Free Dead Lucky by M.R. Forbes Page B

mean."
    "I'm not much for metaphors, but yeah, I think I know what you mean. How much?"
    I heard the sound of wood scraping wood; a drawer being slid open. Then I heard the sound of something plastic bouncing on the desk.
    "Two million," Gucci said. "Payable in advance. The only way you lose it is if you die."
    "Up front? You trust us to do the job when we've already been paid?"
    It was Gucci's turn to laugh. "I trust you not to be stupid enough to double-cross Mr. Black. Besides, you two came highly recommended. You don't build a reputation on lies, and guards don't build a reputation on theft."
    Right arm, left arm. I pushed myself back from the crack in the door so I could think. Two million was a good haul, a lot more than any of the other jobs I had ever been offered. I could cover meds for a year with that kind of take. Of course, Mrs. Grey wouldn't be very happy. The question was, how not very happy? I'd been ghosting both for and against her for the last three years, and she seemed like a reasonable sort. Then again, I'd never actually crossed her.  
    I felt an itch in my throat and a constriction in my stomach. It was a reminder of the decision I was trying to make. The bottom line was that I was only getting a hundred thousand for this little dance, and for the price it didn't seem that important if one of Mr. Black's fixers got through it alive. I'd still take out the Wonder Twins, which had been Grey's goal from the start. How mad could she be for that?
    Decision made, I squirmed back into position.  
    A beep told me they had run the card and confirmed the funding. Two million in bitcoin, digital currency, available to whoever brought the card in for transfer, minus a fee, of course. It crossed my mind to just finish the job and steal it, but I knew Black would send a goon squad over to sweep the scene once I was gone, and if the card was missing and the job ignored, they'd be all the more focused on finding out who had pulled the hit. There was no part of me that wanted to cross any of the Houses' kill teams.
    I felt another urge to cough, and I tightened my throat and fought against it, my eyes drawing tears for the effort. Not yet. It was too soon. I glanced down at my watch. One more minute.
    "Looks like the money's good," Rodge said. "We have a deal."
    "Excellent."  
    I heard Gucci's chair squeak, and the sound of another drawer being pulled open. His voice was deeper and more firm when he spoke. "Take this. It has the address, an image of the target, and a shitload of reconnaissance data. Call the number when the job is done, and then wait for confirmation. You have forty-eight hours to check-in before we send a team looking for you. Understand?"
    "Not a problem. This isn't our first tango."
    "That's why Mr. Black wanted you."
    I checked my watch again. Twenty seconds. I reached down to the inside pocket of the black nylon trench I was wearing and brought out a pair of small cubes made of carved human bone. I held them tight in my fist, whispered softly, and prepared to toss them into the room.
    "That's all I've got for you two right now," Gucci said. I heard the chair move again, and the sound of springs. Whoever Gucci was, he was a fat-ass.
    The other two chairs shifted. Rodge and his brother also stood.  
    That was when the window shattered.
    Ten seconds early.  
    "Shit."
    I forgot about my sneak attack, gathering my feet under me and standing up. I could hear the commotion in the room, shouting and gunfire, and the unmistakable thump of bullets finding flesh.
    I threw the dice in at the same time I slammed the door open, grabbing the sawed-off shotgun from the makeshift holster under my coat and leveling it at the dynamic duo. It was the first time I had seen this pair, a couple of ogres with massive builds, coated in tattoos and looking plenty mean. Heavies for sure. They had been pumping bullets into my companion in the window with custom made firearms, but now they turned to watch the dramatic