Four excruciatingly long days later…

It had been online interview after online interview. First through emails, then messaging, then LensNet, a service that allowed a party to communicate with another via a camera and microphone. Not a single one of the interviews had involved any of the men she’d be considering for the project.

Now, after that gauntlet, Smyrna had reached the final step. A face to face meeting with the woman herself, Messina Argyle. She wondered if she’d be forced to meet any of the men through LensNet, and really hoped not. It was a waste of Smyrna’s time, since she had no interest in any of them anyway.

The offices were luxurious in the middle of downtown MidMerica, in the tallest building, and on the top floor. The view was spectacular, not even remotely giving a hint of the rat trap that Smyrna called home a mere two miles away.

Smyrna was waiting in a room that could have housed her whole apartment. The war had been good to Messina Argyle.

Not so much so for many of the population in what used to be called the United States of America. A former unified country, the U.S. was now composed of varying provinces.

“Miss de Soto,” Messina rose from a desk that should have belonged to a cigar-smoking, pork-eating, pot-bellied senator. Her lithe form skirted the corners as she made her way to Smyrna.

Smyrna pulled on the dress she’d managed to borrow from one of her neighbors and resisted the urge to rub on her eyes from fear she’d smear the mascara again.

She didn’t do dresses. She didn’t do makeup. But she’d make an exception for this. Hell, she’d give up her right arm for it.

“Smyrna,” Messina took her hand between both of hers. “Call me Messina, please.”

Nodding, Smyrna extricated her fingers from Messina’s grip. This woman exuded charm, maybe she’d be a senator one day herself, minus the potbellied, pork-eating, cigar-smoking part, Smyrna thought. She definitely had the people skills.

Should have taken charm lessons from her, rather than let Razor and Branson think they could teach me.

“Your test results matched you perfectly. We’ve got just the one for you.”

“No kidding,” Smyrna replied and pasted a smile on to amend her seemingly smart ass response. “That’s wonderful. I’m so excited.” She lowered her head in as demure a way as she could.

“This is the interview. The last test, if you want to call it that. It’s important to the process that we send candidates who really are what they appear to be.”

I’m so screwed. Smyrna raised her head and tried to look doe-eyed. This is for Leticia, she reminded herself. This whole thing was for Leticia. And it was absolutely imperative that Smyrna get accepted into this Outreach thing.

“We have to be sure it’s not just curiosity seekers. A free flight to Janus is tempting.”

Smyrna nodded. Time to play it cagey. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“We’ve matched you perfectly with—” She picked up a file, reached out across the desk to hand it to Smyrna. “Here, look for yourself.”

Smyrna opened the folder. First thing she saw was a headshot of a face that looked like it belonged on the cover of a soldiers of fortune magazine. It was a mix of hard-ass blended with sexy. Steel gray eyes, full bottom lip, cheekbones that were sculpted from marble.

She looked at the text below the face. Caayn Fellish. “How do you say that name? I mean, I figure the Fellish part, but…” Smyrna glanced up at Messina.

“Cane. As in sugar cane.”

Or Cain, the one that killed his brother. Wasn’t wise to voice that one, so she kept it to herself. “He’s the one that matched me?”

“Perfectly.”

Great, because I lied about everything.

“When can I leave?”

Messina laughed. “You’re certainly ready to begin a new life, aren’t you?”

Right after I end Baldwin Porter’s life. “Very much so.” She forced a smile to creep to her face, hoping it made it to her eyes.

“Great. We’ll get the paperwork together.”

“Paperwork?”

“Legalities,” Messina’s smile was tight, controlled.

“Like I’ll need a passport or something?”

Messina frowned. “No. Like the contract.”

First thing Smyrna thought was, damn I should have read the fine print before I agreed to the terms and conditions.

It had been a wall of text on a computer screen at the offices of her employer. Smyrna hadn’t ever been much on the reading of fine print. So, she’d clicked to accept.

“Where’s the contract?”

“It’s the last thing in the file. Take it home with you, study, review, make sure, then come back when you’re ready to sign.” Messina tapped a pen on the desk, looked at a calendar that took up half the surface. “Say tomorrow? Or the day after?”

“Sure, tomorrow. But I can sign it right now—”

With a head shake, Messina said, “Go ahead and take it. I’d like you to sleep on it. It’s a big commitment, after all.”

It’ll be a big commitment if I get apprehended for murder on Janus. Otherwise, it’s my dream day.