“There's a new wish,” he says.
He nods, and a man standing at his side, but barely noticeable, steps forward and offers me a manila envelope. The man wears a dark blue and tan uniform, one of the six men who make up Karl's actual personal armed security.
I take the envelope, because in minutes I won't have a choice anyway. I want to ask why he needs me again so soon after the last orders, but I know my place; I keep my mouth shut.
“I request you hunt down that man and kill him,” he says
I close my eyes. At least it's not another kidnapping.
“Dimitri?”
I hesitate, then I force my eyes open. The smirk on his face never fails to make my heart drop into my stomach. To make me think that for one day, just one time, I would love to be able to tell him no. To deny his request.
But I can't.
“Seek and kill that man, Dimitri.” Karl smiles, because his next words guarantee he will get his request. “This … I … wish.”
A dull hum fills my head. It's a subtle noise, but it won't stay that way forever. The further I am from fulfilling the order—the wish—the more obtrusive the sound will become. And that's just the beginning.
Like it or not, I have to obey his command.
That's right. Karl is my Aladdin and I'm the fuckin' genie.
There are a few caveats though:
I don't have any magical powers.
Wishes are unlimited.
And Karl is an asshole.
Chapter 2
The target's name is Phil. He lives in a big house in Scottsdale. Rich guy. Typical of Karl. I'm not entirely sure what Karl's industry is, but he is one hell of a competitor. I mean, I haven't met any other suit who has a hired-gun at his command—literally.
I asked my father once how this came to be. He said the deal happened so long ago, no one really remembers what transpired. We've been passed down generation after generation, serving Karl's family line as they see fit.
While I have no proof, I do have a strong suspicion this is exactly how they have all used their upper-hand. I can't imagine any other use for us. It would be a waste just to have us cooking up soufflés in the kitchen or some shit.
My boots clunk down the stone floor of the mansion hallway. I have my head down, sorting through the papers. My intel does a good job. They have provided a picture, an address, everything except the target's baby book. Hell, I could probably get that too, if I asked.
But I have all the information I need. The trickiest part will be getting him alone. I could try to find an in with the guy and lure him off somewhere. Click of the trigger and problem solved. Or, I could use brute force and break into his house. Unfortunately, that increases the chances of the first shot fired being at me. Not a big fan of that idea.
See, most people won't shoot to kill. They'll take out a knee or something. Personally, I would rather die than what happens if I don't fulfill a wish.
Failure isn't an option. Not for as long as I'm still breathing.
A familiar voice says my name.
I look up from the papers in my hand and stop short.
Silvia is standing at the hall doorway, twirling her crimped black locks and eying me up and down. She does that a lot. It's unnerving.
“Daddy sending you on another mission?”
“Yeah. Wanna take this one?” I offer the papers and envelope as I head toward her.
She laughs, but it's also unnerving. Everything about her is unsettling, ever since we were kids.
She pops her gum. “Afraid not.”
I push past her into the foyer, passing underneath one of the two massive white staircases, and head toward a set of exit doors.
“Dimitri?”
I glance back. She has her head tilted, still running her eyes up and down like she's grooming me in her head. She probably is.
She smiles. “Don't waste my inheritance, okay?”
I scoff, repressing the shudder, then let myself out. I expect Silvia to follow, but she remains inside where she belongs.
A white Honda Civic is waiting in the carport, engine idling. Low key. That's how I roll.
I slide in, drop the file into the passenger seat, and pull out to head toward Phoenix.
Her inheritance. That's what Silvia calls me.
If Karl thinks of me as his guard dog, then Silvia considers me her puppy.
And she's just itching to get her hands on me.
***
On the drive home, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I fumble with one hand to pull it out without swerving lanes, then tap the accept button and put it to my ear.
“Dim's Mortuary, you slice 'em, we ice 'em.”
“You're gonna need ice after I finish beating the crap out of you.”
It's Syd.
“Yeah, about that … ” I flip the blinker and exit the freeway. “Work called.”
“What the fuck, Dim? Did you go out the window?”
I slow to a red light. “Wait a second, you went back inside?”
“No shit. I needed my purse. Keys, driver license, you know, those minor things.”