Whatever for Hire Page 3

For a change, the elevator wasted no time getting me to the fifth floor. I marched out, striding to my room, my heels clicking on the worn hardwood floors. “No one in your family hires anyone to interfere with him. If your family has already hired someone, sever their contract. I’m working a live job, and I mean to keep him breathing. No allies outside your family will interfere, either. I understand Malcolm has friends he can’t control, but I won’t tolerate anyone acting against him. For the next six months, he belongs to me. Understood?”

  “What would happen if someone broke your rules?”

  I smiled. Imitating Bastet involved showing off a lot of sharp, pointy teeth. “They die. It won’t be pretty, Bubba. I take my job seriously.”

  At my room, I dug my key card out of my wallet and swiped it, pushing inside when the light flashed from red to green. Piles of neatly folded sari took up way too much space, turning the once bland room into a riot of color. I’d have to do something about my clothing hoard again, damn it.

  “You have a deal, ma’am. I’ll call you with all that stuff you need tomorrow night. I’m texting you now. Reply with your banking details. I’ll transfer the funds tomorrow.”

  I licked my lips. “Perfect, Mr. Stewart. I’ll give you an email address you can use to send any necessary pictures or documents to. I look forward to doing business with you.”

  Not.

  I hung up and tossed my phone on the bed, my gaze settling on my one splurge purchase, my laptop. Twenty-four hours wasn’t a lot of time to prepare. I really should’ve charged Bubba Eugene Stewart a million. I’d earn every penny and then some by the time this gig was over, of that I was certain.

  Chapter Three

  If I ever figured out how to reliably shift back to human, I’d be set. Having to strip before shifting annoyed me, but I hated the discomfort of wearing extra layers of clothes. How many sari, bells, belts, and shoes did a girl need? I took the lingerie happily, though.

  That shit was expensive, and my magic provided me with a bit of everything from seductive lace to comfortable cotton. I tossed most of the thongs, kept the boy shorts, and decided on a case-by-case basis for the rest. My shift went better than usual; I could work with black, and the bra did nice things to my breasts. For a rare, appreciated change, I got a pair of traditional Ruska Roma slippers, comfortable on the feet, durable, and meant for long travel.

  I disliked omens, but I believed in them enough not to ignore the blessing or the warning. That was the problem with omens; they could go either way. The shoes meant change, and that was that. I believed change was coming my way. Bubba’s call had made a mess of the few plans I’d had.

  I’d done one kidnapping gig before, hired by a teen’s parents to teach the girl why it wasn’t wise to venture into the worst part of Detroit alone. One scare later, their daughter had learned a very valuable lesson about protecting herself. Her parents had paid me a thousand. I might’ve done it on the house if they hadn’t been so eager to give me their cash for solving their problem.

  So many things could go wrong during a kidnapping. Grabbing my target would be the easy part. Keeping him would be the problem. If I believed Bubba, I’d need a body of fresh water. Did it have to be a lake? I hoped not. Unless I carted him to northern Canada, lakes attracted people. If my target had aquatic talents, he’d cause me a lot of problems. The first thing I needed to do was figure out why Malcolm needed to be near water. How long could he be away from it? Would I need to stop along the way to expose him to his element?

  Could he be a nymph? Despite legend and lore, there were male nymphs. They could charm the skirt off a girl faster than an incubus. I wouldn’t mind being stuck with a male nymph for six months. I’d enjoy some of the best sex of my life without any risk of pregnancy.

  Unlike incubi, nymphs weren’t compatible with humans. They only looked human. Unless a fertile female nymph was around, the males fired blanks, and according to the male nymph I’d been lucky enough to net, there hadn’t been a fertile female in over a thousand years.

  He thought it would be a few more centuries before their breeding season began.

  If Malcolm Findlay Stewart was a nymph, I’d need a net. When caught in a net, nymphs fulfilled any reasonable request. I doubted Malcolm was a nymph with his lack of ex-lovers; nymphs would sleep with anything, and they weren’t picky about species or gender. However, it would explain Bubba’s stud comment, although no self-respecting nymph called himself a stud.

  According to the nymph I’d netted, they were gentlemen until the pants came off.

  If I delved into the non-human pool, what sort of species would call themselves studs?

  Incubi topped the list, followed by minotaurs, and I really, really hoped the Stewarts weren’t a Greek minotaur clan. I’d spend the next six months keeping him out of my pants, although it’d simplify matters for me. A minotaur would pursue a female for months if he thought he might get a son out of the deal. Minotaurs were more aggressive than nymphs, though; they viewed reproduction as their sacred duty, and they’d impregnate any girl stupid enough to sleep with them.

  Fortunately for women around the world, minotaurs were rare. Unlike what the myths implied, they played fair. They only bred with consenting females, although they didn’t necessarily tell the girl she was consenting to more than just wild sex. I knew better.

  Damn it, everything circled back to the Lord of Hell. Thanks to him, I knew minotaurs were real, although I never wanted to see the insides of one again. I’d caught a glimpse of the devil in his full glory that day.

  I shied away from my memories of that image, but two things had stuck with me: he’d been as beautiful as he’d been terrible.

  If I hunted a minotaur, somewhere remote would work, somewhere most wouldn’t go for fear of death. I wouldn’t lose a minotaur; they loved mazes almost as much as they desired a son. For the lost, there was no better guide. A windowless cellar at a farmhouse would work, especially if I could rig a pond for him. But why would a minotaur want water?

  The requirement for water threw me off my game—and potentially eliminated minotaur as Malcolm’s species.

  “Who are you, Malcolm Findlay Stewart?” I muttered, turning my full attention to my computer.

  The internet knew all, and if Malcolm was anywhere near as popular as his cousin thought, I’d find information on him. I sat at the desk, cracked my knuckles, and touched my fingers to the keyboard.

  My phone rang.

  “Really?” Muttering curses, I fetched the device. “Kanika, Whatever for Hire.”

  “You need Caller ID, cupcake.”

  “And I need a bonus three-month retainer to cover any injuries sustained as a result of the shit job you’ve saddled me with. We don’t always get what we want, Satin.”

  “It’s yours under one condition.”

  Alarm sirens blared in my head, and idiot cat I was, I couldn’t help but ask, “What condition?”

  “I have papers I want you to sign without reading.”

  “No.” What sort of idiot signed a binding agreement with the devil without reading it first? Scratch that. What sort of idiot signed a binding agreement with the devil? “No.”

  “You said no twice. Once was sufficient.”

  “I wanted to make certain you heard me.”

  “Why not? It’s a good deal for you.”

  I scowled and shook my head. I was willing to bet the devil was spying on me in some fashion. Displaying my middle finger in case he was watching, I took several breaths to calm my nerves. “Only an idiot signs papers without reading them, Lucy. Also, did you really have to use Santana as your surname? It’s ridiculous. Have you even been to South America?”

  “A time or two. And yes, I did. Would you prefer Mephistopheles?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes, I would, Mr. Mephistopheles.”

  “Never was there ever—”

  “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. I’m not signing anything without reading it first.”

  “
Are you sure about that, cupcake? In addition to the bonus three-month retainer, I’m willing to pay you half a million dollars in the form of a bank card you have permission to use, which will disintegrate after you’ve spent the money you’re entitled to. I’ll also allow you to ask me any questions you like, which I’ll answer with complete honesty. I’m willing to have an angel verify the truth prior to you signing.”

  With half a million reasons to become an idiot, I thought about it. If I picked my questions carefully, I wouldn’t have to read the document. I’d still be an idiot, but I’d be a rich idiot. With that much money, I could roam because I wanted to rather than because I had to.

  I could find a permanent home for myself.

  “Half a million dollars after taxes and no limit on the number of questions I can ask. If I don’t like the answers, I’m not signing—and the truth. The complete truth. I’ll be asking an angel to confirm the truth of every last one of your words, starting from the instant I answered the phone.”

  “Done. Ask your questions.”

  I’d start with the obvious. “Will I be signing over my soul in any fashion?”

  “No. Your soul is safe. Signing won’t influence your fate.”

  Huh. The devil hadn’t tried to buy my soul? Interesting. “Will I come to any harm as a result of signing?”

  “It’s possible. You are signing a deal with the devil, cupcake. You want to ask if signing will earn you enemies. The answer is yes. Not signing will, too. You don’t want me as an enemy.”

  That didn’t sound good at all. “Will refusing to sign make you my enemy, Mr. Mephistopheles?”

  “It would pain me, but it’s possible. I’m betting on you. How many others can say they have the devil rooting for them?”

  “You say that like it’s a good thing. Honestly, I couldn’t care less.”

  “You’re cruel.”

  “Go cry yourself to sleep. I’m sure your lovely wife will tuck you into bed and give you a teddy bear so you feel better. Why do you want me to sign this document?”

  “I want to protect you and your interests.”

  The world crashed to a halt. Astonishment erased my thoughts and left me with a stunned nothingness, and my breath left me in a whoosh. The Lord of Hell wanted to protect me? Not even my aunt, my own flesh and blood, was willing to do that. She had fed and clothed me out of familial obligation, not for me. Never for me. We’d gotten to the point of mutual tolerance by the time she’d decided to sell me to an asshole, perverted business man, which had resulted in me jumping ship and swimming for shore. She had pitied me.

  I didn’t handle pity or slavery well.

  Maybe one day, I’d suggest to Satin he take lessons from Isaac Asfour, the world’s nastiest, sleaziest pervert. I still had nightmares of becoming the asshole’s young bride. No distance would be far enough away from the likes of him and the other suitors my aunt had wanted to sell me to.

  I hid my discomfort by blurting, “Are you crazy?”

  The Lord of Hell laughed, a startlingly pleasant sound. “Sometimes. Is it so difficult for you to believe someone might want to protect you?”

  “In a word, yes. Why would you of all people want to protect me?”

  “That’s a better question. I made a deal with someone. The price was to protect you. This is my way of meeting the requirements of that bargain.”

  “Why the fuck would anyone bargain with you over me? That’s stupid.”

  The devil cracked up laughing, snorting several times before clearing his throat. “I’m not at liberty to say even if I knew why, which I don’t. I don’t care why people want to sell their souls to me. I’m the devil, after all.”

  Crap on a cracker. What had I gotten into all those years ago when I’d witnessed someone summon Satan by spelling his name wrong? “And you having me sign this paper is the best way for you to protect me?”

  “Shockingly, yes. I don’t normally give my prey such a good deal, but some souls are worth it. In a way, that one might’ve gotten the better end of the deal. It happens from time to time.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Everyone loses, especially you.”

  Double crap on a cracker, I didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Will signing financially fuck me over later?”

  “No. It’s entirely beneficial for you, even on a metaphysical level, which absolutely disgusts me. Your agreement benefits me in the deal for that other soul.”

  “Why’s that soul so important to you?”

  “That’s another good question. Excellent. You’re learning.”

  I was? I frowned but remained silent.

  “It’s simple. I’m Mephistopheles until the end of days. Did you know several have worn the mantle of God? The current one hasn’t been around long. Don’t tell him this, but I actually like him. As far as those who have held his portfolio go, he’s a realist. Anyway, that soul will grant me something I currently lack. A freedom, if you will.”

  The devil lacked a freedom? Curiosity dug its cruel claws into me. “What freedom?”

  He sighed, and I didn’t like the way the sound made me feel. Why should I care about the devil’s discomfort? “Until now, until the possibility of you signing, I’ve been unable to have a child. You signing will change that. That’s what that soul gains me. I’m the only divine incapable of having a child. For that to change, you must willingly sign.”

  Something in my chest tightened. “You really can’t have children?”

  “Correct. I can’t have children, not until you sign.”

  “And your child. What price will Earth pay for you having a child?” Would it change his hell or the heavens? I didn’t care much if it did. Devils and angels could take care of themselves better than mere mortals.

  “What an interesting question, but a wise one. It would make me happy. That would piss off the man upstairs. That’s between just us, by the way. It doesn’t leave his heavens or my hell. As for Earth? A child of mine is but a drop of water in the ocean. Nothing would change for Earth. That’s the beauty of mortals. They make their own fate, and their choices are what shapes the Earth’s future. Could my child change the world? Yes. Will my child change the world? Not even I know. The future is a fluid thing, and it’s tiring contemplating all the possibilities. It’s rare for there to be a fixed future. Mortals change things. That’s their nature.”

  If Mephistopheles kept surprising me, I’d suffer a heart attack before I had a chance to sign the papers. “I could almost feel sorry for you.”

  “Don’t. I’m an asshole, and we both know it, cupcake. Don’t waste your energy feeling sorry for me. I am the devil. Worry about yourself. Do we have a deal?”

  “Is there another question I should be asking?”

  “There are two main questions and a few minor ones you should be asking, but only the first one actually matters.”

  “What questions should I ask you?”

  Choking sounds came from the other end of the line, and the devil whimpered his laughter. “You’re truly a jewel among mortals. You should ask me how long the contract is valid for. That’s important. The rest are details.”

  “The devil’s in the details,” I reminded him.

  “So I am. These details won’t harm you. I have to keep the lawyers happy.”

  “Heaven forbid we distress the lawyers.”

  “Exactly. No one can whine—or flood your office with extraneous paperwork—quite like a lawyer. Well, are you going to ask me?”

  “Fine. When does the contract expire?”

  “It doesn’t.”

  I frowned. “Will I ever find out what I’m signing?”

  “Oh yes. You’re going to find out, all right. I really want to see your face when you learn what I’ve done. It’ll be beautiful.”

  That worried me a lot. “That doesn’t sound good for me.”

  “Your expression will be priceless. I look forward to it. Do we have a deal?”

  It turned out five hundred t
housand dollars made me an idiot. “Heaven help me, I’ll sign, but only after an angel has verified you’ve spoken the truth and nothing but the truth. If you told me a single lie, no deal.”

  “You won’t regret your decision for long,” the devil promised. “Expect company at dawn, cupcake.”

  Long after the Lord of Hell hung up on me, I stared at the wall with my phone still held to my ear. What had I gotten myself into?

  Everyone made mistakes, but mine were worse than most. I couldn’t tell what I’d missed—if I’d missed anything at all. Maybe I’d land on my feet instead of belly flopping and breaking most of my ribs again. Who was I kidding?

  I’d just fucked myself over by making a deal with the devil, and I’d fucked up so spectacularly I didn’t even know what I’d agreed to. No wonder greed counted as a deadly sin. Five hundred thousand had made me cast my common sense to the four winds.

  At least I still had my soul. That counted for something, didn’t it?

  If I wanted to be awake for my dawn date with the devil, I’d need to pull an all-nighter, especially since I doubted I’d be able to sleep even if I tried. Despite knowing I courted trouble, there was too much to do if I wanted to pull off my job for Bubba Eugene. Worrying about signing the Lord of Hell’s paperwork wouldn’t help me kidnap Malcolm, although the extra money would make things easier.

  Signing would ensure I’d have the funds needed to pull off the kidnapping. In the worst case, I could pin the job on Satin. That thought made me giggle.

  Never had ‘the devil made me do it’ been truer. I’d savor the moment I whipped that line out in court. If I got caught, that’s where I’d end up. When I made my declaration, it would be in the presence of an angel—an angel I could request thanks to having been born human despite my species shift during adolescence. In a perfect world, I’d escape into obscurity after unloading Bubba Eugene’s infuriated cousin on his doorstep. While they fought, I’d take advantage of the excitement and run for the hills.

  Every complicated job started with a plan. Plans tended to explode in my face, so I’d layer backup plans until they blended together and formed a convoluted entity. No matter what happened, I needed a way out for me and my target. Keeping my client’s victim alive was my top priority.