The Fixer Read online Jessica Gadziala (Professionals #1)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Professionals Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
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"I don't either. But this is how it has to be. I want you guys here. Two-person team to go out and get food if you need it. But not Miller and Kai who are supposed to be long gone. No offense," I told Kai, shrugging, "but you stand out here."

Kai shrugged, knowing the drill. In most populated areas of the world, he blended into any crowd. Most places were a melting pot. But there were some areas where a Korean guy really stood out, so if he was supposed to be gone, he needed to be a ghost, or it would get around.

"Get all the surveillance working. Take notes. I want to go over everything when I get back. Which might not be until tomorrow. I don't want to make this trip back in the dark. But I will check in by midnight. If I don't, get the fuck out of this country."

No one flinched at that, at the possibility of that. One of us getting left behind. Death was something that could be just around any corner for people like us. It was a part of the job. We all had to know the drill if that was to happen.

"Alright. I'm off. Hold down the fort."

With that, not being one for drawn-out goodbyes, I threw myself back out into the cold, bag on my shoulder, money heavy in the bottom.

It was a long fucking walk with nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company. And as one might expect, they drifted back to her, back to the hours each night we had spent on the phone. I got to listen to her babble, tell me things that sounded like secrets. Hell, I had even heard her laugh. A real, rolling laugh. That I had brought out of her, not Fenway. It was just for me. I swear to fuck, that shit felt like a gift.

And that was about fifty times too cheesy for me, even just remembering it. So I forced her out of my head, thinking instead of the plan, of the logistics, of any possible ways it could go wrong.

The guy was about what I would expect, closing in on fifty, solid but not fat, ruddy-cheeked, rough-voiced, and paranoid as all fuck. After about ten minutes of negotiation, we had a deal to trade off the money for the goods the next morning. He then dragged me into town to show me a hotel I could spend the night in, and plied me with way too much fucking vodka. And since I hated vodka, one shot was too much. But by the time I made it back to my room ten minutes to twelve, I had about eight of them in me, getting rid of the last bit of cold that felt like it was in my bones.

I got to my room, called my team, took a shower, and fell into bed, more exhausted than I had been in a long time, my very bones feeling tired from all the trekking through the snow. And I was going to have to get up first thing in the morning and do it all over again.

I should have been going right to sleep.

My goddamn eyelids were even heavy.

I had no business reaching for my phone.

Yet that was exactly what I did.

THIRTEEN

Aven

I was carefully lining up lasagne noodles over a layer of sauce and cheese for dinner, Mackey at my feet in case I dropped so much as a splash of sauce on the floor like I had done a moment before, onto my foot, where he promptly licked it off, leaving me to let out a squeal as I almost knocked the whole cooking tin onto the floor, when my phone started screaming from the coffee table in the living room.

Things had, for all intents and purposes, calmed back down to my normal pace. Meaning, well, slow. A bit boring. Predictable.

I was back to work, the cuts on the side of my head becoming simple red scars that Benny insisted I needed to rub vitamin E oil on every night to lighten them. But not liquid vitamin E; it had to be right from the gel tabs. This was, apparently, of utmost importance. I wasn't exactly sure if it would work, but I was willing to give it a try. The bruises were light enough now to be covered with some normal makeup, heavy on the yellow and green to cover up, but a lot more breathable than the other stuff.

I was trying, though, not to be such a shut-in, not to spend my entire life inside my house, jumping at shadows, even though I knew none of them were my ghosts come back to haunt me.

After work, I made it a point to hit She's Bean Around, getting myself a small coffee I felt justified indulging in, even if my budget was still tight. I talked to the girls who worked there. I sometimes read a book.


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