Page 3 of Assistant to the Assassin

And then I squeeze the trigger.

Oh, yes, you are, devil in disguise

Oh, yes, you are, devil in disguise

Oh, yes, you are, devil in disguise

“Ricky, I placed an order for three gallons of sodium hydroxide, not three pints! How the fuck are you supposed to get rid of a body with only three pints?” I ask, not attempting to hide my frustration. I’m one second away from stomping my foot like a toddler.

The black market dealer sighs. “I know, but—”

“No buts, Ricky! I don’t care if you have another client request a big order, or if you’re low on supply, or whatever excuse you want to give me. I want those three gallons delivered to the office by Thursday. Not a day later,” I demand.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he grumbles, his tone almost threatening. To anyone else, it would be terrifying.

I tilt my head, fluttering my lashes in an innocent and flirtatious way that would look less ridiculous if I were talking to him in person and not on the phone. “Oh, you sure know how to compliment a girl.”

I can practically feel the sigh he gives me. “Fine, but I’ll charge you extra.”

I give a contemplative hum. “I’ll give you a hundred extra bucks.”

“Two hundred.”

“How about instead of extra cash, I get Mr. Cai to take care of someone for you? Then we call it even.” No way I’m letting him rip us off for two hundred bucks.

I’m met with silence on the other line, then I hear a very low, “Does he care about who?”

“Not as long as they did something considerably bad. He won’t kill your landlady for upping the rent or your girlfriend for cheating. He also won’t kill a kid.”

“How about a business rival?”

“You send over the details, and we’ll take it from there.”

His dark chuckle is music to my ears. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Reed.”

I press the button on my headset to hang up, silently preening from my success, then I return to my task of filing the information from Henry’s latest assignment into the computer. We—and by we I mean I—do a lot of research into Henry’s targets to better understand how to take them down, and by the time the guy is dead, there’s page after page of documentation that no longer has any use. So, instead of throwing it all away, I file it, knowing we’ll probably need to use it later. It’s quite boring, but it’s only one of my many, many duties I do as his assistant, a job I have happily done for the past three years.

Just as I finish up this task and start reading emails, one of which is Ricky with his rival’s info, a familiar ringtone fills my headset. “Secret Agent Man” by Johnny Rivers.

Henry doesn’t find it as funny as I do.

I press on the side of my headset again and lean back in my chair. “Did you find Samuels?”

“You were right about the girlfriend. She knew exactly where he was hiding out. I found him and about ten workers in a house downtown where he was hoarding his latest shipment of ammo. And before you ask, yes, I’m alright. Ten is nothing.”

Knowing he’d get cranky if I lectured him, I decide to let it go. “Did you call the client yet?”

“I wanted to call you first,” he says.

I place a hand on my chest. “Aww did you miss me, H?”

“Fuck off.”

I feign annoyance. “How rude. I have half a mind to cancel the private jet I rented for you that I’ve been assured has whisky in the minibar.”

His voice grows deeper as he groans, and I feel my belly tighten at the sound. “You’re an angel.”

I can’t fight my blush. “That’s more like it. How much longer will you be?”

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