Something Different

    William scrolled through his contact list until he found the familiar number; Debt Recovery Made Easy, LLC. Pressing call, he strolled around the room of his apartment. The phone rang a few times before connecting. A clipped female voice answered. “DRM Collection Agency, this is Tonya. May I have your account number?”

    Pulling down the shades to glance at the cobbled path weaving through the mimosa trees, William gave her the number and glanced at his wristwatch. Leah should be here soon. “Just give me a moment to pull up your information, Sir.” There was the tapping sound of fingers typing on a keyboard.

    “Yes, you do that, Tonya.” William made sure his voice was the appropriate tone of annoyed. He released the blinds and continued pacing in front of the bay window, one hand in his suit pocket.

    “Mr. Huntsman, what can I do for you today?” Tonya finally spoke.

    “Well, Tonya, I have a medical bill that went to collections a while back. The amount was for 73.89, and I clearly paid it prior to it going to your agency.”

    As Tonya placed him on hold to check the issue, William saw Leah walking up the path. Morning sun brightened her long brown hair, her shoulders set back in confidence as she strode through the archway of grapevines and up to the main entrance.

    A ‘thank you for holding’ message was playing again when she burst through his door. “Hello, Dad.” She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow as William held up a finger for her to wait.

    “Yes, Tonya. That’s correct.” There was an uncomfortable pause on the other end of the line.

    “Sir, this account was taken care of five years ago… there’s a note here.”

    “That’s correct, Tonya. But your agency made sure I knew it was because I submitted the payment via the wrong method, and that’s why it went to collections.”

    “Sir...please stop calling us.”

    “Not likely, Tonya, but have a good day, anyway.” He pressed ‘end call,’ and pocketed his cell phone. “A little late, Leah. You’ve got to be punctual in a business like ours.”

    Leah leaned against the sofa, rolling her eyes. “Why do you keep calling those people? That whole mess was settled ages ago.”

    William sniffed. “It’s the principle of the thing. I’ll waste their employee’s time until I get seventy-three dollars and eighty-nine cents worth. Anyway.” He eased back into the leather chair and crossed his legs. “Enough of that.” He sighed. “I’ve got a new job lined up for you. Should be easy. An overnight stay in Dubai, I know how you love it there this time of year.”

    Leah cringed, her eyes clamping shut. “Listen. Dad…” She slipped off her neatly pressed jacket and laid it over the back of the couch. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you about this for a while.” Adjusting the shoulder holster for her SIG Sauer, she sat down across from her dad. Forcing herself to lock her gaze with his, she said with a sigh, “I’ve decided I don’t want to do this anymore.”

    “What? Not show up late? I was hoping you’d turn over a new leaf eventually,” William nodded approvingly.

    “No,” Leah groaned. “This.” She waved a hand through the air for emphasis. “I’ve been an assassin since I was nineteen. I don’t want to take over the firm, I want to do something else.” She breathed out heavily.

    William stared at her in stunned silence. “Something else. Like what?” He choked out.

    “I don’t know.” Leah shrugged. “Like a reporter, for instance.”

    His fingers clamping on the arms of the chair, William leaned forward, feeling lightheaded. “A reporter, Leah? Why don’t you just kill me now and spare me the embarrassment?”

    “Ugh, you see.” She groaned. “This is why I haven’t told you until now.”

     And he thought she was the one responsible enough to pass on the torch of leadership. How could he not have seen this coming? William reached into his coat and withdrew the Smith and Wesson forty-five. “Leah.” He cleared his throat. “I am never dramatic.” He wracked a round in the handgun before holding it out to her, grip first.

    “You can’t be serious.” Leah scoffed, tossing her hair. As William’s mouth formed a hard line, realization dawned on her face. “You are serious.” She looked from the gun to her father.

    “Leah, our family has been in this business since Roman politicians were having each other offed. I would rather die than see you sink so low, believe me.” He reached forward, grasped her hand and pressed his gun into it.

    “Wait just a minute.” Leah jumped to her feet, holding out William’s forty-five like she didn’t want it, but was afraid to hand it back. “You’re not thinking straight.”

    Williams’ eyes narrowed, and he raised from his seat, letting the knife up his sleeve slide forward into his hand. “One way or another, I won’t see you leave the family trade.”

    “Hang on just a min—” Leah ducked as the knife whizzed where her head had been. It stuck in the drywall with a thud. She dove over the back of the couch as William threw the knife from his other hand.

    “Why do you always make a scene?!” She yelled in frustration. Her hand stretched out to grab a vase from an end table and it flew past William’s head, smashing against the wall. “Last time was Thanksgiving when Miles showed up two hours late.” She was low-crawling along the far side of the room now, keeping behind the furniture as she made for the door.

    William pulled the shuriken from his coat pocket. “He said he got stuck at the post office when a bomb threat was called in. On Thanksgiving.” Such an idiotic lie. Miles should have come up with something better. The silver star-shaped blade flew from his fingers.

    Leah let out a yell, reaching her hand back from the doorknob and stared in disbelief at the blade sticking from her forearm. Blood slowly spread across her tan blouse. “That. Is. It!” She jumped to her feet, raised the pistol, and took aim.

    The force of the bullet meeting his shoulder threw William off balance. Glass crunched under his shoes as he tripped and collided uncomfortably into the wall. Pressing a hand to the wound, he looked down as blood seeped through his fingers and over his suit—ruining it. He frowned at Leah. “You missed,” he said indignantly.

    Leah tossed the handgun to the floor with the remnants of the broken vase. “No, I didn’t.” She jerked the shuriken from her arm and threw it aside. “Get Miles to go to Dubai. If you don’t want to see me leave, then I suggest closing your eyes.” She opened the door.

    Applying pressure to his shoulder, William regained his footing. “Are you coming for Christmas?”

    “Yes,” Leah sighed.

    “Don’t be late.” William took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around his bleeding shoulder.

    “I won’t.” Leah rolled her eyes back at him before slamming the door behind her.