3 The Housewife Assassin's Killer Christmas Tips

by Josie Brown

  Beside him is a golf bag, which, I presume, holds the shoulder launcher with a missile.

  Hopefully, not two.

  I blow Santa a kiss. He gives me a thumbs-up in return.

  Now I pray the drunk bastard gets out of the way, so I can do my job.

  “Arnie, Carl is on top of the billboard, on the north side of the runway, where it dead ends onto Aviation Boulevard,” I yell frantically. “I’m going to climb up after him!”

  “I’ll get there as soon as I can,” he screams back in my ear.

  Carl is too busy getting into position to notice me climbing up the billboard ladder. By the time I get onto the safety ledge, he’s down on one knee, and has the missile launcher on his shoulder. In less than a minute, Air Force One will be on top of us.

  He hears the click of my Glock. “Put it down, Carl.”

  Yes, he recognizes my voice.

  I’m happy to say that he’s surprised to see me.

  I’m not happy that he waves me away, as if I’m a pest or something.

  As if I’m the wife he could simply walk away from.

  “Donna, babe, you’re just in time to see me make history.” He doesn’t even turn around.

  When will he learn I shouldn’t be ignored?

  Maybe the bullet I put between his shoulder blades is the hint he’s needed all along that he should pay more attention to me.

  This time, I don’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

  I do it for his desertion of me, and our children.

  I do it for the betrayal of our country.

  I do it because he took Jack from me.

  He gets the message. Sort of. When the bullet hits him, he bucks forward—

  But he doesn’t fall over.

  Instead, he straightens out and turns toward me. “Naughty girl. That would have hurt more, if I hadn’t been wearing this.”

  He unzips his overalls to his waist. He’s got a thin vest underneath. He smiles at my shock and awe. “It’s the latest in bullet-proof attire.” He turns sideways. “. It’s supposed to be slimming, but I dunno. What do you think? At this angle, does it make me look fat?”

  I cock my head to one side. “Just between the ears.”

  He shrugs. “Says you. Bottom line, it does the trick. Works like Kryptonite against Batman.”

  “Superman,” I correct him.

  He shrugs. “Yeah, what ev.” I don’t like the way he’s walking toward me. “Am I your Superman, baby? Huh? Now that your little fanboy, Jack, has bit the dust?”

  That’s it. He’s not expecting a kick to the groin.

  Or, when he doubles over, I bring home my point with an elbow to the neck.

  I’m just about to pick up the missile launcher when I fall to my knees. He’s grabbed me by the ankles and is pulling me toward him. I claw at the floor, but it’s useless. He’s much stronger than me, and soon he’s got me in his arms—

  But not for long. As he rolls me off the side of the platform, he murmurs, “Why couldn’t you just get over me?”

  Over you?

  Screw that!

  Okay, yeah, I am so over you.

  I’m not falling and breaking my neck from a sixty-foot drop. While I catch hold of the safety rail and hold on for dear life, Carl grabs the missile launcher, rights himself, and points it toward Air Force One, which is now almost over our heads.

  “Carl, please don’t,” I cry. “Think of our children.”

  My plea stops him just for a moment—

  And then I see Drunk Santa, standing behind Carl.

  What the hell is he doing here?

  This one, very slim, very precious moment is all Drunk Santa needs in which to pull out a gun and shoot Carl in the leg.

  “Ow! Shit! Ow! What the—” Carl’s howl pierces the air. “Santa Claus? Really?”

  Santa shakes his head. “No. Not really.” He pulls off his beard—

  Jack.

  Then he shoves Carl off the safety ledge.

  The next thing I know, Jack has lifted me over the rail, and into his arms.

  I cling to him because I never want to let go.

  I guess he understands this, because he whispers, “Don’t worry. I’ll never leave you again.”

  Best. Christmas. Gift. Ever.

  Chapter 20

  Christmas Miracles

  There is nothing wrong in believing in miracles. In fact, the preferred time of year for witnessing one is Christmas! Otherwise, no need to practice peace on earth, and goodwill toward men.

  Especially when clawing your way out of a catfight on Aisle Nine at Wal-Mart, over the last set of Christmas lights.

  By their nature, miracles work in mysterious ways. For example, your toaster may burn the image of the three kings on a piece of toast. Or all of a sudden you may notice the birthmark on your inner thigh has taken on the likeness of the Virgin Mary.

  Should you be dumb enough to show it to everyone you know, expect a lot of patronizing remarks from the jaded.

  The real miracle is how fast you’re able to change their mind. All it takes: a bang to the head with a blunt instrument. Afterward, they’ll see visions, too!

  The sun is now so low in the sky that it seems like twilight, even at two in the afternoon.

  When you’re spending the afternoon in bed, does it really matter?

  Ryan made it to LAX just as the ambulance was leaving to take Carl to the emergency room. His fall was broken by a row of scrub bushes underneath the billboard. According to the med techs who took him to the emergency room, he’ll be in traction for at least a month.

  That’s the least of his worries. He’ll be in prison for the rest of life.

  I don’t think I’ll have trouble getting him to sign the divorce papers now that he knows how I really feel.

  Jack refused to answer any questions until now, which was fine with me. Once again, my mother’s motto applies: action speaks louder than words.

  Jack’s actions began with kisses that started on my lips, but soon roamed down my neck, around my shoulders, down my spine to the small of my back. From there, his hands took over.

  But not for very long. Only until I was moist and aching for him.

  There is no greater bliss than feeling him inside me.

  “So how did you do it?” I finally ask, raising my head off Jack’s chest to look him in the eye. “And more to the point, why?”

  “You mean, why did I play dead?” He pushes himself up, so that he can look down at me, too. The adoration in his eyes still makes me blush. “Ryan couldn’t figure out why the Quorum was always one step ahead of us. As much as we wanted to believe she wasn’t the leak, Ryan felt we needed to test Valentina’s validity as a double.”

  “But you didn’t doubt her.”

  I’m not asking a question, but making a declaration. We both know it.

  Jack nods. “I wasn’t keeping her in the loop on everything, so there had to be another leak. At the same time, Carl was getting suspicious of Valentina’s comings and goings, so that sealed our resolve to keep her on a need-to-know basis, or feed her misinformation.”

  “Jack, tell me. How did you get out of the blast?”

  He laughs. “I was never in it, in the first place. During Arnie’s tech prep around Unit 121, he noticed a thin wire under the threshold of the door. It tipped him off that it might be a bobby trap, and he called Ryan.”

  I shake my head in wonder. “Smart boy.”

  Jack nods. “You can say that again. Ryan sent me on an errand that afternoon, remember? Well, Arnie went with me. By working out of Unit 123, we were able to get into 121, plant a tracker within the MANPAD case, and replace the missile with a dud. What we weren’t counting on was the backup missile Carl had with him, or the fact that he’d replace the MANPAD case with something less noticeable, like a golf bag.”

  “Yeah, well, Carl was once an Eagle Scout. He always comes prepared for emergencies.” I shiver. “So, Houdini, how did you do it?”

  “Do what?
”

  “Don’t be such a tease. How did you get into Unit 121?”

  “Simple enough. The ceiling tiles are the cheap kind that slide from side to side. I went up and over. Because of what Carl told Valentina, we had to make our move prior to eight o’clock, which was when he was expecting us to try to break in. Arnie rigged the knob so that it could be opened by remote control. At eight o’clock, when I returned with you, I went out the back door. I pulled the trigger from down the block.”

  “I still don’t understand why you couldn’t have let me in on the secret, Jack.”

  “Believe me, Donna. I hated the fact I had to keep it from you. But I was never too far away.”

  “Oh my God! You were the Santa who followed me into the church, weren’t you?”

  He nods. “I heard your prayers. Donna, you don’t realize how hard it was for me to keep silent. I wanted so badly to tell you I was fine. That I’d always be here, for you.”

  His eyes seek out mine. They are darkened with emotion.

  He means what he says. Always and forever.

  He strokes my hand with his finger. “But if Carl had even an inkling I was still alive and the MANPAD was anything but secure, we would’ve never pulled it off.” He pulls me close. “We didn’t figure out how he knew so much until it occurred to me that he probably left a gift under the tree for you as well.”

  I think back about my confrontation with Carl. “But he didn’t! The gifts were for the kids.”

  He smiles slyly. “Which reminds me. Did you open my Secret Santa present to you?”

  I shake my head, ashamed. “I couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. I wouldn’t have been able to hold myself together.”

  “Why don’t you do it now?”

  Naked, I run to my dresser, where I left his gift. I slide off the ribbon, tear off the paper, and pull off the lid of the box.

  My gift is a snow globe holding a tiny version of our house, white picket fence and all.

  “It’s…it’s beautiful!”

  “I had it custom-made, from a picture of the house. I know you love your snow globe collection, so I thought I was being clever.” He shrugs. “But then Trisha walked in on me wrapping it. She told me ‘Santa’ had also left a new snow globe on the mantel, when Carl came bearing gifts. Suddenly it all made sense. But I had to be sure, without tipping my hand to Carl. That’s where Arnie came in.”

  “Arnie? You mean he broke into our house to check out the snow globe?”

  “Yes. Through the dog door.”

  “What? You’re kidding!”

  “Nope. While I kept Rin Tin Tin busy with a steak, Arnie climbed through, with Lassie. All the infrared eyes saw were the hotspots of two creatures on all fours, in the kitchen. Arnie’s improv is phenomenal! I tell you, he missed his calling as an actor.”

  My laughter has me doubling over.

  “From the kitchen, Arnie used a remote signal to rig the snow globe’s feed of an empty room on a loop until he was done with his reconnaissance. He was ice cold when he came out of there because he had to turn the air conditioning up all the way. That way, the sensors wouldn’t pick up his body heat.” He shakes his head in wonder. “Even Arnie’s impressed with the globe’s technology. Talk about a hyper-sensitive surveillance tool! It can hear a whisper from up to five thousand feet away, and is programmed to be voice-sensitive. And besides its hi-def webcam, it’s equipped with a 360-degree infrared eye. If I had hid in the house, he would’ve known it. And if you weren’t crying in your sleep every evening, he’d know that, too.”

  “I was certainly doing that. I’m sure that gave him a cheap thrill.” I close my eyes in disgust. “And you didn’t disarm the snow globe because that would have tipped off the Quorum that we were on to them.”

  “Exactly. Our only alternative was to leave it in place. When the storage unit blew, we took the opportunity to put me in deep cover. It also took the heat off Valentina. With her handler gone, Ryan wanted to see if she’d still be a willing double.”

  I frown. “So, what’s the verdict? Has he heard from her since she blew town?”

  Jack shakes his head. “That could mean a few things. Either she hightailed out of here before Carl caught on, or she didn’t get far enough to get away, and he’s caught up to her.”

  I hesitate, but one of us has to say it. “Or she was acting as a triple agent.”

  For the longest time he says nothing. I know the last thing he wants to accept is that she betrayed him twice.

  “Jack, let’s face it. She almost got you blown up, and she left the note about the decoy at John Wayne Airport!”

  “The misinformation may have been what Carl wanted her to leave behind. Maybe she prepared the second package with the right intel, in order to exchange it after she knew he was no longer watching her.”

  “You want desperately to believe that, don’t you?”

  He doesn’t answer at first. Finally he lets loose with a deep sigh. “I guess we’ll never know now.”

  He nudges me over onto my side. In this position, his arms hold mine to my breasts and his body cups around me, like two spoons in a drawer. Soon I feel his member stiffen along the firm curve of my ass. I pray his desire is stoked by his love of me, as opposed to some woebegone memory of her.

  To ensure all of him is here with me, I parry his thrusts with an abandonment that promises pain and rapture and sorrow, all at once and forever, even after he’s long spent.

  It’s not cruel or unusual, but fateful and intentional.

  It’s called love.

  Afterward, he whispers, “The day of the funeral, Ryan gave me the Secret Santa gift you left for me: the tiny gold key in the heart box. Knowing how you feel about me was what got me through this mission, Donna.”

  I can’t tell him my only solace from his death was knowing he wanted to marry me.

  Not until he proposes again.

  When he does, I’ll say yes, but only if Valentina no longer has a hold on his heart, too.

  I wonder what he’d think if he knew she doesn’t pine for him, but for Carl? I guess I’ll never know, since it’s not my place to tell him. It’s hers.

  I hope she’ll never get that chance, if only because it means he’ll never see her again.

  “Who wants to decorate the tree?” Jack asks the kids, once they are spent from piling on the father they love and missed so much.

  “Finally!” Jeff yells over Trisha’s squeals.

  They run to the hall closet holding the boxes with our ornaments.

  Mary stays put. It’s as if she won’t let go of Jack.

  I know how she feels.

  When finally she pulls back, she warns him, “Don’t ever leave us again.”

  She and I exchange teary smiles. I could not have said it better. We both know this.

  While Sinatra sings Christmas carols over the audio system, Jack and I weave light strands through the tree and Mary, Jeff and Trisha sort through their favorite ornaments. Soon all of us are running back and forth to place them on the tree.

  Finally, Jack takes the angel topper and slides it over the crowning branch.

  It’s easy to talk the children into an early bedtime tonight.

  After placing their gifts under the tree, Jack and I fall into bed, too. But the last thing we’re doing tonight is sleeping.

  Before I finally doze off, I say one more prayer. I ask God to keep us safe.

  To answer all our prayers for peace on Earth, and good will toward men.

  —The End—

  Next up:

  The Housewife Assassin’s

  Relationship Survival Guide (Book 4)

  and

  The Housewife Assassin’s

  Vacation to Die For (Book 5)

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I owe a lot to the following people, whose love and support gives me the courage to write, every day:

  Karin Tabke, who first fell in love with this book, and pushed me (quite adamantly; what are friends for?) to make i
t a priority; Andy Brown, who is a go-to guru for anything technical and metaphysical. Andy, thanks making the virtual a reality; Amy Eye, for her sharp wit and even sharper pen; Austin Brown and Anna Brown, who are my emotional touchstones, in so many ways; my literary agent, Holly Root, my talent agent, Jon Cassir, for their unwavering support on this, and all my projects; Andree Belle, Darien and Don Coleman, Linda May and Ben Brown, and Mario Martinez and Patricia Steadman, who are always there to encourage, nurture and feed me.

  And always last but never least, Martin Brown: you complete me.

  Dear readers: If you liked the story and Donna, I’d be honored to get a review from you! We authors live by them, and they are always appreciated.

  Thank you,

  —Josie Brown

  NOVELS IN THE HOUSEWIFE ASSASSIN SERIES

  The Housewife Assassin’s

  Handbook

  (Book 1)

  Every desperate housewife wants an alias. Donna Stone has one . . . and it happens to be government-sanctioned. But Donna earned it the hard way. her husband was killed the day she delivered their third child. To avenge her husband's murder, Donna leads a secret life: as an assassin. But espionage makes for strange bedfellows, and brings new meaning to that old adage, "Honey, I'm home…"

  The Housewife Assassin’s

  Guide to Gracious Killing

  (Book 2)

  A nuclear arms summit, hosted by a politically connected billionaire industrialist, provides the perfect opportunity for a rogue operative to assassinate the newly elected Russian president, on American soil. Donna Stone’s mission: seek and exterminate the shooter before all hell – and World War III – breaks out. Also on Donna’s to-do list: file for divorce. Throw in a couple of killer playdates and a few naughty neighbors, and you’ve got a whole lot of fun.

  The Housewife Assassin’s

  Killer Christmas Tips

  (Book 3)

  ’Tis the season for murder, mayhem and mistletoe! There will be no peace on Earth if Donna and Jack don’t find a shipping container filled with heat-seeking missiles.