The Hitwoman's Juggling Act Read online

  “Yes. Yes. Yes!”

  “Oh, that’s not good,” God groaned. “If she’s a professional interrogator, and she’s going to use needles on Patrick…”

  “We have to figure out a way to get in there,” I told them. “Anybody have any ideas?”

  My gang all remained silent.

  I frowned. I’d never learned to pick locks, so getting in one of the doors probably wasn’t much of an option. I guess I could grab one of the nearby bricks and smash a window, but that would alert my enemy to my presence, and who knew how long it actually takes to break a window and then climb inside it.

  “Hey!” a voice called from above.

  Mike landed beside us in a flurry of black feathers. “Boy is alone. What are you going to do about it?” He seemed pretty agitated about the whole thing.

  “I understand,” I told him. “But I have more important things to worry about right now.”

  “More important than a child?” Mike cawed indignantly.

  “There’s a life in danger right now,” I told him sternly. “That’s my priority. When I’m done with that, I’ll go take care of Boy.”

  “If you don’t end up dead,” God threw in.

  “If I wind up dead, Mike can tell Ian about Boy,” I said.

  “The kid will be fine,” Mike declared.

  DeeDee laid down and put her head between her paws. “About what Patrick?”

  “I don’t know,” I told her quietly. “I’m going to do my best.” There was a flash of activity near one of the house’s windows. We all ducked down and hid even lower beneath the SUV.

  Tension stretched between us, our imminent failure weighing heavily on the entire group.

  My cell phone buzzed.

  “Turn it off before it gives away our location,” God whispered.

  I glanced at the screen before shutting it off and almost dropped it, I was so upset by the message.

  “What’s it say?” Piss asked.

  I gulped for breath, trying to quell the panic rising in me. “It’s from Darlene.”

  “Another house request?” God mocked.

  “It says, ‘Social worker here. Taking Katie’.”

  The animals gasped in dismay. I focused on my breathing, trying not to hyperventilate.

  “Stall!” I texted back.

  I didn’t have a plan. Patrick didn’t have much time. And Katie was about to be taken away.

  “I have a plan,” God announced suddenly. We all watched him with rapt attention.

  “DeeDee runs around by the front door, barking and raising a racket. When that woman opens the door, Piss runs in, and when she tries to chase the cat out, you take her down.”

  I actually thought that the first couple of parts of the plan were pretty good, but the part where I had to engage in hand-to-hand combat filled me with dread. “How am I supposed to take her down?”

  “Bash her head in,” God said decisively. “You don’t have a problem with that kind of thing. It’s only torture that you’re opposed to.”

  I shrugged. It really wasn’t a bad plan. I crawled over to a nearby flower bed and picked up a brick. It would make a pretty good smashing weapon.

  32

  “I can fit under the door,” God announced. “I’ll go and scout ahead.”

  Totally ignoring the lizard’s plan, DeeDee charged the front door of the house barking at the top of her lungs. “Out! Out!”

  “That mutt has terrible timing,” God complained, skittering across the yard so that he could crawl under said door.

  “This is a terrible plan,” I said to Piss desperately.

  “Be strong, sugar.”

  Meanwhile, DeeDee was barking her head off. Even though the house was in a deserted area, I kind of thought that somebody nearby would have heard her.

  The door swung open. Piss raced out from beneath the SUV and into the house in a streak of fur.

  Just like God had suggested, Patrick’s girlfriend, the interrogator, turned after her.

  DeeDee kept barking. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that her job was done. Instead, with the other woman’s back turned, I rushed the house, hefting the brick overhead.

  I’m really not the smashing kind. You’d never know it from my part time job, but I really don’t like violence. And I’m really, really bad at it, as evidenced by the fact that the moment I entered the house, my throat was grabbed. I was slammed back into a wall, and I dropped the brick on my foot. I would have screamed in pain, but I didn’t have any breath. The other woman was relentlessly crushing my windpipe.

  I clawed at her, at her hands, at her face. I kicked at her. But the world was starting to gray.

  In a dark streak of a snarling rage, DeeDee charged in and barreled straight into her and we were knocked apart.

  We all fell to the ground.

  “Kill her! Kill Her!” God shouted enthusiastically, like he was watching a football game and encouraging a tackle instead of taking a human life.

  I scrambled to my feet, as did my nemesis.

  “Are you here to save him?” She sneered, pure evil glinted in her eyes, and I wondered what Patrick had ever seen in her.

  “Away get,” DeeDee growled, placing herself between myself and the other woman.

  She looked down at the dog and reached into the back waistband of her jeans.

  “Run!” I kicked the dog in the butt, for further emphasis.

  The Doberman had just cleared the room when the interrogator shot at her. The wood of the door splintered, barely missing the dog.

  Piss launched herself at the interrogator’s leg, digging in her claws and yowling at the top of her lungs.

  I picked up my brick from the floor, suddenly more than ready to use it. “You bitch,” I yelled. “Nobody shoots at my dog!”

  My opponent kicked Piss off her leg, sending her into the guest bedroom. Moving quickly, she slammed the door shut, separating me from my back-up.

  “Maggie!” DeeDee barked worriedly from the other room.

  “Be careful, sugar,” Piss mewled as loudly as she could.

  “Throw it,” God coached. At least he was still with me. “If she turns around, she will shoot you!”

  I threw the brick at her.

  The brick caught her squarely in the shoulder, and she dropped her gun. We collided as we both dove for it and it slid further into the master bedroom.

  We scrambled over each other, pushing, pulling, grabbing, kicking. I was inclined to bite if that would help, but I didn’t get an opportunity.

  I was fighting for my life. I was fighting for Patrick’s life. I was pretty sure I was also fighting for DeeDee and Piss’s lives.

  “Mags?” Patrick murmured groggily from the bed. His normally bright green eyes were clouded with confusion and some sort of pharmaceutical cocktail.

  Considering that my enemy had wrapped her arm around my throat and was dragging me backwards out of the room, it wasn’t like I could answer him. I elbowed at her and caught her beneath the ribs. Her breath whooshed out past my ear.

  I drove my elbow back again and stomped on her foot. “Eyes, nose, throat, groin.” Patrick’s early lessons kicked in.

  As her hold on me loosened, I turned back and tried to gouge her eyes. Missing, my fingers slipped into her mouth instead and she bit down hard. Letting out a scream of pain, I slammed her back into a wall.

  I’d never wanted to kill someone as much as I wanted to kill her.

  (Not that I ever want to kill anybody, but it happens to be one of those necessary evils that seems to show up in my life on a semi-regular basis.)

  She released her hold on me, and I stumbled backward, searching for a weapon. Now, I stood, my back to Patrick, between him and his would-be killer.

  She chuckled. “I’ve heard about you. I thought your reputation was exaggerated.”

  “What’s my reputation?” I asked. Not that I really cared what her answer was, but I was trying to buy enough time to figure out a different plan.
r />   “That you’re some badass killer,” she sneered. She brushed her hair off her face and took the time to put it back in a ponytail. She took off her earrings and tossed them on the bed. “I’m going to show you what a professional assassin really is.”

  “You’ve got this,” God encouraged.

  I didn’t really think I did, but I appreciated that he was trying to give me a pep talk instead of being his usual self of telling me everything that’s wrong.

  She advanced toward me slowly, and I backed up. Glancing to my side, I saw a table covered with what looked like instruments of torture. Various blades, and a couple of syringes. I couldn’t quite reach them.

  She followed my gaze. “Go ahead, try it.”

  “I need a distraction,” I muttered under my breath, hoping that God would provide it.

  He didn’t take the hint.

  “I just need a distraction,” I muttered again.

  “Do you think that’s what it’s going to take to beat me?” she asked. “I’m the professional killer. You’re just a wannabe.”

  “I have no problem being that,” I told her. “But I’m not letting you kill him.”

  She chuckled maliciously. “Why not? He chose me over you.”

  I winced, my feminine pride injured. It was the truth. Still, I wasn’t going to let her kill my favorite redhead. I just wasn’t sure I was going to be able to stop her.

  She marched toward me, a cold hard look in her eyes, and I retreated all the way back against the mattress. I braced myself against it.

  She was almost on top of me when a little white flash appeared from across the room. It raced up her body and toward her face. Benny had heard my request for a distraction and had figured out how to provide it.

  She screamed and tried to knock him away.

  Braced against the bed, I leaned back and kicked her with all of my might.

  She stumbled backwards and to the side, knocking over her tray of deadly instruments.

  I yanked the pillow out from underneath Patrick’s head, and swung it at her as she came back at me.

  “Pillow fight!” God cheered.

  I kept up my attack. I was a good pillow fighter. When you grow up with twin sisters who double-team you, you learn some things. I was relentless.

  I performed my signature upward hook shot with the pillow that had felled many an opponent before her. It caught her in the face. She stumbled backwards, slipped on the scattered debris, and fell on her butt on the floor.

  She didn’t get up. I stood above her, heart pounding, breath wheezing. I really need to get more regular exercise.

  Pillow poised, I waited for her to resume her attack, but she didn’t move. Instead, she gasped, her eyes rolled up, and she collapsed completely.

  “What happened?” I panted.

  Benny scampered away from her and stood behind me.

  “Foisted by her own petard,” God announced. “Or, in this case, she got a dose of her own deadly medicine. There’s a needle in the back of her neck.”

  Chest heaving, I dropped the pillow, relieved.

  “Maggie!” DeeDee barked worriedly. “In let.”

  “Open the door,” Piss begged.

  Not taking my eyes off of the fallen woman, I sidled over to the guest room door and opened it for the animals.

  “Is she dead?” I asked.

  Piss approached her prone body cautiously. Then she did the same thing she had done with Brian Griswald: she moved up and put her face right up under the woman’s nose. “She’s not breathing,”

  “My plan worked!” God crowed victoriously.

  “Considering we all almost died, I don’t think you should be that proud of it,” I muttered.

  “Mags?” Patrick, still very groggy, struggled to focus on me.

  “You’re safe.” I moved over to the bed and patted his cheek. “You’re going to be okay.”

  “Danger,” DeeDee woofed quietly.

  I turned to see what she meant.

  “Outside,” she woofed.

  “Hide,” God ordered.

  Piss and Benny dove under the bed. DeeDee tried to cram herself under the bed, too, decided she couldn’t fit, so she covered her eyes with her paws.

  I had nowhere to go.

  Footsteps approached slowly. I looked at the gun, which was all the way across the room. I didn’t think I could make it there before whoever the new intruder was arrived. I bent and scooped up the nearest blade and hid it in my hand. At least I had some sort of weapon.

  My heart in my throat, I waited.

  The footsteps grew closer.

  33

  “It could be Jack,” God suggested hopefully.

  I nodded. He had known where I was going, so it would make sense. But how was I going to explain the dead body on the floor to him? Not to mention the fact that Patrick was handcuffed to the bed.

  Then again, it could be somebody else. Another threat.

  A man walked into the room.

  Gino, Delveccio’s bodyguard, strolled in, a gun loosely clasped in his hand. He took a second to survey the mess that had been made during our fight, then looked at me. “You should have called.”

  I nodded, taking a shaky breath. I was relieved that it was a friend that had shown up, not a foe. “How’d you find me?”

  “Your phone is bugged.”

  I blinked. That felt like even more of an insult than Patrick tracking my whereabouts as a security blanket.

  I almost told him so, but then realized he was probably once again only following the orders of his bosses. Delveccio was going to get an earful from me about the privacy I was entitled to.

  “Now, I gotta figure out how to clean this up,” Gino complained, oblivious of my simmering outrage. He frowned at me. I wasn’t sure if I had ever seen Gino frown at me before, and it sent a shiver of consternation down my spine. What was it that Delveccio had said? That he had a mole in his organization?

  I looked away, not wanting Gino to be able to see my doubts.

  A wave of fear washed over me. I was helpless against him. If part of the clean-up that he had been talking about included killing me, I wasn’t sure there was much I could do to stop him. My legs almost buckled.

  Gino walked to Patrick’s side and leaned over him. “This one’s still breathing.”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

  He kicked the woman on the floor but got no reaction. “Guess this one’s a goner.”

  I didn’t respond.

  When he examined Patrick closer, tugging on the handcuffs, I began to inch over to the gun on the floor.

  “You have bad taste in women, buddy,” Gino told Patrick.

  The redhead was unconscious, so he didn’t respond.

  “Normally, I’d say that torching a place is the easiest solution,” Gino mused aloud. “But that damn reporter...”

  I sucked in a breath at the mention of Jack Stern, not wanting him to become a victim of this mess, too.

  Noticing my reaction, Gino said, “I intercepted him, so he won’t be showing up.”

  I struggled to remain upright as the pain and grief of knowing Jack Stern was dead hit me like a sledgehammer.

  “But he knew you were coming. It would look suspicious if there was a fire. We don’t want that.”

  I wasn’t sure if Gino was talking to me or just to himself. I eyed the gun; it wasn’t that far away. If I could reach it, I might have a chance of getting a shot off.

  “So I guess I’m going to have to come up with another disposal method,” Gino complained. He looked over at me again. My foot was almost on the gun, but he didn’t seem to notice. “If you hadn’t closed down the ice cream disposal method, my job would be easier.” He winked at me, sharing an inside joke.

  I did my best to offer him a weak smile back.

  “Dismemberment and tossed in a landfill,” Gino said. “That would be a decent option. That, or an acid bath. Which do you prefer?”

  I couldn’t believe he was askin
g me how I wanted my own body to be destroyed.

  “Neither,” I spat out resentfully.

  Gino shrugged. “I know they’re not perfect options, but something has to be done.”

  “I thought you liked me,” I said.

  “I do, but the boss will have my hide if I don’t protect you.”

  I blinked. That didn’t make sense with the narrative that I’d been spinning in my head. “Protect me?”

  Gino tucked his gun into the holster that hung under his arm. “Anything happens to you, there’s not a man alive that would be safe from the boss’s wrath.”

  I stared at him. “Wait. You’re not going to kill me?”

  He looked startled by the suggestion. “Say what?”

  “You’re not going to kill me? You’re not the mole?”

  He shook his head. “That may be the most insulting thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Sorry.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he stuck out his lower lip, pouting. “In fact, that may be the most insulting thing anybody’s ever said to me,” Gino said, still shaking his head in disbelief. “I thought you and I had some kind of rapport, at least on a professional basis, if not a personal one.”

  Unable to meet his accusing gaze, I hung my head and sighed, knowing I’d managed to hurt the tough guy’s feelings. “I’m under a lot of stress and I’m not thinking straight.”

  Gino put his hands on his hips.

  “So when you said you intercepted Jack?” I asked, needing clarification.

  “Geez,” Gino exploded. “I didn’t kill your friend’s boy toy, either. He had an auto accident, that’s all. With one of my best drivers. No reporters were hurt in the making of this interception.”

  “I’m an idiot,” I murmured.

  “Obviously.” He looked down at the redhead. “We’re gonna have to move Mulligan.” Gino took a moment to pick the lock on the handcuffs, all the while muttering under his breath about insults.

  “Way to alienate your allies,” God mocked.

  Considering he had been quiet through the whole Gino conversation, I really didn’t need to hear what he was thinking now. “Shut up,” I muttered.

  Gino looked over at me. He thought that I had been telling him to shut up.