coughing and wheezing.
And then I saw the brunette out of the corner of my eye. Tears ran down her face and she pushed against two security guards blocking the way. She waved her hand. "No, please, let me through!"
My inner devil cackled in my mind. Ha ha, bitch. That's what you get for sleeping with a married man.
"Please!" the brunette shouted. "That's my husband!"
The world stopped. Something inside me froze. Her husband? His wife? But she was supposed to be the other woman! How… when? Damn, why didn't I get that introduction?
That's when I realized I had been lied to.
The lady pushed through and fell to Dr. Laskey's side. "Honey, please, what's wrong?"
Dr. Laskey spasmed. One of the nurses turned him over. "His respiratory system is seizing up." The two nurses helped him up. Three men brought in a gurney. Someone put an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. "Come on, we need to get him to the hospital, fast!"
I left my other arm behind and followed the paramedics. Worry bled onto my face. Real worry. I didn't have to pretend anymore.
What the hell did I just do?
I couldn't drive with one arm, so one of the nurses offered to take me with her. I couldn't speak. A million thoughts ran through my head.
That brunette was his wife? Who was Laurel then? How in the hell had she tricked me? Why would she lie about this? What was she aiming for? Did Neil know? Could you cure aconite poisoning? Should I tell someone what happened? Should I have stayed behind and hid that water bottle? Is my face obviously guilty?
Why the hell did I do this?
We got to the hospital, but only the nurses and the wife were allowed in the room, so they dumped me in the waiting room.
And I waited. Those same thoughts floated through my head over and over. I felt sick to my stomach and I couldn't breathe. I don't know how long I waited. Three, four, five hours? They all melded together as one.
I must have fallen asleep at some point, because someone poked me back into consciousness. I looked up at the red, puffy eyes of one of the nurses. She held my other arm in her hands.
My ears fell back and I'm sure my face blanked. "Is. . .? The doctor. . ."
She just shook her head. She said nothing while she installed my other arm. I let her do so with a bitter feeling in my chest.
I am a murderer.
The nurse left. My vision blurred and my chest tightened up. A cop entered the room and took a statement.
Where was I?
Plotting the doctor's death.
What was my relationship to the doctor?
I'm his assassin.
Did I notice anyone or anything suspicious?
Yeah. Me.
Do you know anyone who would want to hurt Dr. Laskey?
I actually paused at that one and forced myself to full consciousness. The cop blinked at me behind brown eyes and a sorrowful face. He looked like he was just a rookie. A greenhorn, still struggling to keep his emotions off his face. I bit my lip.
Could I pin this on Laurel without actually bringing myself into the picture? I tried to remember if I got any clue about her real name, but nothing came to mind. I pressed my lips together. No. I didn't know her actual relationship to the doctor. I didn't even know if her real first name was Laurel. I couldn't name her.
"No, sorry," I told the cop. "I've only known him a few days." I almost choked on the words.
The cop wrote something down. "We may be in touch. Can I get your contact info?"
I gave him the address of the garage and he left.
I flexed the new arms I had. Getting used to new biomech was a bother, but now I had a mission to do so. For Dr. Laskey.
And I already knew a great way to break them in. Time to confront Neil.
Five
"Neil, you son of a bitch!" I busted open the door of his office.
Neil was leaning back on his battered red office chair, reading over a newspaper. He bent one tan ear back and gave me a quizzical look and a frown. "What?"
"That bitch Laurel lied to us!"
Neil put the paper on his desk. His tail twitched. "What do you mean she lied to us?"
"She's not Dr. Laskey's wife at all! She's just--"
"A woman out to find the means to her own ends," Neil said, calm and with a slight smirk, his whiskers vibrating. "I'm not really surprised she lied."
I bared my teeth and growled. "You knew?"
"I suspected," Neil said, laying back again. "Most clients lie. They feel like they have to justify their murders. It's not really a shock anymore." He traced his gaze over my biomech. "New arms? You're spending that money quick, Trech."
I formed fists with the new hands. They were damn strong. Stronger than my natural hands. Strong enough to throttle Neil—No. I shook my head and forced my hands to relax. That wouldn't fix this. "They were gifts," I spat at him. "From Dr. Laskey."
Neil grinned and gave an enthusiastic clap. "Wow, you managed to get your target and get a free upgrade out of it? All in three days? I knew you were good, but I didn't know you were that good!"
That did it. I slammed a fist on his desk and broke off a corner. "You're lucky I don't strangle you with them! Why didn't you tell me about this problem sooner? Especially if you knew?"
Neil didn't even flinch. My hand and jaw relaxed and I took a deep breath. Neil lowered his gaze. "If you're going to be in this business, you better learn the hard way. I did. We all do." He pointed a gloved finger at me. "You cannot care for your targets, do you understand? The moment you start caring is the moment you falter. The moment you hesitate. The moment you think, Trech. And if you actually think about what you're doing, you can't do it. Plain and simple."
I sat down in one of the rusted chairs. No wonder he didn't bother with decent furniture. If every sucker he brought into this mess reacted the same way, he'd be living in very expensive splinters. "Don't call me Trech," I squeaked.
"I'm surprised it took you two hits, to be honest," Neil said. "Most guys snap after the first one. Maybe you're cut out for this more than you realize."
"I am not cut out for this," I snapped. "Do you realize how close I was to giving myself in? I had the cop right there! It would have been easy as hell."
"Think I don't face that? I go through that cycle after every hit. It never gets easier, I promise you that."
"Then why do you keep doing it?" I growled. "Why not stop?"
"Because someday I might actually get a hit that's worth it," Neil said. "Someday I might take out a drug lord and save people from addiction. Someday I might take out a corrupt politician whose only goal in life is to step on people's heads to make it to the top. Someday I might take out a dictator-in-training and save thousands from years of oppression." He pasted his ears back. "But I can't have that opportunity if I don't pay my dues." He waved a hand and looked out the window through the damaged brown blinds. "You'll understand someday."
"That's ridiculous logic," I snarled.
"It's my logic," Neil said. "And it's the only thing that keeps me going, so shut the hell up."
I stared at the floor. Images of Dr. Laskey hunched over, tossing his cookies and poisoned water, floated in front of my eyes. "And how do I deal with guilt in the meantime?"
"Some guys never can," Neil said. "They keep taking hits, but they donate all the money they earn. Some will actually attend their victim's funerals." He shook his head. "And I've seen a fair number of guys take their own lives. The only thing keeping me from following their example is the dream of that one magic hit. The one death that will save thousands."
"And how do our clients deal with it?"
Neil shrugged. "They don't. We bear it for them. That's the point of a hired killer. Keep your hands clean of the whole situation."
I finally stood. "Neil. Keep the money. Do whatever the hell you want with it. I don't want it."
Neil lowered his gaze. "I'll invest it for you. You may want it one day."
"Neil
, get rid of it."
Neil held up a finger. "One month."
"What?"
"I'll hold it for one month. If you still don't want it then, I'll get rid of it." He held out a hand.
I took it, surprised at my steady hand. Must be something special in the new biomech. "Deal." I headed for the door. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a funeral to attend."
Six
I habitually checked the obituaries for news of Dr. Laskey's funeral, but it turned out I didn't need to. One of the nurses at the scene brought me a personal invitation. An evening funeral, under the stars that the doctor apparently loved so much. I made sure my calendar was open.
One of the things that shocked me the most, however, was the lack of an investigation. The newspapers ran a small story on his death and everything was blamed on asthma that had been allowed to get out of control. They even interviewed a specialist who claimed that "doctors make the worst patients" and said the whole thing could have been avoided.
Funny how easily people could turn a blind eye.
The night of his funeral, I decided against the suit Dr. Laskey gifted me and gave him a different level of respect. I dusted off my old military dress uniform. I left the campaign ribbons behind but I made sure to shine my Capitan's bars, Silver Star, Purple Heart, and the associated stars to a mirror sheen.
Donning the old dress blues and hat had its own dust and ghosts to face. Carter's voice still rang in my ears.
Stay with Neil. He'll need you more than you'll ever know.
And suddenly I realized just how right he was. Maybe that's why Neil dragged me into this. How does the saying go? Misery loves company.
I shook my head. No, it wasn't that. He wasn't miserable. Not like