Lithium

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

FIVE DAYS LATER, I laid out next to Emmy’s indoor pool as she stroked up and down, barely making a splash. I’d shifted the sun lounger right back to the wall, but even then, it was too close to the water for my comfort. A couple of palm trees cast their shadows over me, their leaves blowing gently in the breeze from the fan heaters near the ceiling. Last time I was here, Bradley had installed a fake beach in the corner and the sand got in everything, but that was gone, replaced by a f*****g ice cream kiosk.

I pretended to read a book, or rather a gun catalogue, but I barely saw the array of shiny barrels in front of me. Instead, I counted Emmy’s lengths from the corner of my eye, and when she’d swum a mile, she stopped next to me and propped her elbows on the edge of the pool.

“Sure you don’t want to join me?”

I shook my head quickly. Too quickly. Emmy knew what was running through my mind, and she climbed out and dragged another lounger up beside me.

“You still haven’t been in the water, have you?”

“Does the shower count?”

She stared at me.

“Okay, fine. No, I haven’t. You try nearly drowning and then see if you feel like going for a swim.”

“You used to love it.”

“I used to love a lot of things that turned out not to be so good for me.”

“Jack Daniels?”

A bark of laughter escaped. “Him too.”

Emmy reached over and squeezed my hand, reminding me of the downside of having a friend like her. She saw my pain while everyone else believed in my smile.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“About Vanilla?” Of course about Vanilla, but asking the question stalled for time.

“The job still needs to be done.”

I stared at the ceiling, sunlight twinkling through the glass and reflecting off the leaves of the miniature rainforest. “Did you get rid of the birds?”

“They were shitting everywhere. Stop changing the subject.”

“I know I should deal with him, but the thought of seeing him again makes me want to curl into a ball and hide under my duvet.”

“We all have moments like that.”

“But we don’t all fall in love with the man we’re hired to kill.” There, I said it. My failure as an assassin laid bare.

“True, although if my husband leaves bits of gun everywhere in the bedroom again, I’ll be tempted to kill the man I fell in love with. Sorry. I’ll be serious. Look, you made a mistake, and Vanilla is kinda hot.”

Yeah. That was my downfall. Until the first night with him, s*x had meant nothing to me. After my daddy f****d the soul out of me as a child, the act took on all the passion of a business transaction. I’d lie back while a man pounded away on top, thinking about the best way of achieving my objective, which in my case wasn’t an orgasm, it was usually death. Oh sure, I’d moan in the right places, but out of practice rather than enjoyment.

Since high school, I’d known there was something wrong with me when it came to s*x. While my classmates were chasing boys and experimenting with them behind the bleachers, I’d already been there, done that, and collected the mental scars to prove it. Instead, I waited until my daddy passed out, then snuck his gun out to the woods to practise. I loved the woods, and I loved that old Colt. I’d taken it with me when he died of heart failure—that and my battered copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales were the only reminders of my childhood I wanted to keep.

After my deep and meaningful relationship with a semi-automatic I tried dating, but men didn’t do it for me. Eventually, I’d suspected I might be gay, but a little research showed that wasn’t the case. An undercover job had led to a few nights spent with Emmy, who’d try anything once, and we both soon realised the girl-girl thing wasn’t for us. Not permanently, anyway. Luckily, we came out of it with a friendship that lasted longer than any president, and over the years we’d had the occasional bit of…fun? Experimentation? Call it what you like. She was crazily in love with her husband now, and he seemed to view our antics with amusement rather than jealousy.

Although months could pass without us speaking to each other, when Emmy and I did meet, we picked up where we’d left off, and it was her I’d called after Vanilla did his worst.

Ah, Vanilla.

“He’s a walking bunch of pheromones stuffed into a made-to-measure suit,” I said wistfully. Not to mention the only man ever to make me come.

When it happened, when those elusive shivers of pleasure rushed through me, it was like an epiphany. Some women got addicted to alcohol, some got addicted to drugs. Me? I got addicted to a giant prick. And when I say giant, I’m talking about the man’s ego and not his equipment. That was average at best.

“There’s not many things that look better on a guy than a good suit.”

“He wasn’t bad out of it, either. Dammit! I have to stop thinking like this. He’s an asshole. A murdering asshole.” With dark, wavy hair, a chiselled jaw, and eyes that sucked you in until you felt breathless. Even now, my brain flip-flopped between wanting to put a bullet in his brain and wanting to put his c**k in my mouth. He’d screwed me in every way possible—mind, body, and soul. “Maybe I could get some pills to help.”

Emmy looked at me sharply, then rolled off her own sun lounger and squashed onto mine. “Honey, you are still taking your pills, aren’t you? Tell me you didn’t stop?”

“The lithium? Yes, Mom.”

I might have had a few tiny issues. And by “issues,” I mean that I was probably bipolar. And by “probably,” I mean that I’d never been professionally diagnosed—the last thing I wanted was someone poking and prodding, not at my body and definitely not at my mind—but the symptoms seemed to fit. The lowest lows that sent me spiralling into darkness, followed by highs that left me grinning all day long. Pills helped. I’d been self-medicating for half my life. Now I was powered by lithium, kind of like a battery. Well, by lithium, bad memories, and crazy ideas.

When Emmy had picked me up in the early hours half a year ago, I’d been a gibbering wreck. A dark period had followed, but she’d given me some undercover work to take my mind off Vanilla, and these days…these days I felt okay. Okay-ish.

“Good. The lithium keeps you steady.”

“You know me—like the Energizer Bunny, I just keep going and going and going. And by pills, I meant I should get something to kill my libido. It’s taken on a life of its own.”

“What happened with Raspberry Ripple? Did he have the same effect as Vanilla?”

“f**k, no. I was going through my grocery list while he screwed me. The most exciting part was the air embolism I gave him at the end.”

And that was what made me so good at my job. When the CIA had needed a girl to run honey traps a decade ago, I’d volunteered for the position and made it into an art form. Quite literally—I’d done it in positions that put the Kama Sutra to shame. Then I’d gone freelance and turned the art into cash. And until Vanilla, I’d never felt the slightest attraction to any of my targets.

“So, it’s just Vanilla. Maybe you could try replacing him with a better flavour?”

“No more f*****g ice cream.”

“How about something different? Sticky toffee pudding? Cookie dough? Brownie? I know plenty of guys.”

“I don’t want another man. All they do is f**k up your life and your sanity. I just wish I could go back to how things were, but the bastard’s still alive, and I can’t move on until I deal with that.”

Emmy squeezed my hand. “Do you want me to deal with it for you?”

A lump came into my throat. At times like this, you really found out who your friends were. “Thanks for offering, but it’s something I need to do myself. Closure and all that.”

“The offer still stands if you change your mind.”

I hugged her and she squeezed me back, and for the first time in months, I felt a thread of happiness. Why hadn’t I come here sooner? We stayed like that until a shadow loomed over us.

“Should I be worried?” her husband asked.

She grinned up at him, then licked my face. I groped her breast as he shook his head, a slight smile creasing his lips.

“Not sure I’ll ever understand you two, but if by any chance you want to help me try...”

Emmy let out a peal of laughter. “You couldn’t handle both of us.”

He leaned down, close enough that his chest brushed against me, and his musky scent invaded my nostrils. A perfect example of the male physique, good genes enhanced by hours in the gym.

“Try me,” he whispered.

Emmy’s pupils dilated and her right n****e hardened under my hand. I knew exactly what she wanted. But I felt...nothing. Nothing. A man like Black should have had me drooling. What the hell was wrong with me?