Charmed (Death Escorts #2)(6)
Author: Cambria Hebert

“I got the job done,” I muttered, arguing with my inner conscience.

I was still here, after all. And it was abundantly clear that if I’d actually failed a job, I would have been Recalled on the spot. Yes, all the Targets I’ve ever been assigned (I lost count over fifty years ago) were dead. Their souls were gone (I had yet to figure out what exactly G.R. did with them), and most of the bodies had become a collector’s item for Mr. Death himself. But… I hated when there was a but. As of late, a few of the jobs… I wasn’t able to collect the money. Paperwork fell through, was lost, or loopholes were found.

Maybe you’re getting sloppy, the voice taunted. Maybe you’re losing your charm.

My growl cut through the silence of the kitchen, a firm denial and warning for that voice to shut the hell up. Something on the screen caught my eye and I leaned forward, scanning the information provided, taking in the list of attendees and the guest speaker. I grinned and slapped my hand down on the file and scattered papers across the tabletop.

Bingo.

Research might suck, but it usually paid off. I clicked through a few more links and then picked up my iPhone and made a call.

He answered on the third ring.

“Make sure my background is in place. Make sure it’s good. You know who we’re dealing with.”

“I’ve done my part. When you fail, the only person you will have to blame is yourself,” G.R. said, his voice calm in my ear.

The fact he was underestimating me made me very, very angry. “You remember that when you’re cutting me a check for ten million dollars.”

He chuckled. “Yes, well, all your documents and IDs will be there in the morning.”

I didn’t bother to point out that it took him three days to deliver the documents I usually got mere hours after every assignment. I knew it was on purpose, and so, I purposely acted like I had all the time in the world.

I pulled the phone away from my ear to end the call and the echo of his smug laughter when he spoke again. Even though his words were muffled, I heard them clear as a bell.

“Overconfidence isn’t always a good thing. Even if you have the skills for a job—for a fight—it doesn’t mean you’re going to win.” His words touched a part of me that I hadn’t felt in so long I was mildly surprised it was still there. “I would think that you of all people would know this.”

“Was that a reference to my past?” I asked, amusement clear in my tone. “Only people scared of their present drudge up the past.” I lowered my voice, pulling the phone close to my mouth. “Tell me, G.R., are you scared I’ll prove you wrong?”

“Death is scared of nothing,” he intoned and hung up the phone. The cut connection rang with finality.

I stared at the computer screen for long minutes before a slow smile curved my lips. I pushed away from the table and headed for the stairs.

Death might not be scared of anything, but perhaps this time he should be.

*    *    *

Searing, thick steam rolled through the air, creating a cloudlike effect around me. The humid heat that it carried wrapped around my limbs and turned my tense muscles languid. All the extra energy coiled within me, waiting to be expended, evaporated, leaving me with a feeling that was quite close to relaxed.

This is exactly why I had a steam shower installed in this house. If I had to spend time in this godforsaken place, then I was going to make myself very comfortable. I knew the next six months of my life were going to be as close to hell as I ever wanted to be, so if there was a chance for me to steal any kind of peace—if even only during my shower—then I was going to take it.

I leaned back against the stone tiles and closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath of the fog-like vapor. Research? Check. A plan for a first meeting? Check. Background story, IDs, a home, car, and bank accounts all in my name? Check, check, and check. All I had to do now was go buy a brand new tux (if I could even find one in this town) and the biggest kill I’ve ever attempted would begin.

Energy slammed into me hard and fast, causing my eyes to snap open and my body to shove away from the tiles. I swatted at the steam like I could push it away, and when it didn’t obey, I hit a few buttons on the control panel on the side of the wall.

Someone was in this house.

Not only were they not invited, but they’d also just cut short the only enjoyable thing about my day.

I might not be allowed to kill someone other than a Target, but I could damn sure make them regret they chose this house to creep into.

I opened the glass door to the stall and stepped out, reaching for a towel and slinging it around my hips as I went. I crept, not making a sound, light on my feet from years of practice. I inhaled, taking in the chaotic energy that buzzed through the house. It was a woman, had to be. A man’s energy was more stable, less all over the place. But a woman… a woman’s energy was exactly like the gender it inhabited: irrational and all over the place.

And this lady in particular must be crazy because her energy was practically shoving into me. I’d only felt this kind of forceful, bossy kind of vibe a couple times before.

Shit.

It better not be who I thought it was.

A sadistic smile curved my lips and I crept to the top of the stairs where I paused to listen to the sounds of papers being rustled, heavy breathing, and the erratic pounding of a heart.

Pulling another deep breath of her energy, I let it expand within me and then I took off, moving at the speed of light—so fast no one would hear or see me until I wanted them to.

I rushed toward the table where a figure dressed completely in black from head to toe was standing, peering at the screen of my laptop. On my way past, I snapped the lid closed and the force of my speed blew several papers up and away, sending them fluttering to the floor.

The woman gasped—turning around, her back going up against the edge of the table. Her eyes searched the room for me, but I wasn’t done bouncing around. I went from one end of the room to the other, flipping on and off the lamps, turning on the flat screen hanging above the fireplace, and then hitting a button causing the logs in the hearth to burst into flames.

The woman pushed away from the table, rushing toward the set of French doors that led outside, but I caught her around the waist before she took three steps and yanked her back so she was firmly against me, pinned between my arms.

She didn’t miss a beat and stomped down on my bare foot with her stiletto heal, causing me to howl in pain and release her. She ran forward as I recovered, reaching out and grabbing at her, only coming away with the black knit cap she’d stuffed over her head.