The Good Girl Who Went Bad

Chapter 9: The Real Drake

A few hours later, my living room looked almost normal. And I say almost because to me, now, it would never look the same again. Where the two dead bodies had been, there was still a faint mark there, where we hadn't been able to get rid of all the blood.

And the sofa, the black glass table and the mirror had all been taken to a dumping ground, which was quite a while away from my house. So now, because the mirror and the sofa was gone, my living room looked so much smaller - but I had already decided to go out later and get some new furniture.

Drake kept aplogising for making such a mess, and that it didn't normally do that much damage to a room - he had been trained to keep a death as clean as possible. But because the other two were so clumsy, and had obviously only been trained how to use a gun, it hadn't really worked out.

Drake kept insisting that he give me money to replace the furniture, but I said no - thousands of times! He finally stopped insisting when I went silent and turned away from him to start srubbing at the floor again.

Then I said that I would buy the furniture, because I always bought the expensive stuff, and I wanted to get some new furniture anyway. I also said that I had wanted to redecorate for ages now, and that I wanted to change the flooring and walls too. I would get a proper interior designer in, and redo the whole room. I might even get the kitchen done again, too. The black and white was starting to get out of fashion, now, anyway, even if it will cost me a lot of money.

Hell, I could afford it! I could afford to have my whole house redecorated a thousand times over, and still have enough money to buy a billion Lamborghinis!

Drake rang up his agency at one point to fill them in on what had happened.

Then he'd contacted the police to tell them, too, about what had occurred.

I had asked why had he done that, in a shocked tone. Wouldn't they arrest him for murder?

'The police know everything about the agency, Nicole. They have to know, because if they didn't, there'd be thousands of murders that they wouldn't have the first idea on how to solve. And anyway, even if we didn't want them to know, they'd have to, because we're all part of the government.'

Oh. So that had been a stupid question to ask, then, as the answer was oh so fucking obvious!

But thousands of muderers? I didn't know that it was that high in numbers. Drake must kill someone every other day, or so. Jeez, what a job THAT would be - I certainly wouldn't want to do it. The only time I'd ever kill someone would be if they hurt/killed any of my loved ones. And so far, thank God, that hadn't happened.

'I said thousands, because do you know how many criminals are out there, Nikki? The world isn't as safe as most people imagine, and I'm guessing you realise that now. And yes, the police do catch some of them, if you're wondering - but sometimes, they don't, and we have to get rid of them. Sometimes, the criminal escapes from prison, and the police say it's 'too much time and hassle' to get them back again, and sometimes, the police can't even be bothered to try and catch the criminal.'

'Why, though? That's their job,' I said, confused. Why should the police dump their job onto someone else? That wasn't very fair.

'Well, quite a few criminals are too good for the police. Or too bad, you could say. They get away really easily, and it's too hard and dangerous for the police to handle. So that's when we step in and deal with the baddies.' He looked at me to see if he had scared me again, which he hadn't, and then when he realised that, he smiled at me.

He walked a litter closer to me, and knelt down where I was, scrubbing at the floor. Still.

'So, I'm guessing you wanna know everything, then? About how I became to be an agent, and all the other crap, too?