Kiss Me Deadly

by Susan Kearney

  “Did you complete the job?”

  “Shit, no. You forgot to tell me about the two bodyguards. Took me a while to take them out. The women must have heard the commotion and called the cops. Then the husband came home and to get out of the house, I had to shoot him.”

  “What a fuck-up.”

  “Someone must have figured out where I was going next and warned the cripple and his old lady. They shot at me before I even got inside.” He refrained from mentioning that he’d fired from outside, reluctant to go inside after the previous screw-up.

  “What about Mandy Newman?”

  “I’m not icing her unless you triple my fee.”

  “Listen, you little motherfucker. We had a deal. You can’t change our arrangement.”

  “Damn straight I can. I didn’t figure on bodyguards and cops.”

  “The cops are your fault. You took too long.”

  “Yeah, well, you try taking out two trained bodyguards without making a sound.”

  “You used a silencer?”

  “Does a hooker fuck for cash? Of course I used a muffler, but bodies make noise when they hit the floor.”

  “Has anyone seen you?”

  Nick hesitated. “I’m wearing a disguise. It was dark. By tomorrow my hair will be short and a different color.”

  “You got hit?”

  “Just a scratch, boss.”

  “You leave any blood behind?”

  “That shit don’t matter. They got to match the blood to something, and they ain’t gonna find me if I don’t want to be found.”

  “So far as I can see, you haven’t completed one assignment. Now you want me to pay extra?”

  “This wasn’t a one-person job.” His nose had swelled to twice its size. Tomorrow, he’d have two black eyes. His ear burned. The cripple had blown off the lobe. From the sting, he guessed he’d have to down a shitload of vodka to dull the pain. “I told you this many hits in one night would be tricky.”

  “You told me you could pull it off.”

  “Your pissing info was wrong.”

  “I don’t spoon-feed my—”

  “You said I had to deal with only women, that no one would be armed. Look, the heat is on. If you don’t want to pay my price, find someone else. I’ve had enough of this shit.” Nick was ready to fold for the night.

  But if he didn’t complete the job, word would get out—sure, he’d always find more work—but he might have to lower his asking price, which was never a good thing, especially the way his new lady was hitting him up. She liked pretty things.

  “All right,” he conceded. “I’ll do the lawyer lady for double, not one cent less.”

  “Agreed. This time, don’t fuck up.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  ZACK AND MANDY hadn’t made it out of the restaurant parking lot before his phone rang. “Dana?”

  “Sam’s been shot.”

  Zack’s protective instincts shifted into overdrive. He’d already lost one brother. He couldn’t lose Dana, too. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m on the way to the hospital.”

  “What happened?” Zack asked, then turned to Mandy. “Sam’s been shot.” He put the conversation on speakerphone so she could listen. “Mandy and I can both hear you now.”

  “How are you?” Mandy asked.

  “Mom and I are fine and safe, but our bodyguards are dead.” Her voice trembled, and she sucked in a breath before continuing, “The police are doing their thing, and the press have shown up.” Dana sounded exhausted. After her attack last night and now this one, it was a wonder she could carry on a rational conversation. His sister was one tough lady.

  But neither Sam nor she was equipped to take on trained killers. If her bodyguard was dead, she was vulnerable. So was his mother. “We’ll head over.”

  “No, Zack. Take Mandy to the rental house.” Resignation and weariness flooded Dana’s tone. “The police are protecting us, and there’s nothing here for you to do.”

  “Tell me what happened,” he requested softly, wishing he hadn’t answered the phone so gruffly, wishing she would accept his help.

  “Someone broke into our home. They killed . . . our bodyguards. God . . . those men were so young—” Her voice broke. “Mom’s going to take care of the funeral expenses and help their families out financially.”

  “Good. Have the cops come up with anything?”

  “They haven’t given us any answers yet, but at least the police are keeping the press away.”

  “Where were you and Mom when the bodyguards died?”

  “Eating dinner on my upstairs balcony . . . those men died trying to save us . . .”

  Fear iced through him. His mother and sister had been in the same house with a killer. Likely, they’d been the targets since Catherine and Dana were both lottery winners. Yet, it was Sam who’d been shot. Had the killer intended to go after them all?

  “Dana, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Make sure Mom hires more bodyguards.”

  “But—”

  “I want you both to be as safe as possible.”

  “How badly is Sam injured?” Mandy asked.

  “The paramedics said the bullet went through the fleshy part of his arm. He hurts, but they’ve assured me he’ll be fine. He insisted that I warn you. The shooter might be coming after you next—can you hold on? Sylvia’s calling me.”

  “Sure,” Zack agreed. Sam’s assessment was probably correct. But right now, no one knew where he and Mandy were. Or where they intended to hide. Dana had been at home, a sitting duck, easy to find. Zack would have to make other arrangements for his sister and mother. The firm was going to close so they could all go into hiding. He’d insist.

  “Oh . . . my . . . God.” Dana came back on the line. “Someone just climbed over Sylvia’s fence and shot at them. Ben returned fire and thinks he nicked him. The police are searching the neighborhood as we speak.”

  Mandy’s shoulders sagged as if she couldn’t take any more bad news. “Is Sylvia okay?”

  “She’s fine. I should call Maria. She’s the only one of us who doesn’t yet know what’s happened.”

  “We’ll do it,” Zack offered. “You just take care of Sam and Mom.” Until I get there.

  “Ben thinks the guy is coming after Mandy.” Just let him try, Zack thought as a feral need to protect her hammered through his blood. “Sam told me to tell you to shoot to kill.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  Dana paused, then spoke. “Mandy, there’s one other thing you should know.”

  “What?”

  “The man who shot my husband wore a baseball cap and had stringy blond hair.”

  Mandy’s head jerked up. “You think he’s the same guy who rammed me off the bridge?”

  “Sounds like it, and I don’t think the people we care about are safe, either,” Dana said. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  There was a beat of silence, and Zack waited, knowing more was going on here than he knew.

  Mandy finally shook her head, as if shaking off a daze. “I hear you. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Take care of what?” Zack asked.

  Mandy waved him off. “Not now. What about Sylvia’s trespasser? Did they get a good look at him?”

  A siren in the background blared, and Dana spoke loudly to be heard over the noise. “No.”

  “How far apart do you and Sylvia live?” Zack asked.

  Dana was almost shouting so they could hear her over the siren. “Sam’s shooter fled by boat. It’s possible he left here and went straight to Sylvia’s house. We can call and talk later. You’ve got to warn Maria and her bodyguard.”

  “I’m calling her right now.” Mandy already had her phone o
ut and was dialing. She didn’t reach Maria, but her bodyguard answered and promised he’d stay vigilant.

  Zack was filled with adrenaline with no adversary to punch. At the idea of someone stealing into Dana’s home, attacking her and his mother, his fury escalated. He needed to hide them. But they wouldn’t listen. His mother and sister intended to stay with Sam during his surgery. He didn’t want them alone. Their bodyguards were dead and if the killer returned, the cops might not be enough to protect them. “Dana, we’ll be there in half an hour.”

  “No, Zack. Dylan’s coming over right now and will stay with Mom and me. With the mayor here, the police will be extra vigilant. No one will get past them. Take care of Mandy. Promise me.”

  He’d never heard Dana sound so stubborn, and Zack supposed that Dylan, as Mayor of Tampa, could pull more strings to help Dana and Sam at the hospital than he could. Still, he found it odd that Dana didn’t want him there. “I’ll call you back.” He hung up and looked to Mandy for answers. “Either Dana isn’t thinking clearly or she believes it’s more important for me to protect you than her and my mom.”

  “I don’t know why she’d think . . . that.” Mandy might have started her denial in a convincing manner, but then red suffused her face as if she knew exactly what Dana was doing. Mandy wasn’t a good liar. Her hands clenched the steering wheel. She glared off into space, unseeing of the other cars in the parking lot.

  At that moment the killer could have walked right up to the car and pounded on the window, and she looked as if she’d tear him apart with her bare hands. Talk about silent rage—Mandy could do it as well as he could, maybe better.

  “What the hell is going on?” Zack didn’t feel clueless very often. But right now he was up to his neck and about to go under.

  Mandy closed her eyes tight as if she was in agony, then she opened them. Voice tight, she agreed. “We need to talk. But not here.”

  He hesitated, stemming his burning inclination to drive straight to the hospital. But obviously something was going on that Mandy and Dana hadn’t told him. Did Mandy have an ex-lover who was stalking them? Had the firm handled the divorce of a serial killer who’d gone free?

  “Please. I don’t want to talk . . . here.”

  “Fine.” Zack opened his door. “But you’re in no condition to drive.” He walked around the car and opened the driver’s door. As he slid behind the wheel, Mandy moved over, then dialed her phone. She spoke woodenly, as if her thoughts were far away. “I’m trying Maria’s phone again. She really needs to keep it on—even during a hot date.”

  They reached the rental house in ten minutes. Zack didn’t need directions since he’d stayed there for a few days the last time he’d been in town. He’d thought the ranch-style home with a two-car garage and a fenced yard in a sleepy neighborhood was a perfect place to disappear, until he noted the neighbor’s curtain move aside. The man watched Zack use the automatic opener on the garage door. After pulling Mandy’s vehicle inside, he closed the door behind them. While she gathered the items she’d purchased during a quick stop at the mall on the way home, he headed toward the door that led into the house.

  “Wait here until I check it out.”

  She mumbled something under her breath and began moving packages from the trunk to the door. He stepped inside, flipped on a light. Nothing moved. Or made noise.

  He sniffed, and the air seemed clean of body odor, sweat, and perfumes. He only smelled furniture polish, bleach, and floor wax. He passed by a laundry area and checked to make sure it was empty, then explored the three bedrooms before entering the living and kitchen areas. Again, they were empty. With all the blinds shut, the house seemed cozy. His mother had furnished it with items she’d restored from garage sales along with a few antiques. Zack found no sign of anyone in the master bedroom or bath and after making sure that all doors and windows were locked and that no one had hidden in any of the closets, he rejoined Mandy and helped carry her things inside.

  He flipped on the living room lights. A tan overstuffed couch sat opposite a matching recliner, a dining table rested in a corner, and several framed tropical prints of women drinking tea hung on the walls. Baskets filled with magazines, books in a floor-to-ceiling armoire, and several decorative candles gave the rental a homey feel. He flipped on the ceiling fan and adjusted the thermostat lower.

  Mandy chose the recliner, not the couch. Perhaps she didn’t want him that close to her. Zack was too edgy to sit. Something was wrong, and if it affected his family’s safety or his ability to protect her, he wanted answers. Pacing along the draped sliding glass doors and past the kitchen counter, he pivoted and caught Mandy’s gaze. “All right, what haven’t you told me?”

  She met his eyes and looked away. “I’ve decided now is the time.”

  “For what?” he asked, more sharply than he intended. But he didn’t like guessing games. “Who was Dana worried about?”

  “My daughter.” She spoke softly, her voice almost devoid of any emotion.

  “You’re a mother?”

  “Yes.”

  Zack scowled at her, still not sure he’d heard right. “You have a daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “And a husband?”

  “No.”

  “An ex-husband?”

  “No.” She raised her chin and locked gazes with him, her eyes proud, defiant. She tightened her muscles, almost as if she expected him to explode. “Just me and my baby. That’s why Dana is so concerned about our safety.”

  Zack folded his arms over his chest, sensing there was more, and not sure what to make of this unexpected development. “What’s the reason for the big secret?”

  She looked away, shifted in her seat, folding her legs under her. “We haven’t kept in touch.”

  He winced at her accusation. “Dana and Catherine never said a word, either.”

  “And how often have you spoken to them? Did you ever even ask about me?”

  The truth of her words angered him. “Looks like there was no need. You didn’t waste much time after I—” He suddenly stiffened, his eyes narrowing on her, adrenaline suddenly rushing through him hard and hot as a thought occurred to him. “How old is your baby?”

  Chapter Twenty

  MANDY SWALLOWED past the lump in her throat. One answer and she’d no longer have to wonder how Zack would react to finding out he was a father. How ironic was it that she’d been worried about Zack’s work and its impact on Gabby, and she was the one placing her daughter in danger.

  The time for truth had come. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind. Zack’s emotional state and her fears about forcing him into their lives no longer mattered. Only Gabby mattered, and if anything happened to Mandy, she wanted Gabby to have at least one of her parents.

  “My baby’s first birthday is in three weeks.”

  She held his gaze as Zack mentally calculated. A year. Then another nine months. Shock registered in his eyes, but his voice was flat when he said. “It’s mine?”

  “She has no father’s name written on her birth certificate.”

  “But she’s mine?” He spoke in that same level tone, but the question reverberated like a shout in her mind.

  She took a deep breath and let the air out in a rush. “Yes.”

  His face hardened, and a muscle in his jaw ticked. “You’re certain?”

  “Don’t insult me.” She’d imagined a lot of scenarios when this moment finally came, but she’d never imagined such raw frustration boiling to the surface. Zack looked as if she’d clubbed him with a gavel.

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” He choked on the words, his voice breaking with frustration. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  This was on her head. No matter how angry he was, she wouldn’t allow his family to take any blame. “Dana and Catherine don’t know. I didn’t want to tell t
hem until I’d told you first.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I only told them I had a one-night stand, and they took me at my word. So don’t blame them.”

  And that was the truth. No arguments there, and Zack knew it, judging by the rattled-to-the-core look he shot her.

  He sagged onto the sofa as if all his hard muscles and bones had melted. “I have a daughter?”

  She allowed her face to soften. “Her name is Gabrielle.”

  “I have a kid?” Zack looked a bit green and asked again, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She wondered if he was going to keep down his dinner. Hopefully, he just needed time to adjust to the idea. She didn’t want to say more before he’d absorbed what she had just told him. Standing, she entered the kitchen to get him a glass of water, but perhaps a shot of whiskey might be better.

  Mandy poured a healthy-sized shot and thrust it into his hand. He downed it in one gulp, and his color began to return. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked if you were certain the baby—”

  “Gabrielle.”

  “—was mine.”

  “You most certainly shouldn’t have.”

  He raised his eyes from his empty glass to her. “It’s just the thought of you with someone else . . . stung.”

  She hadn’t expected that, and her pulse raced. She read the confusion in his gaze and realized he was probably too shocked to even know what he was saying. Zack wasn’t the jealous type—to be jealous implied he had feelings for her.

  “I understand you’re upset.” But she was upset too. That he could think she wouldn’t know who the father of her child was . . . honestly. She could barely control the edge to her voice when she said, “You asked me why I didn’t tell you about Gabrielle? I had several reasons. Good reasons.”

  “Really?” He folded his arms across his chest and waited as if he had a right to demand answers.

  “There was no simple solution. You made it loud and clear when we got together that we had no future. The last thing I expected was to get pregnant. I shouldn’t have gotten pregnant—it wasn’t as if we didn’t take precautions.”