He gave me a sideways grin. “Need a hand?” He didn't wait for my response, pulling me over his shoulder.
I gasped, grabbing onto his shirt as he started climbing.
Several of the clan members started chanting, “Ooh-rah! Ooh-rah! Ooh-rah!”
Harlen placed me down in my pod and I practically fell into my bed.
Tykera appeared behind him, smiling brightly and I noticed she had a pillow in her hand. “Girl, you've got one helluva mouth on you. Lucky Hawke likes the words that come out of it.” She chucked the pillow to me and I caught it at the last second. “You better take good care of that, I had to chop off someone's head for it.” I grimaced and she laughed loudly. “Just kidding!”
I threw the pillow behind me, falling down onto it, relief ebbing through me.
“Better rest. It's training day tomorrow.” Harlen winked at me, nudging Tykera toward the exit.
“What?” I groaned.
Harlen saluted, not elaborating as he followed Tykera down the ladder out of sight.
I rested my head back against the pillow with a heavy sigh.
Well at least I'm not tied to a wall anymore...
“Put it through the dog flap!” I called to the man beyond my front door.
“I need you to sign, Miss,” the delivery guy replied, his voice sounding through the flap as if he was crouching down.
I crouched too, squinting through the misty plastic that obscured the outside world. He was just a dark red shape, but I could just make out a scruffy beard too.
He sighed and my stomach knotted. This was the problem with ordering stuff online, the delivery men were always different. Unlike my usual postman, this guy didn't understand that I wasn't going to open the door. Or why he had to wave my packages through a dog flap. I didn't even have a dog, but it made delivery men nervous all the same. But a cat flap was hardly big enough for some of these men's hairy hands, let alone my groceries.
“Pass me the signy machiney thing.” I crawled closer to the flap, running my tongue over my bottom lip.
The flap opened and a hairy hand came into view – always hairy. A black machine was clamped between his fingers. I used the attached pen to scribble my name down and a moment later he pushed my package through the flap.
“Thank you!” I called.
“Crazy bitch,” he muttered, his footsteps pounding away down the path.
My chest crunched, but I quickly brushed off the comment. It wasn't the first time someone had remarked that I was crazy, and it wouldn't be the last. A small part of me even agreed with him.
I ripped open the package, grinning hungrily at the DVD. Deadwood season three. Gotta love them cowboys. Dunno why, but I always had. I guess my daddy had gotten me into them. He used to whittle model horses from scraps of wood, even carved tiny saddles and painted them gold and green. I used to watch, enraptured by the skill. Sadly, it wasn't a skill I'd developed myself. Though I'd once tried to mimic him – total fail. My heart stung at the memory.
Miss you, Daddy.
I stood, jogging through the tiny corridor to the living room. Weaving through the stacks of books, I dropped to my knees in front of the DVD player.
Ripping open the plastic on the case, my fingers slipped through to the new box. I opened it, breathing in the scent of new plastic and a sharpness I couldn't place. It must have come from a factory far from away where people worked and lived normal lives. I wondered what it would be like to work in such a place. Would my hands be capable of the chores they were probably so skilled at? Could I slip into a life like that, unnoticed? Normal?
I ran my teeth over my bottom lip, wearing at the skin. No. Not me. It's not for me.
Dipping the DVD into the tray, a musical whirring sounded as it spun into place. I gathered myself up from the floor, scooping books out of my worn seat on the sofa. Dropping down, I tugged my legs up to my chest.
Pressing play, the harsh scrapings of the title music rolled over me and an excited knot tightened in my belly. This. Was. Heaven. This was life. For me anyway. Watching TV or reading books was the best way to forget reality and lose myself in another world. Where women were strong and men were fierce. Where life was an adventure, full of cowboys and lust and even love.
As the credits rolled on the first episode, I thought on my current predicament. My boss was giving up one of the biggest networking events of the year to go to Norway on a whim. What in the bloody hell was that about?
I didn't question him too hard. He was my boss after all. But I'd pulled some serious strings to get him into that event.
Standing, I paced my living room in my favourite pink sports top and black lycra trousers. I worked from home – obviously-and had recently ordered a treadmill from Amazon to keep me in shape. I'd posted the keys through the letterbox and waited in the living room whilst the men carried it in. Now, it was wedged between two piles of DVDs – the only space I had for it. My house wasn't small (thanks to the decent pay-packet Mr Madigan gave me), I'd crammed it with enough DVDs to fill a small warehouse.
I hopped onto the treadmill, furiously pacing, tapping the up button several times to increase the speed.
Norway? What the hell was in Norway? Certainly not opportunities to befriend high-up politicians that would help further Mr Madigan's career.
“Silas...what are you up to?” I wondered aloud. Jumping off of the treadmill, I decided to ask him. Well, not him exactly...
I walked into the kitchen which I'd recently painted a duck-egg blue. Between the silver fridge and the hob, was a huge cryo-chamber. Might have been odd to anyone who came over. But I didn't have any friends, so that wasn't much of a problem. The chamber had turned up a year ago in a huge van and I'd had an email from Mr Madigan stating I was now going to house it. To keep it safe. I was one of the few people in the world privy to the whereabouts of Silas Madigan's original body. And that fact made me quietly giddy.
His perfectly imperfect face appeared to sleep inside the chamber, frosted with condensation.
I gazed at him with a frown. The first time I'd seen my boss was when this body had arrived at my house. God, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Did the real Silas wander around with a swagger and girls dripping off his arms?
My Silas didn't. He stayed here in my home, quiet and unassuming.
“So you're going to Norway,” I spoke to him. I did that a lot lately. My home was my prison in some ways. Since an incident-which-shall-not-be-named gave me agoraphobia of the worst degree, I'd not left my house. That must have been...three years ago now.
Oh Kate, you are a one. The voice was his inside my head: Mr Madigan's. Or what I imagined he sounded like. Yes, I knew it was a little crazy. But this body was my only company. Apart from the neighbour's cat who visited sometimes. But even she seemed aloof lately. Damn you, Bitsy.
“I know, I know,” I replied out loud. “Why are you going to Norway? I got you tickets for the most important event of the year!”
Maybe I have a personal event.
“Maybe you do,” I sighed. “I wished you'd tell me though.”
I rested my hand on the cool pane of the glass.
You could call me. Ask me outright.
My fingers twitched at the thought. Silas had called before, but I hadn't answered. Fear had gotten the better of me. I'd emailed a reply, kept things virtual. I'd made up this fantasy of him in my head with this damn clone that sat next to my fridge. I couldn't talk to him in real life. I'd built him up in my mind to the thousandth degree.
I gazed at his muscular arms. Yeah, I'd thought about those arms around me in the depths of night, hugging a pillow to imagine what it might be like to have a man in my life. Specifically, him.
“I'm going mad,” I whispered.
Only a little. But maybe if you left your house, you could get back to normal huh, Kate?
I gazed at Silas's still face, wishing he was saying those words to me truly.
“It's not safe,” I muttered. “Better I stay he
re.” Thanks to Amazon deliveries and Ocado, I didn't need to walk outside my house.
My phone pinged and I took it out, glancing at my emails.
Holy cow balls.
I gazed at my phone for several long seconds, unable to believe who the email was from.
A reply – at last!
My fingers trembled as I hovered over the response to an email I sent out months ago. It hadn't been easy getting the address of the man I'd contacted. And after nearly five months without a reply – and having sent an email to him every day since – I finally had an answer.
He addressed it to the fake name I'd given him.
Alma,
I've got time to spare for your request. Send your address to this number 07766995666 and I'll meet with you tomorrow.
Cade
I was both giddy and terrified. This had just become very real. But it was what I wanted more than anything in the world. For years, three to be precise. So why did I feel like I was about to throw up?
A cowboy on screen gutted a man and blood spurted onto the ground.
Is that what it'll look like?
Bile rose in my throat, but I forced it down. I'd have to face that sight in real life one day. Maybe sooner than I'd imagined.
I'd found Cade's contact details on the dark web. I'd been hacking for years and gaining access to the dark web was easier than it should have been. There was a whole list of them, hit-men that was, and I'd picked out Cade based on his bio. Clean kills, no bullshit, handles Immortals on request.
I tapped out a text to Cade, sending him my address and signing it Alma. Alma like the main female character in Deadwood.
A breath rattled around my lungs. Tomorrow I'd have to be strong. Tomorrow, I'd have to open the front door.
✭☠ ✭
When the doorbell rang the next day, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I ran to the mirror, running a hand through my pink hair. I'd dyed it just last night. I liked to change up the colour. It made me feel something. Strong maybe. My skin was a little pale from the lack of sunlight, but my eyes were bright. Like two bright pennies.
Today's the day.
The doorbell rang over and over again until it was almost obnoxious. The bright ding followed by the ominous dong.
Answer the damn door, Kate!
A dark shadow loomed beyond the frosted glass panel in the door.
My hand halted over the handle, quivering, my fingers flexing.
Open the door. I can do it. It's simple. Two little movements: grab and pull.
A fist hammered on it. “You gonna open up or what? I can shittin' see you standin' there, Pink.”
Pink?
A lump wedged in my throat. Fingers gripped my body all over, running softly, too softly, ghosting over my hair. A breath on my cheek followed, hot and rancid.
“No!” I cried, bashing the heel of my palm into my forehead. Get out memories. Out. Out.
“Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? This ain't some joke. You don't wanna shittin' test me.”
His language was so damn crass, his voice rough and deep. But it excited me in a strange way, reaching into that nest inside me where I lived in a fantasy world. Where I thrived on danger and adventures.
Before I could change my mind, my hand clamped down over the door handle and I yanked it open.
Sunlight blinded me, the glare on white clouds illuminating a dark form before me.
I squinted, holding up a hand to shield my eyes. “Mr Cade?” I asked, unable to see him properly.
He grunted in what I could only assume was an affirmation.
He didn't wait for an invite, stepping into my home and I stumbled back before his body brushed mine. My legs hit a stack of books and both me and the pile crashed to the floor.
Don't touch me, dammit!
My heart raced, charging like a wild horse across my chest.
“Shit,” the guy said simply, moving to help me up.
I waved my hands to stop him approaching, my back arching over the pile of books, the spines of which were digging into me. In that moment, I didn't care how stupid I looked, I just couldn't have a man's hands on me.
“Back up!” I commanded and was fairly proud of myself when he straightened sharply in surprise.
I scrambled to my feet and took in the man properly. His black shirt was rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms. His hair was dark and unkempt and he had a short beard on his face to match. His skin was a deep tan like he'd spent weeks under the burning sun. And his eyes, my God, those eyes. Terrifyingly perfect for a hitman. As black as death itself.
There were small imperfections about his face, making him all the more rough to behold. His nose was slightly skewed from an age-old break, a crescent scar was wrapped around his right eye and another was sliced across his collar bone, disappearing beneath his shirt into a nest of tattoos.
My stomach squeezed as I struggled to find my words. Then my eyes flew to the open door and I ran to it, throwing myself against it to shut out the world.
With the door shut, I could focus a little better. My breathing began to slow and the boa constrictor wrapped around my vocal chords eased its grip.
“You Alma?” Cade asked with an expression of doubt.
I cleared my throat, side-stepping around his large form toward the stairs. I strategically moved up a couple of steps so I was at eye level with him. “Yes, but that's a code name of course. Probably like your name is.”
He shrugged. “I don't need a code name.”
I folded my arms, jerking up my chin. “And why's that, Mr Cade?”
“'Cause you hired the best fuckin' rent-a-kill in the world. I don't get caught, names or no names. But by the looks a-you and this shithole, I'm startin' to think you might-a been after a rodent exterminator, not me.”
I tucked my hands higher under my armpits. “The only rodents I want exterminated, Cade, are the four Vampires who attacked me and my family three years ago.” My nails dug into my palms as I battled to keep a strong front. This man was deadly and I needed to show him I could handle myself.
“Hm...” His ebony gaze ran over me, penetrating my very skin. He was like the human form of a pitbull, but as I thought it, I wondered if he was human. If he was capable of killing Immortal beings, maybe he was one of them too. “Never been hired by someone like you before. And I'm startin' to doubt you've got the money you offered on this job. Am I right, Pink?”
I frowned at the nickname then pursed my lips. “I have the money, I assure you.” Thanks to Silas Madigan.
“Let's see it then.” He held out a heavily tattooed hand, his thumb inked with the words Blackhedge Lane.
I chewed my lip. “It's in my bank account, I don't have cash.”
He spat a laugh. “Well I'll wait here whilst you go and withdraw it. Else, you can transfer it to my account but it has to go through a mate of mine to make it untraceable.” He folded his arms, mirroring me, except his arms were enormous like two tree trunks wrapped around a rhinoceros.
I clutched my body tighter, digging my thumbs into my ribs. Something about him made me jittery. Might have been the fact I hadn't had anyone in my home for...oh hell, too long. “I'll transfer you half now, half when it's done.”
“No deal.” He took a packet of Marlboro cigarette's out of his pocket, knocking one out of it by flicking the bottom of the pack. He took it between his lips, eyeing me for a reaction, but I gave him none. In a flash, he produced a silver Zippo from his pocket, whipped the lid open and sparked a flame.
I inhaled slowly, waiting for him to light it, but his brow hooked up in a question.
Was this rogue asking for my permission?
I nodded stiffly and he lit the end of the cigarette, the scent of menthol smoke floating into my nose. After a beat, he jerked the packet toward me.
My eyebrows went skyward. I'd never smoked in my life. “No thank you.”
“Right. Can you explain somethin' to me, Pink?” Cade asked, rubbing his chin.
<
br /> I nodded, waiting.
“Why the fuck am I standin' here in this hallway with a bubblegum-haired chick who doesn't look a day over twelve? This ain't how these meetin's usually go down.”
My cheeks blazed and I took another step up the stairs, digging my bare toes into the carpet. “I'm nineteen,” I said sharply. “And I'm sorry I'm not a professional mafia boss, or whoever you're used to dealing with, Cade, so forgive me if I have to ask you to guide me in exactly how I'm supposed to act around a hitman in my house.”
He inhaled a long, slow toke then a booming laugh ripped from his throat.
My cheeks grew hotter and I had the strong urge to slap him. Instead, I kept my hand fisted against my chest.
Can't touch him. Can't can't can't.
“You sure got balls, Pink.” He eyed me with interest, head to toe like I was on display in an art gallery.
I covered my body as best I could, feeling fingers crawling up my spine. My eyes clamped shut as I tried to block out the memory of the last man who'd laid a hand on me. The man I wanted dead more than the rest of them. Gutted like a fish, specifically.
“Come, we got some things to discuss before we go ahead with this.” He strode toward my kitchen and I darted after him, skirting around him and blocking his way.
“Not in there,” I gasped, thinking of the secret I hid for Silas Madigan. The body was under my strict protection. I didn't want this random hitman seeing it. I gestured to the living room and Cade blew a full puff of smoke into my face before turning on his heel and heading that way.
I fought a cough, heading after him with a scowl.
As I entered, I hurriedly gathered a heap of books into my arms, scooping them off of the sofa and laying them in piles on the floor.
Shoulda cleaned up, dammit.
“Like readin', huh?” His tone told me he was teasing so I ignored the comment, gesturing for him to sit in the newly-cleared space.
Cade was clearly not taking this meeting very seriously. But I was deadly serious. And he was about to learn just how much.
I dropped into my frayed red armchair opposite him, watching as he shrugged a backpack off his shoulders.
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