by RJ Blain
“Up to two-fifty?” I could see the need in her eyes. With over four million in debt, I couldn’t blame her.
Freedom from debt was a powerful motivation.
“With benefits,” I promised.
“For making appointments.”
“Among other things.”
Samantha swallowed. “Okay.”
I reached out and patted her shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”
I doubted she believed me.
~*~
Sleeping pills were truly amazing things. It wasn’t hard to get Samantha to drink a glass of water with two dissolved in it. Not even a witch could resist the wonders of modern medicine. Within ten minutes, she was so sound asleep she didn’t flinch when I squealed in her ear. I smiled, brushing the hair out of her face, committing the youthful her to my memory.
Soon enough, the young, vibrant Samantha I knew and loved would be gone, until the pictures in my head were all that remained. The real her, in her seventies and showing all of the signs of age catching up with her, would shine for the world.
And shine she would, so long as I had something to say about it.
Ten o’clock was a bit late to make phone calls, but Allison Victoria Mayfield Hanover didn’t wait on the clock. The phone rang twice before someone picked up.
“Anderson,” a sleepy voice mumbled.
I drew a breath, reminding myself that my identity as Allison Victoria Mayfield Hanover wasn’t the me I had to always be. Then I snapped, “Get up.”
A thud answered me, followed by the clatter of the handset hitting the floor. I heard the young CEO groan. “Ms. Hanover?” Confusion and shock added a tremble to his voice.
Good. If I kept him off balance enough, he wouldn’t ask too many questions or give me any problems.
“That girl. How is she doing?”
“Marie? Ugh.” Floorboards creaked and the springs of a bed squeaked.
“Fire her. I think I’ve found someone useful. You’re up for some poaching, aren’t you?”
“Victoria? Isn’t it a little late for work?”
“Oh, don’t be a baby. I pay you to put up with it. Now, about that secretary…”
“Can you give me five minutes?”
I huffed, turning my head to stare at the blinking light of the alarm clock. “I’m watching the time.”
I heard him set the phone down. It took him three minutes to return. “Okay. What am I firing Marie for?”
“I’m sure you can find something,” I snapped. “Not a good fit. Whatever you want. Give her a reasonable severance package, but I want her gone tomorrow. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am. Who am I poaching?”
I rooted through Samantha’s purse and pulled out her real ID. “Her name is Samantha Ethridge, working as a concierge for Amex.” I gave him her cell phone number.
“A concierge?”
“For black card holders.”
Anderson chuckled. “You want to poach a concierge. Unbelievable. Do you really think she has a chance?”
“From my understanding, she has four and a half million reasons to do well.” I let a hint of smugness enter my tone. “I like a woman with motivation.”
“Debt?” Concern laced Anderson’s tone.
“Bingo.”
“That’s risky. She’ll have a lot of access to financial information.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about that? If it makes you feel better, run her record. I promise you, it’s clean. They don’t let people with criminal history handle their black card holders.” I rattled off her address and date of birth so Anderson could pull her records. “Bring her in at two fifty with a chance to negotiate it up. Benefits in, raise and stocks if she lasts three months.”
Anderson sighed. “Easily done. Okay. When do you want me to pitch the offer?”
“Noon tomorrow.”
“I’ll shuffle the schedule. When does she start?”
I laughed. “How about tomorrow?”
Anderson sucked in a breath of air, a hissing sound that only enhanced my satisfaction. “That’s not enough time for her to give notice.”
“You’re a big boy. Why don’t you give Amex some reasons to let her go?” I drummed my fingers on the splintering desk. “Worst-case scenario, she can work evenings until Amex cooperates, if necessary.”
“Wow. You really want her. I’ll play ball. Anything else, or can I go back to bed?”
I clucked my tongue at the young CEO. “When’s the next board meeting?”
“At three tomorrow. Uhm. Day after tomorrow, sorry. What time is it now? Ah. Thirty… no, forty-one hours from now.”
“Make it five. I’ll call in. I want my new secretary in that meeting. Am I understood?”
Anderson gulped. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll talk to you then. I do hope you’ll have good news for me regarding my new secretary.” I hung up before he could reply.
My next call was to Peter. “Peter here.” He didn’t sound very happy.
I drew a deep breath and spoke without pausing. “It’s Allison. Thanks for the help earlier. We’re about to meet up with some people. I just wanted to let you know I’ll do my best to keep Sammy out of trouble. We’ll be in touch.”
He hung up on me.
I made one last call, and my hands shook as I dialed the number. No one spoke on the other end of the line, though I could hear heavy breathing. “In four hours, find a silver SUV in the docks and deliver your best package to it. There will be something quite shiny waiting for you in the glove box.” I rattled off the tag number, make, and model of Samantha’s tank. The necklace I spent a fortune on wouldn’t make its way to a charity auction, but it was a small price to pay to keep us both alive.
“Wear a vest,” a tired, wheezy voice replied.
I hesitated, but hung up. Normal bullets wouldn’t kill a werewolf like me, but my old friend didn’t know that. There was a lot he didn’t know, though as far as humans went, he knew a lot more than most. If he wanted me wearing Kevlar, he’d make sure I disappeared in such a way where the camera believed I was truly dead. I considered the cryptic order to wear a vest.
To make two of us disappear, I’d have to create a stand-in for Samantha. That was something I could accomplish at a Walmart on the way.
If I wanted to make the drive from Cleveland to Detroit, create a fake Samantha, get a Kevlar vest, and make it back again before Samantha woke up, I had to hit the road. I dressed, did my best to smooth my short-cropped hair, and left the hotel.
Chapter Nine
A little after two in the morning, I parked Samantha’s SUV in the depths of the industrial ports of Detroit. The spot I picked was quiet and crumbling, with the waters of Lake Erie lapping against the concrete and steel monstrosities serving as piers. The faltering economy left the once prosperous, bustling dock empty of ships and workers as far as I could see. In the distance, the lights of the major shipping docks still in operation winked at me.
I adjusted the placement of my fake Samantha in the passenger seat, pretending to hold a conversation for the sake of the nearby security cameras. Waiting was the worst part. The minutes ticked by as I talked to myself, careful to pause between phrases to maintain the appearance I wasn’t alone in the vehicle. With a little luck, my positioning of the car was just so, letting the security feeds pick up my face without revealing that my partner wasn’t actually a person.
Some twenty minutes later, a pair of headlights washed over the SUV. The driver left his sedan running, emerging from the vehicle clad in black and wearing a mask. He stopped some fifteen feet away, dropping a suitcase on the ground and kicking it towards me.
I drew a deep breath to settle my nerves, pushed open the door, and stepped out into the chill night.
We stared at each other. Beneath the mask, I could imagine the wrinkled, old face—one of many people I’d watched grow from youth to old age, unable to age with them. I pulled out one of the credit cards I’d never use again, and wit
h a flick of my wrist, sent it spinning towards him. It fell to the pavement at his feet. He bent over to retrieve it. At the same time, I stooped to retrieve the suitcase, setting it at my feet.
Our eyes met. Behind the mask, I suspected he smiled.
“The pin?”
“Two-eight-five-three,” I replied.
Age hadn’t slowed my old friend down. In the time it took me to blink, he pulled a gun from his coat, took aim, and fired twice. The flash of the muzzle and the pop of the silenced weapon warned me before the bullets plowed into my chest. They hit the vest under my blouse, driving the breath out of my lungs. My knees buckled, and I went down in a heap. My entire torso throbbed in the aftershock of the impact. I writhed for several moments before I could force my body to still.
Breathing hurt. It’d been so long since I’d taken a round that I had forgotten how much force a bullet had behind it.
The silenced gun let out a few more pops, the muzzle flash drawing my eye. I counted six shots before a black boot stepped into view. The jab to my ribs woke even greater pain.
“Have a nice night, girlie.”
Corpses weren’t supposed to giggle. Giggling hurt. The throb in my breastbone jolted to the tips of my fingers and toes. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched my killer grab the pretty, expensive necklace from the glove box. Three more shots fired.
“The cameras are out.”
“Thanks,” I croaked.
“Nice pay, lady. Detonator is in the case. I’ll leave the lighter and gasoline over there.”
“Good work as always, Donnie. Shit, that hurts though.”
Donnie laughed. “Anything for you.”
Still lying on the ground, I watched the old man leave. Even my human nose could pick up the sickly-sweet scent of encroaching death. I waited until the headlights of his car faded.
Peter might’ve had friends in high places, but my friends had gone to war with me. Donald was the last of a dying breed of war heroes who could still get illegal merchandise anywhere in a hurry.
“Goodbye, Donnie.” I bit my lip, realization sinking into me. I wouldn’t see him again. Time did that, over and over. Long after he, Samantha, and even Mark were long gone, I’d still be around, wanting what I couldn’t have. I sat up with a hiss and thrust my balled fist over my burning eyes.
Thunder rumbled overhead, and a cold rain started to fall. Despite its chill, it was too warm for my desires. The only thing I could embrace was winter, the season of death.
“Snow,” I ordered the sky in a hoarse whisper.
It wouldn’t hurt if the winter came early for a single night at one isolated place near Lake Erie. Stranger things had happened and would happen. My grief couldn’t change the flow of time. It couldn’t prevent what would happen to Donnie.
I picked myself up off of the ground. Hissing from the pain, I went to work. My blouse wouldn’t do me any good with two bullet holes in it, so I stripped out of my coat and threw it in the back of Sammy’s tank. Grabbing my bag from the back, I took out my scarf, winter coat, and handgun before double-checking to make sure I had brought more than one spare shirt. With that done, I threw the bag out of the danger zone and began my streak of destruction. Dousing the interior of the SUV with gasoline was the easiest part. Igniting my ruined shirt with the lighter, I tossed it in the back.
The SUV burst into flames with surprising ease. The rain ebbed, and the first flakes of snow circled down from the dark sky. The heat from the fire penetrated my damp clothes, but it didn’t warm me.
I prowled the parking lot and piers, one hand near the pocket I’d stashed the pistol. No one was around, not even a single homeless beggar. It took the fire an hour to consume the SUV. When the flames all but died away, I wired the explosives, setting the payload on the mangled floorboards in the backseat. I turned, picked up my bag, and hurried away from the danger zone, glancing over my shoulder at the still-smoking ruins of Samantha’s vehicle.
When I was within sprinting distance of the nearest warehouse, I clicked the button on the detonator. It beeped at me. With the cold air stabbing at my bruised chest, I bolted for the corner, ducking around it. I crouched, covering my head with my arms.
The concussive burst of the explosion hit before I heard it detonate. Pieces of twisted plastic and metal rained down, clattering to the pavement. I waited until I couldn’t hear the thumps of debris before standing. I peeked around the corner. Little remained of the SUV except for its twisted frame. The license plate was intact enough to make out the first three numbers and the state. The rest of it was twisted shrapnel littering the ground.
The snow fell in a thick curtain, obscuring my vision. The wind wailed, voicing my grief so I didn’t have to.
I could’ve left the SUV where it was, but there was something comforting about the early, localized blizzard, and the storm’s willingness to bend to my will. While it would happen soon, Donnie wasn’t dead—not yet. I tried to let the thought soothe me. Staring at the wreckage, I clucked my tongue.
Leaving the ruined frame of the SUV wouldn’t sabotage my plans. It would, however, make it easier for the police when they did find the carnage. A grim smile tugged up the corners of my mouth. It wasn’t everyday a girl got a chance to take a joyride in construction equipment under the cover of a blizzard.
Slipping my hand into my pocket, I fingered the smooth surface of the silver engagement ring. Throat aching from the effort of suppressing my guilt, I jammed the band into the wreckage, careful to wedge it securely so it wouldn’t be lost in the water. With a little luck, it would find its way back to Mark. With my death, he could move on.
When I finished dumping the wreckage into Lake Erie, I wiped my prints from the scene of the crime and left.
~*~
By seven in the morning, I managed to make it back to Cleveland in one piece. I dumped the rental I’d gotten after trashing Samantha’s SUV for a cute little Toyota that liked to pretend it was a sports car. By ten, Samantha and I were on the road, headed to Atlanta. Just before noon, I pulled into the parking lot of a pharmacy under the excuse of needing a refill of allergy medicines. Samantha didn’t even blink over the delay, settling into the passenger’s seat, head resting on her bundled-up coat.
She wasn’t going to get to rest long, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. Anderson didn’t miss appointments I made for him. Samantha’s phone would ring right at noon, and I wasn’t going to be in the way when the call came.
At least the need for allergy medication wasn’t a real lie. It never hurt to have extra. I picked up an extra epi-pen while I was at it, wasting some thirty minutes in the store before peeking out the front door to check on Samantha.
She was still on the phone.
I wasn’t even sure if the town we were in was large enough to be listed on a map. Turning around, I sheepishly asked the amused, pink-haired cashier for directions to the interstate. Resting on the ledge under products the managers didn’t trust near the customers, I caught sight of a well-worn novel.
“Is that book any good?” I pointed at the title.
The woman’s blue eyes lit up. “Is it ever!” Twisting around, she snatched up the book and plunked it on the counter. Careful to hide my cringe, I recognized it as the so-called latest and greatest in smutty chick-lit. “One of my friends recommended it to me. I was really surprised. Unlike most of the stuff out there, this actually has a plot. Well, mostly.”
I choked back my laughter, unable to stop myself from grinning. “I’ve got a few hours to drive with a girlfriend. She’s into reading all sorts of things. What do you recommend?”
“This,” the woman immediately replied. Then, to my surprise, she came out from behind the register and waved for me to follow. Nestled in one of the corners was a small rack of books on a turning display case. She picked up three paperback novels, one I recognized as the smutty chick-lit, and thrust them at me. “This one is a mystery, and this one is a horror. I’ve read these two several times.”
&
nbsp; I tucked them into the crook of my arm. Wandering down the aisle, I picked up a few other items, mostly from the personal hygiene section, and paid for everything. Ten minutes later, I wandered back to the Toyota.
“What were you doing in there? Buying the store?” Samantha arched her brows at me, arms crossed, fingers drumming away on her elbows.
“A little bit of this, a little bit of that. I got you some books, in case you get bored. I do believe one of them is the latest and greatest in smut lit. One is a horror, and the other is some mystery.” I tossed the bag at her. Samantha caught it, peeking inside.
“And you bought half of the allergy meds in the store, from the looks of it.”
“There are a lot of dogs in Atlanta.” I thrust my hand into the bag, grabbing the box with the epi-pen. I took the epi-pen out, stuffed it in my purse, and threw the junk into the back seat. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.” Samantha stared at me, shook her head, and took out one of the books before flinging the rest of the bag into the back seat. To my amusement, she kept the smutty novel. “You knew they were going to call me.”
I laughed and clucked my tongue at her before I glanced upwards, muttering something about patience. “Of course I knew.”
“You even knew when that interviewer was going to call me.”
Settling into the driver’s seat, I buckled up and turned the car back on. The engine purred. Without answering, I got back on the road, following the cashier’s directions back to the main interstate. After letting Samantha stew for a while, I replied, “Of course I knew.”
“What am I going to tell Peter, Allison?”
“Victoria,” I corrected. “Hmm. For you, Vicky. Because you’re special.”
Samantha’s brows rose. “You’re serious.”
“I am.”
“But what about Peter?”
“Last time I checked, saying ‘I quit’ worked quite well when leaving a job. Or, you just don’t call. You don’t show up for work the next day. You just disappear. You go back to being you. The real you, not the person you’ve been faking for years.” As I merged back onto the highway, I floored the gas, grinning as the little car tried its best to pretend it belonged on a race track. “I love this car.”