Maggie Lee (Book 17): The Hitwoman Takes A Road Trip

by JB Lynn

  “It’s not exactly the Ritz,” he griped.

  “Think of it as a camping trip,” Piss suggested. “You’ll be roughing it a bit, but you’ve got me, the great hunter, to supply you with fresh-killed meals.”

  The lizard eyed the plastic box dubiously. “I guess I can handle the tradeoff. But if I get claustrophobic…”

  Armani inserted herself into the conversation. “Are you going to pack or just eavesdrop on the two of them?”

  “Go?” the Doberman asked again.

  “You’re staying here to take care of Aunt Susan,” I reminded her.

  She hung her head, crestfallen.

  “Memory as atrocious as her grammar,” God moaned.

  “I don’t have any luggage,” I blurted out.

  “I prepared for that,” Armani announced proudly.

  I beamed, wondering what kind of suitcase she’d gotten me. After all, she was a lottery winner and could afford the best. Maybe this trip was going to turn out better than I’d anticipated.

  Reaching into the back pocket of her jeans, she yanked something out, and handed it to me with a flourish. “Here you go.”

  I stared down at it. “A garbage bag?”

  I was pretty sure I heard Piss giggle.

  “Beggars can’t be choosers,” Armani admonished. “Now, hurry up. We’ve got to hit the road.”

  While I hurriedly packed, thankful to every deity in existence that I’d just done laundry earlier in the day and didn’t have to resort to packing dirty underwear, Armani dragged herself back up the stairs.

  I could hear her and Griswald talking but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “You’re sure this is a good idea?” I asked God.

  “Why put off for tomorrow what you can do today?”

  I wasn’t pacified by platitudes. “What am I supposed to do about Angel? We had a date scheduled.”

  “He’ll wait,” Piss predicted.

  “But what am I supposed to tell him? ‘Sorry for blowing you off but Armani got a bug up her psychic butt?’ Or something else?”

  “I already cancelled your date,” Armani yelled down from the kitchen. “Muscles took it like a champ.”

  Shaking my head, I looked to Piss. “Is it me, or is my life totally out of control?”

  “It’s out of your control, Sugar.”

  After packing the garbage bag, putting God in the box (after assuring him that there were adequate air holes), and scooping up Piss, I headed upstairs.

  Griswald must have seen my uncertainty. “This will be good for you, for all of you.”

  “If you say so.” My voice shook and tears squeezed out of the corners of my eyes.

  “You look like you’re leaving forever. It’s just a vacation,” Armani reminded me.

  Griswald took the bag from me. “I promise you, I’ll be right here to take care of them if anything goes wrong.”

  “I’m holding you to that,” I warned with a weak smile.

  He kissed my cheek. “Try to have fun, Maggie. You deserve to. I’ll put this out there for you.”

  He followed Armani out the door.

  I took a moment to compose myself. Carrying Piss and God, with DeeDee trailing just behind us, I went to tell Katie and my sisters that I was leaving.

  I put the cat and lizard down so that Katie could say goodbye to them while I checked in with Marlene and Darlene.

  “You’re okay with this?” I asked Marlene.

  She nodded and hugged me tightly. “Have fun.”

  I looked to Darlene. “And you’re sure you’re okay with this?”

  She nodded. “It’s what I want. It’s what Teresa wanted.” Her voice caught a bit as she said the name of Katie’s mom, our dead sister, aloud. “Hell,” she whispered gruffly, pulling me close. “Maybe you’ll even find out it’s what you want.”

  I nodded, blinking back tears, not trusting myself to speak.

  I knelt down to hug Katie goodbye.

  “You’ll call?” she asked, throwing her arms around me.

  “Every single day,” I promised, hugging her back. “And Aunt Darlene has my phone number so you can call me any time you want, but I’m pretty sure you’re going to be having too good a time to miss me as much as I’m going to miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you,” she promised earnestly.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “And I’ll miss you.” I gently disentangled myself from her. “Be good.”

  She nodded, looking up at me with big, bewildered eyes.

  “I’ll see you soon.” Afraid I was going to burst into tears at any moment, I snatched up Piss and God unceremoniously.

  Piss hissed her displeasure.

  God protested with, “Sensitive skin.”

  Ignoring them, I practically ran around to the front of the B&B. Coming to an abrupt stop when I found Armani’s RV parked there.

  Armani was already in the passenger seat waiting for me. “C’mon, Chica. Time to hit the road.”

  I put Piss on the floor in the back and God’s plastic container on a pillow on the bed. Then I went back outside and closed the door.

  “Me miss?” DeeDee whined quietly from behind me.

  “Come here.” I bent down and she threw her entire body weight at me, knocking me on my back, but I didn’t mind. Hugging her tightly, tears streaming down my face, I whispered in her ear, “I’m going to miss you most of all. Most of all.”

  Chapter Seven

  We were headed south.

  Literally and figuratively.

  The RV motored down the Garden State Parkway while Armani and I were involved in an argument that had quickly devolved from a minor disagreement to an all-out war.

  “I tried to compromise!” Armani yelled at the top of her lungs, the noise bouncing off the camper’s oversized windshield.

  “That’s not a compromise,” I shouted back, squeezing the steering wheel with the same ferocity I wanted to strangle my new employer with.

  “We’re all going to die,” God muttered from inside the plastic box. “She’s going to drive right off the road.”

  “At least I have nine lives,” Piss hissed.

  “Haven’t you used most of those up?” God retorted. “I’m telling you, we’re all going to die.”

  “No one’s going to die!” I bellowed.

  “Of course not,” Armani countered in a more reasonable tone. “We’re just talking about music, not life and death.”

  “You’re not talking,” God and Piss said simultaneously.

  Realizing they were right, I took a deep breath before trying to respond to my co-pilot in a calm, measured voice. “I’m telling you that if I have to listen to The Girl from Ipanema one more time, I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

  “But that’s my favorite song.”

  “I know. You’ve played it for more than forty minutes straight, an endless loop of ‘Tall and tan and young and lovely.’ I can’t take it.”

  Sighing her displeasure, Armani crossed her arms over her chest. “And what do you want to listen to? Willie Nelson’s On the Road Again?”

  “Actually, I was thinking maybe something recorded in this century.”

  “You have no respect for the classics.”

  “R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me,” God began to sing.

  And I started to laugh, not just chuckle, but guffaw with the kind of laughter that made my sides ache and my eyes water.

  “What’s so funny?” Armani asked suspiciously.

  “The lizard,” I gasped breathlessly. “He’s doing his best Aretha Franklin impression. He’s singing Respect.”

  She twisted in her seat to get a better look at the little guy, who’d mercifully fallen silent. “Did he really?”

  I nodded. “Do you want to tell me where we’re going now?”

  “Maryland.”

  “What’s in Maryland?”

  “Camden Yards, the National Aquarium, and the U.S. Naval Academy…hey, I wonder if Ange
l went there?”

  “Maybe I would have found out if I’d been able to go out on my date with him,” I sniped, still annoyed that she’d cancelled my dinner with the handsome Navy vet.

  “He understood.”

  “I don’t,” I countered. “What kind of vision did you have?”

  Instead of answering me, she sat back deeper into her seat.

  “Come on,” I urged. “I told you that God was singing Respect.”

  “You know what else is in Maryland?” she asked, making it clear she wasn’t ready to share whatever had filled her with such urgency.

  Tired of being at odds with her, I dutifully asked, “What else is in Maryland?”

  “Your dad.”

  I was so surprised that I looked over at her. “Really?”

  “Eyes on the road,” she yelled, pointing forward as a trio of horns blared at us.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, correcting the steering wheel.

  “We’re totally going to die,” Piss muttered to God.

  “How do you know my dad is in Maryland? Is he what your vision was about?” A knot formed in my stomach as I worried that he was in danger. While I had a lot of issues with my father, I didn’t want any harm to befall him. Unless of course it was harm I brought to him.

  “Larry told me,” Armani said matter-of-factly.

  “Griswald?”

  “You don’t have to sound like you think I’m lying,” Armani complained.

  “I…it’s just that it’s a little weird that a U.S. Marshal told you where someone in Witness Protection is hiding out. I mean, I couldn’t get him to tell me where Archie is.”

  “He didn’t tell me where he is,” Armani explained. “He told me where you can meet him.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, the old guy is pretty fond of you.”

  “He is,” God piped in. “It’s not the first time he’s arranged for you to meet with Archie.”

  “But it’s got to break all the rules,” I replied to them both. “And Griswald is a rules guy.”

  Armani sighed. “He didn’t explain himself. He just set up the meet.”

  “Where?” I tried to ignore the nervous fluttering in the pit of my stomach. “Where can I meet my father?”

  “The National Aquarium. How else do you think I know it’s there?”

  “I dunno,” I joked. “I thought maybe you’re considering buying a giant fish tank to go along with that portrait of yourself you want to get.”

  “The portrait is important,” she said seriously.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. It’s very important. I just don’t know why yet.”

  “Let me guess, you had a psychic vision of that too?”

  “Yes.”

  Her simple answer hung between us.

  Knowing that most of her visions pan out eventually, I promised, “We’ll figure it out.”

  “I know we will,” she said confidently. “But first, let’s stop at the next rest stop. I’m hungry.”

  Considering we’d left the B&B less than an hour before, I realized that we were in for a very long trip.

  “You’re the boss,” I murmured, taking the exit ramp to the rest area and following the signs to the appropriate lot for a big ass camper.

  But even in that parking lot, we were about to get in a tight spot.

  Chapter Eight

  “Feel that?” Armani asked.

  “Feel what?” I panicked, thinking I’d scraped along one of the other big rigs in my quest to find a parking spot.

  “The power.”

  Realizing she wasn’t talking about my driving, I ignored her and concentrated on maneuvering the oversized vehicle between two painted lines. Relieved I made it, I threw the RV into park, threw my hands into the air, and said, “Say Hallelujah!”

  “Hallelujah!” God repeated, sounding more relieved than exultant.

  Armani pinched the tip of her nose.

  “Bless you,” I said, thinking she had to sneeze.

  Armani frowned at me. “I’m not sure religion can help you.”

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “You’ve brought along God and now you’re saying Hallelujah and Bless You, but I’m telling you that isn’t going to save you.”

  I blinked at her, biting my tongue to prevent myself from blurting out that I’d killed people and was probably beyond saving. Instead I asked, “Save me from what?”

  “The supernatural,” she said in a tone filled with awe and fear.

  “What in the world is she talking about?” God asked.

  “See?” Armani pointed at him. “He knows. He feels it.”

  “Trust me,” I told her, “he really doesn’t, and neither do I. What are you talking about?”

  Shaking her head, she popped open her door and jumped out.

  I moved to open my own.

  “Don’t leave me here,” God shouted.

  “Fine,” I muttered, jumping out of the RV and running around to the side door so that I could jump back inside and scoop him out of the plastic box. “What about you?” I asked the cat as God scampered up my arm.

  “I’d love a fish sandwich, hold the bread, if you can find one, Sugar.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” I hopped out, locked up and looked around, trying to figure out where Armani had wandered off to.

  I didn’t see her, but I did spot a very familiar vehicle.

  “It can’t be.” But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t likely that there was another motor home that particularly garish shade of pink on the road.

  Remembering that Armani had been spooked by what she’d called the driver’s psychic powers when they’d encountered each other before, I hurried toward the pink blob.

  “Do you have any idea what’s going on?” God asked from his perch on my shoulder as I hustled across the lot.

  “None,” I admitted, reaching the pink beast. “You?”

  “Not a clue. I’m just glad you’re not driving right now.”

  “Why?” I asked, rounding the camper.

  “You’re a terrible driver,” God declared, sounding a lot like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man.

  A woman chuckled.

  I skidded to a stop, finding myself face-to-face with the young woman with wary eyes, who’d once introduced herself as R.V. She took a step back to give us each some space.

  “He’s funny,” she said.

  I blinked at her, bewildered. “Excuse me?”

  “The lizard,” she replied calmly. “He’s funny.”

  I stared at her for a long moment, trying to figure out what that statement meant.

  Behind R.V., Armani, who had been sitting in a folding chair, got to her feet. “Told you she’s scary powerful.”

  I glared at my friend. “You told her?”

  She shook her head. “Didn’t have to. First thing she asked was where was my friend who talks to animals.”

  I frowned, not believing her.

  “He said you’re a terrible driver,” R.V. interjected quietly.

  I shook my head, refusing to believe that someone else could understand animals like I did.

  “Say something else so that I can prove it to her,” R.V. begged the lizard.

  “Prove it to her? I want you to prove it to me,” God countered in his most superior tone.

  “Prove it to her? I want you to prove it to me,” the other woman parroted.

  Armani looked from me to R.V. like she was watching a championship tennis match. “Do you believe her?”

  I nodded slowly.

  “Told ya!” Armani punched my shoulder lightly. Then she turned her attention to the exotic-looking woman standing in front of us. “What else can you do?”

  R.V.’s head pivoted toward her vehicle, frown lines forming across her forehead.

  I looked to Armani, hoping to figure out what was going on, but she shrugged at me sheepishly.

  “I can talk to ghosts,” R.V. whispered
grudgingly, glancing nervously over her shoulder at her vehicle.

  Armani stared at the pink beast. “Is there one inside? Can I talk to it?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she limped over to the door, yanked it open, and climbed inside, closing the door behind her before anyone could protest.

  R.V. shook her head. “She has no idea what she’s getting into.”

  “Who’s in there?” I asked curiously.

  “My ex-mother-in-law.”

  “That must be awkward,” I said sympathetically.

  “You have no idea.” R.V. pinned me with her hazel gaze. “Armani doesn’t know about you?”

  A chill skittered down my spine, making my legs weak. Was R.V. the one who would finally reveal my murderous extracurricular activities?

  Swallowing the lump that lodged in my throat, I managed to choke out, “What about me?”

  Her stare narrowed as she studied me. Tilting her head from one side to the other she examined me.

  I did my best to stand tall and keep my expression neutral despite wanting to run far, far away.

  “You don’t know either,” she said finally.

  “Know what?” My voice squeaked.

  “How things will change? What you will become?”

  “Become?” I asked. The way she said the word, it was weighted with ominous foreboding.

  I leaned against the nearest vehicle, my weakened legs no longer able to hold me up. “What’s going to happen?” I asked, voice trembling.

  “Don’t—” she began. Suddenly her gaze left my face and she stared at any empty spot beside my right shoulder. “But—” she protested. Then she snapped her mouth shut.

  Even though I didn’t think I wanted to know, I had to ask, “What?”

  The lines on her forehead deepened. At first I thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then she said slowly, “Teresa wants you to know that she appreciates that you obeyed her wishes and gave up Katie.”

  “I didn’t give up Katie.” My knee-jerk answer was filled with outrage.

  “You’ll be a much better aunt than mother-figure,” R.V. continued, rubbing the spot between her eyebrows. “You’ve done the right thing.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “Peachy.”

  “You must find the fifth,” R.V. instructed, her voice weak.

  “I. I for Ian, right?”