A Necessary Kill by James P. Sumner Page A

would be loving this. Not only for the gratuitous nudity, but also for my obvious discomfort.
    She steps out of the dress and walks back toward her chair, stopping just in front of it. She puts her arms out to the sides, moving them slowly up and over her head as she bends her knees and arches her back, stretching. She stands up straight and turns around.
    I jump in my seat. “Fuck me!”
    Her, frankly, incredible body is covered from throat to groin in a network of scars. Self-inflicted wounds in the shape of a thousand pentagrams tattoo her chest and stomach. The freshly healed cuts are a deep red.
    “This is how I keep my demons locked inside,” she says seductively. “It stops them coming out to play. Do you like my demons?”
    I shrug, squirming in my seat. “Ah… not really, no. It’s a little bizarre, if I’m honest.”
    She frowns. “You do not like me? You do not want me? Why are you here? The people who come here always like me… always want me. They cheer for me, beg me for more… And they visit me. Late at night when they think I’m asleep, they visit. They try to unlock my door with their key. Try to let my demons out. But I don’t let them come out. No, no, no… They stay locked behind my door. Yes they do.” She pauses to giggle like a little girl, putting one hand to her mouth. “Their keys aren’t big enough to open my door. But I don’t tell them they’re wasting their time. It’s fun watching them try.”
    I shake my head and smile, which gradually gives way to a laugh.
    Sonofabitch.
    It’s the eyes. They never lie. And Ruby DeSouza’s eyes are no different. I’m not saying she isn’t a little… out there… but this—it’s an act. A very elaborate, very clever act. I don’t know the reason behind it. But I know it’s all for show. She had me—hook, line, and sinker—right until the double entendre about the guards interfering with her at night. I could see her struggling to keep a straight face. Her eyes betrayed her.
    I stand and applaud.
    She stops, frozen in place and naked, staring at me, genuinely confused.
    “Very good,” I say. “You should be an actress. Now put your fucking clothes on, sit your ass down, and listen to what I have to say.”
    She doesn’t move for a moment, frowning at me. Eventually, she gives in, moving quickly over to her dress and putting it back on. “Who are you?”
    Her voice sounds drastically different now. More down to earth. More… sane .
    “I’m Adrian Hell.”
    Her mouth drops open with shock. “Get the fuck outta here! Really?”
    I smile and nod.
    “No shit! What are you doing here? And, hey, how did you know I was faking it?”
    I shrug. “You’re good, don’t get me wrong. And the whole naked thing—nice touch. Very nice touch… But I could see it in your eyes, trying not to laugh. You couldn’t quite stay in character.”
    “Damn it… ” She sighs as she zips her dress back up. “So what do you want?”
    I must admit, as far as she’s concerned at least, I feel much better about potentially having her on board. I think her natural talent for deception probably makes her a formidable killer. And she’s definitely crazy enough to want in.
    “I’m here to offer you a job. But thanks to your little striptease, I only have about thirty seconds left to give you my sales pitch before the guard comes back.”
    She shrugs. “So make it quick.”
    “Okay… how would you feel about earning twenty million dollars to help me assassinate the president of the United States?”
    She raises an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”
    “Deadly.”
    “Huh… Okay, I’m in—sounds kinda fun.”
    I shake my head and smile. She didn’t even hesitate.
    “There’s just one thing. I’m kinda incarcerated here for,” she pauses to look at her wrist, even though she’s not wearing a watch, “oh, the rest of my life! It was a nice idea at the time, but I didn’t think it through, I’ll admit. If you want my help, you’ll have to