by JB Lynn
Wordlessly, Patrick pulled a gun out from the holster he had strapped to his ankle and moved to guard the door. He pointed for me to keep an eye on the back of the building. I shuffled through the straw, not sure how I could defend against and attack.
"Is Armani here?" he whispered.
"She was. Joy too, but they jumped over the wall. I’m hoping they all got a way." I hesitated for a moment.
"All?" Suspicion made his tone sharp.
"Lucky O’Hara is with them," I admitted as I stubbed my toe on something.
We both groaned. Him at the revelation that Lucky was involved, me because I’d hurt my big toe.
"I think he’s on our side," I told Patrick.
"Our side?" He glared at me. "What’s our side? Because from where I stand, it’s us against them."
"He was helping Joy," I replied weakly, bending over to trace whatever it was I’d tripped over. It was a wooden handle of some sort. I gave it a tug, but it didn’t budge. "What are they doing out there?"
"Surrounding the place." His voice was so cold and grim it sent a shiver down my spine.
"How many are there?"
"Four."
"We could take four," I said, my bravado ringing false in my own ears.
"We’re not making it out of here, Mags."
I shook my head. "You’re wrong. Katie needs me. I’m not dying here."
The handle moved, a section of the floor lifting up with it.
"It’s a trap door," I whispered excitedly.
Patrick hurried over. Flipping on his cellphone to use the light to illuminate the space I’d revealed, we were able to see it was a small root shelter.
"We could hide here," I said hopefully.
"We’ll be trapped."
"Only if they found us."
He pointed to the straw I’d displaced when opening the hatch. "They’re going to find us."
I hung my head, surrendering to the crushing despair I heard in his voice. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."
"Mags." The tips of his fingers caught my chin, gently forcing my head back so that I was looking up at him. "Before you, I hadn’t felt alive for a long time. I’d do anything to protect you, but…" He kissed me with such tenderness I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I wanted that moment of feeling like the most cherished person on the planet to last forever.
But it couldn’t.
"Anything?" I asked, tearing my mouth from his.
"What?"
"You’d do anything to protect me?"
He nodded.
"Then let me hide."
He shook his head. "It won’t save you."
"No." I took a deep breath. "But you can. If I hide in there and they find the spot, they’ll try to open the door. They’ll be distracted. You can pick them off one at a time."
"One guy, maybe two," he agreed, "But the chance of getting all four?"
"Do you have a better idea?"
Grudgingly, he shook his head.
"Then we do this my way. Your best vantage point will be up in the loft. Go."
"Listen to you, all expert on tactics and shit now." He chuckled, moving toward the ladder leading to the loft. "Keep as far away from the hatch as you can."
"Well, duh," I countered, a zing of excitement shooting through me despite the danger.
Patrick climbed the ladder and I descended the few steps into the root cellar, pulling the trap door closed on top of me, plunging the cool space into total darkness. Blind, I felt my way to the spot I hoped would be protected from stray bullets.
Forcing myself to take slow, deep breaths, I tried to control the panic that threatened to suffocate me in the inky blackness. I may do a lot of stupid things, but I’m not as dumb as I often seem. I knew there was a good chance that this crazy plan of mine wouldn’t work, but I was going to do everything in my power to increase my chance of survival.
Footsteps echoed and scraped overhead.
The men had entered the barn.
I strained to hear where they were. I heard voices, low and angry. Fear soured my stomach and I had to swallow hard to keep from retching.
Reaching back to brace myself against the wall, my right hand brushed up against something metallic. Exploring it with fingers, I realized that the metal was attached to a wooden pole. Another pitchfork? I carefully tried to lift it and it moved easily toward me.
I had a weapon.
Just in time too, because I could hear the hatch being opened.
Clutching the tool tightly, ignoring the splinters digging into my palm, I held my breath, every muscle in my body tightening as I prepared to fight for my life. "Please let Katie be okay," I prayed silently. "Let her be safe and happy and loved."
"Come out of there," Bubba ordered.
I realized they didn’t know how small the space was and were leery about Patrick and me ambushing them. They were afraid to come down.
"We could just burn it," Buster, with his thick Irish accent and mangled nose, suggested.
I wondered where Patrick was, why he hadn’t started shooting yet. I didn’t think he’d abandoned me or our plan, but he was obviously waiting for something.
My best guess was that the men were too spread out through the building for him to efficiently shoot them. If that were the case, I needed to do something to get them to gather around me.
"You’re not going to get away with this," I blustered as loudly as I could. "People know I’m here."
One of the cops let out a harsh laugh. "Like who? That idiot reporter?"
A cold wave of fear splashed over me. Had something happened to Jack?
I played dumb. "Who?"
"The reporter who called the cops," the other cop jeered.
I winced. That sounded a lot like Jack.
"That’s me by the way. The cop who took his call," my captor continued. "I’ve got your boy cuffed in the back of my car. Poor guy probably hurt himself trying to kick in the cage to stop me when we were chasing after you."
"Get them out of there now," Bubba commanded.
"I don’t think—" one of the dirty cops began.
"You don’t get paid to think," Bubba roared. "I want them out of there now or I’ll put you down there too."
"Fine."
There was a long pause.
"What are you doing?" Bubba demanded to know.
"Making sure it’s loaded," the cop replied.
Tightening my grip on the tool, I brandished it in front of me, pointing the metal end toward the cellar’s entrance. Even though terror was coursing through me, I summoned up the little courage I had. I tried to think of what God would say in this situation and suddenly let out a guttural roar. "Come and get me, sucker!"
There was a flash of movement at the cellar’s entrance. My heart stopped.
And then….
Nothing.
No gun shots. No one entered the basement. Nothing happened.
Chapter 27
I stared at the cellar hatch, waiting, wondering what the hell was going on.
I don’t know how long I stood there, caught in what felt like Purgatory, unsure if I was about to live or die. My hands ached from the death-grip I had on the tool. My thighs burned from staying crouched for so long.
The metallic aftertaste of adrenaline sat on my tongue long after it had left my bloodstream.
"Okay Maggie?" a dopey, high-pitched voice panted. "Maggie?"
"DeeDee?" I whispered softly, hoping she could hear me when human beings couldn’t.
"Maggie!" she stuck her snout into the cellar.
I straightened slowly, relaxing my hold on the heavy tool. "What’s going on?"
"Gone all."
"Who’s all gone?"
"Mags?" Patrick’s voice floated down. "It’s safe to come out."
I shuffled across the dark room carefully. "I didn’t hear any shots."
"I never got the chance."
I put down my weapon and slowly climbed the stairs up into the barn. Patrick took my
arm to help steady me.
Looking around, I saw that the only other one in the barn was DeeDee. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" I dropped to my knees to squeeze the dog in a loving hug.
"Ran I," she woofed proudly. "Fast."
"I guess you were," I murmured. "What happened to the men who were here?"
Patrick, thinking I was talking to him, not the dog, answered at the same time she did.
Simultaneously they said, "Ninjas."
"Ninjas?"
"A dozen. Maybe more. Head-to-toe black. Swept in here silently. Disarmed me. Took out the bad guys." Patrick sounded stunned, and slightly disbelieving as he told the story. "I know it sounds crazy…"
I didn’t tell him that I believed him, but I did. I’d encountered Ms. Whitehat’s stealthy, silent ninjas before. Instead I asked, "And the O’Hara men?"
"Knocked out cold and carried away." Patrick didn’t bother to hide his amazement.
"And Jack?" I asked worriedly, suddenly remembering he’d been captured too. "We should find him."
"You should find him," Patrick corrected. "I need to get out of here before anyone else sees me."
I looked at him confused.
"I knew you’d go after Armani alone, so I put a tracker on your car so I could help you out."
"You told me you couldn’t," I reminded him.
He grinned boyishly. "I couldn’t not help you."
"So you came anyway."
"But not officially. I can’t be here as a cop. Not having crossed state lines. Not having failed to call for back-up. And I can’t be here not as a cop. There’d be too many questions."
"About us?"
"About everything."
I knew he was right, but I was still disappointed that he couldn’t stay. "So go."
He sighed, and when he spoke, his words were laden with regret and tinged with frustration. "I’m sorry."
"I know."
Grabbing me, he pulled me close in a tight hug and pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
His warmth and support felt so good that it brought tears to my eyes as I wrapped my arms around his waist, wanting to stay cocooned in the feeling. We stood there for a long moment, the two of us soaking up the moment.
When he spoke, he seemed to have trouble getting the words out. "I know it’s complicated, but I don’t want to lose you."
Wiping away wayward tears with the back of my hand, I told him, "Katie’s coming home next week."
"That’s excellent news." He seemed happier about the development than I did. Then, because he knows me so well, he guessed exactly what my concerns were, and he gave me a reassuring squeeze. "You’re going to do great with her."
I shook my head in denial.
"You," he whispered in my ear, "can do anything you put your mind to, Mags." Then with a quick peck on the cheek, he released me and ran out of the barn.
"DeeDee help will you," the dog panted, reminding me I wasn’t alone.
I looked down into her trusting eyes. "Thanks. I think the first thing we need to do is find God. Can you do that?"
"Yes," she yipped excitedly and bounded out of the barn.
I slowly followed her out and was surprised by what greeted me.
Chapter 28
The lights atop the police cruisers caused shadows to dance across the ground. The bright beam of the headlights temporarily blinded me. I raised a hand to shield my eyes as someone approached.
"Your methods are unusual, but your resourcefulness is impressive, Miss Lee."
I focused on Ms. Whitehat, as always dressed to impress a Fortune 500 boardroom even standing outside a Pennsylvania barn, watching me. I tried to look past her, into the cars to see if I could spot Jack, but I couldn’t see him. "I thought you said you didn’t have anyone available to help."
She shrugged slightly. "Your niece deserves you in her life."
My throat closed remembering how close I’d been to dying. "Thank you." I barely got the phrase out.
"You’re an asset to the organization and therefore worth protecting."
Since she seemed to be in a generous mood, I decided to push a little more. "What about Zeke? Is he an asset?"
Her eyes narrowed. "A lesser one."
"So have I earned his freedom?’
She chuckled. "Perhaps it’s pushiness that makes you successful at what you do. Let’s say you’ve earned him at least a temporary reprieve."
I nodded. I’d take that. "What happened to the men who were here?"
"Gone."
"Gone?"
Ms. Whitehat arched her eyebrows indicating she wasn’t going to expand on her answer.
I imagined that wherever the men had "gone" to, it wasn’t a nice place. "What about Armani?’
"Your friend is safe."
"What’s going to happen to her?"
"We’re not monsters, Miss Lee. No harm will come to her. She’ll be fine."
"And Jack?"
"The reporter?"
I nodded.
"He’ll be better than fine."
"What does that mean?"
"You’ve led him to the biggest story of his career."
"I have?"
Whitehat nodded. "And frankly, we’re thrilled that he’s the one who ended up with it."
"Why’s that?"
"Because Jack Stern is part of a dying breed, a journalist more concerned with telling the truth than spinning a story."
I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. "And what kind of story is he going to tell about me?"
"I told you, Miss Lee. You’re an asset and will be protected, as will your red-headed friend."
I didn’t quite understand the logic behind all of that, but decided not to ask. "Thank you."
"Your car is there." She pointed to the side. "I suggest you take yourself home."
"What about Armani?"
"Trust me. She’s taken care of."
I nodded as though I understood, when in reality, I was totally befuddled by what was happening.
"You saved a lot of lives, Miss Lee."
"Glad I could help," I joked weakly.
"Get some rest. You’re going to need it for the next job." Ms. Whitehat turned to walk away.
"Wait!"
She hesitated, looking back at me over her shoulder.
"When’s my next job?"
"Sooner than you think."
"Well that’s cryptic," God groused as she disappeared into the shadows.
"I get the feeling someone’s watching me," I muttered under my breath so that only he and DeeDee could hear me.
"Are they," the dog confirmed.
I marched to my car, my steps stilted with self-consciousness. My cell phone began to ring as I opened the back door for DeeDee. Hurrying her inside, I rushed to open the driver’s door and snatch the phone up from where it had been left on the dashboard.
I didn’t recognize the number. "Hello?"
"Hey, Mags. You okay?"
Slipping behind the steering wheel, I whispered into the phone, "I’m fine. Are you okay, Patrick?
"I’m great. I’m going to do something I should have a long time ago."
"What’s that?"
Before he could answer, the call disconnected.
"Uggh." I threw the phone into the seat beside me. "I hate it up here."
"Let’s go home," God urged.
"Home!" DeeDee seconded. "Hungry!"
I put the car into gear and slowly drove away from the place where I’d almost died.
"You know," I told the animals, "for the first time in a long time, it feels like things are going my way. Armani’s okay. Katie’s recovering. Patrick and I are in a pretty good spot." I couldn’t help but smile at my good fortune.
I should have known it wasn’t going to last.
"So about that act of contrition…" God mused aloud.
"What?"
"You know. The one you promised me after you forgot me in the car…."
I groaned. "I remember."
> "Well," he said with a degree of self-satisfaction that made the hairs on the back of my neck tingle, "it’s time to pay up."
THE END
Find out what God demands in THE HITWOMAN’S ACT OF CONTRITION – March 2015
A note from JB:
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LINKS TO OTHER BOOKS BY JB LYNN
The Neurotic Hitwoman Series
Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman
Further Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman
The Hitwoman Gets Lucky
The Hitwoman and the Family Jewels
The Hitwoman and the Neurotic Witness
The Hitwoman Hunts a Ghost
The Hitwoman and the 7 Cops
The Hitwoman and the Poisoned Apple
The Matchmaker Mysteries
The Mutt and the Matchmaker
A Match Made in Mystery
Dark Romantic Suspense
The First Victim
ABOUT JB LYNN
A Jersey Girl transplanted to the Sunshine State, JB (you can call her Jen) writes laugh-out-loud suspense and mysteries with a dash of romance, but she’s been known to dabble in the occasional goosebump-raising thriller.
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http://www.jblynn.com
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