The Hitwoman and the Chubby Cherub

by JB Lynn

  “Come on, Dimwit!” God bellowed at the dog as I half-ran, half-hopped down the remainder of the stairs.

  “I’ll trip him!” Piss yowled.

  A crash and a curse told me that she’d succeeded.

  I dashed out the door with the dog on my heels.

  Limping on my painful ankle, I rushed away, unsure of whether Cupid had seen us.

  “Leave me with the canine,” God ordered when we reached the corner.

  “Why?”

  “Because we need to be sure you’re not being followed. We must be vigilant about guarding the rear flank and I doubt she’s capable of counting to ten, let alone one hundred.”

  Moving the lizard from my shoulder to the dog’s back, I implored, “Be careful.”

  “Too you,” DeeDee responded.

  I lurched away, rounding the corner, leaving them to guard my escape route.

  I got home okay, despite my aching ankle. I waited in the backyard for them, shivering against the cold as the adrenaline that had fueled my flight seeped away. I was cold and tired and needed to relax after a stressful day.

  The animals joined me soon after.

  None of them looked the worst for wear.

  “Thank you,” I said when they arrived, bending over to pet the dog and stroke the cat.

  I opened the envelope. It was empty. I studied the outside and found “516.375 Finsler Geometry” scrawled on the back. I read it aloud.

  “What does that mean?” Piss asked. “Is it code?”

  I shook my head. “I think it means I have to go to the library.”

  “Well that didn’t answer any of our questions,” God groused.

  “No,” I agreed, wondering what I’d find when I followed through on the Dewy Decimal clue. “It didn’t.”

  “Let’s just hope whatever is in the book is worth it,” the lizard said.

  “I hope it is too,” I agreed. “But first I need to take a long, hot bath.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I stowed Belgard’s book, which ended up being a diary with one of those cheesy locks that only seven year olds believe keep secrets safe, under the couch where Piss could easily protect it. At least that’s what God said.

  I changed into a bathrobe, grabbed the bar of vanilla cupcake-scented soap Patrick had given me awhile earlier, and crept upstairs to use the claw-footed tub on the main floor while everyone else slept.

  I filled it with water hot enough to make a lobster scream and climbed in, sinking in up to my chin, letting it chase the chill from my bones. As I watched the steam rise, I focused on slowing my breathing. The heat worked its magic on my tense muscles, relaxing them.

  My ankle throbbed, a nasty bruise bloomed on my arm where my dad had grabbed me, and I was exhausted.

  Feeling like I’d gone ten rounds with the heavyweight champion of the world, I used the soap to scrub away the cares of the day. I hadn’t been overly enthused when Patrick had presented me with the bar, but now, as the sweet aroma filled the air, I thought it was one of the best things I’d ever received.

  I felt calmer than I had in days. “Calm tub,” I murmured, remembering Armani’s psychic Scrabble tile prediction. “Calm tub.”

  The only problem I had was that the soap was disintegrating at an alarming rate. I held the bar up to examine it and realized that there was something dark and rectangular in the center.

  I grinned, realizing Patrick had given me more of a present than I’d realized. No wonder he’d been annoyed I hadn’t used the soap right away.

  Curious about the contents, I broke what remained of the bar in half and retrieved a small aluminum box about the size of a matchbox from the middle.

  While I wanted to know what it contained, I didn’t think I should risk opening it while bathing.

  I laid it carefully on the edge of the tub. I rested the back of my head against the cool porcelain, closed my eyes, and just soaked until the water cooled.

  It wasn’t until I was climbing out of the tub that I tensed again. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I stared at my face, wondering if the brother I’d never known contained any of the same features.

  I wondered why my parents had given him up.

  I wondered who else knew the secret.

  Toweling off, I shrugged myself into my robe and cinched it at the waist. Then I picked up the aluminum box, slid a small tab I found on it, and slid it open. A key clattered onto the bathroom counter. Peering into the box I found a small folded piece of paper. Pulling it out, I found it contained an address.

  That was it. No note. No instructions. Just the key and an address.

  So much for Patrick’s grand romantic gesture.

  I repacked the box and slipped it into the pocket of my robe, turbaned my hair in a towel, and headed for the kitchen to find a snack. Breaking and entering made me hungry.

  I was eating peanut butter off of a spoon when I realized I wasn’t alone.

  Whirling around, I found Angel leaning against the doorway, watching me. For once he wasn’t wearing a Navy shirt. He wasn’t wearing a shirt at all.

  Instead of ogling his body, I forced myself to focus on his face, shadowed with stubble and topped with sleep-tousled hair.

  I swallowed hard. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” his voice was sleepily raspy.

  “Did I disturb you?”

  He shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Trust me, I don’t mind.”

  As I struggled to keep my gaze above his neck, his slowly drifted downward, an appreciative smile playing at his lips.

  I imagined what he was seeing, the cotton fabric plastered to my still-damp body, my skin still pink from the bath, and growing redder with each passing second at his blatant perusal.

  Finally he raised his gaze up to meet mine again. “You did not get that at The Corset.”

  I glanced down and realized the robe I’d chosen was a gift from my friend Alice. As such, it was covered with rainbows and unicorns, a joke between us because she always believes anything is possible.

  It was appropriate for a seven-year-old child, not a grown woman.

  “I know it’s silly, but,” I started to explain.

  “It’s perfect for you,” he interrupted. “Did Armani give it to you?”

  I blinked. “How do you know I didn’t buy it for myself?”

  He shook his head. “Whoever gave that to you was trying to combat your cynicism.”

  “My friend, Alice,” I admitted grudgingly.

  He grinned. “She has exquisite taste.”

  I couldn’t help but grin back. “Peanut butter?” I offered, holding out the jar to him.

  “No thanks. I just wanted to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “Walking out on our conversation earlier.”

  So much had happened since then that it took me a moment to remember he’d been upset when I’d defended my father. “I’d forgotten about it already,” I told him honestly. “And I owe you an apology for accusing you of telling the police where to find us.”

  He shook his head. “It was a logical conclusion.”

  “But it was unfair. You wouldn’t do something like that.”

  Something in his gaze tightened. “Don’t count on that. I’d call the police on my own family if I thought it would help to keep them safe.”

  I frowned. “What do your uncles think of that?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t told them. And I hope you won’t either.”

  “Of course not.”

  We stood there, staring at each other, bound by the strange secret.

  “Thanks,” Angel said softly. Moving closer, he reached across the distance that separated us to brush a stray tendril of hair off my face.

  Every part of my body tensed in response. Suddenly I felt wound tighter than a freshly tuned guitar string.

  My heartbeat galloped, my breath became shallow, and my body had the traitorous desire to sway toward him,
but somehow I managed to not give in to the temptation to let my hands explore the ridges of his naked torso.

  I cleared my throat nervously.

  Reading my reluctance, he took a step back. “How’s the arm?”

  “Okay.” I fought the urge to tug the sleeve down to cover the bruise.

  “Keeping it elevated?” He walked up to me, caught my fingers in his, and lifted my hand, resting my palm against his chest.

  I looked into his face and saw a silent challenge there, as though he knew my internal struggle and was daring me to win it.

  His skin was warm and soft and I could feel his steady heartbeat. I focused on keeping my hand still, fighting the urge to roam over his flesh.

  “Why did you go?” he asked slowly, his gaze boring into mine.

  Considering that most of the blood in my body was rushing to places other than my brain, it was no surprise when I asked, “Go where?”

  “To meet your father.”

  “I wanted to ask him something,” I admitted.

  “What?” He stared into my eyes, making it impossible to look away.

  Snatching my hand back, I whirled around so that my back was to him.

  Most people would have taken the hint that I didn’t want to talk about it, but Angel pressed on.

  “What was so important that you’d put yourself in danger?”

  “I wasn’t in danger.”

  “That’s why the cops showed up?”

  I glared at him over my shoulder. “How do you know that?”

  “Considering the way your wrist is bruised, I’d say you were.”

  I sighed. “It wasn’t like that. We were arguing before the police arrived. Dad was already worked up before they even got there.”

  “What were you arguing about?”

  I shook my head. “Do you go around telling everyone what you fight about with your family?”

  He didn’t answer for a long moment. “If I did that, I’d end up dead,” he admitted quietly.

  He sounded so lonely and forlorn that I found myself turning to face him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  He shook his head. “Not your fault. I was pressuring you. I shouldn’t have done that. Just know that if you ever do want to talk about it, I’m willing to listen.”

  He turned to leave.

  And I found that I really, really wanted to talk about it with someone who only has two legs.

  “Angel?”

  He looked back at me. “Yeah?”

  “Can you keep a secret?” My voice cracked with desperation.

  He turned back around, studying my face. “Like my life depends on it.”

  I nodded, believing him.

  We stared at each other for a long time.

  “Did you want to tell me something?” he finally prodded gently.

  I nodded, unable to speak. Tears began to roll down my cheeks.

  Stepping closer, Angel pulled me into his arms. “It’s okay.”

  With my ear pressed against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and wrapped in the protection of his arms, I almost believed him.

  “Just take a breath and say the words,” he urged.

  I sucked in a shuddering inhalation and whispered, “I found out I have a brother.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I felt lighter when I awoke the next morning, a sensation I attributed to having confided in Angel about my fourth sibling.

  He’d listened carefully to my recitation of events, refrained from asking too many questions, and offered support.

  Then, like a perfect gentleman, he’d walked me to the basement door and urged me to get some sleep.

  I was just about to reach under the couch to retrieve the diary I’d found at Belgard’s house when frantic knocking came from the door that led to the kitchen.

  “Margaret? Margaret?” Susan called. She sounded panicked.

  Worried that something was wrong with Katie, I raced up the stairs and yanked open the door. A move that resulted in my aunt accidentally knocking on my nose.

  “Ow.” I swatted her away. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s someone here to see you,” she whispered.

  “Who?”

  “A forceful woman mumbling about epic revenge.” My normally calm aunt stared at me wide-eyed.

  “Cam,” I deduced.

  “You know this woman?”

  “Sure. She’s helping me with the party for Katie’s class.”

  “And this party involves epic revenge?” Susan asked, clearly startled by the idea.

  I shrugged. “So I’ve heard.”

  “She’s waiting for you in the foyer.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I hurried off to find my party partner.

  Cam winced when she saw me in my rainbow and unicorn robe. “Sorry to wake you, but the early bird gets the worm. Or in this case, the snake.”

  “I was awake,” I told her. “Just hadn’t gotten dressed yet. What’s up?”

  “I brought Katie’s Valentines, but then I was thinking that you probably have enough on your hands just to get her to school, so I’ll drop them off when I drop off mine.”

  “Thank you,” I said with genuine gratitude. With everything else going on I’d sort of forgotten about the details of Katie’s party.

  “No problem.”

  “Let me just run and get my wallet,” I said. “How much do I owe you?”

  “We’ll settle up afterward. You’ve got the ice cream under control?”

  I nodded, even though I didn’t.

  “Great, then I’ll see you after lunch.” Cam grinned at me and flashed a thumbs-up, adding before she left, “Cool duds.”

  --#--

  After getting Katie to school I headed to the address Patrick had supplied in the soap.

  “Hungry,” DeeDee, who was my companion for the morning, complained.

  I stopped and bought her an egg sandwich and got myself a cup of coffee before we reached our destination.

  She wolfed it down while I drove.

  “We’re here,” I announced, parking in front of a run-down shop that appeared abandoned, with peeling paint and boarded up windows.

  “Here?” The dog looked doubtful

  “He sends me to the nicest places.”

  DeeDee and I climbed out of the car and approached the building cautiously. I knocked on the front door, but got no response.

  I tried the key, but it didn’t work.

  Circling around the back, I found another door. This time the key turned. Pushing the door slowly open, I yelled into the shadows, “Hello?”

  There was no response.

  I felt the inside wall and found a light switch, bathing the room in light. I took in a bed, fridge, microwave, table and chairs before I stepped inside. DeeDee pushed past me and began checking the place out by sniffing every nook and cranny.

  “Patrick,” she panted.

  “Yes, he’s the one who sent us.” Closing the door behind me, I stepped deeper into the room.

  “Hey, Mags,” Patrick’s voice boomed. “You used the soap!”

  I jumped, startled by his arrival.

  “I wanted to get you something I thought you could use, but you don’t have,” he continued.

  I looked around, trying to find him, but realized he wasn’t there.

  “So here you go. Your very own safe house, in case you ever need a safe place to hole up…or to go when you need to get away from your family.”

  I located the speaker the recording was coming from and stared at it, figuring out I must have tripped some sort of motion detector that triggered the recording. I wasn’t sure if I found Patrick’s planning creepy or impressive.

  “It’s fully stocked with food, weapons, and olives. I hope you like it. See you soon.”

  The recording ended.

  I just stood there in the center of the room staring at the speaker, trying to figure out how I felt about being given my very own safe house. On one hand, it
was a thoughtful gesture. On the other, it magnified the depth of the dysfunction of my relationship with the sexy redhead.