“Tomato, tomahto.” She rolls her eyes, mumbling under her breath, “He was handsome. Such a waste.”
The silence that follows is familiar… comfortable, weighted with understanding. We’ve done this dance a hundred times. Roo breaks people open. I put them back together long enough to make them talk.
We don’t moralize it.
It’s work.
Work we’re good at.
She tilts her head, using the dish towel to wipe away a smidge of blood from the corner of the dead guy’s mouth. “So what was he, anyway? Daniel’s roommate? Brother?”
“Friend.” I pause, considering. “Or something closer. They shared passwords and women. Maybe I would have gotten lucky if we’d waited a little longer?”
Roo whistles low. “Guess you’ll have to break up with him gently. Wouldn’t want to traumatize the poor bastard twice in one week.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
Her maniacal giggle hits the tile and echoes. I smile without meaning to.
We’d look insane to anyone peering into our lives… Me grinning at Roo with hearts in my eyes and blood staining my hands. And Roo, with her head thrown back, peels of laughter bouncing off the walls of a nearly empty apartment we mostly use for murder and mayhem… All while our latest victim is still warm and bleeding in a dining room chair.
“I’ll give him a week,” I say finally. “Let him think it’s me, not him. That’s what he needs. The illusion of choice. All I have to do is flip out over him fucking the chick next door. Then I’ll be the problem, he’ll be the victim, she’ll be the next focus for his control issues, and his narcissistic world can keep on spinning.”
Roo leans against the counter, crossing her arms. “And if he figures it out?”
“Then he joins his friend.”
“Cold.” She mocks a shiver.
I roll my eyes. “Necessary.”
“You always did play the long game, Caldwell.” She nods approvingly. “But I’d rather kill him.”
I smooth the front of my dress, checking the floor out of habit. Everything is in place… every tool, every print, every secret. Roo has already boxed the evidence, picking through it two more times like she’s taking inventory.
I double-check my clothing for blood but stop in my tracks when I see Roo grinning at me.
“You know…” she begins again, and I can’t tell if she’s going to stir shit up or compliment me. “Most people burn out after their first year in the cartel. But I think you’re getting worse.”
“Worse?”
She nods with too much enthusiasm. “Scarier. Calmer. More accurate with your aim. ”
“I like what I do,” I tell her simply. “You’re getting more bloodthirsty, which is both surprising and impressive considering where you started.”
“Yeah,” Roo says, grin widening as she sighs dreamily. “That’s what makes us perfect for it.”
We move through the apartment in sync, like a cleanup crew finishing a shift. She locks the box. I kill the lights. Our task is done and awaiting pickup. The city hums beyond the window, none the wiser to the death and gore we’re leaving behind, indifferent to the newly gutted man who still hasn’t even become a missing person yet.
Roo pauses by the door. “So. Daniel’s next?”
“Eventually.”
“Promise?” she asks, sticky sweet and up to no good.
I glance around my nearly empty apartment, making sure everything is closed up and in place, then give her my full attention. “Promise.”
Roo laughs like gentle, tinkling bells as she unlocks the door for us to leave. “See you for brunch and mimosas tomorrow?”
