9 The Hitwoman's Downward Dog

by JB Lynn

  "We've been looking for you," she said as way of greeting.

  "Good morning to you too," I countered. "Who's we?" Snatching up a leftover brownie and shoving it into my mouth before she could start to lecture me that dessert is not breakfast. On a day that you're not sure whether you'll make it out alive, I say eat dessert first.

  Frown lines appeared at the bridge of her nose, signaling her disapproval of my dietary choices.

  I'd been swallowing a mouthful of semi-stale chocolatey goodness when she said, "Detective Mulligan." Surprise and worry had me choking on the baked treat.

  Shaking her head, Susan walked out of the kitchen saying, "I'll tell him you're on your way."

  After spitting out the rest of the brownie into the trash and wiping the tears from my watery eyes, I checked my reflection in the microwave door.

  "What's he doing here?" God asked from my chest.

  "I don't know."

  "It's odd he didn't use the basement entrance."

  I thought so too, but instead of agreeing with the lizard, I smoothed my hair.

  "He must be here on official business," God continued. "That can't be good."

  "Can you shut up now, please?" I hissed. I didn't need him to make me more nervous than I already was, and I certainly didn't want my chest to squeak when I spoke with Patrick.

  The reptile fell silent and I strode into the dining room with what I hope passed for a pleasant smile pinned to my face. "Good morning."

  "Morning," Patrick replied easily, but I saw an angry spark glittering in his green gaze.

  I'm pretty sure my smile wobbled.

  "He's here about Armani," Susan told me, pressing a banana into my hand, a none-too-subtle hint to eat better, as she left the room.

  I settled into the seat opposite Patrick and eyed him nervously. He was definitely pissed about something, but when he spoke his tone was pleasant, "Your aunt made coffee. Care for a cup?"

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

  He poured a cup for me and added milk without asking, before reaching across the table to hand it to me. As we made the exchange our fingers brushed and an electric spark jumped between us. I knew he felt it too because of the way his jaw tightened, but when he spoke, he was all business.

  "I'm here on official business."

  "Told ya!" God whispered.

  Patrick's eyes flicked from my face to my chest and then away. He gave his head a tiny shake of disbelief before speaking again. "As you know, I'm working the disappearance of Detective Joy Gilbert." He paused, studying me.

  I waited silently unsure of where this was going.

  "Apparently, your friend Armani and Joy know each other."

  I did my best to look vaguely disinterested.

  The lines around Patrick's eye grew more pronounced and his voice pitched deeper. "They exchanged a lot of phone calls."

  Deciding the safest thing I could do in the situation was to keep my mouth shut, I didn't respond.

  "What about you? Do you know Joy Gilbert?"

  I sipped my coffee to give myself a moment to consider my response. From the way Patrick raised his eyebrows, I knew he wasn't fooled by my stalling technique. I decided to go with a half-truth. "I met her once."

  "How?"

  "At the hospital cafeteria. Armani and I were grabbing a meal, and well, you know Armani, she talks to everyone. When I got to the table, she was chatting with this Joy woman."

  It was Patrick's turn to sip his coffee. He watched me steadily over the top of his cup and I knew that he knew I wasn't telling him the whole truth. He was right. I may have only had one conversation with the woman, but I'd seen her more than once since Ms. Whitehat had assigned me the task of keeping her from doing something desperate, something that had involved Lucky O'Hara. But I couldn't tell Patrick that; he didn't know about Whitehat, while she seemed to know everything about him and used it as leverage to get me to do things for her.

  When Patrick finally spoke, his voice was no louder than a whisper. "You didn't think I should know that Armani knows the woman I'm searching for?"

  I did my best not to flinch at the note of accusation in his tone. I just shrugged.

  "Dammit, Mags," he growled, leaning across the table and grabbing my hand. "Are you ever going to learn how to trust me?"

  Yanking my hand free, I glared back at him. "Why should I? You're always working on your own agenda."

  I knew from the way he winced that he knew full well that I was referring to the fact he stayed in a sham marriage. "That's not fair."

  "But it's true."

  "Easy," God warned from my chest. "With that temper, you've already chased off one guy who wanted to help you."

  Not caring that Patrick was watching, I plucked the collar of my shirt off my chest, dipped my head inside, stared at the little guy in the shadow of the valley of my breasts, and scolded, "If you don't shut up, you're not getting any more crickets."

  When I looked back up, Patrick was holding his head in his hands as though the evidence of my apparent insanity was too much for him.

  "Was there anything else, Detective?" I asked coldly, getting to my feet.

  He lowered his hands and looked up at me. "What was going on between Armani and Joy?"

  "I think Armani was doing her whole matchmaker thing with her."

  "Who did she set her up with?"

  "How should I know?"

  He stared at me for a long moment, trying to determine whether I was telling the truth.

  "If there's nothing else…" I moved toward the dining room door.

  Before I knew what was happening, he was on his feet and had closed the distance between us. His professional demeanor had evaporated and before me was the man I knew. The man I thought I'd loved until I realized he was unwilling to leave his wife for me. "I never meant to hurt you, Mags."

  I lifted my chin proudly, unwilling to let him know just how much I was suffering. "You're flattering yourself. All you managed to do was disappoint me."

  Emotions flickered in his eyes like the flashing of a strobe light: regret, respect, anger, sadness. My breath caught in my throat at the intensity.

  And then he broke Rule Number One.

  Don't get caught.

  He kissed me. Right there in my aunts' dining room where anyone could have walked in and seen. His lips fused to mine, his tongue tempting mine, his body pressing against me. His kiss, achingly gentle despite how firmly he'd grabbed me, offered the apology he hadn't been able to make with words.

  And it worked. I answered his kiss, needing to forgive him in order to feel as safe and special as only he could make me feel. The world heated and spun faster as I was caught up in the vortex sensation. It wasn't just enough to feel his lips; I needed to feel all of him. I pulled him closer.

  "Sensitive skin!" God shrieked.

  His squeaking caused Patrick to jump away.

  I swayed unsteadily on my feet and the redhead offered a supportive hand on my elbow. When I could focus on something other than the sensations swirling within me, I watched as Patrick wiped his mouth with his hand and raked his fingers through his hair.

  His cheeks, tinged pink, indicated that he'd been just as affected as I'd been. "Probably not the best idea," he murmured apologetically.

  I nodded with his logic, unsure if I could voice anything other than a moan of frustration.

  "Any luck finding out where Armani is?" His voice sounded stilted as he tried to put the conversation back on a professional track.

  I thought about Wild Dog. I thought about Ike Medd's yoga magazine. I thought about Delveccio telling me the O'Haras were in the Poconos. But I didn't tell the man who'd just kissed me any of that. I just shook my head.

  "I'll call you when I find something," he pledged.

  I nodded.

  "I should go." He watched me carefully as though he expected me to argue.

  "I understand."

  "We'll work this out, Mags," he promised.

  I
was saved from having to respond by the sound of footsteps approaching.

  Chapter 19

  He cleared his throat and using his most official police voice said, "Thank you for your help, Ms. Lee."

  "Hey, Red," my sister Marlene said as she entered the dining room.

  "Hi, Jewel." Patrick screwed his eyes shut, flustered by his slip of the tongue. He shook his head guiltily. "Sorry. Marlene. Old habits..."

  She airily waved off his apology. "To me you'll always be Red, and to you I'll always be Jewel."

  I did my best to ignore the stabbing jealousy that shot through me. My sister and Patrick had known each other during the years when she'd been missing from the family and had lived as a prostitute. I wasn't sure how well they "knew" each other, but there were days when their unknown history ate at me. This was one of those times.

  "Susan said you were here," Marlene continued, unaware of my tension. "I wanted to say hi."

  Patrick offered her an encouraging smile. "How are things going now that you've given up the old life?"

  "Good. Real good. You were right. I'm glad I listened to you."

  My ears perked up. What was he right about? What had he told her?

  Patrick nodded his approval. "I'm glad. I've got to go now. Working a case." He turned his attention to me. "If you think of anything else, you'll let me know?"

  I nodded.

  With that, he walked out.

  Marlene watched me curiously. "What was that all about?"

  "What do you mean?"

  Marlene smirked. "What's going on between the two of you?"

  "Nothing," I said too quickly.

  She raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

  I sank into my chair and picked up my coffee cup, using the same stalling technique I'd tried earlier. Had she seen Patrick and I kissing?

  "C'mon," she pestered. "I saw the way he was looking at you." She rested a butt cheek on the table, something that would cause Aunt Susan to have a fit, but I didn't correct her. I was trying not to choke on my coffee, which suddenly tasted bitter as I realized she'd guessed our secret. My stomach did a sickening flip-flop and I almost dropped my cup.

  "He looked at you like you're his prime suspect."

  It took me a second to process what she'd said. She didn't know our secret. She thought Patrick was suspicious of me. She was right.

  "Armani knows a victim of a case he's working," I explained, trying to put my cup down without letting it clatter, my hand shaking with relief.

  "And he thinks you're looking for Armani?"

  I nodded.

  "Are you?"

  I didn't answer her. Plausible deniability would protect her if things went south.

  Apparently she didn't care all that much about what I was doing because she changed the subject. "I wanted to tell you the news."

  "News?" I looked at her with what I hoped passed for interest.

  "I'm meeting Doc's brother tonight."

  "That's nice," I replied wanly. I had bigger issues to worry about than her love life.

  "You think that's a bad idea?"

  "Of course not." I liked her new boyfriend.

  "You said, 'That's nice,'" she accused. "That's almost as bad as saying 'it's okay' when things aren't."

  "I'm sorry," I told her, getting to my feet. "I was just distracted. I like Doc. I hope the meeting with his brother goes well."

  "Me too." She chewed her lower lip nervously.

  "What’s wrong?" I asked, resigned to the fact that I wouldn't escape her until she got the chance to tell me what was bothering her.

  "What if..." She looked around the room, her eyes refusing to meet mine. "What if Doc told him what I used to do and he doesn't approve? Maybe I should just cancel..."

  "Did he?"

  "What?"

  "Did he tell his brother about your... earlier life choices?"

  "I don't know."

  "Why don't you ask him?" I suggested. "Maybe you're getting yourself worked up over nothing."

  "Maybe," she agreed, even though she clearly didn't think that was a possibility.

  "Ask him," I ordered firmly. "Then decide what you want to do."

  She nodded slowly as though the suggestion had never occurred to her. "Will you be here so I can talk it over with you?"

  I winced internally, wishing I could stick around to help my little sister, but I knew I couldn't. Not with Armani in the clutches of the O'Hara family. I shook my head. "Sorry. Have stuff to do."

  "Oh. Okay. I understand." Her disappointment felt like a million pinpricks to my hurt.

  "Unless you can call him now," I offered desperately. "I should be here for another ten minutes or so."

  "Great." She flashed me a smile like I'd just told her she'd won the lottery. "I'll call him right now and then find you."

  I nodded my approval and she was gone in a flash.

  I poured myself another cup of coffee, needing all the help I could get to face the day.

  "If you ever decide to run away from it all," God suggested dryly from his hiding spot in my bra, "you should join the circus. You're a hell of a juggler."

  I wasn't sure if that was meant as a compliment or an insult.

  "You've got a tremendous amount of balls in the air," he continued. "It's only a matter of time until you drop one."

  "I know," I confessed sadly.

  "And if that happens...."

  "Everything could unravel," I finished. "Of course if things continue the way they are, I might unravel," I joked weakly. "Maybe Mom will end up with a roommate."

  The lizard didn't laugh. Then again, the "joke" wasn't funny.

  Piss was napping on the sofa when I returned to the basement to gather my supplies for my trip to the Poconos. DeeDee was pacing nervously.

  "Patrick no come me see," she whined softly.

  "He couldn't, sweetheart," I told her gently.

  "She's just complaining because he didn't bring her a treat," God opined with a superior drawl.

  "Up shut," DeeDee growled. "I Patrick love."

  "So does Maggie," Piss mewled, stretching sleepily.

  "Maggie, Patrick love?" DeeDee yipped hopefully.

  I shot the cat a dirty look for getting the dog's hopes up. She stared back at me with her one good eye, flicking her tail, silently challenging me to dispute the veracity of her claim.

  I couldn't, so I instead busied myself gathering what I needed for the rescue attempt. Grabbing a plastic garbage bag, I stuffed it with spare sneakers, yoga pants, a T-shirt, and a six-pack of fancy bottled water that was supposed to be healthier than regular water, but that actually sort of tasted like orange-flavored powder. Then I grabbed a box of snack mix and poured it into a bowl so I could pull all the nuts out and leave all the good stuff behind.

  "What do you think you're doing, Sugar?" the cat asked curiously.

  "Making trail mix." I grabbed a bag of chocolate-covered raisins and shook a few in with the nuts.

  "Why?" DeeDee asked.

  I couldn't answer her right away because I'd poured the rest of the chocolate-covered raisins directly into my mouth.

  "She's going undercover," God proclaimed, hauling himself up my bra strap so that he could perch on my shoulder.

  "Where?" DeeDee barked.

  "At a supposed yoga retreat," the lizard declared.

  After chewing and swallowing, I asked the little guy, "How do you know that's what I'm doing?"

  "Delveccio's Wild Dog." God poked my cheek to make sure he had my attention. "Do you think it was a sign?"

  "A sign? Since when is Maggie superstitious?" Piss hissed.

  I didn't answer. I'd never considered myself a superstitious person before. Then again I'd never had the ability to talk to animals or had a semi-psychic friend, so I wasn’t going to dismiss the possibility.

  "Are you going to bring the rabbit's foot and horseshoe?" the lizard wanted to know. The talismans had been given by Armani a while before. I'd doubted their effectiveness until I
used the third good luck charm she'd bestowed on me, a shark's tooth to save my life.

  "Lost them when the apartment blew up," I reminded him.

  "Too bad."

  "What is she supposed to do with a rabbit’s foot and horseshoe anyway?" Piss wanted to know.

  "Can you two cut it out?"

  "DeeDee go can undercover?" The dog panted hopefully.

  "I don’t think so," I replied softly.

  She tilted her head and raised her ears. "Alone, Maggie, all?"

  "Of course not, you grammatically-challenged nincompoop. She’ll have me with her," God declared.

  "Oh yeah," Piss drawled. "Big help the two-inch reptile’s going to be."

  "Me take," DeeDee demanded, pawing at the back of my leg. "Me take."

  "And what are you going to do?" the cat demanded.

  "I liked you better when you were hooked on painkillers," I muttered, lifting my finger to my lips to signal her to be quiet. "Stop upsetting the dog."

  "Me Maggie protect!" the Doberman barked.

  Before I could correct her, there was a sharp rap on the basement door before it flew open and Marlene barreled down the stairs.

  "Guess what?"

  I searched her happy face for a moment before venturing, "He didn’t tell his brother?"

  "He didn’t tell his brother."

  Her smile wavered.

  "What?" I asked tiredly, not having the mental or emotional reserves to find the solutions to any more of her problems.

  "The lizard’s on your shoulder."

  I shrugged. "I know."

  Marlene shook her head. "Sometimes I think you’re getting more like Mom every day."

  I winced. That was not a compliment.

  "I didn’t mean it like that," Marlene hurried to explain.

  "It’s okay." I meant it. I was getting crazier by the day.

  "I just meant that you’re becoming more nurturing."

  I stared at her.

  "Really. The way you take care of Katie. The way you take care of your pets. The way you’ve taken care of me. It’s like you’re becoming Mom during one of her best times."

  I blinked, too stunned to speak.

  Marlene moved closer. "We’re all lucky to have you, Maggie," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.