Maggie Lee | Book 24 | The Hitwoman Plays Games

by Lynn, JB

  “You don't have to explain yourself, sugar,” Piss purred.

  I glanced over at her. She had been the one clever enough to yell “shotgun” first, so was in the passenger seat while the dog and pig were in the rear.

  “Just do what makes you happy,” Matilda suggested from the back.

  “Happy as a pig in—” God groused.

  “Happy! Happy! Happy!” Benny interrupted from the cup holder that he was curled up in.

  I was starting to regret my decision to bring so many chaperones.

  “He's a career criminal,” God continued, unfazed by the interjections of the other animals. “Do you have daddy issues?”

  “Well,” I muttered, “considering I, too, have become a criminal, I guess I'm following in his footsteps.”

  “You,” God said sternly, “are not a criminal.”

  “Sorry?” I squeezed the steering wheel. “Have you met me? I kill people. I steal things. I break into places. I am the very definition of a criminal.”

  “And yet you do it all for no personal gain,” God felt the need to point out.

  “Face it, Maggie,” Piss added. “You're just a good person who does bad things for the right reasons.”

  “You saved me, saved me, saved me,” Benny chimed in.

  “The rodent has a point,” God admitted. “You did save him.”

  “And you saved me,” Piss said, reaching out to knead my thigh softly with her claws.

  “Me and!” DeeDee barked.

  I wasn't sure whether I'd saved DeeDee, or she'd saved me, when I'd met her in my attempt to kill Gary the Gun.

  “And we all know you saved Matilda's bacon,” God joked.

  “Not funny,” Matilda squealed. “But true,” she grunted grudgingly.

  “You like to see yourself as a killer,” God lectured, “but you're a savior. You became a killer in order to save Katie.”

  I didn't answer him, I just focused on the road ahead, holding on to the steering wheel for dear life.

  “And you can help Griswald save this kid,” God pointed out. “If only you can get over your misguided notion that you’re some kind of screw up.”

  My gaze slid over to where he was on the dashboard. “You think so?”

  “I know it.” He waved his tail for emphasis. “You’re acting like all you do is let people down, but the truth is, you come through for those you love and those you don’t even know. Look at Boyd and his mother. Stop painting yourself as a villain and see yourself as the heroine we all know you are.”

  “Do it! Do it! Do it!” Benny urged.

  “Do it,” God said tiredly. “If only to make your personal cheering section stop.”

  We arrived at the ice cream shop that Gino had given me the address of. There was a time in my life when I enjoyed the cold creamy goodness of ice cream, but then I'd dealt with a man who'd churned bodies into soft serve, and the frozen treat had lost some of its allure.

  The sight of Gino sitting outside on a bench, waiting, made my stomach churn. I wasn’t sure if that was due to fear or anticipation.

  Trying to calm my nerves, I sat there for a second and lowered all the windows in case I needed my chaperones to leap out and save me. Before I climbed out of the car, God ran up my arm and dove into my bra so that I didn’t go alone.

  Gino smiled and waved as he saw me approach. I didn't know if that was genuine, or some sort of cover, that we were acting like we were friends. Not that we aren't friends, but how I act in public with people that I have some criminal connection with is always a tricky thing. Delveccio and I went through a period where all we did was eat chocolate pudding together. I kind of miss those days.

  “You want something to eat?” Gino asked, jerking his thumb in the direction of the ice cream shop.

  I shook my head. “No thanks.”

  I must’ve made a face because he chuckled and winked at me. He, too, knew about the churning of bodies in soft serve. “How are you?” He patted the seat next to him, and I perched on the edge, ready to flee at any moment.

  “I'm fine,” I replied softly.

  “What's wrong?” he asked, leaning closer to me so he could get a better look at my face.

  His gaze searched mine with an intensity that stole my breath, and I had to remind myself to breathe before I could say anything. “Nothing,” I practically gasped.

  “You said, ‘I'm fine’,” he quoted. “It's been my experience that when a woman says that, a man's in a lot of trouble. Are you mad at me about something?”

  I shook my head. If he had this kind of effect on me with just a look, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle it if this turned out to be a date. Maybe I should’ve stayed in the car.

  “Because if this is about me keeping an eye on that brother of yours, I’m just doing my job.”

  “You could have told me he’s dating Doctor Yes,” I muttered, remembering that the bodyguard had not revealed that my half-brother Ian was dating a medical examiner who happened to moonlight as a mob doc on the side.

  “I did say you should meet her,” Gino reminded me.

  “I’d already met her when she was administering to Angel’s wound,” I countered. “What if when I’d seen her with Ian, I’d blurted out something that blew her cover…or mine? You should have warned me.”

  Gino sat back in his seat, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared out at the parking lot, specifically in the direction of my car.

  Piss was lying on the roof, DeeDee had her head out the driver’s window, and I could see Matilda’s snout poking out the rear.

  “I don’t think you fully appreciate the tightrope I walk when it comes to you, Maggie,” Gino said quietly.

  “Oh yeah?”

  He looked over at me. “My loyalty lies with the family I work for, not yours.”

  “I understand.”

  “I doubt that,” he muttered. “So that’s what you’re upset about, the doc?”

  I shook my head. “I just don't know what I'm doing here.”

  Gino looked away again. “The boss has a job for you.”

  “Oh.” I wasn't sure if I was glad that this was a job assignment or disappointed that it wasn't our promised date. Though, if it had been a date, it hadn’t gotten off to an auspicious start.

  “It's a stupid job,” Gino opined.

  I glanced over at him sharply. I didn't think I'd ever heard him say anything negative about his bosses, the Delveccio brothers. “Really?”

  He nodded emphatically and cracked his knuckles for emphasis. “Dumb and dangerous.”

  “Did you want to tell me about it?” I invited.

  “They…he,” Gino corrected, “wants you to steal a Skee-Ball.”

  I knew well the mobsters’ love of the arcade game, Skee-Ball. Even though the request sounded strange, it wasn't totally out of left field.

  “He lost it,” Gino said, rolling his eyes. “He wants it back.”

  “If he lost it,” I said, confused, “how does he expect me to find it?”

  I had found a skull that had belonged to him recently, but I’d had a clue as to where to start to look for it. Namely, that my dad had stolen it, my half-brother Ian had found it, and Zippy (while possessed) had buried it.

  “The Skee-Ball’s not lost, lost.” Gino steepled his fingers together and stared at them. “It was stolen by some bum.”

  I’d been to the warehouse where the arcade was set up and it was in a pretty sketchy neighborhood, so that made some sense.

  “But he knows who received the stolen property,” Gino added.

  “Oh,” I said, relieved. “So he knows where it is.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “And he wants me to steal it back for him?”

  Gino glanced over at me. “He wants us to steal it back.”

  “Us?” My voice cracked. I pointed back and forth between us. “Like, you and me?”

  Gino nodded.

  I frowned. Delveccio had paired me with Patrick on more than one occasion
, but he had never assigned me to work with Gino. I wondered if that meant that he no longer trusted me.

  “You don't have to look so unhappy about it,” Gino said. “I'm not that bad to work with.”

  I shook my head and leaned back into my seat. “It's not that.”

  “And it's not that the boss doesn't trust you,” Gino said, rolling his eyes.

  Startled that he'd seemingly read my thoughts, I turned to face him. “Really?”

  “Really,” Gino replied. “It's a two man…excuse me, two-person job.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him why the second person wasn't Patrick Mulligan, my usual partner in crime, but I decided to keep that thought to myself.

  Except it's useless to do that kind of thing around Gino, because he looked at me and said, “The redhead is on another job.”

  “Oh.”

  He patted my knee. “It won’t be that bad working with me.”

  I knew he meant it to be a reassuring gesture, but as soon as he touched me, an energy swelled between us, the kind that made my cheeks grow warm as blood flow deserted my brain and flooded other areas of my body.

  I could tell by the unnatural stillness that overcame Gino that he felt it, too.

  My mouth suddenly dry, I gulped nervously.

  He left his hand on my knee as he stared out at the parking lot, shaking his head. It felt like his palm was scalding my skin through my jeans.

  “We’ll get through this,” he murmured, moving his hand to his own knee. He stood up without looking at me. “I’ll be in touch.”

  My body was still reverberating from the contact, and I almost missed the last thing he said as he walked away.

  “Try to stay out of trouble until then.”

  4

  When I got back to Herschel's place, I released the animals from the car and went searching for Griswald. He wasn't in the house, despite the fact his car was in the driveway, so I began searching the grounds.

  “Hey, toots!” a voice called from above.

  I looked up and smiled at Mike, the crow, who was in a nearby tree, preening his feathers.

  “Hi, Mike.”

  “I got something for Katie,” the bird announced. He was always gathering shiny things, like bits of string and the pull tabs of cans, for her.

  “She should be out of school in another hour or so.”

  “You humans and your obsession with time,” he cawed.

  I shrugged. “Okay,” I told him. “She should be out soon.”

  “Better,” he said. “Have you heard anything about the boy?”

  I shook my head. I hadn't heard anything or seen Boyd, who had shot Mike with a BB gun, ever since I'd handed his mother over to Ms. Whitehat and her shadowy organization. I knew the bird had a soft spot for the child. He seemed to have a particular affection for children in general.

  “I’d tell you if I did.”

  He bowed his head in acknowledgement.

  “Do you know where Griswald is?” I asked.

  “He's at the creek.”

  I squinted at him. “There's a creek?”

  “It's not far,” the crow said. “Follow me.” With that, he took off, leaving the branch he was resting on and zipping into the woods.

  I hurriedly followed.

  “What are you going to tell him?” God asked, pulling himself to ride on my shoulder.

  “I'm going to tell him yes,” I said breathlessly, painfully aware that I was out of shape as the bird flew quickly ahead.

  “Maybe he'll convince you to do some physical conditioning as part of your new job duties,” the lizard suggested, practically needing to shout to be heard over my labored breathing. “I would have thought that you’d have taken RV’s healthy example of training to heart. She at least is a regular exerciser.”

  For a split second, I had a moment of panic and stumbled. I was so worried that the remnants of my grandmother's evil influence were still affecting the little guy that I barely stayed upright.

  Once I caught myself, I paused, bent over, gasping for air.

  “Then again,” God murmured, “you'd never leave everybody in the middle of the night like she did.”

  His acknowledgment of one of my better qualities allayed my fears.

  “I'm sure she had her reasons,” I said as I started moving again and immediately tripped over a root.

  “You still coming?” Mike asked from above.

  “Slow down, Mike,” I requested with exasperation. “You know I can’t keep up with you.”

  The bird landed on the ground in front of me and tilted his head to the side. “Would you like me to hop instead?”

  “That would be great,” I said, figuring it would be easier to follow him at that pace.

  He hopped along at a much more reasonable rate of speed and I followed, catching my breath. By the time Griswald came into sight, I was no longer huffing and puffing. I still, however, am a klutz and I stepped on a stick, causing it to crack like a gunshot.

  Griswald's head snapped around at the sound. “Maggie. I didn’t know anyone else knew about this spot.”

  “Sorry to intrude,” I murmured, suddenly realizing that he’d probably come here because the quiet offered a welcome respite from the craziness of the house.

  “You just surprised me,” he replied easily. “What’s up?”

  I took a deep breath and said, “Yes,” ignoring the small part inside me that still wasn’t sure about the job.

  A slow smile spread across the U.S. Marshal’s face. “Yes?”

  I nodded as I moved closer. “I decided and my answer is yes. I’ll help you with the kid.”

  “Excellent,” he said. “Now we just have to get you the job.”

  “About that, it’s not going to be a long-term thing, is it?” I asked worriedly. The idea of working at the game center, with flashing lights and screaming children amped up on sugar, seemed like its own special kind of hell.

  “It shouldn't.” He gazed at me curiously. “What changed your mind?”

  I couldn't very well tell him that my discussion with the animals about how I really wasn't as bad a person as I sometimes think I am, and that I do save lives, had impacted my thinking. I shrugged. “I just needed a little while to figure things out.”

  “Don’t we all,” he muttered.

  I squinted at him. “Is something else bothering you?”

  He shook his head and I wasn't sure I believed him, but if the man didn't want to confide, I wasn't going to push the matter.

  “So this kid…” I began.

  “Alicia,” he supplied helpfully.

  “So this Alicia,” I started again. “What's the plan for her?”

  “We grab her at the game center and ferry her away to safety to her mother,” Griswald replied confidently.

  “You make it sound easy,” I told him.

  “It should be.”

  I picked up a stone and threw it into the gurgling creek. If there was one thing I knew for sure, it’s that nothing is ever easy.

  5

  When I'd finished my conversation with Griswald, I went and peeked in on Katie's lesson. She was hanging on every word of her teacher and didn't even realize I had opened the door at the back of the room to check on her. I flashed Miss Lassalan a thumbs-up, not wanting to interrupt their flow, and backed out.

  “You forgot my apple, didn't you?” Irma huffed as I made my way out.

  “I haven't even been back inside the house since I saw you last,” I apologized. To make it up to her, I went and scratched behind her ears.

  That's what I was doing when I heard his voice. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but suddenly I was listening to a conversation that Templeton was having on his phone.

  “I understand,” he told the other person. “I'm good for it.”

  In the pause, I wondered if I should make my presence known to him. Before I could even clear my throat, alerting him that I was there, he muttered, “He's a dead man.”

  I sucked
in a breath, hearing the animosity in his tone. He was already moving away, as he said, “Yeah.”

  I gave Irma one last pat and crept out to the edge of the barn, trying to get a look at him. Like me, Templeton isn't exactly a straight arrow. But I'd had the impression that he'd given up most of his criminal ways when Aunt Loretta got her hooks into him. His conversation once again filled me with doubts about his trustworthiness.

  He was out of sight, but Armani caught me looking.

  “Over here, chica,” she yelled, waving with her good arm for me to join her on the front porch.

  Sighing, I crossed slowly toward her, hoping that she wasn't going to pull me further into this mess Loretta had with the chiropractors. Armani was a part owner of The Corset now and I was sure she approved of my aunt’s unconventional marketing technique.

  “Pull,” she said.

  She pulled out a purple silk lingerie bag, gave it a shake so that the tiles inside rattled against each other, and waited expectantly.

  “You got a new container,” I said as I reached into the bag and pulled out seven Scrabble tiles.

  “I picked it up at the shop,” she said. “You like it?”

  I looked at the kitten pattern printed on it and shrugged.

  I laid out the seven tiles, face up across my palm in alphabetical order, and held them out for her to see.

  She read them aloud. “F I L H S T U.”

  We both considered them for a long moment. Even though I wasn't a fan of Armani’s method for predicting the future, her Scrabble tiles seem to have a certain accuracy. They almost always gave me information that was useful in a crisis moment.

  “I got it!” Armani cried.

  “Oh,” God drawled as he climbed up onto my shoulder. “This should be good.”

  “What did he say?” my friend asked about the lizard.

  “He can't wait to hear what you come up with,” I said with way more enthusiasm than he had offered. It wasn't exactly a lie.

  “It's a good one,” Armani said, clasping her good hand around her injured one.

  “Well,” I asked with a tight smile, knowing that whatever came out of her mouth was probably not going to be accurate, “do you want to tell me what it is?”