Read Online In Love by Design (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) by Tracy Ellen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tracy Ellen
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inhalation of the dust rising from the floor in the wake of his swirling cape. “What the hell is a Fixer and why do I need fixing?” Watching him closely, it all started clicking and I glared in disbelief. “You’re planning to leave me here! That’s why I’m tied up, but you can still answer truthfully that you aren’t going to hurt me!” Seeing him look away from my accusing gaze, I croaked, “My god, I’ll die. You’re just a lousy murderer, aren’t you?”
My throat already dry, the dust sent me into a paroxysm of coughing. Unable to cover my mouth, I turned my head to the side until the coughing fit passed.
A t being called a murderer, the ebullience leaked from him like a pricked balloon and the Fixer waited sullenly for me to finish hacking. He didn’t offer any water. Not that I would accept anything to drink that came from him or this kitchen, but I expected more chivalry from him, since he’s dressed up like Little Lord Fauntleroy. He’s already number two on my shit list. I have no problem adding really bad manners, as another line item he’ll be paying for, if I live long enough.
Carefully r esting back against the broken cabinet where the lantern sat, he made a muffled sniffing noise of disdain under the mask at my accusation he’s a murderer. Crossing his stocky legs at the ankle, the oversized silver buckles on his pumps caught the light and shined at the movement. His lips turned up in a mulish pout.
His h igh voice now sounded fractious, and inconceivably, offended when he argued, “No, I am not a common murderer for hire. Any simpleton can go kill some bloke on the street. That takes no specialized talent, now does it?” He nodded his head and waved a hand to encompass me where I sat. “To be precise, I contract to remove nasty bullies bothering a chap and convince them to go away--permanently.” A thumb and finger nervously smoothed his thin mustache while he added, “Short of murder.”
‘I can’t believe this! My last conversation on earth was going to be arguing semantics with a pouty, plump cherub that dressed like Sir Elton John and had brought me to a stinking house to die!’
This was such a bizarre thought that it took all my control not to break down in convulsive giggles. This whole night was taking on a dream-like quality, and I was still feeling the drugs. Although, the splinters in my butt were a reality check that this was really happening.
He primly pursed his lips and crossed his arms on his chest while repeating, “I’m honestly no slayer of innocents.” At my continued silence and level, disbelieving look, he uncrossed his arms and pointed a finger at my nose. “Listen here; my services can’t be had cheaply. Anyone looking to hire me has to have quite a bit of the ready brass and a bloody good reason for needing my talents! I’ve got standards, you know. Whatever you did to set this person off must have been wicked. I don’t normally get special instructions on how to orchestrate my contracts, Anabel, but yours were laid out for me like bloody stepping stones. Do this first, do that next, and then do the other!”
The Fixer pronounced it An -ER-bel and I don’t know why I’m shocked he knows my name. After all, he did accept a contract to fix me and has probably investigated my life to some degree. He must have followed my movements to be able to abduct me tonight. I’m disgusted I didn’t sense even a trace of this coming.
“Did you change the light bulb on my garage light?” I demanded suspiciously.
“What?” he responded blankly.
“Oh, never mind,” I muttered, frowning.
Shaking off my despair at my sad lack of surveillance skills, I concentrated on laying out the facts logically for the Fixer. Regardless of the shoes and the delusions, he was still a man.
“ You’ve just proved my point. You were told what to do and you’ve followed instructions, much like any common thug. Where’s the talented fixing in that scenario? No,
My throat already dry, the dust sent me into a paroxysm of coughing. Unable to cover my mouth, I turned my head to the side until the coughing fit passed.
A t being called a murderer, the ebullience leaked from him like a pricked balloon and the Fixer waited sullenly for me to finish hacking. He didn’t offer any water. Not that I would accept anything to drink that came from him or this kitchen, but I expected more chivalry from him, since he’s dressed up like Little Lord Fauntleroy. He’s already number two on my shit list. I have no problem adding really bad manners, as another line item he’ll be paying for, if I live long enough.
Carefully r esting back against the broken cabinet where the lantern sat, he made a muffled sniffing noise of disdain under the mask at my accusation he’s a murderer. Crossing his stocky legs at the ankle, the oversized silver buckles on his pumps caught the light and shined at the movement. His lips turned up in a mulish pout.
His h igh voice now sounded fractious, and inconceivably, offended when he argued, “No, I am not a common murderer for hire. Any simpleton can go kill some bloke on the street. That takes no specialized talent, now does it?” He nodded his head and waved a hand to encompass me where I sat. “To be precise, I contract to remove nasty bullies bothering a chap and convince them to go away--permanently.” A thumb and finger nervously smoothed his thin mustache while he added, “Short of murder.”
‘I can’t believe this! My last conversation on earth was going to be arguing semantics with a pouty, plump cherub that dressed like Sir Elton John and had brought me to a stinking house to die!’
This was such a bizarre thought that it took all my control not to break down in convulsive giggles. This whole night was taking on a dream-like quality, and I was still feeling the drugs. Although, the splinters in my butt were a reality check that this was really happening.
He primly pursed his lips and crossed his arms on his chest while repeating, “I’m honestly no slayer of innocents.” At my continued silence and level, disbelieving look, he uncrossed his arms and pointed a finger at my nose. “Listen here; my services can’t be had cheaply. Anyone looking to hire me has to have quite a bit of the ready brass and a bloody good reason for needing my talents! I’ve got standards, you know. Whatever you did to set this person off must have been wicked. I don’t normally get special instructions on how to orchestrate my contracts, Anabel, but yours were laid out for me like bloody stepping stones. Do this first, do that next, and then do the other!”
The Fixer pronounced it An -ER-bel and I don’t know why I’m shocked he knows my name. After all, he did accept a contract to fix me and has probably investigated my life to some degree. He must have followed my movements to be able to abduct me tonight. I’m disgusted I didn’t sense even a trace of this coming.
“Did you change the light bulb on my garage light?” I demanded suspiciously.
“What?” he responded blankly.
“Oh, never mind,” I muttered, frowning.
Shaking off my despair at my sad lack of surveillance skills, I concentrated on laying out the facts logically for the Fixer. Regardless of the shoes and the delusions, he was still a man.
“ You’ve just proved my point. You were told what to do and you’ve followed instructions, much like any common thug. Where’s the talented fixing in that scenario? No,
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