Chapter 1
‘Josie!’
‘What?’
‘Get in here!’ The interoffice coms weren’t working – and never really had.
The door opened with a sudden crash as Josie angrily swayed her way in, that middle button doing everything in its power not to let the team down.
Her third stride had her leaning over the desk, blonde locks framing those big angry eyes. ‘What?’
‘Hey, you work for me. Remember?’ Kara kept her line of site firmly fixed on those pale blues and not the curved valley below. ‘What the hell are you so angry about?’ With a sudden burst of resolve, Kara was out from behind her monumental desk – like the office itself, a gift from daddy she was still trying to prove herself worthy of. And part of that was demanding … or maybe fostering the respect of those who worked for her.
But truth be told, it was a stupid question, a fact perfectly illustrated by Josie’s raised eyebrow as she straightened up to face her. The extension of her chest, which had undoubtedly been the reason for Kara’s dad having first hired her – and ultimately why her mom had seen to it that he kinda-sorta fired her, meant that Kara had no choice but to give up ground and back off a step.
‘What is it that I can help you with, Miss Jane?’
Better, she supposed. ‘Uh, yeah … so did Mr. … Trank get back to us?’
‘Do you mean, has he paid for the work we did for him?’
That was what she meant. Like the desk, like the office, like the buxom personal assistant, David Trank’s business was in its own way a gift from daddy. Or at least a reference.
But it seemed the respect afforded him did not extend to his little angel. So far, even though they’d done the job and handed over the file full of glossy tamper-proof photos featuring his young new bride in all her glory with someone else in her, his account was still pending. And the worst thing about it was it was all her fault.
A hand on the desk to stabilize her position. ‘Okay. You were right. I should’ve … waited.’ But it was just so exciting. Three jobs since she’d cobbled this crew together and they’d got an actual hit. It was finally real. Just like the movies. They were an agency. Smoky alleys leading to scandal and notoriety.
Darla coming in with those platinum rimmed pearly whites on full display and before Josie could get a word in Kara had been out the office to jet away in her sporty little ride over to her old manicured side of town, knocking on ‘Uncle’ Tranks door to gleefully prove her worth.
He hadn’t been happy.
That near permanent scowl softening. That was also something. ‘Yes. I was.’
How did she get her hair to do that soft disarray thing? Kara’s could never be described as anything but lank. Indiscriminate dark brown that flatly hung around her face from an impossible to alter middle parting, and always slipping out from behind her ears despite their size.
Those lips too. Definitely couldn’t be cruelly described as a bloodless papercut. No wonder daddy set aside the throngs of candidates meant to keep his accounts in order.
‘Kara?’
Shit. She was staring again. No hiding the flush of blood with her skin being so pale. ‘I …’
‘Look. Just talk to your father.’ Hand coming up to silence Kara’s repeated assertion. ‘I know, I know. You’re doing this on your own. But that won’t be true until you stop lying to yourself. All of this,’ a swooping gesture from her raised hand quickly encompassing the dim, dank, brown space – the floral curtains did help though, ‘is being paid for by him.’
That hand coming up again before Kara could defend herself. Truth was it was a lame defense. The money was coming from her savings, but those savings had all come out of an allowance she’d never worked a day in her life for.
Also, this was the first time Josie had in any way softened towards her since that meeting in daddy’s office.
‘You expect me to what?’
She’d been wearing a red dress that day. Flared and made from a thin material. No cleavage, but … it clung to her every inch. Kara was pretty sure she’d caught her looking then too as her gaze whipped aside from that signature hands-on-desk-lean. Kara’s eyes undoubtedly casting anywhere but on her angled frame, but there hadn’t been any hiding the beetroot that was her complexion then either.
‘There’ll be a transition while you’re still on the books – as well as a bonus come the end of the tax year, after which you’ll officially be under my daughter’s employ.’ The only movement from his side of the desk came from the leaves of the giant tree beyond the big window as they cast their drifting shadows across the paperwork her dad never bothered to look up from. ‘That’ll be all.’
Strangely, that was the first time Kara had ever considered that he’d been fucking her. Slight and frail, like his daughter, the idea of these two entangled never fit in her mind before.
‘Okay.’ Kara turned away to slink back behind her desk, sensors tilting the oversized monitor up from its flattened position. ‘Okay. You’re right. I will. Thank you.’
A smile. Now that really was something.
Josie turned to sashay her way back out and Kara’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the side by side up down of her black pencil skirt.
‘Oh, you haven’t heard from Darla, have you?’
***
The gleaming circle of light sliced its way to the center of her mind. Two grasping fists brought her tangled red hair – long overdue for another tinting – into her blurry vision as she manually turned her head away from the offending bottle on her bedside table. The groan that followed wasn’t hers, and it made everything snap into focus.
Darla tried to do the math in her head but the throb at its core was getting in the way. One. Hands at her sides to dip into the soft mattress as she scanned the
dim room, the harsh light sneaking in past the blinds only finding so much of the small space. Takeaway boxes and unmatched shoes on the floor, clothes draped over near everything else. A few more bottles scattered here and there – no second guy.
She eased back down, still managing to rattle her dome against the headboard. There’d definitely been two. It was worth a smile. Good night.
The one who’d stayed was still out. Cheek pressed to the very tip of the pillow’s corner with the rest flopped over his head. A blade of light curved across his back and down to his boxers. Had he been the big boy?
Darla looked down at herself, her outfit the opposite of his. The twinned rise of her bare pussy glistening in the humid air that was making her stringy black tank top cling to the low pyramids of her tits. Another shift informed her that her antics last night had left her a little crusty down there. Time for a shower.
A twist and a scoot had her on her feet to navigate the disarray that was her life. Darla cringed as she double-palmed her temples. No need for that. Just the headache talking. Besides, things were looking up. New job, new life. Whole point of that good night was that her bonus had come through for a job well done, which meant her young employer was a woman of her word. So, the move had been the right one.
The light came on as she stepped onto the grated floor to find her makeup smeared visage staring back at her. With both hands to either edge of the sink, Darla gave her Chinese heritage a wink.
Cold water into cupped hands before giving herself a good and proper wake-up call. Felt good. More water as she leaned back to blade her fingers through hair that seemed to be aiming everywhere but down. Grow it out again? She’d been rocking the vixen-bob for a while now. Maybe even let the black that was showing itself at her crown take over.
She reached for the shower head, its snaking extension disappearing into the wall above the sink, and felt the air woosh as sensors slid the opaque glass door closed behind her. Angling it down, Darla hesitated. Everything was still moving too slowly in her head. Tank top still in place. She set the shower head back into its catch – the door staying in place giving her room to fumble her way back to her routine.
Sigh. She was still warm down there. Tingles lingering in the aftermath. She cupped at the memory and gave herself a little squeeze. Hmmm, it had been a good night.
Then three things happened, their order all out of wack in her still muddled mind. The glass behind her shattering, a yelping cry of despair, the boom of gunfire.
Darla crumpled into her spin to face the gape of her shattered bathroom door. Dark trench coat already moving in on her. The boy who’d first caught her eye at the club peppered in red behind from the tracing line of machine gun fire that had just encircled her little corner of the world. Magazine ejected and smoothly replaced as that stubby gun was raised and angled towards her.
This was it.
Then another thing happened and this time her mind was all over it. Sensors kicking in to slide the door open – except the only thing through was the man’s arm. Jagged edges at the hole that was now its interior slammed into the exposed flesh of his extended forearm as more veering gunfire tore at the tiled walls.
A higher-pitched yelp as Darla’s feet hit the grated floor to shoulder all her weight against his arm. With the gun clattering free, Darla was sent stumbling past that levering snap to scrape against the jagged wall opposite. The cut to her shoulder a distant scream to be contended with later. With a turning swoop she found herself plonked down on the waiting void of the toilet, gun now in hand to blast out the rest of its mag into the man’s desperate lean.
Smoke rising beyond the raised gun-sites. Darla waited, stilling her breathing as she tried to hear over the ringing in her ears. Was the guy alone? She focused past the haze. One of the rounds had torn a bone jutted rag from his face, but there was enough there to tell his type. Ragged beard, stringy hair. Hard man living a hard life, but the gear was state-of-the-art. If not for that face-shot, he’d probably still be alive. Corporate Contractor if ever she’d seen one. And they never worked alone.
‘Carlos? Speak to me.’
That was from the hallway by her front door. Her bike was in the alley outside. Four stories down. Keys either on the hook by the door or chucked onto her bedside table. Darla turned the gun in her grip, knowing the answer already. Slide locked back to expose the empty chamber within.
‘All clear.’ She’d put all the base she had at her disposal into that but the scuttling shift of entering boots screamed nowhere near enough.
Darla charged from her seated position and again plucked the shower head from its catch. Bad guy number one’s entwined form was pushed back as it twisted free of the closing frame, but he still managed to topple forward, and it again took all of Darla’s five-foot-seven, one-hundred-and-fifty-something-pound (she kept most of it in her thighs) weight to catch and push the beast of a man back through the smashed hole. Shock was the only chance she had.
‘Carlos?’ Feet shuffling to a standstill. ‘Hey!’ He saw her, but not that his friend was dead yet, so the bullets didn’t follow on from the gun.
‘He’s all yours.’
With the body between them and falling back, her small toe sent an empty bottle spinning as she made for the window. Keys! Wood splintering beneath her snatching fingers, Darla dove – feeling pretty sure that the combination she faced was one of too-hot-for-the-window-to-be-closed, but the action of the previous night being too-much-not-to-close-the-blinds.
Phew!
With a guiding hand catching the windowsill, Darla retarded her flight to make her back’s impact with the iron railing of the fire escape only a passing query rather than a life-altering decision.
With overhead slugs puffing out the tattering blinds her feet hit grated metal again to stomp her into a downward turn. The doglegged flights carried her along as metal sang and sparks rained.
‘What the fuck!’ Neighbor hearing. ‘What the fuck?’ Neighbor seeing.
‘Jim.’ A passing nod.
Water splashed her aching toe as she hit the ground, aching shoulder quickly barging the lock free of the damp wooden gate. Not the best place in the world to keep the three bikes staggered in a line, but Mrs. Klackoss had always been their vigilant self-appointed neighborhood watch so, so far, so safe.
‘Hey! I see you. I heard you. I’ve already got the cops on the phone.’
With an adjusting shift, Darla had her bare … everything settled against the cool synthetic material of her bike’s seat. With the key slotted smoothly home, the engine turned and roared to life.
‘Hey, Mrs. Klackoss.’
‘What the fuck?’
Darla swung into the overhead circling traffic.
