Free In Love by Design (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) by Tracy Ellen

to be a common killer of innocent women!” I wailed on an accusatory note, “Not a Fixer or a Hero!”
    “Oh, come now! Don’t cry!” He squatted down before me again and patted my knee while trying to soothe me. “My name is Dickie and I’m only doing what I was hired to do. It’s a business deal, Anerbel, nothing personal. Don’t you see I have no choice but to keep my word?”
    No doubt in his mind I’m behaving like a typically hysterical woman and what man, even one wearing a black cape and high heels, doesn’t instinctually fear this unpredictable female emotion?
    I shook the hair away from my face and snickered, “Seriously, your name is Dickie?”
    He ’s taken aback at the abrupt change of subject, and at my calm voice and dry eyes. I watched in amusement while he ran a finger under the neckline of his buttoned shirt, as if his collar is suddenly binding.
    Shaking off his unease, he preened a little with a sassy grin and a swept a hand in front of his groin. “I know, the name fits, right?”
    “I’ll say.” I shook my head again, but this time in sadness. “You do have a choice, Dickie. You can choose to do the right thing and not leave me here to die.” I added softly, “Please reconsider.”
    He cleared his throat and I could see his eyes darting from side to side in consternation through the slits in his mask. He stood up slowly, the cape falling back behind his thick shoulders.
    “I wish I could, but I can’t. Goodbye, Anerbel.”
    “Wait!” I called out again to his retreating back. “ Let’s make a deal!”
    He threw his arms out and swirled around to face me. “What are you talking about?”
    Smiling at his confusion, I replied softly, “I want to hire your services as a fixer.”
    Dickie ’s smile was tentative and then turned down at the corners. He stepped closer and whispered, “Er…How can you...I mean…”
    I rolled my eyes impatiently and whispered back, “I know what you mean. Look, it’s not like I have many choices who to hire, but are you any good at what you do or not?”
    Giggling, he pointed a circling finger at me tied up before him. “The proof is in the pudding, wouldn’t you say?”
    I responded coolly, “Well, I certainly know you won’t welsh on our deal. How do you get paid? Do you charge by the fix?”
    He moved his hands helplessly, but followed my lead and kept his voice low. “Uh…yes, my flat fee is twenty thou U.S. dollars, plus a fiver for expenses.”
    “Considering you are basically murdering me here tonight,” I raised my whisper sternly over his sputtering protests, “I want special rates, Dickie! I’ll pay you five thousand for expenses because a princess bride has to live, but I want the fixing done gratis. Agreed?”
    Dickie blustered, “Dear Lord, I…for fuck’s sake…this is…”
    Relentlessly, I interrupted in a fierce undertone, “This is probably my last deal before I die! I’m sure the Lord would tell you to agree, for pity’s sake!”
    He kicked a tin can across the room and cried loudly, “Yes, you bloody obstinate female, we’re agreed then and you have my word on it!”
    Dickie held up his foot and squealed louder in disgust when he saw the smudge of gook from the can marring his shiny patent leather.
    “Sweet .” I smiled, referring to the deal and the smudge. I relaxed in my ropes against the chair. “You’ll find a Wells Fargo bank card in the little zipper pocket in my purse. The PIN is 6908. Go to any automated teller and withdraw the five thousand. There shouldn’t be a problem. If there is, it’s not like you don’t know where to find me.” I asked innocently, “Or would your little lordship prefer to untie me, so I can write you a check while I’m still breathing?”
    I smiled evilly when he covered his face with both pudgy hands and screamed in frustration. Dickie’s criminally twisted concept of male honor may not allow him to set me free, but I wasn’t about to let him feel good about it. I