Page 1 of Fiona and the Fixer

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DAX

“You want me to do what?”I tilted my head to the side to hold my cell in place while I used my teeth to tear through duct tape, a dead body on the floor at my feet. I’d already rolled him onto a tarp, thankful the guy’d died from an overdose and not a gunshot, which would have meant a bloody mess. Two long strips already held the two sides of the plastic closed to the guy’s waist. He was looking more and more like a burrito by the minute.

“Cat sit,” Jack said.

I knew people. Had a shit ton of acquaintances all over town. Hell, over the world, but Jack was my… what did women say, myride or die?As a fixer and him a former hitman, it was pretty fucking accurate.

I stood, set a hand on my lower back and winced. My muscles were fucking tight.

“I thought you were already on your way to Hawaii.”

“We are. But our cat sitter backed out.”

“Just put out some food and water.” I didn’t have time for this. Hell, I didn’t have much time for anything. I was like a hotel concierge. I took care of shit when rich people didn’t want to get their hands dirty. I got paid a shit ton to do it. Like now, when my client’s brother-in-law did some hard-core partying and ended up dead in a hotel suite. Naked. Well, naked except for the women’s panties.

Yeah, I wasthatkind of fixer.

“I didn’t know she was backing out until after we left. Besides, this is Pancake I’m talking about.” Jack must’ve heard the crinkle of the tarp as I got back to my task because he asked, “Taking out the trash?”

The fact that he knew what the sound was even through the phone was telling. He had as much experience with wrapping up bodies as me. My dad had been a hitman/fixer, and he’d taught us everything he knew. Then we took over when he decided to retire and move to Florida. Business had been brisk ever since.

Especially this week.

I sighed. “Yeah. It seems like every day is trash pickup. I’ve already got one bag in my trunk to take to the dump.”

Meaning this was the second dead body I had to extract from a tricky situation and make disappear today.

“I thought you had that job in Miami.”

“Got back yesterday morning.” The weather hadbeen amazing, but I’d had to escort a twenty-something back to Denver who somehow got lost in the South Beach bar life instead of being in her Poli-Sci college class where her parents wanted her. She somehow made millions on social media teaching others how to put on makeup. Fortunately, after I’d hunted her down, tossed her over my shoulder and got us on a private flight, all she did was film B-reels and tame her fake eyelashes.

After that, I repossessed a vintage Lamborghini from a woman’s ex-husband who refused to return it in the divorce. Not all jobs involved dead bodies.

Except… a client called after the repo who’d been partying with a male prostitute who took too much coke, slipped and hit his head on a coffee table, and died from blunt force trauma.

That was the body currently in the trunk of my car.

Then there was the guy I stood over and just finished wrapping in a tarp.

Lesson of the day? Don’t do drugs.

I went and grabbed the bellhop cart I brought up with me from the hotel lobby.

“You’re afraid Pancake’s going to have a rager and trash the house with all his new cat friends.” I couldn’t help but grin because while Jack had rescued the stray from behind a dumpster where he’d shot someone, the cat really enjoyed his new posh life.

“A real party animal,” Jack agreed, his words laced with sarcasm. “There’s enough food out for him until tomorrow.Then he’ll starve. Stay in the house so he doesn’t. He’s going to be lonely.”

For a former hitman, he was a fucking softie for his cat. I was, too. I, at least, didn’t want the thing to starve.

We used to do jobs together. Help each other out. It made life easier since our skill sets overlapped. Fun, too. Now he had a girl. Hannah. He sat beside her on the plane from Vegas and fell in love at first glance. It was as crazy as it sounded. He’d gone all stalker obsessed on her, gotten her to fall for him, too. He’d even moved to Coal Springs, a sleepy and quaint town up in the mountains where the most exciting thing that happened all year was when the school kids named the town’s snow plows things like Plowasaurus Rex and Han Snowlo.

I chuckled, lining the cart up parallel to the plastic-wrapped body. “Have you heard yourself lately? Six months ago, you did jobs for the mafia and now… your cat will belonely? Where the hell are your balls?”

“They’re on their way to Hawaii with me to spend two weeks buried deep in my girl. What are your balls going to be doing?”

“Me and my balls are just fine,” I muttered. I didn’t have a woman in my life for more than a night. Too complicated. Me and relationships didn’t mix. But the idea of going to the tropics to have non-stop sex was pretty appealing. I couldn’t use being a fixer as an excuse for no woman in my life. Somehow, Hannah wanted Jack even though his murder count was the same as some people’s bowling score.

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