Motown Showdown (2 page)

But, it really doesn’t matter when she started or how because today she was stone cold, efficient, untraceable, protective and fuck me,
hilarious
. She didn’t need to brag, people bragged
for
her. Camo has the skill and the kills to prove that she was elite. Hell, our own police department used her, the government too. Not that you’d see that shit on the news. Camo was the threat you never saw coming or going. Up close, from a distance, none of it mattered.

So this afternoon while I was with my sister and despite not being able to get a visual on her, I felt her. Since I started down this road I wanted my sister Kandace oblivious, but I couldn’t avoid her anymore. I missed her too much, and she wasn’t stupid. Plus, the vibe I was getting from Camo wasn’t murderous it was curiosity and urgency. Camo was a very curious female, always had been. She was also smart, lethal and patient. She knows should she come within one hundred yards of my sister intending to do harm, I’d be within my rights to kill her with my bare hands. Hitters never fucked with each other or any members of their family, no exceptions. Yeah, there were rogues out there willing to kill anyone for the right price but that wasn’t the majority. Those hitters didn’t stay in the game long. I knew this because she eliminated them personally (for sport). It was also no secret that to Camo this
was
a game. A game she took very seriously. She was competitive no doubt, but this is the only area where we differ.

For her, it was a game, for me it was a way of life, a chance to right wrongs.

Tomorrow I’d give her the opening she’s been waiting for, and unless she wanted to finally stop playing around and spread for me, it was time for her to go before one of us gets killed. Because when I was offered the job of killing her, I turned it down. Pilgrim went nuts of course, because she’s our competitor but whoever ordered the hit was either crazy or greedy. Someone was paying big fucking money to take her out.

But in the hitter’s game there was always someone willing to take the job no matter the risk.

It just wouldn’t be me and anyone foolish enough to try would die by my hands.

No one would harm my… shit, what was she? Friend? Woman? Kryptonite? Ruin?

Didn’t matter, in my mind she belonged to me. I protected what belonged to me.

He was a sight to behold. Big, brown, and broody. A stone cold killer in designer jeans. Sometimes he’d shoot to kill, other times he’d shoot to maim but, in the end they all died. Gadget always got his man (or woman). You wouldn’t see him and think ‘killer’ until it was too late. But God damn he wore killer really well. He wore everything well, and I knew each time my heart rate spiked I wanted him to wear me too. Like a Camo onesie.

A restaurant, how…
first
datish
.

And smart, if truth be told. From the safety of my car, I watch him eat through the window. Gadget eats like a man, no… a wolf. Yeah, like that. He tears into his food, and I wonder if he was grunting while he did it. Gage ‘Gadget’ Kane was a dark man, tall, built and delicious. Everything about him was dark. His skin, his eyes and his demeanor. The day he joined the wire, I zeroed in on him immediately. He didn’t have military training, in fact, his fathers were respected lawyers, and he had majored in business at Wayne State. Not exactly the training for a killer but to each their own. I never went to college. Hell, I barely graduated high school but based on his transcripts he was smart, like Harvard smart.

Over the years I realized Gadget had one weakness, his sister. Her name was Kandace, and she was
gorgeous
. It took some digging, but I figured out that they were birthed by surrogates. Their fathers were an interracial couple (and adorable) and chose to have two children. Gadget was black (or rather milk chocolate, in my opinion) and Kandace was white (like snow white). Personally, I thought their blended family was amazing, and clearly he did too because he was very protective of them.

She became a doctor; he became a hitter.

Both were exceptional at their chosen professions.

His fathers nor his sister had any idea.

From day one there was something about
him
. Some of us are cocky, aggressive and have this heir of superiority that comes with the job but, not Gadget. Out of all the operators in the network, he was most like me. We liked killing. We also prevented our marks from killing others. If you think Detroit has issues with crime from watching the news, try living here. It’s not all poverty and sporting events. In fact, a lot of very wealthy, very shady people are responsible for our problems. These people want the city crippled, unable to fight back because it gives them an opportunity to take control.

This is where we come in.

I
am
a paid killer. But I do not,
will not
slay the innocent. The bitch in the bathroom? She wasn’t innocent, she was married to a dirty judge. A judge for the family court system who ironically enough knew his wife abused his children and
allowed
it. To prove a point I took her out first, so he could sweat a bit. The concerned citizen who hired us needed time to get her affairs in order to take over guardianship of those kids. Kids she loved and wanted raised right, with love and protection.

I respected that. Because sometimes people like me that do what I do, are all you’ve got left.

When my phone rang, it shook me of my thoughts and brightened my mood. “Thank you for calling the Happy Hitter where every shot counts, how may I help you?”

“I got info,” he says on a laugh. “Six are in, talk of teams now.”

“Not good,” I mumble watching him drink coffee through the window.

“Guys are running scared, but some are considering. Word on the wire is, which side is Camo taking?”

“Really not good.” Which it wasn’t because my allegiance would be a huge deciding factor in Gadget’s safety and my final termination of his handler and partner, Pilgrim.
Dirty rotten piece of shit
…

“I’ll sign in tonight,” I tell him packing up. “Keep everyone guessing, maybe it will buy him some time.”

“Pilgrim’s in the wind. Watch your ass,” he says. “And his.”

“Always,” I say before hanging up.

That’s my Bobo for you. He’s sixty-two years old, full of piss and vinegar, loves his granddaughter and internet porn. Actually, I’ve debated hooking him up to a polygraph to see if he loves porn more than me but I was afraid of the answer. After my parents had been killed, he got me out of the deal, and I made sure he never regretted it by being awesome. We also teamed up and got revenge on the bastards that killed them too. My dad was a hitter; Bobo was his handler when he retired from the game. My mom was a paralegal but supported this one hundred percent, she loved the life. I was thirteen when it happened and though I was raised to respect firearms and how to use one, with Bobo at my side, avenging my parents were my first kills.

But obviously not my last.

Approaching Gadget was going to have to wait which sucked, and there would be pouting involved, write that down. Pulling back out into traffic, I flew home to my loft and started digging. To get him on board, I’d need all the ammunition against Pilgrim I could get.

And to get him to fall madly in love with me, I had to start by wowing him with my brilliance.

I call this Step One.

“How did you not see the threat?” she growls into the phone. “He was right there, Gadget. You have to pay attention to detail! Had I not been there---“

“I would have killed him too,” I tell her simply. I knew there was another threat, I also knew he was close. But I also had it under control. “Thanks for stealing my thunder, Camo.”

“Stealing your thunder?” she yells and I pulled my ear away from the phone. “Try, saving your ass!”

Months ago I got a call from the elusive and filthy rich, Bet Lennox. She called the agency asking for a specific favor, a hit on herself. The woman had lost too much too quickly; she had never recovered from it. My partner, Pilgrim, gave her my number, and I called her. I told her to take seven days to make sure she wanted to die. If in fact she was serious, which I suspected she was, I told her I’d do it. I would have done it too, but I didn’t have to. Instead, she hired me to eliminate the threat to her and her numerous businesses. The woman deserved a second chance, and I was glad that she got one.

You got people suffering all over the world. Disease, poverty, abuse, and even devastation. She was the latter. What she didn’t know then was that those years ago she used the money from her tragedy to fund us. From the start, she believed in our cause. Pilgrim and I had this noble idea, to save those who could be saved while ridding the world of scum. We heard about the game, how it worked and wanted in. So Pilgrim and I essentially ran two businesses. In the event of cases like Bet’s, we worked outside the wire. Not every case was a bag and tag; some were cases like hers. From day one we excelled at all of it. On occasion, you’d get the whack calls from scorned exes and shit like that, but it was Pilgrim’s job as my handler to filter those. Since I did the field work, I had trusted him with my life. Waiting on Camo to show got me thinking about happily ever afters, how some got one but many didn’t.

Which brought me back to Bet Lennox. I stood there in her fancy kitchen and watched her take a bullet for the guy who betrayed her. She was a tiny thing, limp in his arms, and I called Kandace to come in a fix her up without her being none the wiser. Had to because six years ago Kandace was with Bet’s little tiny daughter, fuck, her entire family, the night they all died. Had Bet saw Kandace, I wasn’t sure what she’d do. But the woman had been through enough so once she was treated, I took the money and left. Pilgrim getting his cut, was disappointed she chose to live and that comment, along with the doubt I was already feeling with him, caused the rift to widen. Caused me to be even more alert.

I didn’t trust my handler anymore.
Did you ever?

If it wasn’t for Bet Lennox, I wouldn’t have this business. If it wasn’t for Camo, I’d have died tracking my first mark. If it wasn’t for my sister, I’d have lost all my humanity, and if it wasn’t for Pilgrim, I wouldn’t be plagued with doubt. I’ve kept an eye on Bet; she’s doing really fucking good. Got her man and got pregnant, made me happy that she was getting back to living. Then my sister got her happily ever after too, she only waited ten years for it.

Which brought me back to Camo, again. Always looking out for me, tipping me off, giving me shit, pushing me to do better and I’ve never been close enough to touch her. For some reason, I wanted to touch her, a lot. Did she have a man? Was she happy? Fuck knows I wasn’t, I was empty, and I knew it. There’s something about her, this territorial streak she has for me that I like. Despite never meeting her in person, only going on voice and fantasy alone, I had a thing for her. A big thing as in I was pretty sure if given the chance, I could fall in love with her. Now she was following me, I didn’t know why and I didn’t much care. I was just pumped to have her close again. Now I just needed her closer, as in under me screaming my name.

I’ve never even thanked her and with someone gunning for her, I told myself if she showed today, I would.

But she didn’t show, and that disappointed feeling bothered me. Camo didn’t do shit late or drop the ball. She was dependable, always. In this business, a hitter had two things: their word and their record. She’d never not show unless something else came up or… jumping up, throwing cash on the table then looking around outside not feeling her presence, I started to panic.

Nothing better have happened to her
, which was all I could think about while rubbing away the ache in my chest. Pulling my phone out, I shot her a text.

No, show? What the fuck?

Ten minutes later, she answered.

Couldn’t do it. Eggs looked runny. Yuk.

I knew her enough to know this meant something came up. Sending her another message, I kept it simple.

You good?

Her response?

Gadget, baby. I’m not good, I’m grrreat.