The man I’d been sent to kill smells after our long fight, but I’ll be damned if my manicure hasn’t held up like a champ. Not that the rats in this dust-covered hole they call a room care about my French tips. Maybe the squatters on the first floor will have more appreciation.
“Fuck you, Gemini.”
These assholes, always with the “fuck you” or “fuck me” Gemini. Never any in between. No imagination. What about “clever plan” or “awesome acting skills?” I’ll even take a compliment on my kick ass boots.
I smooth my low hanging ponytail and pull the dark length over my shoulder. “Now, that’s no way to talk to a lady, Greg.”
He jerks against the steel rope circling his torso. The chair legs scratch the wood floor with an ear piercing skurr. Another scuff mark to add to the others. But let’s not get it twisted; those are courtesy of his past detainees, not mine.
I recheck his snug binding, then ruffle his sandy hair. “It was fun, but I gotta run.”
Turning, I sidestep an area missing a few floorboards. The entire building’s slated for demolition; at least that’s what been projected on the warning holograms outside the past five years.
“How about one last screw?”
Despite my best efforts, my feet root, rocking me forward. The bastard certainly knows how to speak my language. But I can’t tell from his tone if he’s desperate and looking for a way to play me, or just wants to die with a smile on his face.
“For old time’s sake," he adds.
I’d hardly call last night “old times,” but I’ll play. I rotate slowly on my heel until faced once again with his too-quick breathing, the sweat dotting his hair line, and the scent of sweet fear wafting off his perfectly muscled—above average even for a human—body. My body relaxes into the automatic adjustment meant to sex up my appeal. Lifted brow. Cocked hip bound inside black leather pants. Folded arms pushing my breasts further past the low V-neck maroon leather halter.
Greg smiles and nods toward a pile of dusty drop clothes lying in the corner of what used to be a living room. Stars, he’s hot. Too bad about the killing him part. I might have kept him for a pet.
“Come on, Gemini. Wrap those long legs around me one more time. I won’t even ask you to untie me. What do you say?”
“You understand that I was paid to kill you, right? The sex was my holiday bonus.”
Damn I have issues.
A smug laugh rumbles in his chest. “And you liked every second of it.”
“I won’t disagree. Just wanted to be sure we were on the same page.” My stiletto boots click hollowly on the hardwood as I close the gap. “It’s not usually my thing to shack up with my targets. Twice.” I flick the wires strapped to the explosives around his chest. Just a little something I whipped together for minimal collateral damage. I was only paid for his life, after all. “We won’t even get into how I don’t feel like tempting fate by rocking your world. Not with you dressed like this, anyway.”
I smile.
His return smile never reaches his eyes. “I’ll pay you.”
We’ve reached the insult portion of our talk? So soon? “I’m not a prostitute. Truth be told, I screwed you because you’re hot, not because it was part of the job description.”
“Not for the lay.” His smile falls flat. “Let me live and name your price.”
“My reputation is worth more than any of the millions you’d have to start with as a down payment.” Millions is overstating it, but whatever. I’ve made my point. “I take a contract, the mark goes down. Period. No exceptions.”
He lunges, and the chair scrapes forward again. I lift my foot and set the heel of my boot over his most precious jewels. His eyes flare and he resets his jaw, muscles flexing. I angle my head as if to say, Go ahead. I’m listening, but that doesn’t mean I’m buying.
Resignation sets into his broad shoulders into a slump. “You’re making a huge mistake. The man I work for won’t stop until he figures out who killed me.”
He’s adorable, isn’t he? “Let’s say for argument’s sake that you’re right. You die and your boss wants vengeance—it’s a nice sentiment, isn’t it? Except he won’t look for me. He’ll go after the person who set the contract. They always do.” I spread my hands in a helpless gesture. “I’m nobody to this big bad boss of yours.” I lean forward and let our noses touch. “Except the best goddamn assassin he’s ever laid his eyes upon. In fact, I’m the perfect choice to deal with a double-crossing, thieving, murdering, scumbag employee like you.”
Greg’s eyes widen.
“That’s right, baby. He found you out.”
His eyes dart around the empty room collecting dust, and he works the inside of his lower lip. “He’ll want the money I took—”
“Hate to break it to you, but the only reason I didn’t kill you last night was because he wanted to be sure he didn’t need you anymore. He wiped your accounts two hours ago.”
Sadly, we’ve reached the end of our time together. Desperation makes me nauseous, and that’s all he has left in this world. I might’ve felt bad for him if he were actually a good guy.
Yes, even a girl like me knows the difference.
But Greg’s not a good guy, and neither is his boss. I’m thinking of taking out that sorry asshole tomorrow. For free. Because that’s just the kind of girl I am. Bettering society, one hit at a time.
Two minutes later, I step onto the sidewalk outside and squint into the sun. The squatters I warn on the way out part around me and flee with their meager belongings.
A woman clad in black leather strides my way, her stiletto heels clicking on the walk. She’s my mirror image and stops in front of me, full lips bathed in bright red lip-gloss and tilted in a grin. Dark brown hair slicked into a low-hanging ponytail rests over one shoulder. Her violet eyes brighten with anticipation, the job’s finale close at hand.
To any passersby, we are merely a set of identical human twins wearing the exact clothes and hairstyle. Identical down to the shade of iridescent purple nail polish on our toes inside identical boots.
We’re neither human, nor twins. We, my Gemini Twin and I, are Eden Black, one of the last surviving Gemini’s from a world ravaged by war when I was still too young to know what was happening.
We live as one woman, love as one woman, and fight as one woman. We just happen to, on occasion, double your trouble. Hence the life-changing-sized bounty on my head.
“How did it go?” she asks in my identical husky tone.
I shrug. “He put up a fight... Begged for his life in the end.”
Her attention lifts to the building’s fifth floor the same time mine does. In unison we say, “They always do.”
I hold out my right hand just as she does, and our palms clap together. Our bodies liquefy for the merge, an intense tingle growing to an itch as she nuzzles into place inside my body, and I hers. Our form shudders, then snaps into place.
My body jerks once at the intense lashing, and I grit my teeth with the millisecond of pain the fusing causes. I shut my eyes and brace for what comes next: the barrage of her memories. A black hover SUV circling the block twice; turned out to be a rather large family searching for an address to a seriously old man. A woman juggling a baby and groceries on her way inside an abused apartment building. Two human males walking hand-in-hand with a very small, very hairy dog they called Precious. All this and how she—I—was bored out of her—my—mind.
Yes, that’s a crisis of identity you’re sensing. You try being two people at once.
It only takes a few seconds, but just like that, I’m one woman again. One body, one heart, one mind. One Eden Black.
Stepping off the curb, I head across the street to my cherry red roadster. The internal sensors read my gestural signature, and the mag-locks release with a click. My baby hovers several inches off the ground a moment later, and even slides open the driver’s side door for me. What a good girl she is.
I reach into the pocket of my leather jacket for the bomb’s trigger. Never breaking stride, I press the detonator button. The ground rumbles under my feet. Brick and mortar crack, setting loose a spray of dust and rock. Windows shatter outward on the fifth floor, landing around me in a million tiny little clicks. A nearby car alarm goes off.
Once settled in the driver’s seat, I initiate the car’s A.I system. “Call it in. It’s done.”
The glass front door opens in the near-empty café. Charles, my agent, removes his tiny black sunglasses and nods once. Our usual greeting.
The teenage girls at a nearby table freeze over their over-whipped, over-sweet frozen coffees to gawk at him. He is a big man. Not fat. Tall. Like, giant tall. Six-six? Seven? Whatever. He’s a tall fucker, broad as hell, and has the sexiest ebony skin I’ve ever laid eyes on. If I didn’t need him to co-ordinate my real job, I might have taken him home for a bit more personal one on one time. It’s the height. And the ripped muscles. The hot island accent doesn’t hurt, either.
Charles sits in the far corner, a mammoth-sized man dressed in a perfectly fitted suit. He dwarfs that poor regularly-sized table. Hard to believe he’s really human.
I slide into the seat across from him with two cups of black coffee and push his cup over. The stiff man doesn’t even look at it, but I guess that isn’t the point of this little visit.
“Chuck,” I say by way of greeting.
“You know I hate it when you call me that. Why must you insist on it?”
“You’re in America now, bud. You need a nickname.” Truth is I do it specifically to get a rise out of him.
His chest jumps once beneath the tailored white shirt. I think it’s a laugh, but with no sound to accompany it, who knows?
“All right,” he says. “Shall we?”
“Please.” I take a hit of my coffee. All night sexcapades plus a well-executed killing can wear out a girl.
“The funds have been moved to the proper account. The client sends his heartfelt thanks.”
“They always do.”
“They were impressed.” He taps the tip of his finger against the table. “You exceeded their expectations.”
I smirk. “I always do.”
He pauses a moment. “You know, Eden, modesty might look good on you.”
I recline and drape an elbow over the back of my chair. “Everything looks good on me, so of this, I have no doubt.”
He shakes his head once. “You have another job request.”
“So soon?”
“You are in demand. You have several offers, actually, but one in particular you should look at.” He slides a compu-pad across the table. “Down payment. It should be an easy job.”
I give a quick look down, and then my gaze freezes on the number. If I’d been drinking anything, I would have sprayed it across the table. “What’s their offer on the completed job?”
He taps the screen to enlarge the section revealing the final number. The offer is four times my usual fee. My spine smacks the hard back of the stool I’m perched on. It takes everything I have not to fly straight up and squeal in delight. I have just the new flashy car in mind—everyone needs a second car, am I right?
“Easy job?” I ask, barely managing to hold a straight face.
“Easy for you. He wants a meeting. Tonight. I will send you the details.” He stands.
I eye him narrowly. “I didn’t say I’d do it.” But I will, of course. The new car doesn’t depend on it, but it isn’t my style to pass up free money.
“For the percentage I will make from this, I am going to strongly suggest you take it.”
It was one thing for me to be greedy. Charles ought to be a bit more considerate of my well-being. Considering he loses his cash cow if anything happens to me. “It isn’t your neck on the line during these jobs.”
“This is true.” He smiles broadly down at me. “But I like easy money. America is a wonderful place.”
“I do this and I get to call you Chuck.”
“You already do.”
I snap my fingers. “Oh, right. I do, don’t I?”
“We will talk.”
Charles leaves me staring after him through the window. The high of extra money is fast wearing off, taken over by my common sense. All that money for an easy job? Nothing comes that easy. Especially for money like that.