Catch Read online

  Catch

  For Shana.

  You told me to write an adult novel, so I did. Catch may have never been born if it wasn’t for your encouragement. Now let’s go celebrate with sushi and martinis.

  Prologue

  “This is her?” I ask, as I look down at the picture, smoothing a thumb over the woman’s face. She has flaming red hair, green eyes, and perfect white teeth. She’s beautiful, and looks nothing like any of the other assignments I’ve ever had.

  It’s a shame that she has to die.

  The middleman nods. He is the one who has brought me all of my assignments over the years, and I still don’t know his name. He has silver hair with a beard to match, and deep brown eyes framed with thick crow’s feet. The fedora he always wears is turned slightly to the side, and his leather coat ends at his knees. He’s been Timer’s middleman for a very long time, and I’m convinced he eats nails for breakfast.

  “You are to drop her off at the address on the back of the picture. They will contact you when it is time to carry out the hit,” middleman says in his smoker’s voice.

  I narrow my eyes in a way that would normally intimidate a person, but the middleman seemed completely unfazed, his hard stare never faltering from mine. “This is different. I’ve never been told to kidnap, only kill.”

  “I don’t ask questions. I only bring the assignments,” he says with finality, so I stop asking questions.

  “Fine, but I need you to pass a message on to Timer for me.” When the middleman nods I continue. “This is the last one. I’m done.”

  His chuckle lacks humor. “He’s paying you big for this one. You’re his best man. When that cash hits your hand we’ll see if you still want to walk away.”

  I felt the muscle flex in my jaw. The last thing this guy wants to do is piss me off.

  “Just give Timer the message,” I growl as I spin on my heel.

  When I reach the metal door of the warehouse he grunts, and I turn to face him.

  “Hey, don’t you want to know why this one needs to die?” he asks through the empty space between us.

  I look up at the metal rafters in the warehouse as I think about what he just said. I always want to know what my assignments do that puts them in Timer’s path. It was part of my agreement with Timer. But with this one, there’s something different, something’s off.

  “No. It’s my last one. I don’t want to know,” I reply.

  “Very well…and Catch, this is one of the most important hits ever assigned, if not the most important. Timer’s getting a lot of money for this hit. Don’t screw it up.”

  When the fuck have I ever screwed up?

  It was on the tip of my tongue to say, but I just nod before stepping out into the cold night and slamming the metal door behind me.

  1

  Max

  “Please, Max. Please tell me you didn’t screw James Kelly,” my best friend June says. I let out a huge sigh and down my entire beer. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” Her lips turn down in disappointment.

  The music’s picking up, and the bar is starting to fill with its normal loyal customers. A long bar stretches across the back wall, a couple of pool tables were in the back, and a small stage and dance floor take up the center of the room.

  I wave at the bartender; she is flirting with a group of guys at the end of the bar. When she turns her head I hold my empty bottle in the air. Without removing her eyes from the tattooed guy smiling at her she pulls another beer from the cooler in front of her, pops the top, and slides it down the length of the bar. I catch it before it can go over the edge.

  After another long pull of the delicious amber liquid I decide to answer my friends’ question before her brown eyes pop out of her head. “Yes, I slept with James.” June starts shaking her head. I watch as her dark brown, corkscrew curls bounce around her shoulders, her brown eyes wide as saucers. “Jesus, June, don’t give me that damn look. I know it was stupid, so save the speech.” I snag a piece of my hair and start twirling it around my fingers. It’s a bad habit I have when I’m nervous or upset.

  “I can’t believe you did that. I know the man is gorgeous. That is if you like the pompous, country club type. But he is married. You also realize that you might lose your job, right? The last girl that worked with him was canned for no apparent reason. The rumor is that he disposed of her after he was ‘finished’ with her.” She uses finger quotes. And she was right. He totally banged that poor girl and then sent her packing.

  Stormy, the bartender with purple pixie hair, comes to our end of the bar, pours a big shot of tequila, and sits it down in front of me. “You look like you’ve had one hell of a day. This one’s on the house,” she says before turning her toothy grin back on Mr. Tattoos.

  I skip the salt and lime and just toss it back. The burn stretches from my throat all the way down to the pit of my stomach. It’s a good burn, a welcome burn. “Thanks, Stormy. Now get your ass back down there, he’s hot.”

  She grins. “Okay, just throw something at me if you need anything.”

  June waited until Stormy is leaning across the bar and back in full on flirting mode to speak. “You worked so hard during you internship to get picked up by this corporation. I can’t believe that you would throw it all away for one night of….”

  “Shut-up, mom,” I say before she can finish. I’m really not in the mood to be lectured. “I’m twenty-four; I think I’m old enough to recognize the error of my ways.” I toss back the rest of my beer and tilt the empty bottle in the air again. June is only halfway done with her first beer and I’m now about to start my third. “I wasn’t supposed to be his personal assistant. I didn’t bust my ass for four years in college to be someone’s assistant.”

  “You know that many of his assistants over the years have been moved up to respectable positions. He handpicked you to be his assistant because he could see your potential,” June says. She also worked at Fiddle, but in a different department. And I’m kind of shocked that she is being so damn naive.

  I wave my hand at her dismissing her theory. “He didn’t handpick me because of my potential. He fucking picked me because of my ‘tight little ass’,” I say with a slight slur. Tequila works fast, and I’m sure shot-gunning those last two beers hasn’t helped either.

  June’s eyes widen. “Did he say that to you?” I take a long pull of the beer that Stormy just slid down the bar, and shrug. “Wow, he really is a disgusting pig.”

  James Kelly is a young CEO spoiled brat that only got his company off the ground with the help of daddy’s deep wallet. He’s an intelligent businessman but lacks when it comes to actually communicating with his employees. No one really likes him. Well, that’s if you don’t count the brownnosers. The men—and some women—who strive to be just like him.

  He’s married to a trophy wife. Platinum blond hair, tall, skinny, and the best set of boobs his money could buy. James is a womanizer. His wife doesn’t care. If he keeps shelling out money so she can do all the shopping she wants, she doesn’t care that he screws around. Hell, she probably screws around on him as well. I think the only reason he married her was for appearance purposes.

  “I was drunk when it happened. He asked me to stay late. Who knew the jackass kept a bottle of scotch in his desk drawer? And who knew that scotch would knock me on my ass?”

  June sighs. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to go into work on Monday, and pretend like nothing happened. It’s exactly what he did today,” I reply. It truly is the only plan I have, because I won’t allow him to scare me off. If he wants to fire me he can do it face to face. I refuse to give that ass the easy way out by quitting.

  When I made last minute plans with June to meet me at Jack’s in downtown DC it wasn’t because I needed to drown m
y mistake. I’ve had one night stands with men before. I needed to calm my nerves. I’m not one of those crazy girls that stalk a married man after having an affair, and he’s the first married man I have ever slept with. Scotch really has a way of making you forget your morals.

  And considering my upbringing I had a lot of morals.

  My mom dumped me on the state when she decided that drugs and alcohol were a hell of lot more fun than raising a baby. I was only about a month old when she got tired of being a responsible human being. When I tried to find her, the PI came back with bad news. He handed me information about where she was buried, and gave me the best ‘I’m sorry’ he could muster.

  Her and my father both overdosed in the same night. I don’t know all the details, only that they were cremated and put in one of those walls in a cemetery in the sketchy part of town.

  I was bounced from foster home to foster home. Every time one of my foster parents would start to become attached the state would pull me and move me to a different home. Regardless of my situation I’m determined to be a successful person. I’m determined to be the complete opposite of the people that are on my birth certificate.

  I’m not happy about being an assistant, but I need my job. Fiddle is one of the largest internet search engine corporations in the world. It offers document saving, email, and social networking services. I worked my ass off to get on board with this team, and he makes me his freaking assistant. I knew he was trying to get in my pants, but who do you file sexual harassment complaints to when it’s the big boss doing it? I was fine with ignoring him hoping that eventually he would just take a hint. Apparently, he did take a hint, and I was stupid enough to accept a drink from him.

  What James Kelly wants, James Kelly gets. One way or another.

  He was business as usual today, acting as if nothing at all happened between us. After everyone left for the weekend I went back into the building to try and talk with him about what happened. I wanted to be prepared if he was going to fire me. And maybe if I went to talk to him after hours, and he did fire me, it would spare me the humiliation of being sacked in front of the whole office.

  My feet were killing me, so before I went back into the building I changed out of my heels and into a pair of flats. That’s the only reason I can think of as to why he didn’t hear me approaching his office.

  The conversation that James Kelly was having with someone on the phone was heated as he pecked away on his computer. Since it was only one sided and through a thick door I was only able to pick up some words. Money, treason, and fraud to name a few.

  He kept a spare key to his office hidden behind a picture of the DC skyline. He told me about it because sometimes he needed me to access files that were only in his office. And of course, to have his stupid coffee on his desk before he arrived to work.

  I hid in a cubicle when I heard him end the call and start for the door. After he left I snuck into his office and woke his computer from hibernation. He has one true love in his life and that is his black Bentley that he so often refers to as ‘Opal’.

  I had two chances to get it right and then the whole system would shut down. On the second try ‘opalbaby’ worked, and the idiot left the last thing he was working on open. Scared I would get caught I didn’t read over anything, I popped my Boba Fett memory stick, that I keep on my keys, into the computer and quickly copied the files that were open. Then I opened his spread sheet and copied the files from there.

  I copied the files because I wanted to use them as leverage. If he tried to fire me I would have blackmail material. Desperate, I know, but I work too damn hard to be fired because my boss can’t keep his dick in his pants, and my stupid ass can’t hold my scotch.

  When the reality of what I did settled over me I panicked and called June. I needed a drink to calm down. I walked out of the parking garage, leaving my car. I grabbed a cab and headed over to our favorite little hole-in-the-wall, Jack’s.

  The amount of alcohol I plan on consuming tonight meant I wouldn’t be driving myself home, and I knew my car would be safe in Fiddle’s parking garage.

  “My advice to you would be to never work late with that man again,” June says with a smirk. “Actually, if you feel the need to feed the hunger just call me, and we’ll go out and find you a yummy, unmarried man.”

  “Thanks for that sound advice,” I reply sarcastically. I will never tell June about what I did. Not until I find out what is on that memory stick. If it isn’t anything serious then there is no point in keeping what I did from her, but if it is something more serious I don’t want to drag her into the middle of it.

  “Oh and you might not want to wear those white button up blouses without the buttons done all the way up.” She takes a sip of her beer while ogling my busty breasts that are ready to spring free out the front of my shirt.

  “Would you like to touch them?” I tease. She reaches over and I slap her hand away as she laughs. “I always wear my shirts buttoned and I wear a jacket. Trust me I have not been giving him any false hope.”

  Before June can toss back the rest of her beer Stormy places another one in front of her. “Another two shots of tequila too, Stormy,” June says and I arch an eyebrow. “What? It’s Friday night. Let’s get drunk, forget this mess you’re in, and dance with some hot guys. Yeah, yeah, I know it won’t make the problem go away, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun. That is, in fact, why you called me, am I right?” She waggles her eyebrows as she reaches over and squeezes my boob.

  I shake my head. “You just had to touch one, didn’t you?”

  “What can I say? I’m jealous. I don’t have half the tits you do,” she says as she pokes her chest out. June isn’t as curvy as me. No matter what she eats that bitch doesn’t gain a single pound. Tonight she had time to change after getting off of work, so she is wearing a deep red sweater dress with black boots.

  “Seriously? What would I do without you?”

  “You would be totally lame,” she replies. I slap her arm before we turn and toss back our shots. “Stormy, can you put these back there?” June hands her our purses, and then grabs my hand and pulls us towards the little dance floor.

  When we reach the center of the floor I round my hips in slow motion and then put my hands on June’s shoulders. I wink, pull my long red hair down, and swish it in a circle. She throws her head back in laughter.

  “You are in a mood tonight. Just don’t kick anybody’s ass. I don’t know how much more of you throwing punches Jack will put up with,” June yells over the music. I make a silent cross over my heart, hike my black pencil skirt up to my thighs, and start swaying my hips to the beat.

  Yeah, I have problems, huge problems. But when given the opportunity to shut them out for the night it would be out of character for me to turn it down. Of course tomorrow morning I will wake up with a wicked hangover. But to forget for just one night will be worth the pounding headache, dehydration, and nausea the morning will undoubtedly bring.

  2

  Max

  A loud banging on my apartment door jerks me out of a deep sleep. Sitting up I press the heel of my hand against my right temple, while I wipe the drool off my cheek with the other. Jose Cuervo is taking a sledgehammer to my brain. The throbbing is enough to bring me to tears. He’s a hateful SOB.

  Looking down I notice that I’m completely naked. This isn’t unusual because I normally sleep naked, but when getting home is a blur it can be frightening. Jerking my head around, I look over to the other side of the queen size bed, and breathe a sigh of relief to see that it’s empty, and still made from the day before. I’ve had some wild nights, but that was a long time ago. I had no intentions of bringing anyone home with me last night. As relief washes over me, I fall back onto my pillow and drape my arm over my eyes.

  At first I think the banging was a dream, but it sounds through my apartment again and I leap out of the bed. Throwing on a robe I rush out of the bedroom and through the living room. My apartment is clean an
d organized nothing out of place. It is one of my ways of being in control. I need to be in control a lot since I had so little control while I was in the system. The only time I liked being out of control was when I was drunk.

  “Who is it?” I call through the door. No answer just more banging. I jump away as my pulse instinctively starts racing. “I think you have the wrong apartment.” Hopefully, they will just give up and go away. I don’t live in the best part of town, but it also isn’t the worst and crime tends to stay medium at best.

  I begin thinking of ways to escape if I need to run. Because I’m on the tenth floor I would have to take the fire escape, and that damn thing is scary. As I start backing into the living room, my eyes never leave the door. Then a familiar voice calls through the thin wood.

  “Max, it’s James. I need you to let me in. We need to talk.” He is a good looking man, with dirty blond hair, sapphire blue eyes and a slender build. He is also tall, which I like because I’m taller than your average gal at 5’9”. Standing next to him makes me feel a little more feminine. But the pitch in his voice was never something I was attracted to. He sounds like he only made it halfway through puberty. That night during sex I wouldn’t allow him to talk, even resorting to jamming my fingers in his mouth to shut him up. And right now through my hazy, drunken fog his voice turns me off.

  Ugh! I can’t believe I slept with him.

  Making sure to leave the chain on the door before cracking it open, I’m not taking any chances. “Do you make house calls now, Mr. Kelly?” I ask with a smirk. I’m sure my breath is rancid, but I don’t care.

  “Open the door, Max,” he replies, his face almost pressed into the space between the door and the doorframe. I shake my head, and he runs a hand through his hair and narrows his eyes.

  “Why are you banging on my door like a mad man this early on a Saturday morning?”