9 The Hitwoman's Downward Dog

by JB Lynn

  I tiptoed out of Ike's apartment and began to walk quickly in the opposite direction, fervently hoping there was another exit. I'd made it three doors down when I heard a loud, "Hey!" yelled in my direction.

  Without looking back, I broke into a full-out run, the pages of the yoga journal flapping with every stride. Heavy footsteps followed me. I ran faster, rolling up the magazine so I could swat my would-be attacker like he was a misbehaving dog.

  Rounding the corner and spotting an EXIT sign, I glanced over my shoulder and saw a man chasing me. He looked pissed, and he looked like the kind of guy who wouldn't be stopped by a swat on the nose.

  Fear made me faster. I flew down the steps of the exit staircase. Not that getting outside would help much. In this neighborhood, no one came to the assistance of their best friend, let alone a complete stranger.

  Still, when I burst through the door, I looked for help. There was none. Just like there was no place to hide in the empty lot.

  As I cleared the corner, I heard a heavy grunt behind me and a hand grazed my shoulder. I zigged and he must have zagged because the contact was broken. Lungs burning, heart bursting, I headed for my car. If I could get to it and the gun beneath the driver's seat, maybe, just maybe, I could save myself.

  The big guy wasn't giving up the hunt though. He was breathing just as heavily as I was and I could hear him growing closer with every step. I wasn't going to make it.

  "Help!" I screamed, which was quite the feat considering I was struggling to breathe. "Help!"

  Spotting my car, I gave one last kick and sped up just a bit more.

  I never saw the other car coming up on my right, until its bumper practically kissed my knee. Instinctively, I pivoted away from the moving vehicle, which threw me off balance and sent my tumbling to the ground, scraping my palm as I tried to keep my face from ending up on the pavement.

  Somehow the car stopped and didn't run me over.

  But it, or, more likely its occupant, did run off the man who'd been chasing me. When I looked back in the direction we'd come from, I spotted him jogging away as fast as he could.

  "What the hell is wrong with you?" a familiar voice boomed as I spotted its owner's shoes rounding the corner to stand in front of me.

  I flinched, more because my hand and knee stung from their scrapes than because of the ire of the person who'd just barely managed to stop from running me over.

  I squinted up at him. "Sorry about that."

  "Sorry?" he shouted. Then, realizing it was bad form to scream at a woman lying prone on the ground, he forced himself to speak in a reasonable, measured tone. "Are you trying to get yourself killed, Maggie?"

  "Not trying. No."

  "That guy was chasing you." Grabbing my arm behind my elbow, he hauled me to my feet. "I could have run you over."

  I looked my savior in the eye, but immediately averted my gaze, unable to face the fury I saw. "I'm really sorry."

  Detective Brian Griswald didn't let go of my arm. "I should throw you in jail."

  "For what?" I asked, startled.

  "Interfering with a police investigation."

  "I thought you had to wait to investigate."

  "Technically, Maggie. I said 'technically.' You really think I'd leave your crazy friend out there with no one looking for her?" Shaking his head, Brian let go of me and leaned tiredly against the hood of his car. "You need to let the professionals handle this."

  "Okay." I nodded enthusiastically, remembering the big guy who'd chased me and wondering what had happened to Zeke. Had the other man attacked him or was he being chased too?

  Brian shook his head and exhaled loudly. "Do me a favor and don’t BS me on top of everything else."

  "Come again?"

  "I've seen what you do for people you care about. Last time it almost got you killed."

  I nodded, knowing he was referring to my efforts to save my father from the Lubovsky Crime Family. Of course, what he didn't know was that I'd killed people, albeit bad people who deserved it, in order to take care of myself.

  Suddenly a figure rounded the corner of the building and ran toward us.

  "Get in the car!" Zeke shouted before realizing that the detective was standing beside me.

  Brian peered past Zeke, making sure no one was following him. "You dragged him into this too?"

  I couldn’t very well tell him that Ms. Whitehat, blackmailer extraordinaire, was the one who’d gotten Zeke involved in this mess. "He’s one of my oldest friends." I shot Zeke a warning look as he slowed to a stop beside me. "And besides he’s flirted with Armani."

  "Everyone has flirted with Armani or vice versa," Brian said drily.

  "Nice to see you again, Detective Griswald," Zeke said, extending his hand like we were at a cocktail party making small talk.

  Instead of Brian taking it, he shook his head. "You need to go back to the B&B right now."

  "Okay," I agreed automatically.

  "My car," Zeke protested weakly.

  "To the B&B or to the station," Brian said firmly. "Your choice."

  "I can get my car later," Zeke agreed.

  I turned to get into my car, but froze in place when Brian asked, "Find anything?"

  My back to him, I shook my head.

  "What about the magazine?"

  I looked down at the yoga journal I’d forgotten I was clutching. Slowly turning to face him, I handed it over to Brian. As I did, I was relieved to see it didn’t have an address printed on it.

  Taking it, Brian flipped through it quickly. "Let me guess, it’s a peace offering for your Aunt Leslie, the yoga nut."

  I nodded without hesitation. That was way more believable than the lie I’d been mentally constructing about how I was going to pretend to sell magazines door-to-door as an excuse to talk to Ike Medd’s neighbors.

  "The things you do for your family." He handed it back to me. "Okay, go back to the B&B and wait for me there."

  "For how long?"

  Over Brian’s shoulder, Zeke shot me a warning look that could've killed a lesser woman.

  "For how long?" Brian asked incredulously.

  He was definitely on the verge of pulling out the obstructing an investigation thing again, so I hurriedly explained, "I have an appointment scheduled with Katie’s doctors."

  Brian narrowed his gaze, assessing the new information.

  "It’s important or I wouldn’t ask."

  "Fine, you take your partner-in-crime here"—he jerked his head in Zeke’s direction—"back to the B&B. You go to the hospital and only to the hospital and then back to the B&B to wait for me. Agreed?"

  I nodded emphatically. "Thank you."

  Brian looked to Zeke to protest, but my friend is an accomplished con man. All he did was smile benevolently and say, "I could use a decent meal."

  "Go. Before I change my mind."

  I jumped behind the steering wheel and Zeke slid into the passenger wordlessly. I’d driven three blocks before either of us spoke.

  "Are you out of your flippin’ mind?" Zeke suddenly shouted.

  I flinched as his voice bounced off the windshield, assaulting my eardrums.

  He half-dove into the back seat to retrieve the yoga magazine I’d tossed back there, jostling my shoulder in the process. "You could have gotten us killed."

  I eased the car to a stop on the side of the road, deciding it would be safer to be in park during his meltdown.

  "And then you lied to the cop," he continued to rail. "Over what? This?" He slapped the magazine against the dashboard.

  "Hey," I protested, snatching it away from him. "That’s a clue."

  "A clue? A clue? Do you suddenly think you’re Nancy Drew or something?"

  "It’s a clue that could help me find my friend," I shouted back, having had enough of his outrage. "Friends help friends. When you needed me, I helped you," I reminded him pointedly.

  He turned away, glaring at a faraway point beyond the passenger window.

  While I waited for him to c
alm down, I flipped through the magazine, hoping it would help me achieve a Zen-like state. It didn’t work, but I was distracted by the myriad of ways the human body can be contorted.

  "When one guy grabbed me and the other guy took off after you," Zeke said quietly, "it scared the hell out of me."

  I closed the magazine and patted his knee reassuringly. "But here we are, safe and sound."

  He turned his gaze back toward me. Worry lines furrowed his forehead. "If something happened to you…"

  "It didn’t. How did you get away from the guy that grabbed you?"

  "His cell phone rang and when he went to answer it, I twisted away and ran like hell."

  "I’m glad you’re okay," I admitted shakily. "I was worried about you."

  "I’m fine, but you’re hurt." Catching my hand, he turned it upward to demonstrate the scrape across my palm.

  "I tripped in front of Griswald’s car," I told him. It was a half-truth, but I wanted to ease some of his concern.

  He exhaled a sharp puff of air. "About cars. How am I going to get mine?"

  "I’ll take you as soon as Griswald lets us off house arrest. Speaking of which, he’s probably going to check in with Larry to see if we’re there, so we should get going."

  "Larry?’

  "U.S. Marshal Lawrence Griswald, his uncle."

  "Susan’s boyfriend?"

  "Today’s."

  "What about Bob?"

  I shrugged, putting the car into gear. Susan, who’d been single for as long as I could remember, suddenly had an active love life, with both Griswald and Bob the Builder pursuing her.

  "Do you really have a meeting with Katie’s doctors?" Zeke asked while I drove.

  "Yes."

  "Anything wrong?"

  My niece, Katie, was recovering after being in a coma. The coma was a result of the car accident that killed her parents, left me her legal guardian, and also left me with the ability to talk to animals.

  To say it had been a stressful couple of months was an understatement. When you factored in the fact I’d become a paid assassin and had been blackmailed into some strange activities by Ms. Whitehat, it was a miracle I hadn’t ended up in the loony bin, rooming with my mom.

  "Maggie?" Zeke prompted gently. "Is something wrong with Katie?"

  "I don’t think so. She seems to be doing well. She’s getting stronger. Seems relatively happy considering she’s cooped up in the hospital. I think it’s just going to be a status report, but I’d hate to miss it. Susan would never let me hear the end of it."

  "I understand."

  Zeke had lived at the B&B for a while when we were teenagers and knew well the kind of expectations Aunt Susan maintained.

  I pulled to a stop in front of the B&B, taking care not to pull into the driveway where there was a greater chance of getting trapped by one well-meaning family member or another.

  Zeke climbed out of the car.

  "Can you do me a favor?’

  "Does it require Breaking and Entering?"

  I shook my head. "Can you let DeeDee out and check on Piss?’

  "The cat?" Zeke asked.

  "Yeah. She’s been having a tough time of it. Can you try to get her something to eat?’

  "Okay." He didn’t sound too enthused. I took that to mean he’s not a cat person.

  "But don’t give her any pain medication, no matter how much she cries. She’s hooked on painkillers."

  I could have sworn I saw Zeke pale slightly. "Your cat is an addict?"

  "Yeah, but don’t worry. I’m getting her help." Spotting Aunt Loretta walking out onto the porch, I ordered sharply. "Close the door."

  He did and I gunned the motor, leaving him behind in a cloud of dust to deal with my aunt.

  Chapter 6

  As I hurried across the parking lot toward the hospital, I noticed the redhead walking toward me. My breath caught at the sight of him.

  Even though things were strained between myself and my murder-mentor, I was still drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Patrick Mulligan’s number one rule is: Don’t get caught, but that didn’t stop me from changing my path so that it would intersect with his. After all, I reasoned, I had a legitimate reason for being there, and it was public knowledge that we knew each other from his work as a police detective.

  Still, when he halted in his tracks the moment he spotted me, I worried I’d made a tactical error intercepting him and I stumbled to a stop too.

  He glanced around, making sure no one was within earshot before he spoke. "Hi, Mags."

  The husky, seductive note in his voice turned my insides to mush despite the fact he’s shown no interest in leaving his wife for me. "Hi," I choked out. "Everything okay?" He’d recently been a patient at the hospital after someone tried to poison him.

  "Just a standard follow-up check-up. Everything’s A-OK, thanks in no small part to you."

  I’d been the one who had figured out the poisoner was the husband of the woman Patrick’s wife was having an affair with. Well, technically, it was the undercover work of my pet lizard, Godzilla, but I hadn’t told Patrick that. "I’m glad."

  "You look good."

  Considering I’d barely escaped the clutches of someone’s evil henchmen, I found that hard to believe, but it was still nice to hear. I flashed him a weak smile of gratitude.

  He stepped closer. His green gaze caught mine, searching. "Something’s wrong."

  Fighting the urge to close the gap between us and throw myself into his strong, capable arms, I choked out, "It’s Armani."

  "You had a fight?"

  "I think she’s been kidnapped."

  "Oh."

  I frowned up at him. His "oh" hadn’t sounded properly concerned. "Will you help me find her?"

  "I wish I could, Mags, but…" He trailed off, looking at something behind me. "We’ve got company."

  "But?" I squeaked indignantly. When he’d begged me to prove that his wife wasn’t the one trying to kill him, I’d done what he’d asked, but now with my friend missing, he wouldn't return the favor?

  "Rule one," he muttered under his breath, before grinning widely at whoever was behind me. "Hey, buddy."

  "Hey."

  The man who answered only uttered a single syllable, but I knew who it was. With a sinking feeling, I turned slowly to face him. Jack Stern’s expression revealed nothing.

  "Jack, this is Maggie," Patrick made the introductions pleasantly. "Maggie, this is my pal, Jack."

  "We’ve met," Jack informed him.

  "Oh yeah?" There was no missing the note of confusion lacing Patrick’s tone.

  "How do you two know each other?"

  My stomach tied itself in nervous knots and I looked away, not knowing what to say. It wasn’t like I could tell him that Patrick had taught me how to kill people.

  "We met working a case," Patrick lied smoothly. "I saved her dog’s life. How is DeeDee doing?"

  I raised my head to look at Patrick’s face. Like his pal, his expression revealed nothing of what he was thinking. "She’s good, but Piss has developed a drug habit."

  "Piss?" Jack asked.

  "My cat."

  "Your cat has a drug habit?" the reporter scoffed.

  "Why are people so surprised by that? She was hurt and went on pain killers and became addicted." My gaze skittered across Jack’s face, unable to maintain eye contact with him.

  "And how’s your sister?" Patrick asked amiably, as though we’re just friendly acquaintances, not a couple of people who’d spent a considerable amount of time making out and saving each other’s lives.

  "She’s got a boyfriend."

  Patrick raised his eyebrows at that revelation.

  Knowing he was wondering if that was code for Marlene had returned to her life and prostitution and had a new pimp, I added, "Nice guy. He’s an EMT." I left off the part about Marlene’s boyfriend, Doc, being a stripper on the side.

  "Good for her." Patrick smiled benignly. "Well, I’ve got to go. It was good to see you." He
extended a hand to Jack. "Stay out of trouble, buddy."

  "Never," Jack pledged as the two men shook hands.

  Realizing I wasn’t going to get the chance to convince Patrick to help me find Armani, I turned away from them and continued toward the hospital.

  I could hear them talking to each other as I moved away, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. I forced myself to keep moving forward.

  I was almost at the door of the building when hurried footsteps slapped against the pavement behind me.

  "Any news on your friend?" Jack asked, falling into step beside me.

  "What are you doing here?" I countered.

  "Looking for you." He opened the hospital door and ushered me in ahead of him.

  "Why?" I stalked down the hallway.

  "When I saw you talking to Detective Griswald, thought you might provide an interesting angle to the story, but when I figured out you’re Archie Lee’s kid…"

  I stopped dead in my tracks, simultaneously terrified and furious that he was looking into me.

  "How is your old man, by the way, staying out of trouble?"

  I did my best to sound casually disinterested. "Hopefully. Haven’t seen or spoken with him in a while." That was the truth.

  "You had a falling out?" Jack murmured sympathetically.

  Actually, I felt like I understood my dad better than ever, but I didn’t tell the reporter that. "Different paths in life," I replied noncommittally.

  My current path was working as a paid assassin, while Dad’s was living in the Witness Protection Program and testifying against some very bad men.

  "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in," Jack apologized. "Side effect of the job, I guess."

  I shrugged it off and began walking again. "Are you writing a story about me or my family?" I’d meant to sound all calm and cool when asking the question, but I was unable to keep the tension from my tone.

  "I’m in the habit of illuminating truths, not ruining lives."

  He sounded so offended that I almost offered an apology for inferring he might ruin my life. But I didn’t. Instead, I asked, "So I’m a lead in the story of Armani’s disappearance?"

  "You’re the most interesting one," he admitted. "But so far, there’s no story. Who was the guy you were with earlier?"