SAPPHIRE
Ihave a lot of names. Black sheep, trash, death, and thief. But my personal favorite is the daughter of the walking dead. And that’s just what most of my family calls me.
People at Genesis call me undertaker - the one who organizes the removal of unwanted bodies after conflicts. But that’s the least of my duties. My main job is being the medium between runners like Snake Eyes here and bounty holders. AKA Genesis’ clients. It’s not as cut and dry as the title suggests and I’ve only held the position for a little over three weeks. The ink on my diploma hasn’t even dried yet. But that’s long enough to know this is not my forever job. Death dealing is not my cup of tea. With this title comes power I never held before. And frankly, I’m not sure I want it.
But I have bills and a reputation to fix. So here I am.
I just don’t know how to tell my cousin this life isn’t for me. You see, at nearly fifteen years my senior he made sure I didn’t land on the streets when no one else cared enough about the thief’s daughter. I was barely fifteen back then, as was Belle. She couldn’t help me any more than I could help myself when their parents shunned me. With no place to go Harlon kept me out of the system and gave me a home when everyone else in the family turned their backs.
Both he and Belle call me family.
But you can call me Sapphire. Sapphire Constantine.
I spent the last ten years trying to shake off the stigma of my father’s sins, but they cling to me worse than the stench of death. And in this business, I might as well slap on a glowing neon bullseye to my back and send out a big fat I DARE YOU to all the runners in the city and try my luck.
Major spoiler alert. I would seriously be dead within fifteen minutes in Chicago’s streets. The real streets. I am not a John Wick. I don’t even have a cute little puppy. Sad really.
“You’re not thinking of holding out on me, are you? Running off with that pretty silver laptop of yours and all the codes to the accounts holding my money? Come on, give me a reason to kill you here, right now.”
“You don’t trust easily, do you, Snaky?” I grin, knowing full well I shouldn’t tempt the cold-blooded reptile, but I’ve always had an unhealthy relationship with danger.
He strikes so fast I don’t have time to kick him in the nuts and run before the tip of a knife breaks the tender skin just beneath my chin.
I suck in harshly.
His nose touches mine and I’m going to take the mental image of his ugly mug into my nightmares. Along with his bad breath.
“Call me that one more time, you bitch skank. I don’t know what our bosses think bringing you in here will do. Maybe they are trying to get you killed.” He twists the blade a fraction deeper.
Son-of-a-bitch, that hurts.
“I’ll do it for free.”
Venom drips from his words. A thick, jean-clad thigh pries my legs apart. He shoves in another half a foot and drives the bony part of his knee into my crotch.
I really need to breathe.
My eyes dart to where security is leaning against the elevator for a little help but they might as well be stone statues. So much for paying for a man’s loyalty. Their fingernails seem to be more interesting than me getting assaulted.
Fuckers. Okay then.
Today is a pretty summer day. The kind that makes a girl want to wear a skirt, frilly top, chick sandals…and a knife secured to their thigh.
No? Just me? Maybe that makes me the one with trust issues.
I hear the swoosh of elevator doors and drag my eyes to the side of me to see Harlon and his two partners join the party. Three sets of dark eyes fill with rage the second they spot me up against the wall, knife to my throat.
Snake Eyes is too far gone into his head and fails to realize the danger he’s just slithered into.
“What’s the saying? It’s easier to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission? Maybe they don’t realize bringing you on is gonna cost them. No one wants to work with thieves.”
He teases the tip a little deeper. Warm drops of blood run down my chin and throat to stain my white top.
Those fingers around my throat grow tighter and the tiny white dots floating in my vision is not a good sign
“You’re such a do-gooder,” I rasp, dryly.
The weight of him pressing into me is overwhelming. Fighting to breathe, I yank the ends of my skirt up and fumble for my blade. Milliseconds feel like minutes until I finally locate the clasp and pop the button. Using more luck than skill, I bury the four-inch silver blade into Snake Eye’s wrist with a sickening thunk.
“But you’ll have to do better at trying to scare me, asshole,” I aim to sound tough and badass, but that’s hard to do when the sides of my throat are being forced together.
His fingers turn more brutal and I cling to consciousness.
“What the hell?” His eyes bulge and then suddenly, his grip is gone and the black carpet does a lousy job cushioning my fall.
His blade drops to the floor. Blood runs down his hand and disappears into the cusp of his jacket. The way his face screws into a pucker of disgust makes me think the man has ever seen his own blood.
I’m gasping for air on my hands and knees when I see Belle’s face pop up on my phone with a selfie of her with her three lovers all smiling.
God, how I wish I could have that level of happiness. Go, you Belle.
Distracted, I narrowly miss the kick aimed for my midriff.
“What, Snaky?” I hiss dizzily at him despite my tender throat and grin at the shock on his face that I could get the upper hand. “Don’t like it when the ladies fight back?”
An inch of my blade pokes out of one side while the handle sticks out of the other.
I’m only now really seeing the damage of my actions.