Maggie Lee | Book 25 | The Hitwoman Owes A Favor

by Lynn, JB

  “Like I got run over by a city bus,” he moaned.

  I frowned, seeing the lines of discomfort etched on his face.

  “But I guess it could be worse, if Griswald hadn’t dragged my butt out of that bed yesterday.”

  I nodded.

  He squeezed my hand. “Heard you got caught up in that.”

  I stayed silent, unsure of how much he knew.

  “I’m sorry,” he said on a pained gasp.

  “For what?”

  “All of it. Everything I’ve done wrong. Every time I’ve put you in danger.”

  “You didn’t mean to,” I soothed, alarmed by the sheen of perspiration that suddenly coated his face. “Relax, Dad.”

  “Ask him,” God prompted from my bra.

  I was grateful Dad didn’t hear the squeaking.

  “You need to know,” God continued.

  I knew he was right. After all, that was the whole reason for this visit.

  “Who’s trying to kill you?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”

  I felt a surge of irritation. He had to at least have an inkling of who kept shooting at him. “What were you meeting Griswald about?”

  His gaze narrowed and he looked away. “That’s got nothing to do with this.”

  “It’s just a coincidence that you’re ready to make a deal with him and someone starts trying to blow your brains out?”

  He flinched at my tone.

  “What if you’d been at the compound?” I pushed. “What if one of the kids had been shot?” My voice cracked with hysteria as I voiced my worst fear.

  He stared up at me, worry flickering in his gaze.

  I knew he loved his family and shared the same concern. “Who wants you dead, Dad?”

  He shook his head, unshed tears glittering in his eyes. His grip on my hand tightened. “I don’t know, Maggie. I swear, I don’t.”

  I stared down at him, trying to determine whether he was lying to me. I know he’s a thief and a conman and a professional liar, but I believed him. “Okay, Dad. Okay,” I soothed, not liking how weak he looked.

  “My deal with Griswald wasn’t about testifying,” he began.

  I squinted at him. That didn’t make sense. Why else would the U.S. Marshals offer him protective custody if he wasn’t willing to testify against someone? “I don’t understand.”

  “I found…I found…” He fell silent, his hold on my hand suddenly slack.

  “Dad?” I shook him but got no response. “Dad?”

  I ran out into the hall, almost colliding with Tommy, the guard. “Help!” I called to the nurses’ station. “I need help!”

  One of the nurses hurried toward me. “He passed out,” I told her.

  Gino burst out of the room he was in. “Maggie?”

  “My dad.” I followed the nurse to Dad’s bedside.

  She was checking him.

  “What happened?” I asked. “We were talking and—”

  A whole stampede of more nurses piled into the room, the tide of which pushed me back toward the door.

  I heard the concern in their tones as they worked on my father.

  “Stay out of the way,” God urged, having scrambled up onto my shoulder. “The best thing you can do is to stay out of the way.”

  Knowing he was right, I stumbled into the hall as more people crowded into the room.

  I swayed weakly, feeling sick to my stomach, as panic that my dad was dying swept over me.

  “I’ve got you,” Gino whispered in my ear, wrapping an arm around my waist to support me.

  I leaned against him heavily, my legs suddenly too weak to stand. He half-carried me to the room he’d been in and put me on the bed nearest the door. I sat there, shaking.

  “What happened?” he asked gently, holding my shoulders to keep me from tipping over.

  “We were just talking. Just talking…and then…and then he passed out.” My words came out on ragged gasps.

  “You need to breathe, Maggie. Just breathe.”

  I tried to suck in some air, but my throat and chest were too constricted. My panic increased. “He’s going to die, isn’t he?”

  “They’re working on him,” he assured me.

  “It wasn’t the gunman who will have killed him,” I continued hysterically. “It was talking to me.”

  “No,” God said, having curled up behind my ear.

  Gino gave me a shake. “Stop that. You didn’t do anything.”

  “I…I…” Tears began to stream down my face. “I was interrogating him and the stress…”

  Gino shook his head.

  “What if I killed him?” I wailed.

  “Hey,” Gino wheedled gently. “What happened to the girl I know who takes on baddies without blinking?”

  I stared up at him.

  “Woman,” he corrected quickly. “Woman, I know.”

  I blinked.

  “You’ve got to hold it together, Maggie,” he continued. “I get that you’re upset, but there’s no reason to fall to pieces. That’s not what your family needs.”

  “Is this a pep talk or tough love?” God whispered.

  I didn’t know, but I knew Gino was right. The last thing anyone needed was me losing it.

  “Breathe out,” Gino coached. “Breathe out, first, then try taking a breath.”

  I shakily did as he said and this time it felt like I got some air in my lungs. I repeated that a few times, wiped away my tears, and sat up straighter. “Sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Gino said gently. “You have had a hell of a couple of days.”

  “I’m going to check—” I began.

  “Wait here,” Gino urged. “I’ll go see how he’s doing.”

  Knowing that he didn’t want me to witness it if things had gotten worse, I waited.

  “I like him,” God offered. “I mean, I don’t love the idea of you dating a professional henchman or anything, but you could probably do worse. No, wait. Knowing you, you could definitely do worse.”

  “I’m not dating him,” I muttered.

  “Because you’re pining for the redhead?”

  “I’m not pining for anyone,” I snapped. “And do you really think this is an appropriate conversation, considering my dad’s dying?”

  “I was just trying to distract you,” the lizard admitted sheepishly. “Give you something positive to think about.”

  I sighed deeply. My love life, or lack thereof, was not something I generally view in a positive light.

  “Gino’s right,” he continued. “You really can’t afford to fall apart. Too many people are counting on you.”

  “I know,” I said tiredly.

  Gino hurried back in. “You waited.” He sounded surprised. “They’ve stabilized him but they said no visitors for a while. Can I take you somewhere?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’m going to go home.”

  “Good idea. Get some rest.”

  I offered him a weak smile. There would be no rest to be found. I had to ask Marlene about her photograph with Leonard Klugman. I wasn’t anticipating it to be a pleasant conversation.

  25

  Family.

  Is there anything more complicated in the world?

  I was fortifying myself with a cup of coffee and a handful of olives before I went to find Marlene, when Aunt Susan accosted me in the kitchen.

  “Margaret.”

  I closed my eyes instead of rolling them. “You’re back to staying here?”

  “Of course, now that we know that the gunman was after your father and not Laurence.”

  “Has he said why?” I asked, putting the remaining olives back in the fridge.

  “Laurence said he hasn’t said a word since he regained consciousness. Hasn’t even asked for a lawyer.”

  I frowned. That seemed strange, to be in custody and not request legal representation. That was the first thing Dad had always done, every single time he’d been arrested.

  “I
still don’t understand how you were the one to stop the gunman. You should know better than to get yourself in that position. How many times did I tell you, ‘Trouble finds those that don’t turn away from it’ when you were growing up?”

  “A zillion,” I muttered. Deciding it would be best to change the direction of the conversation, I said, “I saw Soulful and Sinful’s show.”

  “Abhorrent!”

  “Harmless,” I countered.

  Eyes flashing, Susan put her hands on her hips. “Harmless?”

  I nodded. “There wasn’t a single fender bender in sight.”

  “But…but…” she sputtered. “Their lyrics are risqué.”

  “Loretta runs a sex shop. Her business—”

  “A lingerie store,” Susan was quick to correct.

  “Fine. A lingerie shop that sells sex,” I countered.

  She glared at me indignantly.

  I held up my hands in surrender. “I’m not saying I love it, but it is what it is. And that duo is perfectly on brand for her and not nearly as sleazy as the dancers.”

  “But—” Susan protested.

  “Besides,” I interrupted. “They can sing.”

  “They’re in wigs and gowns and make-up, Margaret,” Susan reminded me.

  “They’re drag queens.” I sighed tiredly. “They’re not murderers or pedophiles. Besides, have you seen the outfits their boss wears?”

  Susan scowled at the reminder of Loretta’s wardrobe.

  “Look,” I said with as much sympathy as I could muster. “My dad’s a criminal, Mom’s…Mom,” I said carefully as her eyes narrowed at the mention of her sister. “And I’m an embarrassment. But I have news for you. The only person whose actions you’re responsible for is you.”

  Pain flashed in her gaze. Clasping her hands, she brought them to her mouth and turned away.

  “You think I mind everyone else’s business except my own.”

  I could hear the hurt in her voice, and I felt guilty for causing it. “Oh no,” I said flippantly, trying to lighten the mood, “I think you mind everyone else’s business and yours, too.”

  With her back still to me, she made a choking sound, something between a sob and a laugh.

  I crossed the distance between us and put a hand on her shoulder. “I understand. I know you’ve had to take care of everyone for all these years. But maybe it’s time to ease up. Let Loretta deal with the consequences for her choices. Let Loretta. Let me.”

  “Maybe you should take your own advice and let your father deal with his own consequences,” God suggested drily.

  I ignored him.

  Susan turned and hugged me tightly.

  I squeezed her back.

  After a long moment, she stepped back. “I’ll try to mind my own business,” she pledged.

  I grinned, knowing that would prove impossible for her, but impressed she was going to at least try. “That might be helpful.”

  “When’d I get such a wise niece?” she laughed.

  I shook my head. “Not wise. Tired.”

  She grew solemn. “You saw your father?”

  I nodded. “He’s not doing well. He’s weak. He passed out while I was there.”

  She frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  I shrugged and changed the subject again. “Do you know where I can find Marlene?”

  She glanced at her watch. “She’s having lunch in the schoolroom with the girls, giving Miss Lassalan a break.”

  I nodded. “She seems to be working out well.”

  “At least something is,” she muttered, walking out of the kitchen.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” I whispered to God. The Soulful and Sinful discussion had gone better than I’d anticipated.

  “Margaret?” Susan called, sticking her head back in.

  I winced, realizing I’d spoken too soon. “Yes?”

  “You’re not an embarrassment. You’re the best of us,” Susan said sincerely before leaving again.

  I leaned weakly against the counter, overwhelmed by her compliment. I waited for God to make a snarky comment, but he remained silent. I really hoped Aunt Susan would never find out about my work for Delveccio. Her disappointment in me might kill her.

  Feeling guilty that she had a high opinion of me, I grabbed an apple and shuffled out to the barn.

  DeeDee, the first to spot my approach, barked, “Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!”

  “Too much time spent with the mouse,” God groused.

  “Maggie!” Matilda squealed, charging toward me.

  “Do you have an apple?” Irma brayed hopefully.

  I scratched the pig, fed the donkey, and promised the dog I’d feed her. Looking around, I asked, “Where’s Piss?”

  “She went exploring,” Matilda replied.

  I frowned. That seemed out of character.

  “Curious was she,” DeeDee elaborated.

  “Curious about what?” I asked.

  “Know don’t,” the dog replied.

  I tried to not sound worried. “How long has she been gone?”

  “They can’t tell time,” God pointed out.

  “Since before lunch?” I asked, trying to narrow the window down.

  “Hungry,” DeeDee repeated.

  “Before teacher got here,” Matilda offered helpfully.

  I frowned. That meant the cat had been gone for hours.

  “You know what they say about curiosity killing cats,” God whispered so only I could hear. I wasn’t the only one concerned.

  “Hey, Maggie,” Marlene called, opening the door of the classroom, before I could mount a search for Piss.

  “Hi.” I waved to the girls, who seemed to be more interested in playing with a bunch of toy soldiers than me.

  “Everything okay?” Marlene asked.

  I nodded, seeing no reason to upset her about Dad. “You have a sec?”

  She glanced back at Alicia and Katie, stepped out of the classroom, and closed the door behind her. “Miss Lassalan was teaching them about the Revolutionary War. Now, they’re reenacting the Boston Tea Party as they battle over the tea bag that Aunt Leslie brought her.” She shook her head. “What’s up?”

  “I need your help with something.”

  “Sure, anything you need.”

  I nodded and looked away. “Mia asked me to find her husband.”

  “Uh huh.” Her tone was mildly interested.

  “I found some of his things,” I said carefully. “And I don’t mean to pry into your private business, but I was wondering if you could tell me anything about this.” I pulled the photo, in the envelope, out of my pocket and handed it to her.

  I looked away as she scanned the contents. I heard her sharp intake of breath and winced. In general, we try to avoid talking about her time as a prostitute. “I’m sorry. If Mia’s kid wasn’t sick, I wouldn’t have asked.”

  “It’s okay,” Marlene said. “It’s just…it was a different life, you know?”

  I nodded, looking back at her. She seemed okay, more surprised than upset.

  “This is the guy Mia married?”

  “Yup. Leonard Klugman. Did you know him…well?”

  She shrugged. “He was more of a poser than a doer, if you know what I mean.”

  I nodded. I didn’t really know, but I knew I didn’t want more clarification. “Do you remember who took the picture? Or where it was taken?”

  “There was nobody else there. His camera had some kind of timer.”

  I nodded. That explained the poor quality of the shot. “Do you remember where it was taken?”

  “I remember how bad it smelled,” she murmured. Staring at the ceiling, she tapped her lips with a finger, thinking.

  I waited patiently, knowing her memory could hold the clue I needed.

  “Textile factory. There’s a leather factory in the warehouse district and the textile factory is next to it. Or, at least, it used to be.” She smiled apologetically. “I know it’s not much.”

  “It’s great,�
� I told her. “It’s more than I had before. Thanks!” With a quick wave, I hurried out of the barn with DeeDee and Matilda close behind.

  “Don’t forget about our feline friend,” God urged.

  “How do you suggest I find—” I began.

  “Hey, toots!” a voice cawed.

  I looked around until I spotted the black crow perched on a fence post. “Hi, Mike.”

  “Follow me.” He began to beat his wings. “The cat’s in trouble.”

  26

  Heart in my throat, I took off at a dead run, following the crow, who flew low enough for me to see him.

  DeeDee was on my heels, but Matilda quickly fell behind.

  “What happened to her?” God shouted at the bird.

  Mike didn’t answer.

  I didn’t repeat the question because I was already gasping for breath. He was leading me straight up a steep hill.

  “Up here,” Mike urged. “Not much farther!”

  Still, I had to pause and catch my breath. I bent over, hands on my knees, chest heaving from the exertion.

  “Help!” Piss mewled pitifully in the distance. “Help!”

  “Piss save! Piss save! Piss save!” DeeDee panted, dashing off in the direction of the sound.

  “Good dog!” the lizard yelled. I knew he was worried when God refrained from making fun of her speech pattern.

  I stumbled after the dog. “We’re coming!” I shouted breathlessly.

  The shouting was probably a bad idea, because it warned them.

  As I cleared the top of the hill, I found three men in camouflage clothing waiting for me. One of them held a rucksack, the contents of which was squirming.

  “Give me my cat!” I demanded, lunging for the bag.

  The man with the bag stuck a gun in my face.

  Instinctively, I froze. Maybe Armani had been right after all.

  DeeDee growled.

  My blood ran cold as I realized the other two men had their guns trained on the Doberman.

  “She won’t hurt you,” I told the men desperately. “Please don’t shoot her.”

  “Call off the dog,” the man holding me at gunpoint, obviously the leader of the trio, ordered.

  “DeeDee, go home,” I told her.

  Ears up, she cocked her head to the side, looking at me confused. “Attack?” she panted.