Maggie Lee | Book 25 | The Hitwoman Owes A Favor

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Maggie Lee | Book 25 | The Hitwoman Owes A Favor Page 11

by Lynn, JB


  “You can’t,” I told him on a tired sigh.

  “But—”

  “It’s not about me,” I revealed. “It’s about my dad.”

  He leaned back, considering the ramifications of what that revelation could mean. Then, he nodded slowly, as though he understood my dad’s life was in Mia’s hands. “Well, then I guess it’s convenient that Ms. Whitehat wants your help.”

  My stomach flipped nervously. It’s never convenient that the mysterious Ms. Whitehat wants my help. It’s alarming. Dangerous. Nerve-wracking. But never convenient.

  He turned away, staring off into the distance, lips pursed.

  “Zeke,” I said softly.

  He didn’t turn back toward me. Hands jammed in his pockets; it was easy to spot his tension.

  “What does Whitehat want from me?”

  He turned slowly back to face me, worry lines etched between his brows. “She wants you to help me find Klugman.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Everyone was after The Lion: his wife, the mob, the cops, and now Whitehat.

  “But I don’t want you to end up dead,” Zeke said.

  22

  After Zeke left, I decided to visit my father in the hospital. But first, I swung by The Corset to get a look at Soulful and Sinful in action.

  The parking lot outside of Aunt Loretta’s lingerie shop was packed. I parked around the corner and was able to approach unnoticed. There was a crowd around what appeared to be a makeshift stage near the store’s door. When I arrived, I didn’t find the drag queen singers entertaining the crowd, but Loretta and Armani were acting like a pair of old-time carnival barkers, demonstrating the shop’s wares while making risqué jokes.

  If the applause and laughter of the crowd was any indicator, their act was highly entertaining.

  “Mags,” a voice whispered from behind me.

  Whirling around, I found myself face-to-face with the green gaze of my favorite redhead.

  “We need to talk,” Patrick said. He glanced at the lizard perched on my shoulder and shook his head with a bemused smile. “Follow me.” He led me to a black SUV and opened the passenger door. As soon as I climbed in, he rushed around to the driver’s seat. “Are you okay?” he asked the moment his door closed.

  I nodded.

  “I heard what happened at the hospital,” he continued. “You could have been killed.”

  “But I wasn’t,” I calmly pointed out.

  “Delveccio’s pissed. He tried to hire me to guard your dad.”

  I frowned. “That’s not a good idea.”

  He nodded emphatically. “That’s what I told him.”

  “Did Gino get in trouble?” I asked worriedly. If he had, I’d have to tell the mob boss that I’d been left in a very safe supply closet and had disobeyed a direct order to stay there.

  Patrick scowled slightly. “For taking a bullet for you? How could Gino be faulted for that?”

  I blinked, surprised. I distinctly remembered checking for blood and had seen none around the bodyguard. “He’s okay, right?” I blurted out, suddenly panicked.

  “Yeah, of course.” Patrick’s gaze narrowed.

  “Oh. That’s good.” The fear for Gino’s safety subsided as quickly as it had arrived.

  “But that’s not what I need to talk about,” Patrick said, changing the subject.

  I tried to sound casual. “What’s up?”

  He leaned back slightly in his seat and stared straight ahead, seeming to choose his next words carefully. “I spent another hour or so going through the stuff in the storage unit after you left. And I found something…” He trailed off.

  “What?”

  “This is one of those ‘don’t shoot the messenger’ situations,” he warned.

  “Okay. I don’t have a gun anyway.”

  Whipping his head around, he stared at me. “You don’t have a gun?”

  I shook my head.

  “Why not?”

  I shrugged. “You haven’t given me one lately. Besides, where could I hide it? I’ve got two kids and Griswald to worry about finding it.”

  He frowned, but I could tell from his expression that he understood my point.

  “What did you find?” I prompted.

  He flipped the visor above his head down, catching the envelope that had been held up by it. He tapped the envelope against the steering wheel. “You won’t like it.”

  I held out my hand. “You did your due diligence and warned me.”

  He handed it over. While I untucked the unsealed envelope, he popped a wintergreen candy into his mouth and offered me one. I took the candy before pulling out the contents, a lone photograph.

  It was a shot that looked like it had been snapped by an uncoordinated ten-year-old. And it was of Leo The Lion involved in a sexual act with a familiar face.

  I sucked in a breath.

  And choked on the mint.

  As I struggled to breathe, I wondered if this was how I was going to turn blue and die. Death by Life Saver seemed strangely fitting.

  Panic filled me as I became lightheaded. I clawed at my throat. I needed air.

  The redhead thumped me on the back, trying to dislodge the candy, almost crushing the lizard. With a startled yelp of terror, God leapt for his life, landing in my lap.

  “Heimlich! She needs the Heimlich!” he screamed at Patrick while I sputtered in vain.

  Patrick, of course, didn’t understand him and totally ignored his squeaking. He jumped out of the car, leaving me to die there alone. Not that I was really alone, I had God with me, but he was yelling I had to punch myself in the gut. At least, I think that’s what he said, but the lack of oxygen was making everything even more confusing than usual.

  Things were going gray and fuzzy around the edges.

  Then, I was yanked out of the car and someone else was punching me in the gut.

  At least, that’s how it felt. The violent action worked. I spit out the offending mint and gasped for breath.

  “Breathe, Mags,” Patrick murmured in my ear. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. Just breathe.”

  It took a minute, but after sucking in extra air, I realized I felt better. I was also enjoying how it felt to be cradled in his arms, the length of our bodies pressed against each other. I got lightheaded again for a totally different reason.

  Then, I remembered what I’d seen, and my body went rigid.

  “What’s wrong?” Patrick asked.

  “Marlene!” I gasped. I spun out of his grasp and turned to face him.

  Raising his hands defensively, he took a step back. “Remember what I said about not killing the messenger?”

  “He almost killed me,” God griped.

  Looking down, I saw the lizard was hanging from my belt loop. I scooped him into my palm and allowed him to climb onto my shoulder.

  “I don’t want to make trouble for Marlene,” Patrick continued. “But she’s the closest thing we’ve got to a lead.”

  “She’s not a lead,” I told him emphatically.

  “But if she remembers where that picture was taken...” He trailed off as I glared at him.

  “I’m not asking her,” I told him firmly.

  “I can ask,” he said. “I’ll do it under the guise of official business.”

  “No.” I snatched up the photograph, which had fallen to the floor of the SUV.

  “A kid’s life hangs in the balance,” God whispered.

  “Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll ask her.”

  “You will?” Patrick asked, surprised by my sudden capitulation.

  “But don’t be surprised if I don’t come up with anything,” I warned. “This picture looks old.”

  He wisely didn’t pursue the subject. “Call me if you find anything out?”

  I nodded.

  “I mean it, Mags. Don’t go after this guy alone.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I told him.

  His gaze narrowed as though he knew I was lying.

  “I have othe
r things to do, so if we’re done…” I said impatiently.

  “Sure. Of course.” He stepped aside, and I headed back toward The Corset.

  I heard the singing before I saw the act. Soulful and Sinful have real talent. I stood for a while and watched them perform some Motown hits with their own playful twists as the crowds danced and clapped. They were less crude than the lewd dancers, and I really didn’t understand why Aunt Susan had taken such offense to their act.

  I sighed heavily when I realized I’d be forced to side with Aunt Loretta on this issue. I didn’t like crossing Susan, but I thought she was wrong about the singers.

  “Thought I saw you,” Armani said, popping up alongside me. “Why didn’t you come inside?”

  “I just came for the music, not to sample the wares,” I told her lightly.

  “Do you think Zeke would like to sample the wares?” she asked with a wink.

  I shook my head. “Did you and Jack…?”

  “Break up?” she asked, throwing her head back and laughing. “Hardly. He’s just out of town chasing down some lead.”

  “One less person for you to worry about,” God opined.

  I didn’t disagree. I like Jack Stern, Armani’s investigative reporter boyfriend, but he asks a lot of questions and is all about revealing the truth. Plus, he’d sort of accused my friend RV of murder and she’d taken off without saying goodbye.

  “Hey, you know how much I love having my portrait painted?” Armani added.

  I nodded. It had been one of her first obsessions after she’d won the lottery.

  “Miss Cleo is a painter, too,” she cooed with delight.

  “A real Renaissance drag queen,” I murmured as the singing duo finished another song to enthusiastic applause. “Has Aunt Susan said anything about them to you?”

  Armani screwed up her face with distaste. “No, but let me guess: she doesn’t approve.”

  I sighed heavily, confirming her theory.

  Armani tossed her hair, indignantly. “You and Laurence need to get your P.I. business off the ground so that she has other things to worry about.”

  “You’d think she’d already have enough to worry about,” I muttered. “I know I do.”

  23

  After leaving The Corset, I headed to the hospital.

  “You’re avoiding your sister,” God opined from his place on the dash.

  I squeezed the steering wheel. “I’m checking on my father.”

  “But—” the lizard began.

  “I know. I’ve got to find Leo Klugman. Call me crazy, but I’m thinking I’ve also got to figure out who’s trying to kill Dad.”

  “You could let the authorities handle that.”

  “I find out who’s after him, I have a better chance of keeping everyone safe.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his tail twitch.

  “And what about your safety?”

  I glanced at him. “Are you worried about me?”

  “Armani predicted your death,” he reminded me. “If you’re gone…”

  “You shouldn’t worry,” I told him. “I’m sure Piss or Herschel or Ian would make sure you got your crickets.”

  “Who said anything about crickets?” he boomed. “I don’t want you to die!”

  I was so startled by his outburst that I almost rear-ended the car in front of me. I slammed on the brakes. He went sliding across the dashboard with a startled scream.

  “Now you’re trying to kill us both,” he complained.

  “Sorry.”

  We were both silent the rest of the way to the hospital.

  “I’ll talk to Marlene as soon as I’m done here,” I pledged as I parked the car.

  Wordlessly, he ran up my arm and dove into my bra.

  The rather large bodyguard was sitting outside my father’s new room. He scowled at me as I approached, like what had happened the day before was somehow my fault. As I drew near, he got to his feet and blocked the doorway, looking like a tackle for a professional football team.

  I may have gulped. Audibly.

  “Boss wants to see you.” He jerked his head. “Next room.”

  Deciding it would be simpler to comply than argue, I made my way down the hall, knocked twice, and entered the room.

  Gino, dressed in sweats and a tee, was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room between the two beds. He hadn’t shaved and the five-o’clock-shadow, combined with a scowl, made him look brooding. He’d been watching something on his phone, but he quickly put it away when I entered. “Close the door.”

  Noting that nobody was in either bed, I pulled the door shut.

  “So you actually can do as you’re asked,” Gino said sarcastically.

  “You’re okay?” I asked, ignoring the jibe. “I heard you were shot,” I added, remembering what Patrick had said.

  “I told you to stay in that supply closet,” he said, getting to his feet.

  I frowned at him. “And I told you I’m not a dog who responds to commands.”

  He walked toward me. “I told you to run when you had the chance.”

  I raised my chin defiantly. “He would have killed you.”

  “Yes,” he replied quietly, stepping into my personal space.

  I fought the urge to take an instinctive step back, holding my ground.

  Slowly, he reached out and cupped my cheek. It felt like he’d caressed my entire body.

  I swallowed nervously, looking everywhere but into his eyes.

  “You have to trust me, Maggie,” he practically begged. “Please. It’s the only way I can protect you. Help you.”

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  He leaned forward, and I let my eyes drift closed for the kiss. I swayed toward him. His lips were soft…

  Against my cheek.

  My eyes popped open as he kissed my other cheek and then stepped away. Face flooding with heat, embarrassed that I’d misread the cue, I stared down at the floor. “So were you shot or not?” I asked roughly, trying to regain a sense of equilibrium.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I was wearing a vest, so it didn’t do any damage. I guess I hit my head because of the impact, though.”

  Sensing he was studying me, I didn’t look up. “You went flying backward when you were shot.”

  “Disappointed I missed your daring rescue,” he quipped. “At least, last time I got to see you in action when you saved my butt.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice as he remembered me taking out Vinny, Delveccio’s former bodyguard.

  “I got lucky,” I muttered.

  There was a long silence. I didn’t dare look up.

  “Kiss me, Maggie.”

  I heard the quiet taunt woven into his tone. He figured I wouldn’t dare. That he’d have more proof that I was unwilling to do as he asked.

  “Please,” he added, making clear it wasn’t an order, more like a dare.

  I surprised us both with how fast I moved, one minute I was staring at the floor, the next I was kissing his cheek, mimicking what he’d done to me.

  I gave him a peck and then looked into his eyes, letting him know I’d met his challenge.

  He held my gaze, and I’m pretty sure we both forgot to breathe, standing there so close to one another.

  I raised a hand and cupped his cheek the way he’d held mine, delighting in the way his stubble scratched my palm.

  A woman’s agonized scream in the hallway startled us both. Simultaneously, we jumped apart and ran for the door, crashing into one another in the process. We clung to each other to keep from falling.

  “I don’t suppose you’d stay here,” Gino muttered, pushing me behind him so that he was at least the first out the door.

  We quickly located the source of the wailing. A woman, being supported by two nurses, was crying in the hallway.

  The bodyguard on Dad’s room was blocking the doorway, hand behind him. I figured he’d probably pulled his gun at the sound of the first scream.

  “Tommy’s a little jumpy,” Gino said
. “And pretty pissed about Griswald.”

  “Why?” I asked, surprised.

  “He didn’t tell you?” Gino asked with a chuckle. “He’s the one who knocked Tommy out cold. He saw the gunman, thought maybe the boss was trying to off Archie, and knocked him out so that he could get your father out of the room.”

  “He didn’t mention it,” I murmured.

  “What changed his mind?” God prompted from my bra.

  Gino smiled at the squeaking noise coming from my chest, even though he knew the sound was coming from a lizard.

  “Why did Griswald change his mind?” I asked.

  “Because even he knows that the boss would never let you be harmed,” Gino said. “He knows about the, um…” He trailed off.

  I panicked, wondering what Griswald knew. “Knows what?”

  “About the soft spot the boss has for your mother.”

  I let out a shaky sigh of relief. There were a lot worse things the U.S. Marshal could know about me. “Do you know who’s after my dad?”

  “You mean, besides half the criminals and most of the law enforcement in the state? Not specifically, no.”

  “I need to talk to him.”

  “Sure,” Gino allowed. “But Maggie…” He grabbed my elbow lightly.

  I waited.

  “Be careful.”

  I nodded.

  “I mean it,” he warned. Then, he shook his head. “Or, if you can’t manage that, at least trust me.”

  Hearing the concern in his voice, I looked up into his dark gaze. “I’ll try,” I promised.

  He seemed to understand that was the best I could manage. He gave Tommy, the bodyguard, a nod, released my elbow, and walked away.

  I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. It was time to find out who was trying to kill Dad.

  24

  “Hi, Dad,” I called softly, stepping into his hospital room.

  He was lying in the bed, almost as pale as the sheets, staring at the window. He was hooked up to an IV and beeping monitors.

  He jumped, startled. Looking over, he smiled. “Hey there, Maggie May. Come over here so I can get a better look at you.” He held out a hand.

  I swallowed hard, realizing I’d never seen him looking more frail. Moving to his bedside, I slipped my palm against his. “How are you feeling?”

 

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