Just Bob (Assassins Inc. #1)(3)

“I do not need proof, Mr. Mills.” Goodness, she was practically giddy. “In this business, an accusation is good enough. And as the Federal Trade Commission is now investigating this former client, management feels it has more than enough evidence to terminate your employment. You have ten minutes to gather your personal belongings and vacate the premises, or I will be forced to call the police and charge you with trespassing.”

“You can’t do this,” I insisted.

Ten minutes later, when I found myself standing on the sidewalk outside the building with a small cardboard box of my personal items, I realized that they could do it, and they had.

This so sucked.





I lifted my box of stuff from my cubicle—former cubicle—and held it against my chest with one hand while I unlocked the door to my apartment with the other one. The soft click the lock made as it unlocked was actually a relief. I had felt as if someone were watching me all the way home.

It was not a good feeling.

That, added to my already stressed out day, and I was ready for a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I stepped into my apartment and locked the door behind me. Living in the city, I had learned to lock my door after my first apartment got broken into.

Well, not exactly broken into because I forgot to lock the door. They just kind of walked in and took what they wanted, which was pretty much anything of value. That had been a very expensive lesson.

I set my box of stuff down by the door. I could go through it later when the pain of being unemployed wasn’t so strong.

I couldn’t believe I had been fired.

Fired.

I had never been fired from a job in my life.

My parents were going to flip. They were proud of their accountant son. Dad was a mechanic and Mom was a housewife and part-time tutor. They had worked their butts off to help me get through college. Between loans and scholarships, and living at home with my parents, I had graduated with honors.

This was going to gut them.

I dreaded that phone call and decided I’d make it tomorrow…or next week. Luckily, it was only Wednesday. I had a few days before I had to see them for Sunday dinner. Maybe I could think up something to explain this mess before then.

I sighed as I pulled my jacket off and hung it up in the hall closet. I kicked my shoes off and pushed them into place just inside the closet and then closed the door.

I went into the kitchen and grabbed my pint of mint chocolate ice cream and a spoon and then carried both into the bedroom. I was not surprised to find my big cat stretched out across the bottom of the bed.

I had made the mistake of letting Mustachio sleep on my bed after I found him, and the damn cat had never left. I wasn’t sure if he actually moved while I was at work, because he always seemed to be in the same spot when I got home.

“Mustachio, I hope your day was better than mine.”

Meow.

At least someone liked me.

I set my ice cream down on top of the dresser and then pulled out a clean pair of pajamas. After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash off the day’s grime, I dressed in my pajamas, grabbed my ice cream, and crawled into bed.

I turned on the television and flipped through the channels until I found something mind-numbing. The History Channel usually had some good stuff, but this was a Wednesday night. Nothing was on TV on a Wednesday. Ever.

I took several bites of ice cream before I realized I had eaten almost half the container. At that point, I didn’t really care. It wasn’t like I was trying to impress anyone. There was no one to impress.

Not even my cat.

I held out the spoon when Mustachio came up and meowed at me. I know I wasn’t supposed to feed him ice cream, but he really liked it. Between the two of us, we polished off the rest of the ice cream. I set the empty container down on the nightstand and then snuggled down under the blankets to watch the History Channel.

I had no idea what they were showing, but it didn’t really matter. I was watching the show, but I didn’t really see it. My mind kept going back to work. I still didn’t understand how I could have been fired. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I would never falsify records. It was so unethical, it was insane.

And then my mind went to the hottie at the coffee cafe. At least I’d have something good to think about as I went to bed. Maybe, if I was lucky, he would follow me into my dreams. Maybe this time, my wish would come true.





Chapter Two


Shade



“We have a situation.”

I couldn’t even begin to describe how much of a situation we had. As I stared down at the sleeping man snuggled up with the biggest damn cat I had ever seen, I knew this was a situation that wouldn’t go away.

“What sort of situation?”

The question I was asked was a simple one, but there was no simple answer.

“My mark is my mate.”

“Fuck me!” Sinclair snapped.

“Not on a bet,” I replied without missing a beat.

We were friends—sort of—not friends with benefits.

Ever.

“Fuck!” Sinclair said again. “This is an open contract. If you don’t eliminate him, someone else will.”

I growled as my claws broke free, shredding the ends of my gloves.

Damn it. I liked those gloves.

“Find out who’s behind the contract,” I snapped out, growing frustrated. I knew that Sinclair received his orders from somewhere. “I want to know why they want him dead.”