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

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Maggie Lee (Book 17): The Hitwoman Takes A Road Trip Page 9

by JB Lynn


  “Quite the menagerie.”

  “They’re good company,” I admitted.

  “Of course we are,” God said smugly.

  “Most of the time,” I added. “But sometimes they can each be a royal pain in the ass.”

  Ian nodded. “Like people.”

  “Exactly like people.”

  We walked along for a few minutes in silence. I didn’t know what to ask him first. Hell, I didn’t even know if he knew he was my brother, and come to think of it, I didn’t really know whether he was or not either. For all I knew, this could be one of Archie Lee’s crazy cons that only he understood.

  Well, maybe one other person knew what was going on, his twin brother, who I’d just recently met. I decided to start with him. “So…I met Thurston not long ago.”

  My father’s brother had been very worried that Ian had disappeared. Of course now, knowing that Ian was in contact with my dad, I couldn’t blame him.

  Ian jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans like a sulking teenager. “I imagine Uncle Thurston isn’t too happy with me right now.”

  “He seemed concerned about your safety.”

  “Yeah, well, he always was the more protective one.”

  That observation set off all kinds of alarm bells inside me and I abruptly halted. I waited until Ian stopped too and had turned to look at me before asking, “What does he think he needs to protect you from?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Frown lines burrowed between Ian’s eyebrows. “You don’t know?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then what the hell are you doing here?”

  I couldn’t tell from his expression whether he was angry or impatient, but he certainly wasn’t happy. I fought the instinct to put some distance between us and instead held my ground despite the cold emptiness filling my gut. “I’m here on a road trip.” I pointed out the RV and didn’t mention I also had to get Piss home and steal a pair of fuzzy dice.

  Ian let out an exasperated sigh, rubbed his jaw, and started stalking back toward his car.

  “Wait!” I called, chasing after him.

  He didn’t slow down.

  I had to break into a sprint just to catch up with his long-legged getaway. “Look,” I panted, “you’ve got to know as well as I do that my dad, Archie, isn’t the most forthcoming person when it comes to details. Even important details.”

  Hearing the truth in my words, Ian slowed down so that I could walk beside him.

  “It’s not your fault,” he muttered. “I understand that. It’s just…” He trailed off as he came to a stop.

  “Just what?”

  He glanced from his car that was only a couple of yards away to Zeke’s house.

  I put myself between him and the car, and tried to subtly wave over Piss to do the same. I couldn’t let him get away, not when I’d finally found him. Or more accurately, not when he’d found me.

  “I’ve got your back, Sugar. There’s no way he passes,” Piss hissed.

  Ian peered past me at the cat, looking slightly alarmed.

  “Just what?” I demanded to know again, bringing his attention back to me.

  He shrugged helplessly. “I thought you were here to help.”

  God interrupted with, “Don’t you do it. Don’t offer to help.”

  Ignoring the lizard, I prompted, “Help you with what? If I can, I will.”

  “Here we go again,” God groaned. “It’s like an addiction with you. A compulsive need to help everyone you meet.”

  Ian stared at the lizard on my shoulder that wouldn’t stop squeaking.

  “Don’t forget that what’s-her-name, the ghostie-sister, insists that Maggie needs I,” Piss reminded him.

  “Teresa!” God thundered. “You’ve been spending too much time with the grammatically-challenged canine if you can’t remember the ghostie-sister’s name.”

  Shaking his head, Ian began to chuckle.

  I grabbed the lizard off my shoulder and unceremoniously stuffed him down my shirt, leaving him in my bra.

  “Sensitive skin!” he protested.

  “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” I yelled.

  It wasn’t a cool and classy set of moves, or even a particularly sane one, and I worried I might have chased Ian off for good when he turned away.

  It wasn’t until he bent over, guffawing so hard he could barely keep his balance, that I realized he’d found the whole thing amusing, or, considering tears were leaking from his eyes, hysterical.

  Even though we were outdoors, his belly-laughing seemed to echo off every hard surface. It was infectious and soon I found myself laughing along with him.

  We just stood there for a few minutes, each trying to catch our breath, and then bursting into new fits of spontaneous laughter.

  Finally, wiping away his tears, Ian straightened. “Well, I guess we’re over the awkward part of our introduction.”

  “I guess so. Now will you tell me what you need help with?”

  He considered me for a long moment.

  “Please?”

  He nodded. “I have proof that the Concord family is involved with organized crime. I can’t give it to the authorities in New Jersey because—”

  “You don’t know who’s on the take,” I interrupted. I’d had my own dealings with the Concords, one of the richest and most powerful families in the state of New Jersey. I’d actually saved the life of the youngest member of the family, Alton, twice. Once while chaperoning Katie’s field trip and a second time when an assassin had been hired to kill the little boy at a gala at the planetarium.

  Ian nodded eagerly.

  “So you want to get it to someone in the Federal Government?”

  He nodded. “Sound crazy?”

  “Sounds dangerous,” I said carefully. “I can understand why Thurston is worried about you.”

  “But I’ve got to do something,” Ian said with conviction. “Innocent lives are being affected by this every day.”

  I nodded slowly. “Which crime family are the Concords involved with?” I held my breath waiting for his answer.

  “The Sorvinas.”

  “Lucky break,” God offered from my bra.

  I didn’t respond, despite the fact I wholeheartedly agreed with him. Considering I was fairly certain that Ian was Delveccio’s son, the situation could have been a whole lot more complicated.

  Ian’s brows knit together. “Why?”

  “Why did I ask which family?” I asked, hating the telltale squeakiness in my voice. “Just curious, I guess.”

  Ian scowled.

  “What is it that you have on them?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “The less you know, the better off you are.”

  I winced, as he used the exact words of my father.

  Misreading my expression he said hurriedly, “If you’re having second thoughts I totally understand. I—”

  I held up a hand to silence him. “I’ll do my best to help you,” I pledged.

  “You will?” He seemed surprised. “It could be dangerous.”

  I shrugged. “Danger is my middle name.”

  “Technically your middle name is May,” God corrected.

  “But before I do anything else,” I told Ian with a forced smile. “I’m locking God in the RV.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” the little guy gasped.

  Ian nodded his understanding.

  “I’ll put him away and be right back,” I promised.

  “I’m being wrongfully imprisoned,” God wailed. “Inhumane treatment.”

  Ian raised his eyebrows.

  “Newsflash, scaly: You’re inhuman,” Piss purred sarcastically, twitching her tail.

  “Right back,” I promised Ian.

  “Brutality! Starvation!” God continued as I hurried toward his cell, also known as the motor home.

  “I’ll find something for the prisoner to eat before he insists he’s on a hunger strike,” Piss offered, bounding off into the bushes.

  “
Are you trying to ruin everything?” I asked God, the moment I stepped into the RV. “Do you have any idea what kind of first impression I’ve made on Ian?”

  “Take responsibility for your own actions,” God replied snootily, hoisting himself out of my shirt with the help of a bra strap. “Besides, he seemed to take everything amazingly well.”

  “He did,” I admitted as the lizard ran down my arm onto the counter by the sink.

  “I’m not getting back into that plastic box,” he warned. “I feel like I’m living in a fish bowl in that thing.”

  Behind us, Piss said something unintelligible, but it was impossible to make out her words since she held a squirming cricket in her mouth.

  “Dinner!” A gleam in his eye, God rubbed his little front feet together in anticipation. “Serve it up.”

  Not needing to be told twice, the cat leapt onto the counter and spit the dazed insect out in front of the lizard.

  I turned away quickly. Sure, I’ve killed a human being or two, but something about watching a cricket meet its end by God’s hands made me extremely squeamish.

  “You don’t even have the good manners to say thank you,” Piss complained.

  God grunted a sound.

  “And don’t talk with your mouth full,” the cat lectured. “It’s a disgusting habit.”

  “I’m disgusting?” God bellowed his outrage.

  “Do you want to wait here or come in the house?” I asked quickly, not having the time to play referee to their sibling-like squabble.

  “Anywhere that’s away from him.” Tail held high, she jumped off the counter and left the RV.

  “She did something nice for you,” I reminded the lizard who was working on a cricket leg like it was a Thanksgiving drumstick.

  “Um, Sugar,” Piss called hesitantly.

  “Coming!” I hurried out of the RV, slamming the door for emphasis.

  That’s when I saw it.

  Or didn’t see it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ian’s car was gone.

  “Ian?” I called out, hoping my eyes were deceiving me.

  “He’s gone, Sugar,” Piss said gently.

  I leaned back against the camper, caught off guard by how much his disappearance hurt.

  The cat rubbed against my leg, offering quiet comfort. “I’m sorry.”

  I shook my head. “I shouldn’t have expected anything less from him.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “No. I should have known that anyone connected to Archie is trouble.” I pushed off the RV, causing her to scramble out of my way as I marched toward the house. “It’s no big deal.”

  “Then you might want to unclench your fists before you walk into the house,” the cat suggested, letting me know my bravado wasn’t fooling her.

  I took her suggestion and managed to paste a smile on my face by the time I found Zeke and Armani hanging out on a large leather couch watching one of those home improvement shows where the impossible is pulled off in every single episode.

  “Hey, Chica,” Armani called without taking her gaze off the TV screen.

  “Hey.”

  “Where’s Ian?” Zeke asked.

  “He had to go.” I plopped into a nearby chair and pretended to be riveted by a room reveal.

  Piss hopped into my lap and began purring, “Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.”

  I stroked her, grateful for her loyalty.

  “That’s it,” Armani declared as a sparkling new bathroom was revealed on television. “I’m not waiting to hit that tub.”

  “Go for it,” Zeke encouraged.

  Slipping off the sofa, Armani gave me a quick wave and limped away.

  “She covets my tub,” Zeke told me.

  “She’s got enough money, she should just buy herself one.”

  He turned off the set and focused on me. “You okay?”

  “Yup.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  Not wanting to get into it, I said, “Tell me about the dice we need to steal.”

  “They’re very special dice.”

  “Duh. They’re fuzzy, after all.”

  He nodded. “They also hang in the car of an attorney who’s about to try a case.”

  “What kind of attorney rides around with fuzzy dice?” I asked, amazed by the cheesiness of the idea.

  “See?” Zeke beamed. “That’s why I love you. Anyone else would have asked what kind of case, but not you. You want to know what kind of attorney.”

  I gave him the side eye, unsure of whether he was serious or making fun of me. “Are you going to tell me?”

  “He’s a divorce attorney.”

  I frowned. What could a divorce attorney have that would be of interest to Ms. Whitehat?

  “He believes that love depends on a roll of the dice. Get it?”

  “I got it. What’s so special about the dice?”

  Zeke nodded approvingly. “Better question. They contain a recording device, that, as far as anyone can tell, is still working, but unfortunately has stopped broadcasting.”

  “So you’re after divorce dirt?” I asked, unimpressed.

  “When the soon-to-be-ex-husband is Papa Piero, yes.”

  My stomach flip-flopped nervously. “Of the Sorvina crime family?”

  Zeke nodded. “So it’s believed that there could be some incriminating information captured by the device.”

  “So why not just steal the car?” I tried to sound normal as my mind raced. It seemed a strange coincidence that both Zeke and Ian were involved in taking down the Sorvina family. I wondered if Ms. Whitehat and her shadowy organization was behind all of this.

  “Because that might attract attention and the powers that be want this to be a stealthy operation.”

  “They think the guy won’t miss his freaking fuzzy dice?”

  “Not if they’re replaced with a matching pair.”

  “That’s the job?” I asked. “Doesn’t sound so dangerous to me.”

  “It wouldn’t be,” Zeke agreed. “If only the Sorvina family hadn’t installed their own camera in the car after our dice were already in there. Apparently, they think they’ve got a traitor in their midst who is going to turn them into the Feds and they’re all spying on each other.”

  “So you can’t steal or replace the dice without alerting them,” I groaned, knowing that the Sorvina family’s biggest problem was someone in my family.

  Zeke nodded. “Exactly. So what do you say? Are you up to helping me?”

  I nodded slowly. “Sure. But I need something from you first.”

  “Name it.”

  “I need to borrow your Jeep later tonight to run an errand.”

  “Okay. Why didn’t you tow a car with you?”

  “What?”

  “You can tow a car. Just attach it to the back of the RV.”

  I frowned. “Armani didn’t tell me we had the capability to do that.”

  Zeke shrugged. “Maybe she figured it would be easier to not have the extra length for your maiden voyage.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed. “Speaking of Armani, I’ll need you to keep her entertained so that she doesn’t insist on coming with me.”

  He groaned. “That’s asking a lot.”

  “Come on,” I cajoled. “You’re resourceful.”

  “Maybe. But she can be relentless.”

  I chuckled. “Don’t I know it.”

  “What kind of errand do you have to run?”

  I looked down at the cat in my lap. “I have to keep a promise I made to someone.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  God was mercifully silent as I maneuvered Zeke’s Jeep through the dark, unfamiliar streets.

  I knew he didn’t approve of this plan to take Piss to her former home. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure it was the best of ideas either, but if it was what the cat wanted to do, I felt compelled to help her.

  So we rode. God sprawled out on the dashboard, staring out into the shadows, Piss riding shotgun, meowing the directions
on where to turn and nervously kneading the seat, and me squeezing the steering wheel, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into this time.

  “Park anywhere on this street,” Piss finally ordered. Her usual Southern drawl had been replaced by a voice that was tight, clipped with anxiety.

  The neighborhood we ended up in was quiet, since it was after midnight and nondescript. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was driving onto the set of a horror movie. I swear I could even hear the ominous music pulsating in the background as I slid the Jeep into a spot along the curb.

  “Do you hear that?” I asked God.

  Instead of answering me, he scrambled across the steering wheel so that he could run up my arm onto my shoulder.

  “You ready for this?” I asked Piss.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted shakily.

  I reached out and stroked her head. “We don’t have to do it.”

  “But I’ve been waiting so long,” she mewled pitifully.

  “Waiting for what?” God asked gently, for once sounding like a caring being instead of a superior one.

  “To stop him.” She looked up at me with her good eye. “I could never do it alone, but with your help…”

  I frowned. While I hated the idea of whoever had hurt my beloved cat, I wasn’t sure I was up to killing him for it, and that’s what she wanted me to do. “I don’t know, honey. I—”

  “Help! Help!” a terrified voice screamed.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked, opening the Jeep door and jumping out.

  The cat leapt out right behind me.

  “Help!” the disembodied voice wailed.

  Piss raced toward the sound.

  “Wait!” I warned, but she was already gone. I ran after her, running around the corner like I’d seen her do. But once I had made the turn, she was nowhere in sight.

  “Piss?” I whisper-yelled, not wanting to disturb the neighborhood by screaming “Piss!” at the top of my lungs. I didn’t think people would respond too well to that.

  She didn’t answer.

  “Answer her, Piss!” God ordered imperiously. Of course he could get away with it since his voice only sounded like a mere squeak to human ears.

 

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