An Assassin’s Holiday (6 page)

When the doors slide open, I step out after him, taking in the rows and rows of dull gray cubicles, broken up with a few strings of Christmas lights that hang from the top of the cubicle walls. I turn to Robin and then back to the room, wondering how he could possibly fit in here. Robin has life and energy. Even now, as nervous as he is, there’s a shine in his eyes. Even I can feel this place trying to suck away any joy or happiness, and those concepts were virtually strangers to me up until yesterday.

“His office is right over here,” Robin tells me in a shaky voice. He points and I nod, seeing the door. “He probably hasn’t come in yet.”

“Perfect. You go make me a copy of this and then put the original somewhere very safe.” I hand him the list of transactions. “Then go to your desk and keep your head down. Let me do what I do best.”

“We’re supposed to stay with our guests.” Robin shifts from foot to foot. This fucking boss of his must be something else. After a few seconds, he scurries to the copy machine and returns with the papers.

I take the copy and hand him back the original. “Does he always make you this nervous?” I whisper, and Robin nods once. I look around the room again, and even though many of the cubicles are occupied, the few conversations I hear are quick and very hushed. Even phones are answered quickly and in quiet tones, like the hammer of God might come down if anyone made a sound. “Is it always this quiet?” Robin doesn’t answer. “Because no one wants to be a target of his attention?”

Robin nods, and I turn as the door opens. I see Robin go pale as he watches a man, slightly short, in a rich, dark suit—tailored, I’m sure—stride over to where we’re standing as though he owns the entire world around him.

“Robin, why aren’t you at your desk working?” The tone brooks no argument, and Robin tenses.

“Because he brought me in to speak with you,” I answer, drawing myself up to my full height.

“Do you have an appointment?” The tone of self-importance makes me grind my teeth. Not so much that he’s using that tone with me—I couldn’t care less—but I get the idea that he levels that kind of condescension on Robin, and that pisses me off.

“No. But I think I’m someone you’ll want to see.” I step forward, meeting his gaze. “Brick Colton.” I extend my hand and see the second his doubt begins to creep in. He isn’t afraid of me, because Robin’s boss is never going to show fear. He’s intrigued as to why I’m here, and his curiosity is getting the best of him.

“Matthew Bronstein.”

“Yes. Robin has told me a lot about you, and he said you were the best for what I needed.” I smile at Robin and then turn back to Matthew. “Shall we go to your office?” I raise an eyebrow and then purse my lips slightly with impatience.

“Very well,” he says and glares at Robin, who scurries off toward his desk like a frightened rabbit.

I follow Matthew to a heavy door, grateful that the office doesn’t have windows open to the rest of the office. After we go inside, I close the door behind us.

“Leave that open,” Matthew says, but I make no move to do so. “I said….”

I close the distance between us in two strides. “You and I are going to have a little talk.” I reach into my suit pocket and pull out the copy Robin gave me. “I know what these are and who you gave them to.”

“You need to leave my office,” he says firmly, but the undertone of fear is unmistakable. “I will call security.”

“Make a single move and I’ll have you out the window and falling toward the sidewalk before you can take a second breath. See, I’m the man who was hired to kill the person responsible for stealing the money in these accounts, and you know as well as I do that no one steals from the people you’re dealing with and gets away with it. So you needed a fall guy, someone under your thumb.” I pull the leather chair out from behind the large mahogany desk and push Matthew down into it. “You booked your little quickie vacation and then left Robin instructions to complete these transactions for you. And I’m sure you were waiting for those transfers so you could send the money elsewhere and close the consolidated account. Am I right?”

He says nothing.

I grip him at the base of his throat, just enough to scare the shit out of him. “Answer me or you’ll never talk again, and don’t think about lying.” I unlatch one of the windows and pull it open. Cold winter air races inside, but I ignore it. “Can you fly?”

“Okay, you’re right…,” he croaks, eyes bulging from fear and the beginning of oxygen deprivation. I like that look on him.

“You used your position as Robin’s boss to get him to do your dirty deeds for you,” I say, wanting him to confirm it. When he does, I release my grip, and he gasps, slouching back in his chair. “Now you’re going to put that money back.”

He rubs his throat, breathing with a slight wheeze. “I can’t. Why the fuck do you think I took it?” His shifty eyes and the way he looks just over my shoulder tell me he’s lying.

“Robbing Peter to pay Paul,” I say, my teeth grinding in anger. “Then you better figure out a way to make this right, now!” I add pressure, and he jerks at the snap in my voice. “Never forget what I do for a living.” I lean into his space to further his discomfort. “Even if I leave here, you’ll never be safe. I can kill you tomorrow or the day after. I can slip something into your wife’s drink or your child’s school lunch and time it so they die in front of you.” Not that I had any intention of involving his family in any of this. As far as I know, they’re innocent bystanders. That’s why I watch my victims closely before striking, to eliminate collateral pain and to personalize the method I use. “So start transferring the money, you lying sack of shit.”

I push him up to the desk, keeping the pressure on the back of the chair, jamming him into the edge of the desk. I have all the power at the moment, and I don’t intend to give it up for a second. “Why did you do it?” I whisper menacingly into his ear.

“This place has a crap retirement plan,” he whimpers.

“So you figured you’d supplement it and set up Robin.” I keep any hint of gentleness out of my voice.

“He wasn’t supposed to get hurt,” he says, fumbling for his keyboard.

“Nice and slow,” I warn him. “Remember, if you try anything at all, you will find yourself flapping your arms, praying you can fly.” I want to be out of here as quickly as possible. I watch him sign in. “Don’t even try to access the security application.” I smile when he glances at me. “I learned a great deal about your firm while I watched Robin. Just complete the transactions. I’m the immediate danger, but if that money isn’t put back, I will get word to the ones you stole it from so they’ll know exactly where their money is, and they have a tendency not to care who they hurt.”

He turns to look at me.

“I’m the lesser of the evils.” I step back to reward him for doing what I wanted.

It takes him a few minutes, but slowly the money is returned to the accounts where it belongs, the reverse of what was originally intended. Once-clean money becomes dirty again, and, hopefully, the trails can be traced by someone watching. Not that it matters to me. The cash back where it belongs, in the hands of its powerful owners—that’s what will save Robin, and that’s what matters.

“It’s done,” he breathes.

I whip the desk chair around and get in his face. “Now, the last thing you are going to do is type up your resignation from this firm, citing personal reasons. You will tender it today. Remember, you will never be free of me unless I want you to be.”

“But….”

“That’s the price for what you did. Everyone has to pay. Consider yourself lucky that you aren’t paying with your life.” I point him toward the open window, cold air still swirling through the office. I don’t feel it, but Matthew’s teeth are chattering. Maybe it’s from fear. I don’t care. “Never forget that.” This guy is a piece of work, and he deserves to be taken out. I hate that he used Robin, but I’d promised Robin I wouldn’t kill him.

“Why do you care? The money is back. I did what you said.” Some of his earlier bravado and boldness starts to creep into his eyes. “Why are you so concerned about Robin?”

I’m not going to give him a chance to contemplate that question. “I’m only interested in making sure that no one else pays for your misdeeds.”

“What about you? I stole some money—you kill people.”

I press him into the desk once more, a satisfying “oomph” my reward. “There wouldn’t be any need for guys like me if there weren’t people like you. Remember that. I’m not the cause of any of this. You are, and I intend to make sure you pay for it. Now start typing.” I watch over his shoulder as he types a letter to my satisfaction. Every few minutes I look toward the door, but no one knocks. That tells me a lot about this guy. Not one of his employees has any interest in crossing his path at all. That is definitely working in my favor. I have him print the letter and sign it. His hands shake, but I don’t care. This guy has to go.

The more time I’m here, the greater the danger of discovery. Finally the letter is complete, I make him fold it and put it in an envelope, and then I take it. “Don’t you worry, I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who will be happy to deliver it.”

“None of my people,” he protests.

“You think they care about you? Those people fear you and will throw a party the minute you’re gone.”

“Did
Robin
tell you that?”

I hate the way he says his name, and I backhand him, drawing a little blood. “Never say his name like that. He’s a good person, and you’re a selfish sack of shit.” I lean close for the last time. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t gotten greedy and taken a shortcut with other people’s money. Someone like that is never loved by the people who work for him. He’s hated. Never forget that you’re hated.” I glare into his dung-brown eyes until he shifts his gaze to the floor. “Don’t follow me or leave this office for at least five minutes.” I pull the phone out of the wall. “Hand me your cell.”

He doesn’t move, so I yank him out of his chair and tear at the pockets of his pants until the phone falls to the floor. I stomp it into pieces and push him back into his chair. I figure that will be enough to keep him behind his desk for a while. He isn’t going to want to be seen in torn clothes; it would raise too many questions. I’ll let him figure out how he’s going to make himself presentable again. That isn’t my problem.

I unlock the door and pull it open. A few of Robin’s coworkers look up, most likely from the blast of cold air that blows into the common work area. It cuts off when I close the door once again and walk up to a young lady sitting nearby.

“Who is Bronstein’s supervisor?” I ask.

“Mr. Tomlinson, one of the partners,” she answers meekly.

“Would you please see to it that he gets this right away?” I hand her the envelope. She jumps up and hurries away like a scared fox. I take a second to wonder how this place will change without Bronstein’s influence. I hope it will be a better environment for Robin. Then I turn, intending to leave, but I can’t do that without one last look.

I find Robin in his cubicle, computer on, typing away. I don’t try to read what he’s working on or draw his attention. I only want to see him one last time. He turns just as I’m about to leave. “Everything will be fine now,” I whisper to him. “Mr. Bronstein has decided that his career here has come to an end and has tendered his resignation. It was just delivered on his behalf. Make sure you keep that list of transactions he had you make as evidence and leverage.” I lightly touch his shoulder and can’t resist a light caress of his soft hair.

“I will.” His lips part to say more, and I lean down and kiss him lightly.

“You’re a caring person. So have the life you truly deserve,” I whisper, and then I turn away and stride toward the door before anyone can see us. Part of me hopes Robin will come running after me, and another part of me is very relieved when he doesn’t, because he truly deserves a better life than he would ever have with someone like me.

I
STAND
in front of the windows in my apartment on Christmas Eve. All the lights are out except for the ones on the plastic plant Robin decorated. For the past week, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off it if I’m in the room. It’s the last remnant of Robin that I have, and I’m foolishly holding on to it.

The lights of the city gleam on this festive night. The Empire State Building is lit in red, green, and white. The trees that adorn other buildings seem to have multiplied, with more twinkling lights added to rooftop gardens and balconies, or in front of plate-glass windows, to add to the holiday cheer spreading across the city. At least, that’s their intention, I’m sure. For me it still seems like a huge area of blackness, devoid of happiness, extends around me.

“I hope you’re having a wonderful night,” I whisper, sending my hope for Robin out over the city. “Merry Christmas.” I try to remember the last time I uttered those words and fail. They almost catch in my throat, they’re so foreign to me. Yet I want that for Robin. He deserves warmth and happiness if anyone does in this cold world.

My phone chirps and I glance down at the message—an inquiry of sorts about another contract. I ignore it, as I have all the others since leaving Robin’s office. I have enough money to last me a lifetime, two lifetimes, and my heart isn’t in the work any longer. It isn’t in anything.

The door buzzer sounds, and I ignore that as well. It’s probably someone who forgot their key or is trying to sneak into the building. I never answer. Calls at the front door are never for me. It sounds again, this time much longer. I growl and grind my teeth. All I want is to be left alone in my misery—except I don’t want to be alone, not really. I want someone very particular to be here with me.

I went by Robin’s place once and saw him from a distance on the sidewalk. There was a smile on his lips and lightness in his steps. He went into a coffee shop and was greeted by people from his office. I recognized a few and saw them celebrating. I hoped it was because of his boss’s departure.

The damn buzzer sounds once again, and I go to the intercom. “This better be good.”