Whatever for Hire

by RJ Blain

  “When was the last time he was in here?”

  “Five or six years ago. I’d just started working here when he brought her in. I think she liked calling him by his middle name or something, too.”

  “Stewart?”

  Patsy’s expression brightened. “Yes. Mr. Montgomery didn’t seem too keen about it, either. I thought it was weird when he asked me to pull out our succubi gowns in your sizes, but looking at you, it was a perfect choice. You could probably teach those demons a thing or two about turning heads. Your tail’s a lot better suited for the dresses than theirs, I think. Shall we try something with more color?”

  “Why not?” With Malcolm buying the clothes, the least I could do was help rid him of his money. By the time I finished waging war on his wallet, he’d regret making me model for him. I feigned enthusiasm for the task, cooling my temper enough that my intended victim hopefully wouldn’t notice my irritation simmering beneath the surface.

  Two hours and countless outfits later, my plan backfired. Malcolm didn’t reject a single outfit, some even leaving him at a loss for words. When I finally escaped the boutique, I wore his sweats. If I ran for the hills, at least I’d be comfortable. Malcolm wouldn’t want his clothes back, not after I’d cut a tail hole in them.

  The thought of escaping tempted me, but I’d wagered with the devil. I couldn’t leave with my dignity intact. I respected Malcolm’s reasons, but I hated when someone I had initially outwitted caught me flatfooted and then had the audacity to be gentlemanly and generous afterwards.

  How annoying. It made it difficult to remain cranky, so I focused on the one thing guaranteed to send me into a blind fury: my aunt and my unwanted suitors in New York.

  “You’re not going to cool off anytime soon, are you?”

  I got into his car, buckled in, and grunted so I wouldn’t tell a lie. He put two bags in the trunk, a small fraction of my new wardrobe. Sliding behind the wheel, he started the car and grinned at me. “Admit it, Kanika. You secretly enjoyed bleeding my wallet dry.”

  The man hadn’t rejected a single outfit, not even the pink skirt, although I suspected the pink skirt’s short length had contributed to his immediate acceptance of the purchase. I scowled and resorted to thinking about New York and the very slim possibility of running into someone I really didn’t like to keep my temper sour for his enjoyment. “You weren’t exactly happy over being kidnapped, either,” I reminded him. With no idea how long I’d be in the car while dealing with Malcolm’s costume, I kicked off my shoes so I could stretch my feet and unsheathe my cramped claws.

  Bastet claws and shoes didn’t mix, although I’d gotten used to dealing with the reality of human attire in a non-human body. At least my magic-made shoes accommodated my irregular foot shape unlike most brands. I supposed succubi had odd feet, too, since most of the shoes from the boutique fit tolerably well.

  “Ah, but I was more furious at myself for being caught in the first place. Therein lies the difference. I’m going to handle my costume errand tonight after stores close; my friend is a night owl, and I already talked to him about what I needed while you were getting changed, so all I have to do is drive over late and pick it up. I’ll come back to the house, then we’ll leave for our flight in the morning. Our next stop is an electronics store. If you’re going to be working for someone in my family, you’ll need a work-specific laptop, a business-specific phone, and a good briefcase. Appearances matter to them.”

  “Yet your cousin goes by Bubba Eugene.”

  “I never said it made sense.”

  “True.”

  “So, outside of stellar kidnapping techniques, what are you good at?”

  “I’m a decent shot,” I confessed. “I’m comfortable with my aim and usually hit my mark.”

  “While important, that’s not really a needed job skill in an office situation.”

  Shit. He needed office skills? What kind of office skills did he think I had? I could stack papers with the best of them, but if he wanted me to do something productive with them, I could file in alphabetical order. Since I doubted that’s what he was looking for, I turned my head to stare out the window. “I’ve never had an office job before.”

  The reflection in my window betrayed Malcolm’s wide-eyed glance in my direction, which he covered by backing out of his spot and hitting the road. “Never?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t have a high school diploma. I can use a computer.” I shrugged. “I’m a drifter.”

  College required tens of thousands of dollars to spend on credits, a full-time job, a permanent residence, and a high school diploma. If I’d obeyed my aunt’s wishes, I would’ve gotten all those things as a trophy wife with an education dictated by my unwanted husband’s wishes.

  I would’ve been lucky to be allowed an English degree. They wanted me for one reason only: bearing children.

  My anger boiled, but I kept quiet, my teeth clenched, waiting for the condescension I’d come to expect from well-educated businessmen.

  “Oh boy. This is going to be even more interesting than I thought. Buckle your seatbelt, baby. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

  Keeping quiet and fuming gave me an advantage over Malcolm; his ignorance became the foundation of my trickery, fooling him into believing I lacked intellect while goading him into making basic mistakes. Like so many, he believed my lack of a diploma reflected my knowledge of life, but unlike most, he took it as a challenge to be overcome, as though he could somehow change reality to make my past fit his standards. His determination annoyed me.

  It also baffled me, as he seemed to take my lack of a formal education personally. I’d seen men on missions before, and Malcolm went from amused to flinty-eyed and determined.

  I pitied how he’d been brainwashed into believing a college education and degree quantified someone’s value. I’d enjoy teaching him the truth after I inflicted a little more monetary revenge on his wallet for his incorrect assumption. While he muttered curses and made plans for my blitzkrieg education, I admired the scenery.

  If settling down ever became an option, I thought I’d like Nashville. It blended the urban charm of a city with the wildness I liked about forests and the untouched places of the world, somehow coexisting without destroying each other.

  Old trees, planted long before the city’s birth, grew from medians planned around them, which made the layout of the streets odd at best.

  The trees ultimately made way for steel and concrete near the heart of the city, much to my disappointment, and the electronics store he took me to annoyed me with its cookie-cutter styling and lack of personality. Within, sane price tags and plentiful sales expanded my fiscal revenge to a blend of quantity and quality.

  Without a single word to me, Malcolm began his rampage in the computer section, muttering curses as he kidnapped a sales clerk and started pointing at a computer, a desktop costing more than I thought reasonable for a machine I couldn’t lug around with me. I leaned against the metal shelving, an eyebrow arched as he dictated his first purchase to the poor clerk, who paled with every request.

  A second clerk got assaulted with technical nonsense, and he ran off to obey Malcolm’s wishes.

  Malcolm glanced in my direction with narrowed eyes, pointed at a silvery laptop on display, and said, “The best model of that you have in stock.”

  The clerk beamed at that request, and the instant Malcolm’s attention turned away from me, I slipped off to begin my share of the expedition. He wouldn’t know what had hit him by the time I was done. I struggled to remain angry while I wanted to rub my hands together with glee over the trouble I could get myself into given an hour in the store.

  I began in the software department, loading a cart with copies of every piece of software compatible with the system he’d selected. I also snagged an external disc drive, as I was aware the computer wouldn’t have one in its sleek body. I could’ve downloaded the programs I needed, a financial tool and a spreadsheet, but if I went wit
h the physical copies, I’d encourage his mistaken belief about my ignorance.

  With the first phase of my conquest complete, I selected four different cameras, several bags, the smallest audio recording devices I could find, and was debating a tablet when Malcolm found me, glaring at my cart full of unrequested purchases.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Spending your money for daring to imply I’m stupid because I lack a degree.” I pointed at the best tablet the store offered. “I want that one, and I want the art stylus to go with it. Case, too. It’ll be useful if I need to record any minutes. And yes, I know what minutes are.”

  He poked through my cart, ignoring my demand, humming to himself. “Four cameras?”

  “I liked them all and couldn’t decide.”

  “I’m not sure I want to ask about the recorders.”

  “Revenge is a dish best served with full audio.”

  “Should I be concerned?”

  I allowed myself a smile. “Probably. If you don’t buy them for me, I’m buying them for myself.”

  “This must be what my father meant when he warned me about scorned women.” Malcolm sighed and pointed at a smaller tablet. “You want that one, too. You might not have a lot of space at some meetings, especially if they’re at a restaurant.”

  “Good thought. I’ll take it.” After another look around the store, I considered my options. “I also want a drone.”

  “A drone? You meant those mini helicopter things? Why?”

  “Yes, those mini helicopter things are called drones. I enjoy confusing you with the bonus of making you ask questions. I also want a micro camera for my drone.”

  “Again, should I be concerned?”

  “We already went over this. Probably. I think I have everything else I need from this store once I’ve selected my drone.”

  “Care to enlighten me on why I’m buying so much stuff? This isn’t going to fit in my trunk, Kanika.”

  “That’s your fault for having such a dainty car for such a big man like yourself. No space for stuff in addition to that ego of yours.”

  With a heavy sigh, Malcolm turned to his recruited store clerk, requested both tablets, and hung his head. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “Why would I do something like that?” I smiled my sweetest smile, showing off my sharp teeth. “Don’t you have a lot to teach me?”

  “Why do I have the feeling I’ve contracted a serious case of foot in mouth disease?”

  “Maybe because you might not be as stupid as you look, pretty boy. You know how it is; all beauty, no brains.” I huffed and marched to the aisle with the drones, and because I wanted to be an ass, I picked two just in case I needed to recruit Malcolm’s help when I started my new career as a corporate spy.

  Attacking Malcolm’s wallet classified as rude and unprofessional, but I had always wanted a space to call my own. In my entire adult life, I’d never had a desk and chair picked out for me and me alone. What started as an off-handed comment about how nice Malcolm’s home office was ended with his promise to take me to a furniture store so I could pick what I liked so I wouldn’t hold his couch and coffee table hostage.

  I liked his couch and coffee table, too, but I kept my mouth shut so he wouldn’t interpret it as an excuse to get rid of them for something new.

  “I don’t suppose you care to explain why you tried to buy the entire electronics store, do you?”

  “Spite.”

  “How charming.”

  While most of my purchases wouldn’t be delivered until we returned from New York, I had enough to begin stripping away Malcolm’s misconceptions. I grabbed the bag with my necessary software, laptop, and recording devices, beginning the tedious process of setting everything up so I could enlighten him on the errors of his ways. “I’ll show you. Before I begin, I’m going to make it clear I’m pretty peeved you think I’m stupid just because I don’t have fancy pieces of paper saying I paid a school to make me look smart.”

  Malcolm had the base decency to grimace at my accusation. “That wasn’t fair to you. I apologize.”

  While petty, if he wanted me to accept his apology, he’d have to work a lot harder for it. I pulled out the receipt and pointed at the drone purchases before drawing his attention to my cameras and audio recorders. “I could probably rob a bank with these given some time and a few extra tools.”

  That caught his attention, and his eyes widened. “What? How?” Crossing his arms over his chest, he directed his glare to the cameras, particularly the one that had cost him over a thousand dollars. “You can’t rob a bank with that stuff.”

  “Get your laptop,” I ordered, snapping my fingers and pointing at the coffee table. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he got up and headed to his home office, grumbling complaints from the moment he left until his return. I left him stewing, setting up my new machine. Once it began installing updates, I pulled out the external drive and unpacked my new software. “If you want to rob a bank, you want to do it digitally. Electronic records can be modified, systems hacked, and funds relocated. Of course, the banks don’t want this to happen and take steps, but if you can get into the heart of their banking software, it can be done—and people have done it. Still do it. It has to be maintained to keep ahead of the developers trying to protect their systems against hackers.”

  “You mean to take advantage of security breaches?”

  “Yes and no. Step one is to pick the target. Banks are pretty good at catching mass theft. What you want to do is pick a specific person with a lot of money, monitor their activities, and look at how they spend their money. That’s what the financial software is for. Once a target has been selected, it’s a matter of infiltrating the bank system, running a payment from my target to a disposable account, and transferring the funds off shore. You take a loss on the stolen money, but if you run it through enough accounts, it’s hard to figure out where it has gone. Now, here’s the trick. Log into one of your banking accounts—it can be any one, just make it small. Wouldn’t want me to rob you blind, after all.”

  “You mean you haven’t already?” Malcolm snorted a laugh, shook his head, and sat beside me, doing as I asked. “All right, this is a charity fund account; every year, I take everything I’ve put into this account and donate it to my charities of choice.”

  I admired his choice; if I robbed him blind, I wasn’t hurting him, I’d be hurting charities. He scored a point for being clever, and I pointed at the link to show his transactions. “Click there.”

  Once he pulled up the list of transactions, I tapped the screen. “The goal is to wipe the transfer files from this listing and modify the records so that when someone does a data dump and checks the amounts, the incoming and outgoing funds match. A good accountant will catch it quickly, but if someone is only looking to see if the credits and expenditures match, they’re not going to notice the theft. Depending on the wealth of the target, I’ll hit a bunch of accounts, skimming from all of them to hide my activities. Of course, if I’m doing a big hit, I’ll clean the bastard out, take his money, and run for it. The bank is liable for the theft, which makes it a victimless crime—if you don’t consider the fat cats running the banks victims. I don’t.”

  Malcolm narrowed his eyes and scrolled through his transactions, all of which were transfers into the account except for several large lump-sum payments issued in the previous year, matching his claim he did year-end charity contributions. “You can really do that?”

  “I have.” I shrugged. In reality, the client had paid me a pittance for the work compared to what I’d stolen, but I had liked the old man’s story—and held a personal grudge against the victim.

  The asshole target had been one of the slimy businessmen my aunt had wanted to ditch me with, and I’d enjoyed ruining him. He’d been one of the fringe candidates, relatively poor compared to the big three my aunt pursued for their money.

  “How?”

  “It’s not hard if you know cert
ain pieces of intel.”

  “I find that hard to believe. Bank security is tight.”

  I reminded myself Malcolm was right to doubt me; bank security was tight—but I had connections, connections like Hagnar—and a willingness to get my hands dirty. In reality, with the victim’s username, password, and security question answers, draining someone’s account dry took very little time, especially when the victim had no transfer limits to protect his money. “Maybe you’re my first notable kidnapping, but you’re not my first big job.”

  Of all the things I’d gotten recently, I liked my new phone, and I pulled it out and searched the internet for my biggest hit, a museum robbery. I held out the device to Malcolm. “This was my work.”

  Malcolm leaned over and peered at the screen, reading through the article. “You really think I’m going to believe you did this job?”

  Forget my aunt and her band of evil bachelor slavers, Malcolm took the top prize for pissing me off. “Now you’re just being insulting.”

  The bastard smirked, and I realized he’d done it on purpose to tweak my tail. “This robbery made national news.”

  Oh, how subtle his jab, with the perfect inflection in his voice to imply he expected better from me, as though I should have made international news instead. Better? I’d taken a priceless artifact someone had decided was only worth ten million from a museum and had gotten away with it. “Yes. The diadem was magical, too. I owed someone a favor.”

  “That’s some hell of a favor. What does a man have to do to get you indebted to him for that level of work?”

  Was Malcolm still toying with me? I curled my lip and hissed at him, flattening my ears. “It’s not happening again. I’m out of the museum robbing business. I came pretty close to spending a long time in jail over that heist. Also, should you speak a word of this to anyone, you won’t have to worry about your family’s curse because I’ll cut you into small pieces and feed you to your fish.”