“I told them about our rookie assassin and they called me back with how the client would have found us. Seems he had someone trace the phones somehow to our homes.”
“So more than one person knows about our involvement in the events of a few weeks ago?” Mary Jo asked. She wasn’t happy at all with the sounds of that.
“The order says no,” Jean said. “They traced it all, so we are clear there, but I am taking no chances just in case.”
“I agree,” Mary Jo said. “Very slow. Guard completely up.”
“So next spring we think of moving on the client?” Jean asked.
“Next spring,” Mary Jo said, nodding and smiling. “Give the bastard time to relax a little. And us time to make sure the order is right about only the one amateur.”
“And to plan,” Jean said. “Sometimes that’s half the fun.”
“I agree,” Mary Jo said, raising her glass. “And sure sorry about killing your husband?”
Jean laughed. “Nice guy, dull in bed, and a mediocre writer. I was going to have to kill him when I moved on the target anyway, so I owe you one.”
“Ouch,” Mary Jo said, laughing. “Nice, dull, and mediocre. I hope you didn’t put that on his tombstone.”
Jean laughed again and Mary Jo just watched and listened and enjoyed. She hadn’t been looking forward to the winter, but having Jean so close was sure going to make it a lot more fun.
PART FIVE
A Winter Hot Tub
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JEAN NEVER UNDERSTOOD why someone with money seemed to automatically think they could get away with anything, including murder. Granted, enough money bought a murder.
And even more money bought her skills for the murder.
But it never bought a double-cross.
Over the thousands of years that she had been an assassin in the order, she had had clients who had not paid her after she finished a job. That client always paid dearly with his or her life and the lives of those that were treasured by the person doing the double-crossing.
To Jean, a deal was a deal. Yet often people with money thought otherwise.
So the idiot who had not only double-crossed her, but another assassin from the order at the same time, would pay dearly.
In time.
She and Mary Jo were very, very patient killers.
And they both liked to plan.
In fact, they loved to plan.
So they settled into their homes for the winter, still both living the grieving-widow routines when out in public. By the time two months had passed since what she and Mary Jo laughingly called “The Event,” they were spending more and more time together. They hadn’t gone out into public at all together, and Jean had gone back to work after two weeks to keep up appearances.
But six nights a week they had dinner together. Every other night Jean cooked, every other night Mary Jo cooked.
Mary Jo could stir up pasta dishes that could make a person’s mouth water from a hundred paces. And Jean loved to cook with fish and chicken. Both of them, over the centuries, had learned the art of cooking and now they both had someone to appreciate their skills.
And they could talk about where they learned what and not hide the fact of their ages and their experiences. To Jean, that was such a wonderful treat.
Before, her life had been closed off, something to never be talked about. Now, she and Mary Jo both had thousands of years of experiences and learning to talk about with each other.
And wonderful food to share.
In fact, most of the purchases Jean had made in the last month were for better kitchen cookware.
And Mary Jo had been doing the same.
But what Jean had loved the most about the last two months was the flirting and staring into Mary Jo’s dark brown eyes. At times, when Mary Jo left, Jean had just wanted to stop her and kiss her. But as in murder, Jean was very patient in love as well.
Frustrated, but patient.
Just over two months after “The Event,” Mary Jo had gone into New York City to do their first scouting of Stanton Cobble and his life. When she returned on the late train just after eight, Jean met her at the station and drove her home.
“Dinner at my place if you’re hungry?” Jean said as they left the station. She had hoped Mary Jo would be hungry, so had done some prep work on a special chicken dish Jean had learned a few hundred years back in Italy.
“Famished,” Mary Jo said, easing her shoulders around.
Jean could hear the cracking in Mary Jo’s back.
Jean smiled. Long train rides stiffened up her muscles like that as well.
“You sound like you could use a dip in the hot tub after that ride,” Jean said, trying to focus on driving and not think about seeing Mary Jo without clothes on.
“That sounds heavenly,” Mary Jo said, smiling. “But dinner first. I got a lot to tell you about our idiot target.”
“Dinner will be ready in forty-five minutes after we get home,” Jean said.
Mary Jo sighed and nodded. “Thanks. That sounds wonderful. Gives me time to take a quick shower and change clothes.”
Again, it took every ounce of training for Jean to keep her eyes on the road and her attention on her driving instead of imagining Mary Jo without clothes on.
Somehow she managed to get them both home safely.
Somehow.
CHAPTER TWENTY
AFTER A SHOWER and fresh clothes—jeans, a sports bra and a tan silk blouse—Mary Jo felt almost human again. The four-hour train ride from the city could take the energy out of anyone. She was in shape and exercised every day, but that trip still was draining, especially since she had caught the early morning train at five.
She had only needed six hours in the city to get a sense of how good-old-idiot Stanton was living. In just two months, he was clearly starting to relax his guard.
And it seemed his wife never had been guarded. And his parents were open targets. Both Mary Jo and Jean had studied Stanton’s activities before moving north to do their hired job. Now the idiot hadn’t seemed to alter much of anything.
He still met his mistress two afternoons a week, still had dinner at the same restaurants, still lived in the same penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park.
But the key was going to be to get his money and disgrace him without actually killing him. Killing him, both Mary Jo and Jean had decided, would be too easy on him.
He needed to suffer and suffer he would.
They just didn’t know how yet.
Jean had been a dream friend, getting up early and taking Mary Jo to the train station and then picking her up and offering dinner.
And the idea of crawling into Jean’s hot tub after dinner had Mary Jo so distracted, she could hardly think. For two months now, Mary Jo had been flirting with Jean and loving every minute of it.
And just about every night Mary Jo went to sleep in her own bed wishing Jean was beside her. It had been a very long time since Mary Jo had felt anything like this for another person. And she was enjoying it immensely.
Maybe tonight, finally, they could take this budding relationship and friendship to the next level.
She sure hoped so.
When Mary Jo did her standard knock and then let herself into Jean’s comfortable living room, the fantastic smell hit her. Rich, thick garlic and oregano spice smell seemed to just thicken the air like a sweet sauce over thin pasta.
“Wow, does that smell wonderful!” Mary Jo said, heading for the kitchen.
“Thanks,” Jean said, turning from the stove and smiling at Mary Jo as she entered. “Fresh orange juice in the fridge.”
Jean looked as heavenly as always tonight, with tight jeans, a green blouse with the sleeves rolled up, and a full dark apron tied in the back. Mary Jo just stared at her for a moment before heading to the fridge to pour them both a vodka and orange juice to go with their dinner.
She found it sort of funny that even though both of them were gourmet-level cooks, neit
her of them cared much for wine with their dinners. It was only one of many things they had in common they had discovered over the last few months.
Mary Jo found it really amazing that Jean’s favorite drink by far was a screwdriver, made the same way Mary Jo liked them. How could she not love another assassin that drank screwdrivers?
Dinner was heavenly. The chicken in the marinara sauce seemed to melt in her mouth with a burst of spice and sweetness she couldn’t believe. Sautéed fresh vegetables in light olive oil were a perfect addition.
As they ate and then sipped their drinks, Mary Jo filled Jean in on how idiot Stanton hadn’t changed much of his ways at all to protect himself. Jean just shook her head at the stupidity.
“He hires two of us to kill his target,” Jean said, disgusted, “then shorts us and doesn’t think we’ll come after him. One of the stupidest clients I have ever worked for.”
Mary Jo laughed and raised her glass to that one. “I suppose he figures that paying us half our final original payment would be enough.”
“He thought wrong,” Jean said. She laughed as well.
Then Jean looked into Mary Jo’s eyes. “You look exhausted. How about that hot tub to get you relaxed so you can get some sleep.”
Mary Jo could feel her heart race and she had no doubt her face flushed a little, but Jean’s face was flushed as well.
“I thought you would never ask,” Mary Jo said. “But dishes first.”
“Not a chance,” Jean said, standing and offering her hand to Mary Jo.
Mary Jo smiled and stood and took Jean’s hand.
It was like a small electrical shock had hit her. Jean’s hand felt firm and powerful and at the same time soft and wonderful. And her hand fit perfectly in Mary Jo’s hand.
Jean flushed slightly and then pulling Mary Jo toward the back patio door, led the way to the hot tub.
Two large bath towels were on a bench there and the lights were off on the back porch, but there was enough light to see where they were going from the kitchen lights.
The evening air had a crisp fall bite to it and a smell of dry pine and leaves.
“Get undressed and I’ll get the tub ready,” Jean said, letting go of Mary Jo’s hand and lifting the cover back off the hot tub.
As Mary Jo unbuttoned her blouse, Jean slid the cover back and off the tub into a holder against the house.
Mary Jo had her blouse unbuttoned and mostly off when Jean turned around and just stopped and stared.
Mary Jo liked how Jean was looking at her.
Liked it a lot.
She unzipped her jeans and slipped them off quickly, standing there in the half-light of the fall evening in just her sports bra and thin underwear.
“You look fantastic,” Jean said, her breath not much more than a whisper.
“Thank you,” Mary Jo said. “Now your turn. I’ve been dreaming about seeing you naked since we met.”
Jean smiled and unbuttoned her blouse as Mary Jo watched Jean’s wonderful hands at work.
Then Jean slid off her jeans and just stood there, smiling.
Jean had on a lace bra and matching lace panties. She was flat stunning.
“Damn, that’s better than I had dreamed,” Mary Jo said. It was everything she could do to catch her breath.
Finally Mary Jo forced herself to move and took off her bra. Then slipped off her panties.
Jean just stared.
Then Jean took off her underwear and Mary Jo just stared.
And then finally Mary Jo got herself to move.
Not into the hot tub, but into Jean’s welcoming arms.
Right were Mary Jo knew she belonged.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
AFTER THAT FIRST night, Mary Jo stayed at Jean’s house one night and Jean stayed at Mary Jo’s house the next. That lasted for exactly one week before Mary Jo had just laughed and said they were being silly for no reason.
She wanted to live with Jean, be close to her every night, wake up with her every morning, and she didn’t care where that was, honestly.
Jean had said she wanted to live with Mary Jo. And the hot tub was at Jean’s house, as well as Jean’s house being easier to guard.
And Mary Jo had nothing from her marriage with their target that she much cared about. She was used to leaving behind material things. Her house, as they called it, really didn’t feel like her house.
So three months after the event, Mary Jo, with Jean helping, cleared out most of her closets and took over a second bedroom in Jean’s house.
It felt wonderful.
And it felt right.
It had been far, far longer than Mary Jo wanted to admit since the last time she had been in love with anyone. And one night in the hot tub, Jean had confided that for her it had been almost a century since she had felt real love.
But there was no doubt to either of them that they both were now in love.
And enjoying it.
Mary Jo couldn’t believe how lucky she had gotten.
They had decided that Mary Jo should just keep her house and the pretense of living there for the small town. But Mary Jo had a hunch the town would soon know what was happening. And she and Jean didn’t care that much anymore. They had played their parts just fine after their husbands’ deaths.
Time to move forward.
So one cold but clear December evening, with the snow crunching under their boots, they went for dinner together at a wonderful Italian restaurant just off of Main Street.
Everyone they met greeted them cheerfully.
And not only was the dinner wonderful, but the conversation lively and the sex afterward mind-blowing.
So they made going out together a habit twice a week. Mary Jo didn’t even see a suspicious eyebrow raised.
On the last working day of January, Jean quit her job. They no longer needed to keep up pretenses about not being together and the following month, Mary Jo sold her house.
They were officially a couple.
And every day that thought surprised Mary Jo.
The fall and winter had been almost magical for Mary Jo. She had never imagined falling so perfectly in love with anyone else, let alone another assassin. She loved everything about Jean, including her perfect body and her sharp mind.
But most of all, she loved Jean’s passion for her work and keeping herself in shape.
Both of them exercised and trained three hours a day, often together, sometimes alone. Mary Jo had no doubt at all that Jean was one of the deadliest assassins ever to be in the order.
And on top of that, Jean never seemed to tire of vodka and orange juice. What was there not to love?
Mary Jo never tired of watching Jean get undressed to climb into the hot tub.
And Jean seemed to never tire of exploring Mary Jo’s body.
They really were a perfect match.
Something Mary Jo would have sworn impossible just a year earlier.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JEAN HAD NEVER wanted the last six months to end, and she hoped they wouldn’t. But there was no doubt she and Mary Jo needed to get going with their plan to move on their target.
All winter long they had worked on the plan, sometimes over dinner, sometimes sitting in the hot tub while sipping vodka and orange juice.
And the plan was a good one.
So during a wonderful dinner of Italian-spiced chicken laid over a bed of green, smothered in a cheese combination, Jean finally turned to the woman she had fallen madly in love with.
“I think it’s time.”
Mary Jo nodded and didn’t look up from her salad. “I agree.”
The first part of the plan was that Mary Jo would head into the city and live in an apartment they had rented across from a condo their target owned and used for affairs.
Jean would stay behind and sell the house and dispose of everything before moving into the city to another apartment they had rented close to the target’s large apartment near Central Park.
They both f
igured it would take at least three months, maybe longer, before they could move on the target. The tricky part was going to be the banking.
But Jean was convinced their plan on that would work.
The only thing Jean didn’t like about the plan was being separated from Mary Jo. And Mary Jo had said that was what she didn’t like as well.
But Jean knew, just as Mary Jo did, that if they were going to have a long-term relationship, they were both going to need to go their own ways at times to do their jobs.
That knowledge didn’t make it any easier.
But what did make it easier was the fact that they had worked on this plan together. It had been fun, actually, and Jean had to admit their plan was a lot better than anything she could have come up with alone. Mary Jo just had a stunning mind for knowing how to get inside a person’s life to get close to a target.
So if this worked out, maybe, just maybe, going down the road, they would stay together more than they would be apart. Work together more. At least that’s what Jean wanted.
Mary Jo seemed to be focusing on her dinner, clearly not wanting to look up at Jean.
Jean leaned forward and touched Mary Jo’s hand. Mary Jo finally looked up, her deep brown eyes worried and sad.
“You know I love you, don’t you?” Jean said.
Mary Jo nodded. “I love you as well.”
“And if I have anything to say about it,” Jean said, smiling, “we’re going to be sharing a hot tub and drinks for a long time into the future.”
“Now that’s a plan I like,” Mary Jo said.
Jean watched as Mary Jo took a deep breath and then smiled. “I’ll head out in the morning, call you when I get settled there as we discussed.”
“I’ll get started on disposing of all this stuff and getting the house listed,” Jean said. “And then join you in the city.”
“Taking this jerk down is going to be fun,” Mary Jo said, smiling.
Jean laughed and stood and went around the small dining table to kiss Mary Jo. “A lot of fun. Especially doing it together.”
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