Page 6 of Assistant to the Assassin

Without thinking, I get onto the tips of my toes and kiss his cheek. It’s a quick peck, but it’s enough to make my face burn like molten lava, and I practically run to the door to ensure Henry doesn’t see it. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him touching his cheek where I just kissed him, and I can’t bring myself to regret it, at least as of now.

I’m sure I’ll kick my own ass tomorrow.

Journal Entry 183

A month into working for myself, I had returned early from an assignment. I didn’t tell Beth to expect me back so soon. I wanted to see how she operates when I’m not around, make sure she wasn’t skimming money or making deals behind my back. I trusted her enough at that point to employ her, but I didn’t know her enough to trust that she wouldn’t betray me.

I remember approaching the door to our office, and I heard a faint voice from behind the one-way glass. It sounded suspiciously like singing. I cracked the door open just a fraction, and what I saw changed my life forever.

Beth was wearing a white T-shirt, blue overalls, flip-flops, and she had her hair tied back in a bun. She was taking inventory of our weapons, inspecting them, and polishing them. She did this while sitting on top of an unopened box of security cameras, with headphones covering her ears, singing a song out of tune. It was some song about dancing and singing in the shower.

This woman, with guns and assault rifles in her lap, was dancing on top of a box of expensive tech, rocking her body from side to side, using her hands and fingers to emphasize the words she was singing. She looked so happy and content. I stood and watched her for well over twenty minutes. She never looked up once.

I dream of that day sometimes: Beth with her carefree joy, dancing and singing like no one was watching. It warms my soul in a way nothing else does. Just like her.

Labor On That Midnight Wire

“It must be so nice, being surrounded by nature so often. You probably look like Paul Bunyan out there.” Tiffany laughs, fluttering her lashes at me. She leans heavily on the front desk, tapping her polished blue nails on the wooden surface.

I force a smile, gripping the counter’s edge in an effort to keep myself from fleeing. “I do love being around trees.”

She laughs again, like I just told the most amazing joke. “I would love to see you out in action sometime.”

I continue to smile, internally cursing Beth for making me do this. “So are there any availabilities for Dr. Krane? I am in need of a cleaning.”

She looks as if I’ve given her some great honor by asking for a dental appointment. “Of course. What days work for you?”

“I’m usually free Saturdays.”

Her eyes twinkle. “Interesting.”

I ignore that, pretending to check my phone. “How about next Saturday at noon?”

She nods, typing away on her computer’s keyboard. “You’re all booked in. Maybe after your appointment we could—”

“I’m so sorry,” I interrupt, gesturing to the clock on the wall behind her. “I need to leave now if I’m going to make my next client. Thank you for the appointment.”

Her shoulders deflate a bit, but she nods. “No problem.”

I make my way out of the dentist office, keeping a brisk pace the entire time. I don’t want to risk Tiffany or anyone else stopping me. Small talk is my worst nightmare and I hate Beth for making me socialize. Thankfully our office is only one floor down, so I’m back in the safety of our dingy two-room complex in less than five minutes. I make sure to lock the door behind me, just as an extra precaution.

“You look like you might pass out,” an amused voice says from behind me.

I turn to find Beth in the storage area, looking through our newest shipment of ammo. She has an iPad in her hand, no doubt perusing over a checklist of everything she ordered. She’s always been organized like that, even back in the CIA. Makes her a damn good assistant.

Instead of responding right away, I watch Beth take inventory. I love the little crease between her eyebrows as she works, and the firm line her plump lips make. She’s wearing red lipstick today, which is a color I always love on her, though she looks good in anything.

Beth is taller than most women I’ve encountered, being around five-eleven. Her white skin is peppered with freckles across most of her face and neck, and I can only imagine that her freckles spread lower down her body—and believe me, I’ve imagined it quite a bit. Her tight blonde curls are pulled back in a ponytail today, making it easy to see her bright blue eyes. She’s wearing a red blouse and black pencil skirt today, and the material hugs her pear-shaped figure in a way that makes my dick become lead in my pants.

She’s admitted to me before that being a plus-size woman has made her self-conscious in the past, and I have threatened to tear out the eyes of anyone who has ever made her feel bad about her body. She laughs me off each time I offer, but it’s never been a joke. If someone can’t see how sexy Bethany Reed is, then they don’t deserve to look upon her.

I realize I’ve been staring for far too long, so I heave a sigh and say to her flatly, “You owe me one.”

Her bottom lip pouts, and I want nothing more than to sink my teeth in it. “Aww poor Henry had to talk to another person today. It’s a tragedy. Shakespeare is turning in his grave knowing he couldn’t have written this as his next drama.”

If anyone else but her spoke to me that way they’d have a black eye. Probably worse. “You can be a real pain in the ass.”

She preens as if I just told her she’s pretty. “Yes, but you wouldn’t have me any other way, would you?”

---