"Seriously Blair? Can you tone down the intensity and chill for a little while?" She asks. "We've been traveling and taking clients non-stop for months. We need a break, and Sam can't just continue running Del Sur in your absence forever. Or hey, maybe he could if you'd just step down so we can retire already. It's not like we are hurting for money."
I knew telling her I want to take more clients was going to elicit this response. I love being an assassin, and I thoroughly enjoy the amount of traveling that we do, but Dani does not. She is far less enthusiastic about my career choices, and I know that she only does all of this for me. If she had her way, we would go into very early retirement, move to a nameless tropical island, find partners, and start popping out kids.
But that's not me, and it never will be. I don't want kids: never have, and I'm sure I never will. I am far too screwed up as an individual to risk passing on my crappy genetics to another human being. If killing people for a living didn't disqualify me from motherhood, then leading the infamous Del Sur cartel in Miami for the past five years most certainly did.
She knows all of this about me but deep down, I think Dani is hoping that I will change my mind. Dani has always been my polar opposite, with emotions that flicker across her face like butterflies and a tender, daydreaming heart. She has never been able to understand that her dreams aren't my dreams—that I have no yearning for life-long companionship.
The list of people I care about begins and ends with Dani. I have no use for romance or sentiment: my independence and realism have served me far better than any relationship ever could. I do want Dani to be happy, but our definitions of happiness differ significantly.
"Look, I promise I won't take any more clients for a while after Germany and Thailand, then we can go home to take a breather." I sigh and attempt to look remorseful.
"Yeah, except that 'taking a breather' only means throwing yourself right back into Del Sur. I'm beginning to think you're addicted to chaos." She replies sharply as we trot down the spiral staircase.
"It's who I am, Dani. The Reaper is drawn to the chaos, so I don't have a choice but to immerse myself in it as well," I say as we skirt through the lobby of the bustling hotel and onto the street. The truth is, even if I could kill the Reaper and everything she stands for, I wouldn't do it. We've become intertwined so tightly that the fiber of my being is a perfectly concocted, uniform solution of Blair and the angel of death.
•••
"I thought you told him to be here in half an hour . . ." Dani mutters with irritation over the phone.
"Haven't you ever heard 'patience is a virtue'?" I dryly reply.
"Oh that's rich coming from you," she scoffs.
I roll my eyes and settle into my cushioned chair. I stare down at Dani on the concrete docks from the grimy second floor window of an abandoned warehouse. Anytime we make a kill-con exchange after a successful mission, Dani serves as my physical representative. It's too risky for me to expose myself to the clientele, and I aim to keep my appearance a mystery, so I only interact with clients over the phone. All of my commissions go through Dani so only two people alive (and countless dead) know that Blair Windsor is the Reaper.
Finally, I catch Smith approaching out of the corner of my eye. He steadily walks along the wharf, periodically illuminated by the street lamps' pools of light. As he nears, I take in his tailored suit and leather suitcase. Dani turns to face him and instinctively places her phone on speaker so I can do the talking.
"Lovely evening, wouldn't you agree?" Smith asks smoothly.
"Why don't we bypass the formalities, Smith? I'll give you what's yours, and you hand over my cash," I say through the phone.
I see his shoulders stiffen, but he says nothing and hands Dani the suitcase as she gives him the glass vial.
Smith pulls a flashlight from his pocket and shines it into the vial, carefully observing its contents. "I have to admit I was a little skeptical when you were recommended to me by a fellow business partner, but you do not disappoint," he murmurs as Dani pulls a currency counter out of her backpack.
"Well, you don't earn my kind of reputation unless you deliver results." I watch as Dani opens the suitcase and begins loading cash onto the counter. Smith nods his head and smirks, shoving the glass vial into his back pocket.
"What would you say if I told you that I've got a business contract you might be interested in?" Smith asks.
"I'd tell you that I don't make contracts. I take singular deals with no commitments. You've known that from day one," I retort. Contracts leave too many loose ends. I can't risk the familiarity or nosiness that goes along with protracted business relationships.
"What if it's an offer you can't refuse?" he presses as Dani finishes counting the bills. She locks the suitcase and glances up at the window, giving me a little nod to signal that all of the cash has been accounted for.
"There is no offer I can't refuse. It was a pleasure doing business with you, but this is where our relationship ends," I reply, standing up from my chair.
"Fifteen million for two targets."
My eyes widen, and I stare out the window at Dani as she straightens herself and glances again at the window.
"Holy shit . . ." she whispers.
"Fifteen million dollars for two people? Are you insane?" I demand, doing some quick mental math. That's precisely thirty times more money per head than the mere quarter million I just made off Jack. I've never been offered this much money to kill anyone so whoever these targets are; they must be extremely important to warrant that kind of bounty.
"Yes, you heard me correctly: fifteen million cash for two targets. But time is of the essence, and I need your decision now. If you turn down the offer, I've already got someone else lined up who would love the opportunity," he says.
I hear Dani sigh. She already knows that I won't say no to an offer this big. Killing both targets would be the cash equivalent of taking out thirty individual people, and it would be stupid to refuse, even if it is a contractual deal.
I begin pacing. "Where are the targets located?" I watch him draw a folded manila envelope from his back pocket and hand it to Dani.
"They are located in Cartagena, Colombia. Everything you need is in that envelope. The flight leaves in four hours." Dani opens the package and begins sifting through it.
I close my eyes and wonder whether this is a huge mistake. "Fine. We have a deal."
"Great!" he beams. "Once the targets are eliminated and you've got the kill-cons, you know what to do." He nods at Dani and walks back in the direction he came from. Dani and I watch his retreat in silence, but as soon as he is out of sight, Dani brandishes a picture that I can't make out from this distance.
"Hot damn, B. Get your ass down here and take a look at this," she almost yells as I make my way towards the stairwell.
"What is it?" I ask, trotting down the steps.
"Let's just say you certainly won't be wanting to kill one of them," she says with a dreamy sigh.