25. Ivy
Ivy
I sometimes take on jobs that teeter on a moral edge. I don’t look down on them because it’s precisely the type of clientele my father has. Most of the time, they give me a thrill or challenge I don’t get through my mainstream jobs, which can be boring in comparison.
I have a fake name and separate contact details for the jobs that are on the darker end of the spectrum.
I don’t always know how newcomers get my information, but it can only be found through referrals, meaning someone I’ve worked with before.
There is always the caveat of my prices, so those who approach me know to talk a language I understand—money.
I have more money than I know what to do with, which is exactly why my prices are so high. If I’m taking time out of my extraordinarily fun life, then they will pay the price for it. Fair exchange.
Tonight, I’ve been paid twenty-five thousand to hack into a security feed and record everything that transpires in the room.
I then have to send the recording before I receive the second half of my payment.
Easy. I’ve done a few similar to this; sometimes it’s meetings with cryptic information that their competition is trying to gain a jump on.
Other times, it’s for blackmail. Sometimes, it’s outright murder.
That goes into a gray area for me. I’ve seen some shit, but I remind myself as I go into every job that I’m a vault.
It’s fair to say there are many people’s secrets I’ll be taking to the grave with me.
I’m chewing on a protein bar that Hawke so kindly stocked up on for me. He’s only been over twice since the night we had sex for the second time, and I certainly don’t have any complaints. He hits the spot every time and looks like a kicked puppy when I tell him to leave when I want to go to sleep.
It’s the only way I can separate the sex from being something more because I don’t know what that something more even looks like.
And right now, I just want to focus on my needs being met, like I always have.
I’ll never admit it to him, but the protein bars are actually a nice snack, and considering all the fucking we’ve been doing lately, I need to keep my stamina up.
Vampire Diaries plays in the background as I flick my gaze from the TV to my laptop, waiting for someone to enter the room. I polish off the protein bar and reach for the bowl of popcorn.
The place I’m watching is a club in Springfield, Massachusetts, that is closed for the evening. It didn’t take me long to hack into the security system.
I look alive when two women approach the club and open the unlocked doors.
The camera is angled down at the club doors, so I can’t yet see their faces very clearly. They walk farther into the empty club, and I admire one of their tight dresses; it’s something I’d probably wear. One of the women glances in the direction they came in from, and my stomach drops.
What the fuck is Makayla doing there?
I jolt upright to turn off the TV, my popcorn spilling all over my lap. I look for my phone, wondering if I should immediately call her to tell her to leave. But I don’t know what this situation is yet. I didn’t ask questions about the job, but I have a bad feeling about it now.
I bite my bottom lip as someone in a hoodie walks into the frame.
From their build and height, I’m assuming it’s a male.
This guy must know precisely where he has to be since they’ve been led into the prime position to be caught by the camera.
Do they all know they’re being recorded?
In my personal experience, not usually. The guy’s hood is pulled low, and he’s careful not to face any of the cameras directly, which definitely implies he knows what’s happening.
The two women, however, seem to relax at the sight of him, meaning they most likely know him. And Makayla approaches him flirtatiously, but he holds out a hand to stop her. I then question if this is some twisted sexual fantasy being recorded. It wouldn’t be the first one I’ve seen.
Makayla reaches out and plays with the shoulder strap of the other woman’s dress, and the woman seems unsure as she looks back toward the door. But the man says something to her and steps forward as if to reassure her. Makayla doesn’t seem happy by the exchange.
My hands are covering my mouth, and I gasp before what’s about to happen hits me. With lightning speed, he slices the woman’s throat. The woman grabs her neck with one hand, the other reaching out to Makayla, whose expression I can’t see from this angle.
Snatching my phone from the arm of the couch, I press call. She needs to get the fuck out of there. Whatever is happening is bad. I change to a different camera, but I still can’t capture the face of the man in the hoodie.
The woman with the slit throat drops to her knees, and that’s when I see Makayla’s expression as her friend bleeds all over the floor, gasping for her last breath. She’s smiling as if she didn’t just watch her friend get murdered. Wait. Did she lure her into this?
Makayla pulls her phone from between her tits and frowns at it. She flicks her hair over her shoulder as she answers.
“Don’t answer,” I hear the male say as Makayla says at the same time, “Oh, so you want to speak to me today.”
“You need to leave,” I tell her. I don’t know what the fuck is happening right now, but I do know she’s in danger and clearly out of her mind on fucking drugs to have any part of this.
I might not agree with her recent actions, but I know this isn’t the type of woman she is. Well, at least that’s what I thought.
“What are you talking about?” she says, looking around. That’s when the man in the hoodie reaches for the phone, disconnects the call, and throws it to the ground. She doesn’t seem fazed. If anything, she’s acting like he’s asserting dominance, so they have time to themselves.
I watch in horror, realizing she was the lure, and I can’t look away as the feeling sinks deeper that this is all types of wrong. What the fuck am I watching?
She begins to remove her dress for the man who’s still standing in front of her, holding the knife.
Wearing only heels, she spins to show him her ass and bends over as if trying to seduce him.
When she straightens, he approaches her from behind, squeezing her tit with a gloved hand.
She smiles, satisfied. And still because of the angle, I can’t see his face.
Why is she doing this? And why the fuck am I even watching? I’m so confused by the situation and the fact that she’s completely naked as one of her friends lies on the floor in a pool of blood.
I choke on air as the man brings the knife to Makayla’s throat and slices.
Makayla pauses, shocked, and it takes a moment for her hands to lift to cover her throat as she tries to step away, but the person behind her keeps her close.
He whispers something in her ear, and when she turns, I can finally see a glimpse of their face, only to realize they’re wearing a knitted mask, as well.
This person is careful not to be identified.
He releases her, and she falls forward on her hands and knees, one hand landing at the edge of red, pooling around her friend. She slips, and as she does, her other hand leaves her throat, and more blood pours to the floor.
And then she collapses.
I gasp, looking for air I hadn’t known I wasn’t taking.
She falls into the pool of blood, dead. Waves of panic roll over me, but I’m quick to let my analytical mind take over, thinking with rationality.
All I know is I’m meant to send this video to get my money.
Was this targeted? Do they know my connection with Makayla, or was it entirely random?
It has to be random because I know my identity is completely concealed.
Right now, all I know for a fact is Makayla and another woman have just been killed, and her last phone call was from me.
Fuck . What do I do?
I’m on my phone to Hawke before I even know why he’s the person I turn to. But if anyone is equipped to deal with the aftermath of a murder, it just so happens I know the perfect killer.
“Lov—”
Before he can finish, I blurt, “Where are you?”
“Whoa there, lover. What’s wrong?”
I feel stupid as I gather my thoughts, realizing I need to give him context.
Breathe.
Focus.
“I took on a job, hacking into surveillance cameras to record whatever transpired. I’m supposed to send the recording now, but… They killed Makayla and another woman. I don’t know how or why she’s involved, but I—I don’t know what to do now.”
“Damn, sucks to be her,” he says. “You hungry? I’m at Five Guys. I can bring you a burger.”
His nonchalant, almost emotionless response shocks me.
“Are you fucking crazy?” I screech in disbelief.
The man on the screen leans down to check Makayla’s pulse, then proceeds to pick up her dress and use it to wipe the knife before heading back in the same direction he entered from.
I track him through the cameras, trying to trail him to catch anything I can use to my advantage. But I just can’t think right now.
“Yes, it’s part of my charm. But are you a lot calmer now?”
“No, I’m pissed off at you,” I say, pointing out the obvious.
“Good. You work best when you’re thinking of me anyway,” he arrogantly replies. “I’ll be around shortly. We’ll figure this out.”
I notice then that I do feel better. Well, I can think much more clearly, at least. And maybe, just maybe, Hawke said what he did to bring me back from the verge of hysteria.
There’s something comforting in his promise of figuring this out together.
I’ve never depended on anyone for this type of stuff.
Hell, I don’t even go to my father for this stuff. I mean, I’ve never had to before.
“Do you want cheese on your burger?” Hawke asks.
“Hawke,” I growl out. He might be used to people dying around him, and I thought to a degree, I was desensitized too but it’s never been someone I’ve been so close to. For the first time, I’m experiencing what it’s really like in this dark world.
“Bacon, too?”
“Gosh, you’re annoying,” I grumble as I hang up, fighting a smile because it’s unreasonable at a time like this. But I also appreciate his ability to keep me grounded when I’m having a reality check of what it really means to be a part of this world.