”
“Yeah, he's still here. Uh, okay. Sure. Hold on.” She closes her eyes for a split second and makes a cute little huff of frustration. “He wants to talk to you.”
I grin at her expression. “Really? We haven't even had a first date, and you're already introducing me to your parents?”
“Behave,” she hisses. “He’s had a tough time of it and he needs to know I’m alright. Apparently my word isn’t good enough. Just… be nice.”
“Sweetheart, I’m many things, but nice is very rarely one of them.” I laugh at her flash of panic. “But just this once, since you almost died and all, I’ll make an exception.” I take the phone. “Sir?”
“Hello? Are you the one I can thank for saving my little girl?”
I press my lips shut to keep from laughing at the thought of what my feisty policewoman would look like if she knew he’d just called her that. “Yes, sir. Though I’m sure she would’ve handled the situation just fine.”
See? I can be nice.
“I’m not there to do it myself, so I’d appreciate it if you’d do me a favor and make sure she gets in alright. Can you do that for me?”
“Absolutely, sir. It would be my pleasure.”
“Good, and tell Nora I look forward to meeting you. I like to know the sorts of people she has around her.” The man’s voice is grateful and relieved, but even still, he makes sure to put just a hint of paternal threat in there for good measure.
Not that it’ll stop me from doing wonderful, horrible things to his daughter if and when I get the chance, but it’s good to know she has someone who cares.
“I’ll do that. I look forward to it as well.” Easy words to say when I know I’ll be long gone before that happens.
He disconnects, and I hand the phone back.
“No goodbye for me?” She arches a skeptical eyebrow. “And what exactly is it that will be your pleasure? Or that you have to look forward to?”
“Well, I could be wrong, but I think I’ve been given your father’s blessing.”
“Excuse me?” Her eyes go wide.
“The man obviously recognizes I’m a good catch. It’s too early to plan the wedding, of course, but by the time the snow melts we can—hey, where are you going?”
Nora stomps off towards the front of our building. “Home.”
“Not so fast.” I jog to catch up, and fall into step beside her. “I made a promise to your father, and I intend to keep it.”
“A promise to what?”
“Get you home safe.”
She stops and looks at me incredulously. “The building is right here. I think I can handle it. So why are you doing this?”
Why am I doing this?
I have no answer that bears up to close examination. Saving her from a truck gone rogue was pure instinct, but playing nice with Daddy and walking her home?
What the fuck am I doing?
Robert Heinlein once said, “Man is not a rational animal, he is a rationalizing animal.” For some reason that quote stuck with me, and today it rings more true than ever.
There is no rational reason for me to sweet talk her parents and walk her to her door. Rational would be sending her on her way and seeing if there’s anything salvageable left of my food. Rational would be keeping my head down, doing my job and not spending time with a cop. No matter how fuckable.
And yet, when she starts walking again, I’m right alongside.
“I gave him my word.”
“And that’s important to you?” Nora asks with a snort as she punches in the code to open the outer door.
Is it? Is it possible to be a noble killer? Her question wasn’t intended seriously, but I take it that way anyway. “Yes.” Surprisingly enough, I mean it. I’ve seen and done more than my share of horrible things, but in my own way, I’ve always been honest about it.
Still, I’m a goddamn hitman. My word might mean a lot, but I’ve gotten damn good at not telling the whole story. Hardly a perfect match for an earnest and dutiful cop, no matter how sexy she is.
But here I am, right next to her, just because I want to spend time with her. Not to mention all the dirty things I want to do to her.
She looks at me, and somehow I must’ve kept my thoughts from reaching my face, because after her brown eyes study me carefully, she decides. “Okay then. Come on.”
Thank fuck the elevator is out of service when we get in. Convincing her to use the stairs would be awkward, and it’s a hell of a nice view from behind.
9
Nora
He’s such an ass, but then he isn’t, and I don’t know what to think.
Is he the guy who has the social skills of a metal-head gorilla? Or the guy who sorts his trash, fixes my car and saves me from random acts of traffic?
One thing’s for sure, he’s not the goofball perv he pretends to be. Or at least, he isn’t only a goofball perv.
No way. Maybe if I was the teen from the coffee shop I might fall for it, but I’ve grown up with, trained with and worked alongside men and women of action, and he’s one of them.
Payne doesn’t scare me, though, and I’ve learned to trust my instincts. He might be a wolf, but I’m not a tasty bunny to him. More like a watermelon. Wolves will kill bunnies, but they don’t kill watermelons. They might eat them, though, if they happened to—
GOD, Nora just stop.
Why couldn’t I have at least gone with a pear or something that has a better profile than a watermelon? I laugh at my ridiculous train of thought. The near miss must’ve really shaken me up.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Payne murmurs from behind me on the stairs.
“There aren’t enough pennies in the world to let you in on that one.”
We emerge onto the third floor and stop at my door. I could send him off now, but this could be a good chance to find out more about the man who seems to be everywhere I am these days.
“Do you want to come in? You saved my life, the least I can do is offer you a drink and help you get warmed up.”
He grins and his eyes flash hotly.
“Don’t even say it! That’s not what I meant!” I open my door and flip on the lights.
“I was going to suggest tea. You’re a dirty girl, Officer.”
Payne walks in slowly behind me, not being obvious about it, but I can tell he’s taking stock of the layout. My apartment isn’t quite identical to the one he’s subletting. They probably started out the same fifty years ago, but mine’s been renovated more recently and has an open plan.
He leaves his wet, dirty boots at the door, and right then I get the urge to keep him, mysterious ways and all. Now if only there was an easy way to see if he hangs up his towels or not.
