by Martha Carr
After a shower and a feta and bacon omelet, she drove back to her condo and fired up the laptop as she waited for the news that the money was transferred.
Time to look for new digs. It was a promise she made to herself as soon as the bank account warranted the move. The condo was never meant to be a permanent location and wasn’t secure enough to suit her. Too much foot traffic that could expose others to danger and made it easy for someone to notice too much just by walking by on the street.
She needed a place where she could shut the door and let down her guard at night. This wasn’t it.
Her phone buzzed with an alert. The money was transferred. I like this work. Will have to grab Peyton for pizza and finally answer all his questions.
She looked back at her computer screen, scrolling through pictures of the same two-story brownstone she had found on Redfin before, checking to see if it was still available. It was on a quiet street abutting a commercial district that emptied out after business hours. It could be perfect.
Her phone rang on her end table and she snatched it up, answering on the first ring.
“Hello, Greg.”
“I’ve transferred the money to your account, both the full fee and the bonus. We’re both a lot richer today.”
“Glad to hear it.” Shay understood the need to doublecheck that she knew the project was completed to her satisfaction. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
“Before you go, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Shay looked away from the pictures of the renovated kitchen and focused. She could smell a new opportunity a mile away.
“I’m listening.”
Greg hesitated for moment before speaking. “From what I can tell, you’re new at this business.”
Shay felt a thin thread of anger pass through her chest. Is this fucker about to complain?
“I delivered your gold, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did, which means you not only have skills that a lot of other people only claim to have but you’re a natural. Even gifted. I think we should meet to discuss some other opportunities.”
“Why?”
“You’re going to make a name for yourself, whether I’m involved or not. That’s obvious. The projects you get will only get bigger from here. The whales will come looking for you at some point. I can help you get there faster in exchange for the occasional smaller job. I might not be as wealthy, but I’ve established a lot of connections in the search for my family’s gold. Look, I’m more of a barracuda in this story. I’m the guy you come to for a six-figure payout. Nice for some, but you already scoffed at my initial twenty-five thousand dollar offer.”
Shay let out a laugh. “Don’t be offended. I took the job once we worked out the back end.”
“No, I’m not offended. Part of doing well in life is having no illusions and playing in your lane. If you want the real payouts and the big jobs sooner rather than later, you’ll need an introduction to the higher-end connections. People like Father O’Banion.”
“Father O’Banion… A priest? Church types don’t normally like me. I’m pretty sure I would burst into flames if I stepped into a church.”
Greg laughed hard. “The only church he belongs to is a church of his own making in the nearest bar. The title of father is just a nickname someone gave him a long time ago. He becomes Father O’Banion with a few drinks in him, and he becomes preachy. He can be a bit much to take sometimes. Actually, he’s Doctor F.J. Smite-Williams. He has a day job as a professor of historical extra-dimensional engineering, and a rather sizeable side-business hiring people like you.” The man cleared his throat. “He’s the real deal and almost exclusively deals in high-end magical items. He’s always on the lookout for skilled tomb raiders who can deal with special circumstances.”
Magical artifacts. That does carry a hefty payout. “You’ve piqued my interest. I’d be willing to meet this guy.”
“I figure we can all meet and talk about it. I think I can get you a meeting if I pull a few strings.”
Shay tucked a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Send me the details of where and when. Keep in mind, I don’t take orders from anyone. I decide what projects I’ll take and work out the details myself.”
“I’ll keep that in mind as I pass things along.”
“Good. Get me in touch with this Smite-Williams, and I’m sure I can find some sort of finder’s fee to give to you after my first job assuming he’s legit and you’re not blowing smoke up my ass. I don’t tend to take that very well, just so you know.” Her tone took on an icy edge. She didn’t know Greg Abbot well enough yet to be sure there wasn’t some angle he was playing.
“I don’t know if I should be concerned or amused by your bluntness.”
Shay looked back at the pictures of the brownstone, already picturing herself living there. A smile came across her face. “Depends on your agenda.”
Greg laughed. “Okay, then amused.”
“That works. Set up the meeting and let me know.” Shay hung up and took a deep breath as she called the number on the listing.
“Hello, I’m calling about the brownstone on Mercer Street. Is it still available?”
Can a former paid killer have her own piece of happily ever after?
Shay shook her head and patted her cheeks. The past didn’t mean shit. Stay in the present moment. Only thing I can control. “Yes, that’s the one. I’ll take it at list price, all cash if you can close in a week.” She was moving up in the world. If this Smite-Williams was half of what Greg claimed, then she was about to make her reputation in cement as the most badass tomb raider on the planet. At least her alias was…
Bet the guy asks me to find the fucking Nazi pin first. Shay snorted at the idea. At least I know where it is.
Shay unleashed a series of vicious jabs into the face of her opponent, a man who had a good forty pounds on her. She took a detour to Steel Gloves, a boxing gym she sometimes hit up when she wanted an opponent not filled with sawdust. She had sent Peyton enough details to satisfy his immediate curiosity. The rest could wait a little longer.
She needed to work off some of the adrenaline. Too much good news could rattle her cage. There was something that came with training with a live opponent that steadied her nerves.
Her target grunted and stumbled back. He let out a little growl and brought up his gloves.
“Warned you I hit hard,” Shay said, barely intelligible from the blue mouth guard in the way. “Also mentioned you would regret sparring with me.” She was wearing tight black Lycra shorts and a black sports bra with her long brown hair pulled back in a mound of hair. Her muscles outlined along her legs and down her back as she bounced lightly back and forth in front of him, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat.
The man spit out a trickle of blood. “I’ve been holding back because you’re a chick, but you’re starting to piss me off.”
“Don’t hold back then. You know what they say. Practice like you play.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “You asked for it. You better not bitch when I hit you in your pretty face.”
“Beauty’s a weapon, just like anything else.” Shay winked. “Not my fault you’re so vulnerable to it.”
“You should learn that a few lucky hits and some trash talking ain’t the same thing as being good at boxing.”
“Are you gonna just keep blathering at me until I fall asleep? Is that your strategy?”
The man grunted and threw a right jab, quickly followed by a left uppercut. Shay ducked just in time to miss the last punch as it grazed the top of her head. She always appreciated a close call. Made the work out worth it. She put up her gloves just in time to block a jab and stepped back to regroup.
“Maybe you should wear some glasses when you fight,” she said. “Because I don’t know who the fuck you’re trying to hit.”
Her opponent let out a laugh despite the determined look on his face and centered himself as he shook it off.
/>
He narrowed his eyes and took a step forward.
There’s the tell. Shay watched for the flicker of muscle and saw it coming as he unleashed a series of moves, barely missing her as she stayed just out of reach, like a well-choreographed dance.
“Little lady is running you all over the ring.” An old man leaned on the bottom rope on the sideline, smiling at them. A few of his front teeth were missing and his left ear was in the shape of a piece of cauliflower.
Shay laughed and hunched her shoulders, throwing a hook with her lead hand, pulling back at the last moment and connecting with a cross from her left. Her opponent recovered quickly and landed a blow to her midsection, knocking the wind out of her even as she took in small sips of air to stay alert and on her feet. That just made the fight more interesting for her.
Shay feinted to the side, and the man brought up his gloves, prepared to take the expected blow. Instead, she slammed two quick punches into the side of his head, leaving the man stumbling backward, his gloves raised, covering his face.
She followed up with a solid blow to his midsection, returning the favor.
He fell back hard, landing with a thud on his tailbone as the old man standing outside of the ring let out a whoop and rang the bell.
“Leave some for the next guy, little lady.” He smiled, his tongue darting between the space in his teeth, licking his lips.
Shay offered a hand to the fallen boxer and helped him to a standing position.
“Good fight,” she said, knocking gloves with him when he regained his feet.
“You’ve got some talent. Gotta give you your props. Look for me next time you’re in here. I’ll be ready for you.”
“Deal.”
“Haven’t seen you around in a couple weeks, girl,” said a familiar woman’s voice from the side of the ring. “I see you’re still kicking ass and taking names.”
Shay turned around to find Bella standing on the floor just behind the ropes, still dressed in her street clothes. A tight suit that managed to look conservative while still hugging her curves. She’s got to be with the government. Shay had sparred with the blonde woman a few times, impressed by her skills.
Their first bout, Shay was taken off-guard making the same mistake her last opponent made about her. She thought the attractive woman was just in the gym to play at fighting, but she quickly found out Bella could land a solid punch and was there to win. The blonde might lack the murderous intensity of Shay, but it wasn’t like she needed to kill people from time to time.
Fuck. I’m lying about just being an archaeology professor. Maybe that office she keeps referring to is the CIA.
“Hey, Bella. I’ve been busy with work. Hasn’t been much time to swing by this place.”
“Busy with work?”
“Yeah. The pots won’t dig themselves out of the ground, and no one’s invented a good archaeology drone yet. Only as good as your last big find at the university.”
Bella laughed softly. “Can’t work all the time, girl. You should go slap your department head around to get him to give you more time off. Don’t you have a union or something?”
“Not so far.” Shay picked up her towel from her starting corner of the ring and wiped her forehead, smiling. “I like my job. Makes it hard to know when it’s time to take a break.”
“Still doesn’t mean you don’t need to decompress every now and then and have some fun.” Bella picked up her gym bag and held the top rope for Shay. “That’s why you come to places like this, right?”
Shay stepped through the ropes and dropped to the floor. “Maybe this is my idea of fun.”
“This is work. Fun but still work. You’ll know it’s fun when you’re not there to get anything else out of it.” Bella gently bit her bottom lip. “You have any plans tonight? A few friends of mine are going out dancing.”
“Can’t say that I… dance much.”
Bella held up a hand. “Those of us with men aren’t bringing them. It’s just gonna be a chill girl’s night. We all dance in a sloppy mash up. You’ll love it, I promise.”
Shay furrowed her brow. “I don’t know.”
“Come on. Dancing is a lot like boxing, just with less punching.” Bella smiled. “Think of it as an extra workout if that gets you there.”
“The punching’s the fun part.” Shay grinned as she slipped off the gloves and unwound the cotton around her hands.
Bella laughed. “Will you still come? Just give it a chance. If you don’t like it, I’ll never ask again.”
Shay stared at the other woman, pursing her lips while considering her options. Bella had managed to surprise her again.
Hanging out with her made perfect sense and would give her another chance to practice her cover story. The last time had too many hiccups. Hell, just going out was taking as much preparation as the Mexico job.
Time to stop being such a chickenshit about the regular life crap. You said you wanted your own crowd to run around town with. Suck it up and do something normal-ish.
“Okay, Bella. I’m in.”
15
Shay had made her next stop Warehouse Two, pizza in hand to fill in Peyton who was calmer than she had expected and was busy looking for the next job.
He turned the tables on her and told her, “Leave the pizza. I’ll eat it while I work.”
She smiled in admiration even as he bent down from where he was standing to look at the multiple screens he had set up in the office.
“Hey, are those new?” Shay looked at the equipment, turning around in the room.
“Yeah, another alias ordered it all and paid with a new credit card. Don’t worry, none of it can be traced back to this location and I figured you would pay it off before the month was out.” He looked back at her as he opened the box and smiled as the warm smell of pizza wafted up to him. “All necessary, trust me.”
Shit, I actually do. “You really don’t want to know more about what happened in Mexico?”
Peyton talked through a mouthful of pizza, grease dribbling down his chin. “You found the gold, killed off a few more cartel members. That was a bonus favor to society. Got the whole load back to the states and delivered it safe and sound to our client who paid us handsomely. I’m using the royal us, of course.”
“Of course.” Shay smiled and looked at her only office help. Okay, crazy clothes but still… there’s some street smarts in there somewhere. I can work with this.
“What are you still doing here? Didn’t you say you had somewhere else to be?”
Shay let out a laugh and threw up her hands. “Okay then… I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy your pizza.”
Shay stood back, moving in front of the mirror in her bedroom as she pulled a simple black dress from her closet. This will have to do.
Burning down her house and faking her own death took a large bite out of her wardrobe. All that was left was what fit in a compact go bag. There wasn’t much left to choose from for a girl’s night at a club.
“Need to go on a shopping spree soon,” she muttered to herself. “Could even ask Bella to come along. Make a day of it.” She held the dress up in front of her with one hand, holding her hair up with the other.
Shay was far too practical to mourn the loss of a wardrobe, even if every stitch was high end. Didn’t hurt that having a versatile, good quality wardrobe made it that much easier in her old line of work.
Getting close to a target was often necessary, and a good killer could infiltrate any sort of environment with the proper clothes, especially when a killer body like hers met up with the right clothes.
Wonder if I can write those clothes off on my taxes.
Shay pulled out her only other choice. A low-cut red strapless number. She held both up in front of her body.
“Hmmm… Going with the black. Save the red for when there’s a man involved.” She hung the red dress back up and slipped into the black number, reaching back to pull up the wide zipper.
Her shoe collection had suffered the s
ame fate as the rest of her clothes, but she had taken that more personally and didn’t waste any time when she hit Los Angeles. There were already a few selections of heels from shops in Beverly Hills that neatly lined up alongside her dozen pairs of workout shoes.
“These will do.” She pulled out a pale violet pair of Tamara Mellon suede pumps with an ankle strap and slipped them on, turning in the mirror to get a better look.
She glanced over at the bedside clock.
“Loose curls will have to do.” She ran her fingers through her hair and leaned closer to the mirror as she picked up a lipstick, checking the color before she pressed it against her lips.
Her phone buzzed from the bed, and she hurried, setting the dress and shoes next to it.
Peyton had texted her.
I’ve got a line on a good job that I think will be right up your alley.
Shay picked up the phone to text back.
I’m in the middle of some shit tonight. Is the job time sensitive?
Right, your night with normies. Nope, it can wait. This one’s been sitting around for a while. A long while.
I’ll stop by tomorrow, and we’ll chat.
Okay. See you then. Pack a toothbrush, just in case.
Peyton ended the text message with a flamingo emoji. Even his emojis had a flashback yuppy flare.
Alright, then. I have a girl’s night to get to.
Shay stared down at the phone. Dancing with friends. Fuck… It’s so normal. The last time she went dancing it ended with three dead men and a cake blown up by a grenade. She felt worse about the cake.
So, this is change, huh? Okay, bring it.
Shay grew more excited as the Spider got closer to the club. She had the windows down, the wind blowing through the car. Her nerves kicked in as she turned onto the boulevard where the club was located.
I’m nervous about a night out dancing. That is a little fucked up.
