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Killer for Hire

Summary:

A dead stockbroker leads Malcolm to a highly trained assassin known only as Siren. She’s unlike any other murderer he’s gone after before; she’s confusing, impossible to track down, and frustratingly irresistible. What starts out as an innocent attempt to investigate her quickly escalates into a dangerous infatuation, and the closer he gets to her, the more he puts himself and those he loves in harm’s way.

Notes:

This is heavily Killing Eve inspired. Also, it doesn’t really take place any time in canon, it’s more canon-adjacent. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Thrill of the Kill

Chapter Text

“He likes the bed made first thing in the morning and the pillows on the couch fluffed. You can take your lunch break at noon, and Rosa will take over at five.” The woman in the pantsuit folded her hands in front of her. “All you have to do is stay out of his way and do whatever he says. Sound good?”

She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

A smile spread on the woman’s face from being addressed with authority. The elevator doors slid open with a ding, and she followed the woman down a long hallway that lead to a door. She dug around in her purse for a ring of keys and inserted one of them into the lock. She twisted it and pushed the door open with ease.

The sound of the woman’s heels clicking against the wooden floor as she took big strides echoed in the large penthouse. Everything was ornately decorated in gold and leather and marble and leopard skin. It was quite tacky, like the person who lived here had a lot of money but no taste to know how to spend it, so he modeled it after pictures he had seen in magazines and movie sets.

Footsteps on the spiral staircase drew her attention upwards. “Sylvia, is that you? Where have you been?” A man with a dark head of hair and a fake tan descended, clad in only a silk robe that was tied loosely around his waist to expose a dusting of hair on his chest.

“I apologize for being late. I was just filling the new maid in.” The woman gestured to her with a wide sweep of her arm. “Mr. Phillips, this is Sarah Brown.”

Sarah Brown was one of her favorite characters to play: meek, soft-spoken, polite, a small town girl who was shyer than a dormouse. All the things she was not. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.” She bowed her head with a slight tilt of her chin.

He landed in front of her and looked away from the Rolex he was fiddling with on his wrist to give her a once over. His gaze was dark as it skimmed over her from head to toe, and he licked his lips. “It’s very nice to meet you too.” He shifted his attention to the woman at her side. “Sylvia, go to the office. I have a client who’s supposed to call soon.”

“Yes, Mr. Phillips.” She spun around without a moment of hesitation, the click of her heels receding as she left.

He settled his borderline lecherous gaze on her once more. “Go upstairs and run me a bath. I’ll be there in a moment. I have to take care of a couple of things first.”

She gave a curt nod. “Yes, sir.”

He grinned, revealing two rows of bleached white teeth. “I trust you enough to find your way around.”

She felt a light pat on her ass as he passed her. She didn’t react, opting instead to head for the staircase with a blank and unreadable expression. She ran one hand along the banister as she climbed the steps to the second floor. It took her searching through four bedrooms, two studies, and a massive walk-in closet to find the door to the bathroom. She padded across the tile floor in her slippers to the full length mirror, examining her reflection.

She adjusted the chestnut brown wig on her head so the hairline laid flat. She picked at the ill fitting uniform she was wearing, the tag tickling the back of her neck irritating her skin. It was too loose in the middle and tight in the armpits. The sickly gray get up had been the previous maid’s and given to her due to the short notice. It was so unflattering, not even she could manage to pull it off.

She walked over to the clawfoot bathtub in the middle of the room overlooking a view of the Manhattan skyline. Anyone else might’ve found it breathtaking, but she was too preoccupied to take the time to appreciate it. She kneeled beside the tub and leaned over to plug the drain. She cranked the handle on the faucet as far as it could go, and a rumble filled her ears as water splashed the bottom of the tub. She held a hand under the stream and watched the piping hot water scald her skin. She kept it there until the water felt so hot it was cold, and her hand was glowing an angry red color when she finally pulled it away.

She went to retrieve a towel from the linen closet, and when she came back, the door flew open as Mr. Phillips entered. He perked up at the sight of the full tub, curls of steam drifting off of the surface. “Good to know you can follow orders.”

She set the towel down next to the sink as he dipped his hand in the water, sending ripples across the surface. He retracted it with a yelp. “This water is way too hot.” He fixed her with a stare she assumed he meant to be intimidating. “Next time, don’t make it so fucking hot, okay?”

She merely batted her doe eyes at him. “Yes, sir.”

He faced the tub, his hands gripping the belt slung low on his hips. She snuck up behind him, and before he could rid himself of the robe, kicked him in the knees. He fell forward, his ribs colliding with the lip of the tub and knocking the wind out of him. Before he could react, she pinned him down with a knee in the middle of his back. She grabbed his head with both hands pushed his face into the water.

He floundered, hands blindly fumbling for the lip of the tub to push himself up. To his credit, he was decently strong, but his air supply was already beginning to run out, so all the strength he had left was diverted to holding his breath. He thrashed, sending splashes over the side of the tub. She held firm and watched as he coughed and sputtered. His movements began to slow, and she could imagine the panic that gripped him as his lungs filled with water and fuzzy dots formed over his vision. He went limp underneath her with a final gurgle, a cluster of bubbles rising to the surface and popping in a burst of droplets.

She got off of him, tilting her head as she stared down at him. His upper body was left hanging over the porcelain tub, his head underwater. The faucet was still running, and the water overflowed, forming puddles on the floor that sank into the grout lines between the tiles. She leaned over him and picked up his arm, slipping the watch off of his wrist. She lifted it close to her face and admired the diamond encrusted case before dropping it into her pocket. Adrenaline thrummed in her veins as she wiped her hands on her apron. She turned and walked away, the soles of her slippers soaked through with bath water.

Now, she could finally take this damn uniform off.