Page 31 of Body Tox

A new contract came in.

It had been months since a contract had come in. I’d even wondered if the Debt Collector died on a cookie or something. But sure enough, there was a file waiting marked ‘urgent.’

And who was on the screen?

The rogue hitman who disobeyed the direct order from his commanding officer—none other than the Pretty Boy Vamps himself.

I guess dead men do have names after all, don’t they? I mused to myself, reading the name under the picture with the red stripe over his eyes.

Asher Ballard.

The woman kept looking at me funny, and something felt off. She was clacking those sharp nails along her phone screen, watching stupid social media shorts.

My phone beeped, and after unwrapping my face and only smelling the massive stench from the overwhelming amount of chemicals, I calmed down enough to answer the call. I was near disbelief.

Not only had the Debt Collector believed my fabricated kill, but after years of working for that fuck and always getting it wrong, I was listening to the warped voices tell me I was finally free.

Congratulations Asher.Your contract is complete. You are free of your services.

No more girls. No more contracts. I was fucking free.

“You save my moose, but I don’t get one little story about those tattoos?” the incessant female whined in the background.

I sighed and straightened from my hidden message, clicking off the screen and pocketing the cell in the jacket’s fabric.

I pondered whether or not to be honest or make up some bullshit. She could probably detect lies like a polygraph, so I decided there was no harm in just stating the truth.

I pointed to my forearm. The bands of a braid wrapped around it.

“This…” I said, tracing the tattoo with my fingertip. “This is for my foster care sister, Angie. She made it fifteen years in the system. After she was in her last foster care home, she was sent back. Twenty-four hours later, she hung herself, using her own braids to do it.”

Echo was quiet, focusing on my words. She could definitely tell lies from the truth with her contemplative expressions as she worked through my past.

“So not farmer Bob’s kid after all, then.” That was all she said before walking back to her little shelf and gluing her eyes back on her phone.

“I need to get you some clothes,” I announced awkwardly, trying not to stare at her god damned beautiful body.

“Why? Your constant boner seems to like my birthday suit, Pretty Boy.”

I cursed and adjusted myself again, but she laughed and waved me off.

“No worries. I can tell your dick is your favorite quality about yourself, so I’ll take it as a compliment that he wants to say, ‘Hi.’”

I wasnotfucking blushing. Grabbing my jacket off the table, I pointed at her. “Stay the fuck still. I’ll be right back.”

Rolling her eyes and nodding, she went back to fiddling with her stuffed moose.

“I mean it,” I warned sternly, pointing for her to sit the fuck down.

She put up her hands in surrender.

“I swear on your life, Asher.”

Shaking my head, knowing that didn’t mean shit, I finally agreed and walked out. The little boutique was only a few miles away, and when I got there, all these vapid bimbos were already flittering over to me like bugs to a light.

“Oh, hello there, handsome…” the cashier purred at me. She looked like a rat with beady big eyes. “How can I help you?”

I eyed some random shit that I thought Echo might like.

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