The Hitwoman and the Sacrificial Lamb: Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman Book 12

by JB Lynn

  “I could use some more work,” I admitted.

  His gaze narrowed. “Why?”

  I told him about the financial burden involved with my mother’s care.

  “Now that I might be able to help you with,” he said. “Give me a couple of days to think about it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Angel!” he said with a wide grin, letting me know his nephew was approaching. “What brings you back here?”

  “I drove Maggie,” Angel replied as he strolled up to us.

  “Something wrong with your car?” Delveccio asked.

  “Her aunt fell and needed to come to the hospital,” Angel replied smoothly.

  “Chauffeur duties in your job description?” Delveccio teased.

  “Today,” Angel replied easily.

  When Katie was done playing with Dominic, Angel and I took her down to the area where the rest of the family was waiting for news about Aunt Loretta’s surgery.

  Templeton was pacing nervously. Leslie had her body unnaturally contorted in some bizarre yoga position. Susan was staring off into space.

  Only one other person waited in the room, a middle-aged woman who had her head buried in a book of Sudoku puzzles.

  “Anything?” I asked Susan.

  She shook her head. “Not yet.” She looked at Katie dozing off in my arms. “You should get her home.”

  “There’s no car seat in Angel’s truck.”

  “Where’s your car?”

  I hesitated, unwilling to tell her that it was a possible crime scene.

  “I insisted on driving in the middle of all that excitement,” Angel answered smoothly.

  I shot him a grateful look, glad he was following my lead.

  “Well, I can’t leave while Loretta’s in surgery,” Susan said, with a definite edge.

  “I can take her,” Marlene offered, coming up behind us, carrying a tray of cardboard coffee cups.

  “You don’t have a car seat either,” Susan reminded her snippily.

  “I’ll borrow yours.” She gave our aunt a challenging look. “Unless, of course, you don’t trust me to do it.”

  “Marlene is an excellent driver,” Leslie interjected, unfurling herself from Twisted Pretzel or whatever the hell it was she’d been doing. “I taught her to drive myself.”

  “You were probably high,” Susan snapped.

  Sudoku lady gasped.

  “You’re probably right,” Leslie agreed easily. “Yet, despite that handicap, Marlene managed to pass her driver’s test on the first try.” She looked at me meaningfully.

  “I can’t help it that I can’t parallel park for shit,” I said for the benefit of Angel and the woman who’d abandoned her puzzles and was hanging on every word of the conversation.

  “So I contend that Marlene is an excellent driver,” Leslie concluded.

  “Just like Raymond,” my sister quipped.

  Angel chuckled and Sudoku giggled at the movie reference.

  Susan looked to me, making it clear that the decision to entrust my niece’s care to my sister was my responsibility.

  I glanced at Marlene who was chewing her lower lip nervously, afraid I’d say no.

  “Thanks, Marlene. I really appreciate it,” I told her and was rewarded with a big grin.

  “I really am a good driver,” she assured me, reaching for our niece.

  I nodded. “Marlene’s going to take you home, Katie,” I told the sleepy girl.

  She moved easily into my sister’s arms.

  “You won’t regret this, Maggie,” Marlene pledged, tears shining in her eyes.

  “I know,” I assured her. “Thanks for doing this. You’re a lifesaver.”

  Angel and I walked her out to Aunt Susan’s car, made sure that Katie was properly buckled in, and waved them off.

  “I’m proud of you,” Angel said as we walked toward his truck.

  I looked up at him.

  “You asked for help, gave up control and trusted someone. There may be hope for you after all.” He opened the passenger door for me and waited beside it as I climbed in.

  “I didn’t realize you thought I was a hopeless case.”

  “I’ve worried,” he admitted in a strange voice.

  I turned to look at him. Because of the height of the seat where I perched, we were at eye level. “Worried about what?”

  Reaching out, he gently brushed a stray strand of hair off my cheek. The intimate act made me want to lean into him, to find out how else he could pamper me.

  “I worry that the stress of your family is too much for you sometimes,” he whispered. “I want to help shoulder some of that burden. All you have to do is ask…or not even ask, just allow me to.”

  It was a tempting offer. One that Patrick couldn’t make.

  One that I wasn’t sure I was prepared to accept.

  “Are you sure you’re not transferring your family issues to me?” I asked gently.

  Surprise, annoyance and acceptance flickered across his face. “I’m sure I am.”

  He closed my door and took his time walking over to the driver’s side.

  I let out a shaky breath, wondering if I’d just blown things with him. I didn’t know what I’d do if he quit and moved out of the B&B. Not only was he great with Katie, but I’d come to rely on his support.

  “I didn’t mean--” I began to apologize as he climbed into the truck.

  “You’re right,” he interrupted. “I’ve unfairly compared you to the women in my family who haven’t been able to cope with stress. I apologize.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.”

  “Neither do you,” he assured me before starting to drive to The Corset.

  When we arrived, we both noticed the dark sedan parked beside my car in the otherwise empty lot.

  “Do you know who that is?” Angel asked, stopping across the lot and killing the headlights.

  “No.” I tensed, wondering what trouble the other car’s owner was going to cause.

  “We should call the cops,” Angel said, putting the car into park.

  For once, I agreed with him.

  Chapter Twenty

  He reached for his phone just as someone climbed out of the mystery car and began to circle mine, examining it.

  “Don’t call,” I said sharply.

  He looked at me questioningly.

  “I know who it is. It’s okay. And he’s a cop.”

  Angel squinted at the man by my car.

  “That’s Detective Mulligan,” I told him.

  “Of course it is,” he muttered, putting the phone away, flicking on the lights and driving up to the parked vehicles.

  My stomach tensed at the idea of the two men facing off. I did not feel like playing referee with everything else going on.

  Patrick eyed the truck suspiciously as we approached.

  As soon as it stopped, I hopped out and called cheerily, “Detective Mulligan.”

  “Miss Lee,” he replied, shielding his eyes against the glare of the headlights to see who was behind the steering wheel.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I was driving past and noticed a lone car in the lot,” he lied smoothly for Angel’s benefit as the former sailor got out of his truck.

  “You just happened to be driving past?” Angel challenged. “You seem to do that a lot when it comes to Maggie.”

  Patrick’s gaze flicked to me, and then back to Angel.

  The air practically vibrated with the tension between them.

  Having two men glowering at one another over me was both flattering and anxiety inducing.

  “Loretta hurt herself earlier and Angel gave me a ride to the hospital,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Cuz he’s a stand-up kind of guy,” Patrick murmured.

  I half expected him to flash his badge at the mobster’s nephew.

  Angel crossed his arms over his chest, but didn’t respond.

  “She was chasing after a robber,” I continued
doggedly.

  “Did you file a police report?” Patrick asked, pinning me with his gaze.

  “That’s not the report she should file,” Angel interjected.

  Patrick swung his gaze over to the other man. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “She got a death threat.”

  Patrick’s posture shifted. Suddenly he was no longer interested in sparring. “What happened?”

  Shooting Angel a dirty look, I grudgingly told the redhead about the rearview mirror.

  “Let me take a look,” Patrick ordered.

  I unlocked the car. He leaned in and examined the mirror.

  He backed out and frowned. “There’s nothing there.”

  “There has to be.” I pushed past him, dove in the car, and stared at the reflective glass. There wasn’t even a smudge on it. “I don’t understand it. It was there. Angel saw it too.”

  “I believe you,” Patrick said quietly.

  “I don’t understand,” I repeated, climbing out of the car.

  “Someone’s playing mind games with you,” Patrick said grimly. “I can take a report, but with no evidence…”

  My phone buzzed. Glancing at the display I saw it was Marlene calling. “I have to take this.”

  Patrick nodded.

  “Hey, Marlene.”

  “You’ve got to help me.” Desperation oozed from every syllable my sister spoke.

  My heart plummeted, my throat constricted and acid pooled in my gut. Had leaving Katie in her care been a mistake? Had something terrible happened to them?

  “Help me,” Marlene pleaded.

  “What’s wrong?” I managed to choke out.

  Angel moved closer to me, offering support.

  Patrick’s gaze narrowed, but he didn’t move or say anything.

  “I can’t find Katie’s princess nightgown.”

  I hung my head in relief.

  “What is it?” Angel whispered.

  Looking up, I found him looming over me, worry glittering in his eyes. “She just can’t find Katie’s nightgown.”

  “Not just!” Marlene shrieked, causing me to yank the phone away from my ear. “She’s refusing to go to bed without it. This is terrible. Terrible, I tell you.”

  I sighed at my sister’s melodramatics. “She’s a kid,” I reminded my sister gently. “It’s really not terrible.”

  “It is,” Marlene wailed. “If Aunt Susan comes home and finds out I wasn’t even able to put her to bed, she’ll never trust me to take care of her. You saw how she was at the hospital.”

  She had a point. Susan abhorred what she considered to be irresponsibility.

  I looked from Angel to Patrick and decided that Marlene’s dilemma might be the solution to keeping the two men apart.

  “Hang on a sec,” I told my sister. I looked to Angel who was watching me intently. “I hate to ask…” I began, feeling like a heel for using our earlier conversation against him this way, “but I need your help. Would you mind going back to the B&B and helping Marlene find Katie’s nightie?”

  A less secure man might have bristled at the idea of being dispatched for such a frivolous errand, but not Angel. “I don’t mind, but I don’t think you should stay here alone.”

  “I’ll give Detective Mulligan whatever information he needs about my car and then--”

  “And a report about that robbery,” Patrick interrupted.

  I glanced at the redhead, but his professional veneer was firmly in place. “And the robbery report,” I agreed. “Then I’ll go straight home.”

  Angel still didn’t look convinced.

  “I’ll make sure she gets there,” Patrick said matter-of-factly.

  Angel stared at him for a long moment.

  “Please,” I begged. “If Marlene and Aunt Susan end up in a fight on top of everything else that’s going on, life will be miserable for everyone.”

  Angel nodded slowly. He’d spent enough time with my family to know that was true.

  “Okay, I’ll go, but you be careful.” He nodded curtly at Patrick. “Detective.”

  Patrick and I watched as he got in his truck and drove away.

  “That guy always seems to be around,” Patrick complained.

  “He could say the same about you. Do you want to do this out here or should we go inside the shop?”

  “Shop’s good.”

  “I might know how to kill Lamb,” we said simultaneously as we crossed the parking lot.

  We both stopped and looked at each other.

  “You first,” we both said at the same time.

  We smiled and started walking again.

  “Ladies first,” Patrick offered.

  “I need a chicken costume.”

  He glanced at me sharply.

  I knew from his expression he was wondering whether the latest stress had pushed me over the edge of sanity.

  “To get close to Lamb,” I explained. “I need a chicken costume to get close to him.”

  “Does he have some kind of chicken fetish?”

  I looked at him askance. “What kind of person would have a chicken fetish?”

  “I don’t know. Someone who’d shoot up a playground?”

  I shrugged, fumbling with Loretta’s keys to the shop. There were more than a dozen on her key ring and I didn’t know which fit the door. I made a mental note to ask Angel how he’d managed to figure it out so quickly when he’d locked up the shop.“Maybe, but that’s not why I want it.”

  Patrick sighed. The kind of sigh that indicated that he was quickly losing patience. “I know I’m going to kick myself for asking, but why do you want a chicken costume?”

  “To get close to him. There’s a barbecue place across the courthouse.”

  “Rodizio.”

  “What?”

  “Rodizio. Portuguese barbeque. They--”

  “They have people handing out samples,” I interrupted, not needing a lecture about barbeque. “And they’re dressed as barnyard animals. Hence, my need to be a chicken.”

  I finally found the right key and felt the door unlock.

  “Unless,” I said, pulling the door open, “you have a better plan.”

  I stepped inside, followed closely by Patrick. The door swung shut behind us. The store was dark except for the display of glow-in-the-dark condoms.

  “Let me just find the light switch.” Reaching through the shadows, I was caught off-balance when Patrick snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me against him.

  “Leave the light,” he ordered gruffly.

  “But--”

  He silenced me with a kiss that curled my toes. I forgot about the light as he slipped a hand beneath my shirt, branding my ribcage with the heat from his hand.

  I’m not sure how long we stood there in the dark, pressed against one another, tongues dueling, hands grabbing, but I was hot and breathless by the time we jumped apart after God shouted, “Get a room!” from his hiding space between my breasts.

  He’d been so quiet for so long that I’d totally forgotten he was there.

  “You’re a grown woman,” the reptile lectured. “You shouldn’t be playing grab-ass like a hormonal teenager.”

  “Lizard,” I gasped as an explanation to Patrick as to why it suddenly sounded like I was squeaking.

  “Peanuts,” Patrick panted.

  I was glad it was dark, because he couldn’t see the terrible face I made. I have nothing against pet names, but I had no desire to be a legume.

  “Peanuts,” he said again.

  Pulling away from him, I fumbled for the light switch. “What?” I asked as though I was deafened by the darkness instead of blinded. Finding the switch, I flooded the shop with fluorescent lighting.

  Blinking, Patrick shielded his eyes. “I think we can kill him with peanuts.”

  “Oh,” I said, relieved he wasn’t calling me a nut.

  “He’s severely allergic.”

  “That’s great.” My mind whirled. “If we could lace a barbeque sample with
it…”