Fiddlestix, now out of the military, is a solo for hire. She’s been approached by a man named Donan Varin, the Contractor King. He has a problem, and he wants her help. He’s accompanied by two bodyguards, Buzzard and Blacksmith.
The bodyguards stepped forward. Buzzard laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. Blacksmith detached her fingers from his employer’s shirt front.
“I would hate to hurt a lady, but if you do that again, ma’am, I’ll end you,” Buzzard said in a mild tone.
Shrugging their hands aside, she stalked away from Varin. “You still haven’t said what you want.”
“I hear you’re connected.”
“Maybe you heard wrong.” She lit another cigarette and waited, feigning disinterest. The set of her broad shoulders gave her away.
Varin shook his head. “You have a relationship with two groups I most need to contact. Not many can boast the same.”
“I have many acquaintances. Which ones?” She blew smoke at him casually, as if he didn’t have her full attention.
“The Shine Clan and the Harlichs.” Varin looked smug.
“I don’t know who you mean.” It was a feeble bluff.
“You know exactly who I mean. My wife also has connections with them, which is why I need your help.”
“Maybe she wanted to leave you, Varin. Did that occur to you?”
He shook his head adamantly. “Scarlet would never do that.”
“What connection does your wife have with them?”
“The same as you, blood bond.”
Fiddlestix fell silent, waiting.
“The name Scarlet Obert Varin should elicit a distinct response from both organizations.”
“Hannah Braun officially died years ago, Varin. I don’t know if my contacts will be expecting a call from me.”
“All I ask is that you try. I will pay you handsomely.”
He named a figure that made her mind boggle. That got her full attention.
“Half now, half when the job is complete.”
“You are aware it’s a face to face. I can’t just call and expect them to talk to me.”
Varin nodded again. “I am aware of that. The boys will accompany you.”
“I’m ex Special Forces, I don’t need bodyguards.”
“It would make me feel better knowing you had company.”
Fiddlestix cracked an uncharacteristic grin, running her fingers through her short, platinum blonde, spiked hair. “I’m touched, really. But I can handle myself.”
He shook his head, adamant. “Since your last contact with the Harlichs, things have changed. Château Noir now owns most of the nearby territory. They have an open contract on you.”
“Château Noir, huh? Interesting development. When did they change the name from Black House Anarchy?”
“Two years ago,” Buzzard replied.
“You want us to go now, chica?”
“As much as I hate to admit it, Blacksmith, yes. Bad Ass Baker and his boys would like to grind me into dog food, alive.”
“Bad Ass Baker?” Buzzard looked confused. “Our intel says a guy by the name Shogun Corbett runs Noir.”
“Skinny guy with black, greasy hair and covered in tattoos with multiple piercings?”
“Yeah.” Buzzard said.
“That’s Bobby. He must have upgraded his moniker when he changed their name to Château Noir. In my day it was Bobby Alvin Baker.”
“I understand you two used to date?” This from Blacksmith.
“He had much better hygiene in those days,”was her cryptic reply. “He also was pretty bad ass in bed.”She winked at Blacksmith, who chuckled.
© 2018 Dellani Oakes