Room Eight

No walls mean no protection and in this line of work I have to question the architect’s thought process. Something between me and the dudes with killer instincts would be nice.

I’m beginning to realize Harlon said just about anything I wanted to hear to get me to sign on as an undertaker. What he doesn’t know is I had few options on the table. A bachelor of arts in accounting isn’t much use if you can’t get a job.

The runner in the leather jacket and knife pushes up off the couch and steps in front of me. He smells like he’s been down at the docks for about a week. In a pit of dead fish.

Fat, beefy fingers wrap around my upper arm and stop me cold. I’m against a wall and the putrid assassin with the shower phobia is in my face, his expansive shoulders turn into a black wall of leather.

Note to self: be more careful of the kind of walls you wish for.

My face pulls into a snarl.

I hear him chuckle darkly and it makes my stomach churn violently. Is this what it feels like to be the hunted?

Surprise sends the ledger and my phone tumbling to the floor. I shove at the man. “Back the hell up!”

Beady black eyes narrow on me. “You mean shit here, get that in your head. Your father is shit, too. I don’t care what the bosses say. The day he stole my family’s money is the day he signed his death warrant,” He stops talking like he’s finally had a great idea after a long drought. “Maybe I could use you as bait and lure him in.” He snaps his teeth together an inch from my nose.

The overhead chandeliers are more for elegance than throwing the place in massive amounts of lights. Shadows cut across his face but I still get the full force of evil in his eyes. “I still can’t believe it’s your name on my contract. Your predecessor picked a lousy time to kill over.”

“Yeah, heart attacks work like that, dumbass.” I jerk on my arm but his grip tightens painfully.

I should play along. Be meek and pliant to his demands.

Yeah, that doesn’t work for me.

“Get the fuck off me,” Ungodly amounts of grit and determination drive my voice high, but the animalistic growl coming out of his throat sends cold chills through me.

“I’m here to collect my earnings. I’m gonna make sure you don’t run off with my money like your dear daddy did to my father. Harlon and those two pricks he runs with made a big fucking mistake with you.”

Against my better judgment, I laugh in his face. “You’ll be lucky they don’t kill you for touching me.”

Those vice-like fingers move from my fingers to my throat and suddenly choosing to breathe is no longer an option I have.

“Shut the fuck up!”

Good advice I don't take.

“If Constantine and those two pricks, as you say, hear you talking crap they’ll force-feed you hand-picked bullets.” I’m choking on every single word but I squeeze them out anyway.

But let me back up a second. You must be wondering who I am.