I do a few more small jobs, including helping to rescue Fluffy again—yes, I do let Abigail touch my abs again—but then I have a bit of a lull, so I buy an ax and chop down some trees. I’ll make myself a small little one-room shack to serve as my office for my mercenary work.
It takes me a few more days to finish the shack, and I’ve just shut the door behind me to test that it works and realize I need a desk when there’s a knock.
Confused, I open the door to see a man there. He has silver hair and a strange gleam in his eyes.
“You’re the alien mercenary, aren’t you?”
“Yes. The name’s Tox.”
“I got a pic for you.” He reaches inside his jacket and removes a photo. He hands it to me, and I blink a few times in disbelief.
It’s Sophia. She looks a bit different, considering the shawl’s concealing her a good bit, but there’s no mistaking those bedroom eyes of her.
“I need you to track down this broad, and I need you to kill her for me.”
“Kill her?” My head snaps up.
“I know you don’t tend to go for those kinds of jobs, but I also heard that you want a particular house. How about you kill her, and I’ll buy you that house.”
“Which house?” I ask suspiciously.
“The one with the land, the columns, the six bedrooms… you know I know the one. We got ourselves a deal?” He holds out his hand.
“I… I don’t even know your name,” I protest.
“Do you need to know my name?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I need to know how to contact you if I accept the job.”
"Accept the job first, and I'll tell you how to contact me. Honestly, though, I'll be keeping tabs on the whole operation, so you don't really have to be worried, do you?" He strokes his chin. "Although there is a bit of a time crunch, I suppose. Because that house is gorgeous, and I just might decide to buy it for myself. What do you think about that?"
I grind my teeth. The whole point of wanting that house is to have it for my family, to make a life for myself here.
And what? Continue to be a mercenary? Some of the jobs I’ve turned down are downright dangerous, but they do pay a pretty penny, and if I have as many kids as I’ve been thinking about, it’s a lot of mouths to eat. Will I want to continue to work a shit ton of low-paying gigs? Or will I opt for more dangerous ones? Will I have to find myself a different job if I want that family?
Fuck. I’m going to have to find myself another wife if I accept this fucker’s job.
The glint in his black as night eyes has me scowling. If I say no, he'll buy that house, and then he'll find someone else to take the job. Fuck.
What the hell do I care? Yeah, so I’ve been lusting after Sophia. That doesn’t mean anything. There are how many women here? I don’t have to have Sophia be my wife.
My wife can be someone else.
She’ll have to be someone else.
Maybe it’s greed. Maybe it’s something else. I don’t know, but I shake the fucker’s hand.
“You got yourself a deal.”
6
Sophia
The phone call with Saad Ahmad? It goes over smoothly. He’s so very appreciative, and he asks for details about how Ali Khan died, but when I start to tell them, he interrupts to say he doesn’t need to know.
“What I do need to know is how to pay you,” he says, his voice deep.
“All I need is for you to have a meeting with Madelaine Downing.”
“Ah. I see.” He pauses, and I bet wheels are turning in his head. “You are certain you wish for this? It will mean no money.”
That’s what you think, bub.
“Yes, that is what I wish for. Oh, and for you to have an open mind.”
Saad laughs, the sound even deeper than his voice. “Right now, I have a very open mind and heart. The villain who kidnapped my son is killed. What more do I need? Very well. Have Madelaine Downing call me at this number tomorrow at nine in the morning my time.”
He hangs up, and I do the same, eyeing the general.
“It’s done,” I tell her.
“I heard. I could be in the next room over, and I still would’ve overheard. Are your ears ringing?”
I laugh and shake my head. Saad Ahmad didn't just talk deep. Turns out, he has a loud voice too.
“My ears are just fine. My wallet…”
“Considerably fatter.” General Janius Jackson eyes me. “Do you prefer bills or to have the money wired to an account?”
“Bills.”
She lifts her eyebrows but presses a button on her phone. A man dressed in uniform comes in and hands me a briefcase.
After the man leaves, the general asks, “You don’t trust banks?”
“You never know what tomorrow will hold. We have a world currency, yes, which is a good thing, I think, but why do we have it? Because of the Grots. Because of alien invaders. The world changed forever that day, and it happened out of nowhere, without warning. There weren’t banks for how long after the Grots came? What if banks stop being a thing again?”
“If that’s the
