Free Chance Assassin: A Story of Love, Luck, and Murder by Nicole Castle Page A

other things.”
    “Easy for you to say, Mr. fluent in seven languages but never speaks.”
    “Your father knew about cars,” he said, ignoring my comment. “Didn’t he teach you anything?”
    “Yeah,” I said sadly, “but I’m not into it.”
    I’d actually been eager to follow in his footsteps.  But that was before they’d died.  I got nervous even riding in a car now, and the one time Mark had tried to teach me how to drive, I had a panic attack and ended up in tears.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to bang out a single dent without visualizing how they got it, much less even look at a vehicle that had been totaled in an accident.  Not to mention how someone like me stuck out amongst the grease-monkey mechanics.  It was one thing to tag along with Daddy and play in the tires, but I’d always been a bit of a joke to the other guys in the shop.  Someone like me would get laughed out of the garage if I ever presented my résumé.
    “You’re lying,” Frank said.  He’d seen right through me.
    “So?”
    “I had trouble starting my car this morning,” he said like a bad actor reading a line. “You want to try and fix it?  It beats making Charlie bring me a new one.”
    “You probably need to replace your battery,” I said.  I thought he was just trying to remind me how much I liked working on cars, but then I realized he was serious.  “You’d really get a new car instead of going to a mechanic?”
    “I have trust issues.”
    “And Charlie calls me a princess.”
    “Oi!”
    I laughed.  I would have built him a car if he’d asked me to.  “Yeah, I’ll take a look,” I said confidently, though I could already feel the anxiety building.
    He gave me his keys and followed me outside.  My hands were shaking as I got in the driver’s seat, leaving the door open so my feet could remain on the pavement.
    I’d only once sat in a BMW before, and that was nothing like this one.  It had been a fairly old car, with a fucked up suspension.  My father was fixing it, and after I got sick at school he took me back to the garage with him instead of dropping me off at home.  He let me sit inside while he worked on it.  I pretended like I was driving.  Then I threw up all over the upholstery, and he called Mom to come get me.
    Frank’s car was much nicer.  For one thing, it was brand new.  It still had that smell, and there wasn’t a single speck of dust to tarnish the interior.  I’d have cut out my own stomach before even thinking of puking anywhere near the heated black leather seats.
    It took me two tries to get past my nerves and put the keys in the ignition, but when I did, it started up fine.  I glared at him and turned it off.  “There is nothing wrong with this car, Frank.”
    “I guess it was just cold,” he said with a grin.  “And speaking of…”  He took off his coat and handed it to me.  “I do not want you going out again without a coat, understood?”
    “Yes, sir,” I said.  I put it on immediately, wanting his warmth all over me, wanting to breathe nothing but his scent of expensive aftershave and danger.  It made me feel more secure behind the wheel when I could imagine him being close enough to touch.
    I would’ve checked my reflection in the appropriately named vanity mirror; reflective surfaces, like televisions, always called for my attention; but I knew in advance that I’d be disappointed.  The only time I’d ever worn black was at my parents’ funeral.   I was too pale for it.  It washed out my face and made me look like a ghost.
    Then Frank said “It looks nice on you” and I vowed to never wear anything else.
    “How much do I owe you for the car?”
    I rolled my eyes.  Suddenly, the screeching sound of Charlie’s beastly vehicle was filling the air.  I hadn’t even realized that the sun had started to go down.  Obviously, Frank hadn’t either.  Charlie was a little early for dinner delivery, but mostly we’d just lost track of