Chapter Four
Jamison
P eople rarely smile at me.
They sense it the moment they lay eyes on my face; the inherent instinct inside humankind to protect themselves from danger... to run away from the harbinger of death. This didn't start when I became a hit man. This miserable energy I give off has hovered over me since I was young.
I don't need a full hand to count the people who light up at my appearance. Tusk, my partner, is one of the few. He doesn't fear me. He recognizes me for what I am, and if anything, enjoys it. I suspect that's because he sees himself in me; he's quite the narcissist.
But today he isn't smiling.
His normally pale skin is flushed red, little veins making the three star tattoos on his left temple shift like they're moving in a crimson sky. "Who the hell is that out there?" he snaps, jabbing a finger at the live feed on his laptop. The screen has multiple videos running; interior camera in the lobby, one on the roof, one on the street, and two facing the alley.
"Selena," I say simply.
"Selena?" he laughs, the sound sharp as barbed wire. "Who's Selena and why is she in our very private, very exclusive, lobby?"
"Business."
"I swear to god, Jamison, if you keep giving me one word answers..."
His rage doesn't even lift the hairs on my arms. It takes a lot more than a raised voice to stress me out. Plus, as deadly as Tusk can be, I'm worse. In a one on one I'm confident I'd win. Though... I wouldn't walk away unscathed. You need him on your side, I remind myself. "There was an incident earlier today. Selena witnessed me kill someone."
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Tusk slams my chest with both his hands. I don't budge. "You let someone see you working? Let her see you fucking kill a guy? Since when did you get so sloppy, man?"
"I know." There isn't anything else to say. Nothing that comes out of my mouth will soothe Tusk. In fact, the more I explain, the more enraged he'll become. It's best to leave things... ambiguous. "She needs help."
"The fuck— help? The only thing you should be giving her is a nice deep hole in the ground."
I cringe at the suggestion. He isn't wrong... targets die, witnesses die, that's the rule. "There's a man she wants dead."
He perks up slightly. "She got money to hire us?"
Hesitating, I peer at the security feed, where Selena is sitting on the sofa with her hands on her knees. Does she have money? The kind needed to hire a hit man? I haven't asked her, but it's possible. "I'm not sure."
Tusk groans, throwing back his head before walking towards the far wall. "You're testing me, man. Not only did you drag someone into our nest that could turn us into the cops, bring our whole business down, but she might be broke? What happened, did she sway you with some amazing pussy or—"
I move thoughtlessly, yet intently, until I have Tusk pressed against the wall with my fist balled up in his green tee shirt. His eyes fly wide; he'd forgotten for a moment who I am.
What I am.
"That's not what's going on," I growl.
"Whoa, dude, relax." He stares at me closely, trying to read me. He can't. No one can. "I just figured something had to happen for you to put yourself in this position. You really haven't... you know..."
"No." Releasing him, I back away, challenging him to egg me on further.
Tusk wipes his shirt down, then strokes his thick, dirty blonde hair. He keeps it a fraction longer than my own, and though we're the same age of twenty-five, it makes him look younger. That's part of his game when he works. It's easy for the charming playboy to get you off balance. We're both killers, just different breeds.
"Alright," he sighs. "Let's go through this rationally. She saw you on the job, why the hell didn't you just kill her on the spot? You've never had an issue handling collateral damage before."
I can't tell him the real reason. "Someone was about to enter the room, it would have gotten out of control too fast," I lie.
"I guess that could have been messy without a good escape plan."
"Exactly. I took the safer option, even if it doesn't seem like it."
"Okay... but once you got away, why not dump her by the pier or something?" he asks.
"I was going to." Taking her to the ocean was intentional. I'd weighed disposing of her, debating the best method, the timing, as the Ferris wheel turned. My gut screamed Killing her will keep you safe. But it wouldn't help me understand something I was agonizing over.
"Once she asked if she could hire me, I considered it."
"Are you that hard up for money?" he scoffs.
"Are you?" I shoot back. "You take every job that comes your way. Hit men shouldn't live paycheck to paycheck."
He hesitates, then breaks into a grin. "You got me there. I do like making money, but I like spending it more." His blue eyes snap to the PC. "She seems kind of young to have mortal enemies or an abusive baby daddy. Who does she want you to kill?"
"Caruso Oakley."
"Never heard of him. What did he do?"
"Hired someone to get nude videos of her best friend."
Tusk crinkles his brow, then stares at the tightly locked door. "Still, murder seems a bit extreme."
"You have a conscience now?'
"Don't insult me." His vague smile comes and goes again. Tapping his fingers on the desk, he starts to pace the room. The walls are covered in movie posters—Tusk is a big fan of sci-fi. I'd never leave anything personal up in a place like this, but he makes different choices than me. "This is really messy. Clients never see our faces, they only see Iris. Your girl—"
"Don't call her my girl."
"—your client has broken our major rule. What do we do if she bails and turns us into the cops? How are you going to insure we aren't fucked?"
"I don't even know if she's really a client yet."
He pauses, leveling a stone-eyed look at me. "She's either your client or your next corpse."
He's not joking. It doesn't surprise me, this stance he has, because I'm battling with the same. What does surprise me is how sick I feel when he calls Selena a corpse. I've been responsible for untold deaths. I'm numb to them. The idea of her dying shouldn't glean a reaction.
There are options here. But they only work if I can get Selena to go along with them. My preference would be locking her away until I get rid of this Caruso guy, then surveying her from the shadows until it's clear she won't betray me to the authorities.
After that...
I don't need to think that far ahead.
That's the best plan. It lets me control every step.
"I get it," I say calmly, "and I agree. She pays the fee, and after the job is done, I'll decide if it's too much of a risk to let her walk away."
Tusk doesn't break his stare; he's trying to tell if I'm serious. As usual, he can't decide. "One hint during this contract that she's going to go traitor, you'll kill her?"
"That's the rule," I say simply.
He nods, turning away, the conversation done with. He's lucky that he can shrug this off. Normally, I could too. It's how I've handled every other situation in the past. Anything that puts myself or my business at risk has to be eradicated. Everything we do hinges on that.
I head to the desk, digging inside for what I'll need.
"Hey, Jamison?" Tusk has turned back. He's smiling at me. "You surprise me sometimes. I always had you pegged for cold blooded, but deep down, you're actually a good guy."
"Thanks, man." I appreciate his smile. I value it.
But I don't return it.