They should make me feel special. Wanted.
Instead, I hear them as a threat.
What happens if I do?
Chapter Seven
Cain
“Boss.”
Joe’s pounding on the door to my bedroom. Violet’s wound in the sheets, her head on my chest and hair all around me. I extricate myself with a groan. The door’s locked, and it’s likely urgent.
Cursing, I tug on a pair of boxers and walk to the door. I yank it open. Joe stands on the other side with an apologetic look on his face.
“I’m sorry.”
“Have you ever tried texting? Fucking calling me?”
“Don’t kill him, Cain, your phone’s been off for hours,” Violet mumbles behind me.
“She’s right,” Joe says with a grimace. “I got a call from the Salem P.D. They’ve got a warrant for the arrest of that Robbins woman. Seems she’s been dabbling in counterfeit money.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Yeah.”
“Get Henri down there with Claude. Find out what you can. I can’t close this case today; Violet and I have a job to do.”
He nods, takes down some further instructions, then shuts the door. I turn to find Violet sitting up in bed, frowning at my phone.
“He is a persistent motherfucker, isn’t he?” she says teasingly.
“I only hire persistent motherfuckers.” I toss her a pair of jeans and tee. “Get dressed, woman. We’ve got work to do.”
She tosses off the blanket, stretches, and yawns. “Coffee on the road?”
“I’ll take you to Java Witch.”
In Salem, various restaurants and locales are named after witches, our signature mascot, one could say. Known for the infamous Salem Witch Trials, we now wear what should be shame like a badge of honor. Violet does love the Java Witch brew, though.
“Can I get one of those twisty cinnamon things, too?”
“Babe, get whatever the fuck you want.” She knows I don’t give a shit what she gets, but she still likes to ask me. For a ballsy woman, she’s fucking cute.
I sling my holster on and pack my favorite Ruger.
“Jesus,” Violet moans behind me. I look over my shoulder at her.
“What?”
“There’s nothing that makes me want to fall to my knees and suck your cock more than seeing you suiting up for a job.” She feigns swooning before she sits on the edge of the bed to tug her boots on.
“Wish I could say the same for you,” I say, as she slides her new knife into her ankle sheath before she reaches for her new Wilson.
“I know, I know,” she says with an eye roll. “Watching me get my weapons makes you want to… I dunno, handcuff me to your bed or something.”
“Don’t need the threat of a weapon to bring out the handcuffs.”
She smiles and gives me a coy look.
“Alright, where to first?” she asks, as she heads to the bathroom and quickly fixes her hair and makeup. “Pastor What’s-his-name?”
“Yep. See what he has to tell us.”
Suddenly, she pops her head out of the bathroom, her toothbrush shoved into the side of her mouth. “Way a mim,” she mumbles.
“Huh?”
She takes her brush out of her mouth. “Wait a minute. Now wait a minute. Cain, what’s the typical payout for a hit?”
I shrug, testing the safety on my Ruger. “Hugely varied. Could be ten thousand, could be ten mil. Why?”
“Your rules went through my mind while I slept.”
I nod, pleased. It’s partly why I went over the rules before we went to bed. She’s fucking brilliant, and her mind works even when she’s at rest. I knew she’d wake and have them memorized.
“Yeah?”
“Assassins get paid up front. Right?”
“Yes.”
“Like there’s no assassin layaway plan or credit or anything. Cash only.”
“Right.”
“And… they get paid lots. Last I checked, the average annual salary of a typical assassin was about eighty million dollars a year.”
I nod. “Right.”
She throws her hands up in the air. “Then… where’s my parents’ money? If my father was an assassin… he was worth money. Big money. Right?”
I nod. “And if you weren’t supposed to exist, and no one knew they had a child…” my voice trails off.
“Right?”
“I’ll call Joe. Put him on it.”
If she has money owed to her and someone fucking took it…
She nods, heading back to the bathroom, and soon we head out. She takes a minute before we go to get to her knees and pat Romulus and Remus, kissing each of their furry heads.
“You are crazy about those dogs.”
“You know I love them.”
I watch as the two dogs moon over her when she leaves. Hell, everyone moons over her.
We all love Violet.
I hate the thought of her leaving. When she’s found what she needs to… when she’s completed the job she was supposed to… what then?
My phone rings, and I go to silence it, when I see it’s the Salem police.
“Hello?” I answer the phone as I open Violet’s door.
A loud, high-pitched voice comes over the speaker.
“Mr. Master. It’s me. I’ve been trying to reach you for three days.”