“What’s our story? Will you pose as my aunt? Or my sister?”
She smiled. It appeared that she appreciated my businesslike approach.
“I’ll be your sister. We’ll dye your hair even blonder and get you some extensions so it’s believable, get you some green contacts. The works,” she replied curtly.
“I’ll need a new name and everything that comes with that. A driver’s license, all that,” I responded.
“I’ve already put in the requests. Your name is Emma Johansson. Mine will be Vera,” she said.
I nodded once.
“Our backstory?”
“We’re moving south from our home country of Norway and the two of us are trying to open a bakery together in Lisbon in honor of our late parents. It’s a sweet story, isn’t it?” she explained, and her eyes grew hard.
“Yes. It most certainly is,” I replied carefully. “How did our parents die?”
“Their bakery burned down due to an electrical short while they were sleeping upstairs in their apartment. A tragedy, really,” she explained.
I licked my lips. It genuinely felt like I was walking on eggshells right now.
“Why Lisbon?” I pressed. I wanted her to know that I took my job seriously. I knew what went into creating a life like this. I’d have to put in several hours of accent work, of memorizing the story of our fictional life together, of getting used to answering to Emma. There were so many nuances to preparing something like this and with the Fixer involved, it would be that much more complicated.
“Why not?”
“We should have a reason for choosing Lisbon. Maybe it was our mother’s dream to open another bakery there and since we have a little bit of capital from the insurance policies on the two of them and the storefront, we decided to make Mom’s dream come true,” I offered, and her grin widened.
I decided to continue. I was good at what I did and there was no use hiding it when it came to her.
“When you’re finding a mark, it would do well to focus on finding a guy that likes to take care of a woman, especially one that has a sweet spot for a girl in trouble,” I added, and her grin widened even further.
“What else?”
“He’ll want to know more about our lives in Norway, so we’re going to have to come up with a deeper backstory. We need more details and we both need to have our stories down, especially if you plan to interact with the mark too,” I warned.
“The Father said that you were good,” she smiled.
“I’ve made him a lot of money over the years,” I answered plainly.
“So he’s said,” she mused.
“I can be utilized in other ways. I’m loyal to the family,” I added.
“I’m sure you can be,” she murmured, and she looked away.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To a small private airport. There are no cameras there, so you’ll be able to disappear without a trace,” she answered.
“And Dean?”
“He’s been sent a message,” Janet replied.
“You mean he’s dead,” I replied. I tried my best to hide my fear, but my body had gone cold at the thought. My heart hammered in my chest and my skin felt clammy. A single bead of sweat rolled down the length of my spine, and I felt like even breathing was too much to bear at that moment. I swallowed, trying to get past the ball of cotton on my tongue, but nothing calmed me.
“He wasn’t killed,” she answered, and an overwhelming feeling of relief flooded through me. Why did I care so much about him when I’d turned my back on him twice now?
He was just a mark.