The Hitwoman Takes A Road Trip (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman Book 17)

by Lynn, JB

  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.

  He too got no response.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  “Go toward the light,” he intoned dramatically.

  “Huh?”

  “Go toward the light.”

  Looking around, I saw that there was only one house that still had its lights on. I walked toward it slowly, a sense of dread making my legs heavy. “This is a bad idea.”

  “You’re just figuring that out?” God mocked. “At some point did being a vigilante for a crazy cat actually seem like a good idea to you?”

  “I’m not a vigilante and she’s not crazy.”

  “She allows herself to be referred to as urine, that doesn’t make her crazy?”

  “She’s my friend,” I defended, as we got closer to the house. Unlike the rest of the yards on the street, this one was overgrown and rusted metal drums dotted the landscape. “I thought she was your friend too.”

  “Friends don’t let friends do stupid things,” God declared.

  “You let me do stupid things like walk up to creepy houses in the middle of the night,” I whispered.

  “That’s different,” he whispered back. “You’re family.”

  Before I could respond, an agonized yowl came from the back of the house.

  Without thinking, I raced up the driveway, past a beat-up pick-up truck and into the backyard, driven by the fear that Piss was in mortal danger.

  That’s when I saw him. A guy who looked like he belonged in a horror movie as he swung a baseball bat overhead, aiming it at the ball of fur cowering on the ground. The moonlight glinted off the aluminum, a spotlight on the destructive instrument.

  “Hey!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

  Surprised, he turned, mid-swing, in my direction, grunting something unintelligible. He was a hulking monster of a man, with too many muscles and too few teeth despite the fact he couldn’t have been more than twenty-five.

  I knew that he was missing a bunch of teeth because he smiled when he saw me. Hoisting the bat against his shoulder, he didn’t look guilty for having been caught mid-attack against a helpless animal. Instead, he looked pleased to have found new prey.

  A bone-numbing chill swept over me as I realized I was now his intended target.

  He moved fast for such a big man, leaping toward me with the bat outstretched.

  I barely managed to jump out of the way as the bat whistled through the air, landing with a thunk into the dirt.

  “Run, Sugar!” Piss urged from across the yard.

  “Like the fucking wind!” God yelled in my ear.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I didn’t really need either of them to give me instruction because I was already racing away as fast as my legs could take me. Heart pounding, I looked over my shoulder to find that the big guy was chasing after me.

  I ran down the middle of the street, hoping that someone would be out walking and spot the maniac brandishing a baseball bat at me, but no one was there.

  “He’s gaining on us,” God warned.

  “Almost there,” I panted as I approached the Jeep.

  “Look out, Sugar!” Piss warned from behind me.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw her try to trip the monster by running at his feet, but he leapt over her like an Olympic hurdler.

  Grabbing the handle of the Jeep, I yanked open the door.

  But I was too late.

  Pain ripped through my shoulder as I was roughly spun around. I would have fallen backwards, but my back slammed into the vehicle.

  I was still trying to regain my balance when I looked up and saw the aluminum bat overhead. Desperately, I tried to kick the monster’s groin and punch his nose or throat, but with his arm outstretched, he kept me pinned away from him.

  For a split second I was free, but then his hand wrapped around my neck and squeezed.

  I gasped for breath, scratching at his arm.

  Meanwhile, God bounded up his arm like a hound from hell and, taking up his best Rocky fighting stance, attempted to jab the man’s eyes with his tiny little legs while yelling/squeaking, “Unhand her, you brute!”

  The man simply rubbed his face against his shoulder, causing the lizard to tumble off, screaming, “Sensitive skin!”

  “I’m gonna put you six feet under, buddy!” a male voice yelled out.

  I looked up just in time to see Mike dive-bomb the monster’s face, claws out and wings flapping.

  To protect himself, my attacker released me in order to protect his face from the crow’s assault.

  “Take that,” Piss yowled, swiping her claws into my attacker’s leg.

  He kicked her off him and then swung the bat in her direction.

  Without thinking, I grabbed it with both hands and pulled. I was able to jerk it free from his grip.

  We both stood for a moment staring at the bat and marveling at my dumb luck in getting it away from him.

  “Hit him!” Piss and Mike yelled simultaneously.

  “Eyes. Nose. Throat. Groin,” God chanted, reminding me of the self-defense lesson my murder-mentor, Patrick Mulligan, had drilled into me.

  Choking up on the bat, I swung it hard, right between the man’s legs, connecting with a satisfying thud.

  He stared at me for a moment and I worried I hadn’t hit him hard enough, but then he fell to his knees with a pained groan.

  “Hit him again,” Mike urged, fluttering overhead.

  It seemed like a good idea, so I smashed the bat into the monster’s side, knocking him over.

  “In the Jeep,” I ordered Piss, relieved to see that God was hanging on to her collar, riding the cat like a deranged bull rider.

  “We can’t leave without Benny,” Piss protested.

  “Who’s Benny?” I asked.

  “The mouse,” the cat explained.

  “This is no time for a snack,” God warned.

  Piss twisted her head so that she could get a look at the lizard on her back. “I don’t want to eat him. I want to save him. We need to take him home.”

  “Save the mouse! Save the mouse!” Mike crowed from above.

  I hesitated, imagining what Aunt Susan’s reaction would be if she discovered me sneaking a mouse into the house.

  Probably about the same as God’s reaction who gasped in disgust, “No vermin!”

  “The big guy is getting up,” Mike warned.

  “Can we please get out of here?” I begged the cat, motioning for her to jump into the Jeep.

  “Not without—” she began.

  “Yeah, yeah, I got that. But right now…”

  She leapt into the Jeep.

  Tossing the baseball bat into the front passenger seat, I jumped in and raced toward the man’s house while he was still struggling to get to his feet.

  As I drove, God transferred himself from the cat to my shoulder.

  “This is a bad idea,” he griped.

  “It was your brilliant idea to go toward the light,” I reminded him dryly.

  We stopped in front of the lit up house, piled out, and raced into the backyard.

  “I’m launching an official protest,” the lizard announced.

  “Duly noted,” I whispered back.

  “Benny?” Piss called.

  A barely audible groan was the only response she got.

  I followed carefully as she crept toward the moaning.

  “Easy, Benny,” she purred. “You’re going to be okay. I brought help.”


  “Does she think you’re some kind of vermin whisperer?” God asked.

  “Will you shut up?” I countered.

  “Help him, Sugar,” Piss pleaded, pawing the ground.

  I bent down to examine the spot she was indicating and spotted a fluffy white cotton ball trembling against the ground. Looking closer, I realized it was actually a small mouse.

  “Hi there,” I said softly. “I’m Maggie. I’d like to help you, but this isn’t a safe place.”

  “Finally, a moment of sense,” God declared.

  Ignoring him, I continued talking to the mouse. “I need to pick you up. Please don’t bite me.”

  “Oh my god, the diseases you could catch,” God groaned.

  I gently scooped up the mouse. I could feel his racing heartbeat thudding against my fingers. “Easy,” I murmured. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

  “He’s coming! He’s coming!” Mike cawed from above.

  “Someone’s going to hurt us all if we don’t get out of here,” God reminded me.

  “For once I agree with the reptile,” Piss meowed. “Let’s get going.”

  Piss led the way down the driveway, back toward the Jeep.

  “Hurry!” Mike urged.

  We piled into the Jeep and I’d thrown it into reverse when I spotted the man in my rearview mirror.

  He was running toward us, arm raised overhead.

  “Hold on,” I yelled, flooring the gas. We bounced backward.

  Slamming on the brakes, I put it into drive, wrenched the steering wheel to the side, and set us spinning away from him.

  Still the man charged at us.

  “Pedal to metal!” God shouted.

  It was as good an idea as any, so I took his suggestion and we shot forward, away from the monster.

  “Look out!” Piss warned as the man threw something at us.

  I flinched as a paving stone crashed into the Jeep.

  “Don’t stop!” Piss yelled.

  And I didn’t. I drove away with the lizard, the cat, and a mouse, knowing that a crow was following us.

  “Zeke’s going to be pissed about his car,” I muttered to none of them in particular.

  “Just tell him you faced down the kind of beast who uses gardening supplies as a weapon,” God huffed. “It’s just so uncivilized.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Returning to Zeke’s house, I snuck back into the RV. Putting poor Benny, who was too traumatized to speak or even move, on a bed of tissues in the plastic box Armani had gotten for God, I asked, “What else can I do for him?”

  “He just needs to rest, Sugar. I’ll look after him.”

  “I wouldn’t be opposed to you eating him,” God offered from where he was watching the proceedings from the top of the kitchen sink faucet.

  Narrowing her good eye, the cat flexed her claws at him. “Nobody’s eating him and no one is getting rid of him.”

  “Separate corners, kids.” I scooped the lizard off his perch and unceremoniously dumped him down my shirt. “I’ve got enough problems. I don’t need any in-fighting from the two of you.” Bending down I stroked the cat’s back. “I’ll be back in the morning to check on you.”

  “It’s already morning,” God groused from between my breasts.

  “Later this morning,” I amended.

  “Thank you, Maggie,” Piss purred. “Thank you for taking me and thank you for saving Benny.”

  “You’re welcome,” I murmured. “Get some sleep.”

  Leaving them, I climbed out of the RV. I winced as I caught a glimpse of the Jeep in the moonlight. The paver stone had left an angry dent and gash in the Jeep’s door. If it had hit a couple of inches higher, it would have shattered the window.

  “Are you here, Mike?” I called out softly.

  “You betchya,” he replied from a nearby tree.

  “Thank you for saving me back there.”

  “Oh save me from this insipid gratitude fest,” God moaned.

  “I wouldn’t let anything happen to my girl,” the bird assured me with swagger.

  “Thanks.” I headed for the house.

  “But if you wanted to repay me…” the bird called slyly.

  I stopped. “How?”

  “Get ready to make a deal with the devil,” God warned.

  “I’d really like some bread tomorrow,” Mike said.

  Relieved that the lizard had been wrong about the request, I smiled. “Sure. Bread.”

  “And breakfast meat?” the bird asked hopefully.

  “If we have any, I’ll save you a piece,” I promised.

  “Maggie?” Zeke called from the doorway of the house.

  I closed my eyes, realizing he’d probably heard me talking to the crow. “Hey.”

  “Come inside. I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  “Why?”

  “You took off after midnight.”

  “I told you I would.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t worry.”

  I glanced at the damage to the Jeep again.

  “Maggie?”

  Deciding it would be best to just confess right away, I gestured at the vehicle and said, “I’m going to have to pay you for this little scratch.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  I frowned. “Not nothing.”

  Zeke walked out into the driveway. All he wore were pajama bottoms. His feet and torso were both bare. He shivered as he walked over and examined the damage.

  “We have different ideas of what a little scratch entails,” he said dryly. He turned and studied me from head-to-toe. “You’re okay?”

  I nodded. “You’re not mad?”

  “It’s just a car.” He flashed a devastatingly mischievous smile. “Besides, it’s not even mine.” Laughing, he threw an arm around my shoulders and he shepherded me into the house. “Let’s get inside and you can tell me what happened, but first you have to explain why Armani is obsessed with pairs.”

  “Pears?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is she pairing them with?” My stomach soured as I asked the question since Armani is known for some truly disgusting food combinations.

  “Each other,” Zeke replied.

  I let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, that doesn’t sound too bad. Kind of like fruit salad.”

  “Not pears, pairs. Two of something. Two of everything. It’s like she’s channeling Noah or something,” Zeke explained with exasperation.

  “First, it was she needed two glasses of wine, which was weird, but I figured maybe she didn’t want to have to get up for a refill.”

  I nodded as I took a seat at the counter in the kitchen and watched him take a gallon of milk out of the fridge.

  “Then it was two towels because she wanted to take a bath, which also wasn’t too weird,” he explained as he poured milk into a small pot. “But then she insisted on two pillows, two blankets, and even two books to read. It’s like she’s obsessed.” He poured a generous amount of cocoa mix into the pot for emphasis.

  “It is strange,” I agreed slowly. “Then again, she gets on these kicks. Not long ago she was really gung ho about getting her portrait painted.”

  He stirred the contents of the pot. “A portrait? Why?”

  I shrugged. “She saw some and thought they were a good idea.”

  He thought about that for a moment. “I think a painter would have a hard time—”

  “Go Fish,” I blurted out, interrupting him.

  He stopped stirring and gave me a worried look. “Excuse me?”

  “Go Fish,” I explained. “I pulled Scrabble tiles that said Go Fish.”

  Shaking his head, he turned off the stove. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Pairs.”

  “Pairs?” He took a couple of mugs out of a cabinet.

  “You win Go Fish by making pairs,” I explained.

  “And you know this because…?”

  “It’s one of K
atie’s favorite games. Didn’t you ever play it as a kid?”

  “No. I played Pick Up Sticks using hypodermics,” he said dryly.

  I paused, caught off guard by him mentioning his drug dealing family, something he rarely, if ever, did.

  “So it’s a game of pairs?” he prompted.

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you know what else comes in pairs?” God prodded from my bra.

  Zeke raised his eyebrows at the squeaking while he handing me a cup of steaming hot cocoa.

  “Dice,” I answered the lizard.

  Zeke looked at me closely. “Dice?”

  “Dice come in pairs,” I explained. “Even fuzzy ones that hang in cars, right?”

  He leaned back against the counter, watching me carefully. “You think that Armani’s thing with pairs has to do with the job.”

  I sighed heavily. “Probably.”

  “But she doesn’t even know…” he protested.

  “That’s the thing with her,” I explained tiredly. “She doesn’t know, but she ends up knowing something important. You know what I mean?”

  “I know that all of this is giving me a headache and I want to go to sleep,” God groaned.

  It was the best suggestion I’d heard all day.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  It felt strange not to have a warm creature pressed against me when I woke up the next morning. I’d grown accustomed to having DeeDee and/or Piss glued to my side overnight.

  But that morning my only companion was God, and he was curled up on the base of the lamp on the bedside table, the tip of his tail covering his eyes like an eye pillow.

  “I miss DeeDee,” I murmured as a morning greeting.

  The lizard lifted his tail slightly so that he could get a good look at me. “Really?”

  “Yes. Don’t you?”

  He shrugged his little shoulders.

  “You do,” I said with certainty.

  “Why would I?” he countered.

  “Because despite her flaws, she’s lovable.”

  “Yes,” he admitted grudgingly. “Somehow she has a way of endearing herself. But I don’t like the mouse.”

  “How do you know? He hasn’t even said anything yet.”

  “I don’t like vermin.”

  I frowned at him. “You can’t go dismissing an entire genus without getting to know an individual.”