My heart obediently exploded on the spot. I felt like I was superhuman…like I could fly around the ceiling if I wanted to. "Leonie—that's wonderful! I feel the same way about you. When I get back, let's talk. Please?"
She laughed, and I felt a surge of adrenalin. "Of course. Where are you?"
Paris grabbed my phone hand and pulled it back. I thought about killing him on the spot. As I put the cell back to my ear he shoved the bills right under my nose.
"We're in Oregon—Portland actually." I said as I finally looked at the envelopes. Time seemed to freeze as I saw the name on the bills of the guy who we were supposed to kill.
In my ear, the phone went dead, and I understood why. Typed neatly across the envelopes was, over and over again, the name Leonie Doubtfire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Steve McCroskey: Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit drinking.
~Airplane
I slumped to the floor, still holding my cell phone. Paris took it from me and closed it.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I don't think so," I said slowly. My voice sounded like it was really far away—like I was a demented ventriloquist. Thoughts played bumper cars in my head. I have to kill my girlfriend. I took an assassin to a family barbeque. This was the conflict of interest from hell.
This went on for some time, with variations on the same theme. I didn't move from the floor. Eventually, in the background I felt the shadow of my cousin moving around the room, but I wasn't really aware of anything. Every time I settled on a thought, it hurt too much to pursue. Leonie was the enemy. And I was supposed to kill her.
We'd killed her colleagues. I was pretty sure she knew that now. I was also pretty sure it would be difficult for our relationship to bounce back from that.
I became aware that Paris was lifting me off the floor, which was good, because I'd lost all feeling in my ass a long time ago.
"Dak." He shook me gently. "Dak!" He shook a little harder. "Snap out of it, man!"
"Why? Why did it have to be her?"
Paris shook his head. "I don't know. It's a cruel joke. You finally grew up and fell in love, and now you have to kill her. It hardly seems fair."
There was no way out of this. If we failed to complete the mission, the Council would kill us. Those were the rules. Rules I'd grown up believing in. Rules I now wanted to blow up inside a Mickey Mouse costume.
"We don't have to figure this out right now," Paris said, trying to be helpful. "And our plane leaves early in the morning. Let's get some sleep."
He held an open hand out to me. There, on his palm, were two sleeping pills. I took them eagerly. There was no way I could sleep otherwise.
I dreamed I was playing tic-tac-toe with Leonie. No matter how many times we played, neither of us could win. And we couldn't stop playing because the Council would shoot us if we ended the game. We kept trying different things, but it was no use. Then, just as I came up with a strategy to win the game—one that couldn't possibly exist, I might add—Leonie pulled a gun on me, shooting me six times. As I fell to the floor, I said, "Rosebud."
In the morning. I was still tired, but not sure it if was residual from the sleeping pills or my bone-crushing depression about Leonie.
"We have to talk about this," Paris said after we went through airport security. "How do we know she isn't waiting outside the airport with a shotgun?"
I froze. I hadn't thought of that. Could she do it? Could she kill me? The answer, though terrifying, filled me with a weird relief. Of course she would. She'd have to do it to save herself. I'd want her to. I envisioned myself gallantly blowing my own head off to save her the agony of doing it herself. My last gift to her. Ooh. If they ever make a movie of my life, the most important thing (besides the fact that Matt Damon would play me, of course) would be to include that line.
I shook my head. What was wrong with me? I didn't want to die. Louis needed me. That little boy shouldn't have to go through losing both his parents in a few short months.
Another thought popped into my head, making me break out in a cold sweat. What if Leonie tried to kidnap Louis—to make a deal? How well did I really know her, after all? Not well—since I missed the fact she was an assassin for a competing agency.
"Where are you going?" Paris asked quietly.
I looked around and realized I was walking toward the ticket taker. Only they hadn't called for us to board yet. Sheepishly, I sat back down.
"You don't think she'd try to take Louis, do you?" I murmured.
Paris shook his head, "Honestly? I have no idea."
In spite of my cousin's apprehension, I felt ashamed of myself. Leonie wouldn't hurt Louis. But she might kill me out of self-preservation.
Paris said, "I called Liv to pick us up. She's going to have Gin check out the airport to make sure Leonie isn't around." He looked like he wanted to say something else, but changed his mind.
I usually loved flying. We always flew first class. The hot towel, the comfortable leather seats, more room than the others back in coach. I always reveled a bit in some elitist bastardry. But this flight was agony. Because every few minutes and few hundred miles brought me closer to the greatest dilemma I'd faced since they discontinued my signature hair gel a couple of years back.
Part of me hoped Leonie would go into hiding and I'd never see her again. That would solve everything but my broken heart. But if she didn't…if she confronted me, would I kill her? The thought of it alone caused an ache that felt like this heartburn I once got after making out with a fire eater. (I'm serious.)
How could I have missed it? Of course that's why Leonie got calls to work at odd hours. And the last night we spent together, she'd probably gotten word that she was the only one of the National Resources assassins left. That's why she left so quickly. That's what she meant when she said she had a lot going on professionally. Was she planning on going into hiding and not tell me?
For a moment, my heart stopped. Had she been thinking that? Was she just going to drop off the face of the earth, never telling me, leaving me to wonder what the hell happened?
I shook my head to clear it. This wasn't about me. This was about Leonie. She now knew who I was and that I had tried to kill her. Maybe she thought I got involved with her just to keep tabs on her so I could kill her. Wow. I really didn't like where this was going.
What the hell was I going to do? I wanted to convince her I wouldn't kill her—that I didn't know who she was when we met—that my feelings for her were genuine. How could I do that? Either she was lying in wait to kill me, or she'd be gone from my life forever. Either way, both of us would be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives.
Damn.
CHAPTER THIRTY
"Do I ice her? Do I marry her?"
~Charley Partana, Prizzi's Honor
Gin threw her arms around me as I entered baggage claim. Liv must've told her, I thought dully.
"I'm so sorry," she said, over and over again.
I nodded and in silence, the four of us collected our bags and loaded them into Liv's minivan. Liv dropped me off at Gin's house, where I found Louis eating peanut butter sandwiches.
My heart came alive for the first time in the last twelve hours as my son jumped into my arms.
"I really missed you, buddy," I whispered in his ear.
"I really missed you, Dad," Louis cried out as he squeezed me so hard I saw spots. Good stranglehold, I thought proudly.
"You broke your promise."
"I know. I shouldn't have done that. Do you forgive me?"
Louis looked into my eyes—which unnerved me a little bit. "No more travel without me. No matter what. Okay?"
I nodded. He was right. I was a first-class asshole of a father. Louis seemed to accept my apology. Finally, I let him go, and he ran off to play with Romi. Gin offered me a cup of coffee, and I took it gratefully. Sitting there in silence, I slowly drained the cup. Gin stood, resting her back against the sink, drinking her own. I
realized I was glad to have her with me.
"What should I do?" I asked.
"I don't know, little brother. I wish I did."
Great. No help from her. But at least she was someone to talk to.
"I don't think you and Louis should go home," Gin started carefully. "What if she decides to kill you?"
"If you'd asked me that question last night, I would've said 'let her.' But I've got Louis to think about." I drummed my fingers on the table. "I don't think she'll come after me. I think she'll vanish, and I'll never see her again."
Gin nodded in response. "I really liked her. I could definitely see her in this family."
"I know. I guess it just wasn't meant to be."
"So, what are you going to do?" Wasn't that the $64,000 question.
"I'm supposed to kill her. That's what I'm contracted to do. Of course, I'm in love with her, so that's not what I'm going to do. I don't know."
Gin said nothing for a moment. It was a definite catch 22, and even my know-it-all sister couldn't solve this one. She changed the subject.
"I showed Louis the basement. He got so excited that I did a little training with him. I hope you don't mind." Last fall she had converted her basement into a child assassin's lair for Romi's and Alta's training.
"He's an amazing kid, Dak. He'll be the best Bombay ever. You should've seen it when he created the beginnings of a dirty bomb using Romi's chemistry set. The kid's got talent."
I smiled at that. Maybe it was my first real smile of the day. Whatever I decided to do, Louis had to remain my first priority.
Eventually, Gin convinced me to stay with her. I tucked my son in and told her I needed to go for a drive to clear my head. Gin would've killed me if she knew I was stopping by my condo. But I needed some clothes and wanted to pick up a few things for Louis. I'd pretty much decided that Leonie would flee rather than confront me. After checking the perimeter outside, I decided it was safe to go in.
I missed Louis. Yes, I knew he was safer with Gin. But it was so weird to walk into my condo alone. Wasn't that the way I'd always wanted it? To be on my own? No ties to anyone? My nightmare scenario was always having to share living space.
Wow. I'd changed. Because now the condo just seemed to be as bleak as a cinderblock room. Nothing felt right. I popped my head into the kitchen hoping to see Leonie making breakfast wearing nothing but my shirt. I entered Louis's room, and instead of wishing it was back to being a guest room, it felt so lonely.
Louis wasn't there to roll his eyes when I said something stupid. He wasn't there to make some really strange remark about the exchange rate between the dollar and the Euro.
Not knowing what else to do, I flipped on the TV. Survivor was on. Instead of grabbing a beer and relaxing, I felt a sudden urge for Kool-Aid and popcorn. Louis thought I should buy something more healthy for him to drink. Hell, I thought all kids wanted colored sugar water.
I switched the television off. I threw some things in a bag. What a mess.
A few short months ago, my life was perfect. Or so it seemed. I didn't have to get up early every morning to get my son off to school. I had my pick of women to keep me company every night. No one told me I couldn't do this or eat that now that I had a son.
I was lying to myself. I wanted my kid, here on the couch with me. I wanted Leonie back in my bed. I wanted to take Louis to school and pick him up. And I wanted to crash funerals just to get a glimpse of that lovely redhead.
The phone rang, and I pounced on it, hoping it was my son calling to say goodnight.
"I need to ask you something." Leonie's voice was chilling.
"Anything. Come over," I pleaded.
"No."
"Okay. I'll come over to your place. Or to Crummy's."
"No, not there." She paused for what seemed like a millennia. "Meet me at 1224 Adams Street." She hung up before I could ask anything more.
Well, she wanted to meet me. That was at least something, I told myself as I pulled into the parking lot of a local farm manufacturer. I was surprised to see the lights on and machines running this late. Then I remembered that this was how two of the Terminator movies ended and suppressed a shudder.
"Leonie?" I called out. And then I noticed that while everything was running, there were no people anywhere. Was she going to kill me here? This really was like The Terminator. But was she the wuss Linda Hamilton, or the buff Linda Hamilton?
She appeared about ten feet away and made no move to come any closer. I wanted to close the gap, but was afraid that might look too threatening, so I stood still.
"I can't believe you stalked me and used me like that." Leonie shouted over the din. "I thought you really loved me."
"I do love you. I didn't know until that moment in Portland that you were on my hit list!" Please believe me.
"How can I believe you? Why should I?"
I thought about that for a moment. It was understandable. I'd feel the same way. Damn. That wouldn't make this any easier.
"I don't know how to convince you other than to tell you that you're the only woman I've ever loved. If I thought you were an assassin, would I have let you get so close to Louis? My family? Jesus, Leonie! They all love you!"
She paused for a moment, and I could see that she was thinking about it. I couldn't even imagine what was going on under all that red hair.
"I'm sorry, Dak." She was frowning. "I have to go. If you're lying, then this is the best thing for me. If you're telling the truth, then it's the best thing for you." She shrugged. "Don't you see that?"
I charged her, determined to hold her down until she listened. There was a loud bang behind me, and I turned to look. When I turned back, Leonie was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
"I can't seem to face up to the facts
I'm tense and nervous, and I can't relax,"
~Psycho Killer, Talking Heads
I found myself drowning my sorrows at a bar. Actually, it was Algonquin's Table, a place I used to come to pick up blondes. I'm not sure why I went there. Maybe it was the first place I saw on my way home.
"You look unhappy." A petite blonde pulled up a stool next to mine and ordered a Chablis.
I didn't respond.
"Hey," she purred. "What's your name?"
I turned to her, intending to blow her off. She was cute. No, she was smokin' hot. Big, brown eyes, long, thick blonde hair and a body you usually had to pay a lot of money to get.
"Dakota. And you are?" I wasn't sure why I responded.
"Eva. Nice to meet you, Dakota." She was really on the make. Five months ago, she'd already be in my bedroom by now doing things she never thought physically possible. Did I miss those days?
She chatted about absolutely nothing—to which I didn't respond. It was pretty obvious she was looking for a good time. The old Dak wouldn't have passed up an opportunity like this. And since Leonie was gone forever and I was lonely for the first time in my life, the old Dak was all I had left. Eva kept working me over—trying to get an invitation to my place. I ignored her, threw some money on the bar and left.
Unfortunately, I'd realized that the bag with mine and Louis' clothes was still back at the condo. Unfortunately, Eva followed me home and forced her way past me as I unlocked the door.
"This is nice," she said. Turning to face me in the living room, she kissed me. Eva smelled really good, but my body wasn't in any hurry to rise to the bait.
"Mind if I use the powder room?" she purred.
Powder room? Leonie would never call it that. She'd make fun of anyone who said something like that, and I would laugh.
"Sure. Down the hall, to your right."
While Eva was in the bathroom, I tried to figure out how to get rid of her. This chick was seriously pissing me off, and I wanted her gone so I could go back to Gin's and Louis. After what seemed like a long time, Eva came back.
She pushed me to the couch and climbed onto my lap, her lips on mine. I pushed her off of me and scrambled to my feet.
"This party is over," I said pointing to the front door.
"You don't really want me to go, do you?"
I nodded. I really wanted her to go.
"What's your story, Dakota?"
"No story. Just a guy. Nothing big." Wow. Not only was the old Dak gone, he apparently had undergone a lobotomy. Huh. Lobotomy sabbatical.
"I just want to get to know you better." Eva reached for my hand.
"Look," I started. "Don't get me wrong, but I'm just not interested." Oh my God! It was like having an out-of-body experience. Who was that guy? Why was he turning down sex from a hot blonde? In the old days, he would've told any one of a hundred lies just to get her in the sack.
There was a flash of anger in her eyes, but she quickly hid it. This chick was kind of scary.
"Let me guess, you just broke up with someone. Is that it?" Eva's voice regained its purr. "Maybe I can help you forget about her for a little while."
She started kissing me, and I pushed her back, "No. I don't think so."
"Well, why don't you just close your eyes and pretend I'm her?" Eva started kissing my neck, her hand reaching between my legs.
"Only if you have a Woody Woodpecker tattoo," I muttered—I thought—to myself.
"I don't work for National..." She sat up sharply, recognizing her mistake.
I grabbed her wrist. No tattoo. But she knew something. Eva scrambled to her feet and pulled a gun from a thigh holster. Now, why didn't I feel that earlier? Seems to me I would have. Of course, I'd been too busy playing with alliteration. Idiot.
"Damn it. They told me you were partial to blondes!" Her eyes burned, "I dyed my hair for this gig. Now I have to do this the hard way."
Guns Will Keep Us Together Page 16
