Maggie Lee (Book 16): The Hitwoman Plays Chaperone

by Lynn, JB

  He kept trying to evade me.

  That just made me madder. “You’re choosing Darlene over me.” Saying it out loud made me start to cry.

  “I’m not. I’m trying to help you both.”

  “Why should I believe you?” I hated the way my voice cracked with desperation. I hated the way the tears were running down my cheeks. I hated that Zeke was the one who was deserting me.

  To his credit, he looked horrified by my reaction. Instead of running away, he moved toward me. “This is bigger than you, Maggie. It’s bigger than us.”

  “What is?”

  “The plan.”

  “What plan? Whose plan?” I sobbed.

  “Think giant butterfly nets,” God warned. “They’re going to take you away…”

  “Butterfly?” DeeDee yipped excitedly, running around in a big circle, looking for a non-existent fluttering bug.

  “It’s over there,” Mike cawed, egging on the hapless dog.

  “I miss the quiet of the library,” God groused.

  “I can’t tell you the plan yet,” Zeke soothed, oblivious of the chatter of the animals.

  “Butterfly. Butterfly. Butterfly,” DeeDee barked.

  “There is no freaking butterfly!” I bellowed, stopping DeeDee in her tracks and causing Zeke to look at me like he thought I’d suffered some sort of psychotic break.

  “Of course there isn’t,” Zeke smoothed.

  “Oh, shut up,” I groaned, wiping away my tears. “C’mon, DeeDee, we’ll go for a walk.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Zeke offered, clearly worried that I shouldn’t go out in public alone in the state I was in.

  “No. You stay here with your stupid plan.”

  “It’s not even my plan,” he protested weakly.

  “Stay,” I ordered. “Come, DeeDee.”

  I marched back to the house, grabbed a leash from the back door, threw it on the Doberman, and stalked down the street.

  “Okay Maggie?” DeeDee panted, her ears flat with concern.

  “I just need to clear my head,” I promised her. “You’re a good girl.”

  “Girl good.” She licked my hand.

  “Horrible grammar,” God muttered.

  “And I need some silence,” I announced to them both. “A couple of moments of silence is all I need.”

  Everyone cooperated and we walked three blocks before anyone spoke.

  “Careful,” DeeDee growled suddenly, coming to a halt.

  “Of what?” I whispered, tightening my hold on the leash and looking around.

  “He.” The single syllable reverberated in her throat, deep and dangerous.

  “He who?” the lizard whispered, scaling my bra strap so that he could get a look at whatever was freaking out the dog.

  “Maybe we should go,” I suggested.

  “Ground your hold,” the Doberman snarled.

  “What?”

  “She means hold your ground,” the lizard translated helpfully, without a hint of his usual snark.

  My fingers ached from squeezing the leash. I stood as tall as I could, trying to appear unafraid despite the fact my heart was threatening to beat out of my chest. I swallowed hard.

  I heard Patrick’s voice in my head, reminding me of my self-defense lessons. Eyes. Nose. Throat. Groin.

  The scent of cigar smoke reached me before he rounded the corner and I saw who it was that had worried the Doberman. My nose wrinkled and my stomach flipped nervously.

  “Oh,” God said. “That he.”

  Then he dived for cover into my shirt.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Hello,” the familiar face said.

  “Hi,” I said shyly.

  “Smell bad,” DeeDee snarled.

  The man glanced at the dog worriedly.

  “She doesn’t like cigar smoke,” I told him.

  “Oh. Sorry.” Bending over, using a street sign to steady himself, he ground out his cigar on the sidewalk. “Better?”

  “Better,” DeeDee agreed sitting down.

  He stared at me for a long moment. “Well this is awkward.”

  I nodded. “I don’t even know your name.”

  The man who looked so much like my dad smiled kindly. “It’s Thurston. And I understand that you prefer to be called Maggie. Is that right?”

  I nodded.

  He rolled the cigar between his fingers. “Do you know who I am, Maggie?”

  I shrugged. “Well considering you look just like my father, I’m going to guess you’re his brother.”

  “Twin brother. I’m guessing from your reaction to seeing me the first time that Archibald never told you about me.”

  “No.”

  “And of course your mother never would have…” he trailed off sadly.

  I didn’t know if he said that because Mom’s a little cuckoo, or for some other reason, but I didn’t ask him to elaborate. Instead I said, “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you.”

  I frowned. “I don’t mean what are you doing on this corner. I want to know why you’re following me. It’s creepy.”

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “I didn’t say you scared me. I said it’s weird that you’re lurking around corners, ready to jump out at me.”

  He chuckled, patting his ample belly. “Trust me. I won’t be leaping anywhere.”

  I couldn’t help but respond with a grudging smile.

  “I need you to get a message to Archibald for me.” He stuck his extinguished cigar in his mouth and clamped down on it, as though asking the favor had caused him physical pain.

  “I don’t know where he is.” For all I knew my father could be in police custody, or stashed away somewhere by the U.S. Marshals, or on the run again.

  “But you can get a message to him.” Thurston seemed awfully sure of that.

  “Why would I even want to?” I countered. “He obviously doesn’t want to have anything to do with you.”

  Thurston winced. “True. But this is important.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not getting in the middle of this. I can’t risk getting caught up in Dad’s problems.”

  My uncle, it was strange to think of actually having a biological uncle, nodded slowly. “I understand. Believe me, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t a matter of life and death.”

  A clammy, cold sweat settled over me. “Whose life and death?”

  “I can’t say. Just tell Archibald that Ian is on the loose.”

  “Who’s Ian?” I found myself asking, despite my determination to not get involved.

  A strange, pained look passed over Thurston’s face, and when he spoke, the words sounded as though they’d been wrenched from the deepest recesses of his soul. “You’d have to ask your mother that.”

  “What does—”

  Before I could finish, a car screeched to a stop beside us. “Get in,” Darlene ordered, throwing open the passenger door.

  DeeDee jumped into the car, almost dislocating my shoulder in the process.

  “No!” I shouted, as much to oppose my sister as to reprimand the dog.

  They both looked at me nervously.

  “Out, DeeDee,” I ordered, tugging the leash.

  Obediently she hopped out of the vehicle to stand by my side. At least someone was loyal through all of this.

  I slammed the door shut, delighting in the loud noise and Darlene’s wide eyes.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I realized that Thurston had disappeared. Turning my head, I scanned the area, confirming he was nowhere to be found.

  “So much for the family reunion,” I muttered under my breath.

  Lowering the car window, Darlene berated, “Stop being difficult.”

  Ignoring her, I pulled on DeeDee’s leash, turned around, and headed back toward the B&B.

  “Maggie? Maggie stop!” Darlene yelled. “You’re being ridiculous.” She inched the car along to keep pace with us.

  “You don’t get to come in and take over my
entire life,” I told her, keeping my gaze straight ahead.

  “I’m not.”

  “You’re trying to take Katie away from me.”

  “I’m trying to do what Teresa would have wanted.”

  “Ha!” I scoffed. “Like Teresa’s judgment was any good. You never met Dirk the Jerk, but let me tell you, she should have run the hell away instead of walking down the aisle with him. So forgive me if I don’t put too much stock in her so-called judgment.”

  “Who died and made you judge and jury?” Darlene countered.

  I stopped and glared at her. She hit the brakes.

  “I’ve been here for this family,” I shouted at her. “You ran off, doing who knows what, and I was here to pick up the pieces. All of them. And now you think you can waltz in and take away everything I’ve sacrificed and worked so hard for?”

  My throat burned, scraped raw.

  Darlene stared at me for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her tone was icy. “You can play martyr all you want, Maggie, but we both know you must have done something that allowed Whitehat to get her hooks into you. Don’t try to play the part of a saint with me. I know better.”

  With that she gunned the engine and sped away.

  I watched her disappear, a cold knot in my stomach as I processed the fact that she’d just threatened me.

  “Mad Maggie?” DeeDee whined softly.

  I couldn’t even speak as fear wound its tendrils through me, twisting my gut. I just patted her head.

  “She’s your sister, not your enemy,” God said from my chest. “People say things in the heat of the moment they don’t mean.”

  I grunted a response.

  “Don’t do this, Maggie,” he urged. “You often misread situations and believe the worst of people. Don’t do that now. Don’t resort to catastrophic thinking. It only makes things worse.”

  “How much worse can things get?” I croaked.

  Chapter Twenty

  I dragged my feet returning to the B&B, not wanting to get into another altercation with Darlene, and certainly not in front of other family members who would feel obligated to try to keep the peace, or worse, take sides. I even stopped at the pet store to perform one of my least favorite tasks, getting live crickets for God to eat.

  While I wasn’t happy to be there, DeeDee was overjoyed. She pulled me this way and that, sniffing at every single thing like it was the most amazing thing she’d ever smelled, including the butt of a Chihuahua who growled like a homicidal maniac, “You kill will I.”

  With the help of the slightly creepy employee, I got a plastic bag filled with jumping bugs.

  God was overjoyed at his upcoming feast.

  Just holding the bag made me want to scratch my skin off, but still it was better than returning home.

  On the trip home, DeeDee gnawed on the elk antler I’d gotten her, providing percussion for the bag of insects chirping away, sounding a lot like a bad version of Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin’. It wasn’t a soothing sound.

  From the edge of the B&B’s driveway, I could see that Darlene’s car was parked in front of her house.

  “Up chin,” DeeDee coaxed.

  “At least you won’t desert me.” I bent down to hug the big dog, finding comfort in her solidity.

  “Sensitive skin,” God whispered, but without his usual intensity.

  “Sorry,” I murmured.

  “Sorry,” DeeDee panted.

  “You didn’t even do anything, you imbecile,” the lizard chided gently.

  I stood up, squared my shoulders, and stepped toward the house.

  “You may not want to do that, sugar,” Piss warned.

  Looking around, I found the cat sitting on the front porch, licking her paw.

  “It’s a little intense,” she elaborated.

  “Darlene?” I guessed.

  “Not yet,” the cat replied. “Then again, she just walked in. Give her a minute.”

  Sighing heavily, I joined her on the porch, taking a seat on the bench swing.

  She jumped up. “It’s colder than a milkman’s heart out here,” she complained, snuggling into my lap.

  “What does that even mean?” God groused. “You and your Southern sayings drive me crazy.”

  “It’s a short trip, ace,” Piss hissed.

  “Too DeeDee cold,” the dog whined, looking at me hopefully.

  I patted the seat beside me. “Come on. We’ll all huddle together for warmth.”

  The dog happily joined us on the swing.

  We sat there for a while in companionable silence.

  Even the bugs were quiet.

  My blood pressure returned to normal and I considered what God had said about me misreading situations.

  Maybe he was right. Maybe Darlene wasn’t out to get me. Maybe she was having as much trouble reintegrating into the family as the rest of us were having accepting her.

  “Maybe I overreacted about Darlene,” I finally admitted aloud.

  Tires screeched, an engine roared, and Armani’s car rocketed into the driveway and jolted to a stop.

  “Now that can’t be good,” Piss opined, jumping from my lap and running away.

  I considered following her, but I was pretty sure my friend had already spotted me. Slowly I got to my feet, pasted on a smile, and moved toward her.

  The passenger door swung open and Aunt Leslie emerged, singing at the top of her lungs, what sounded like a song about ratatouille. Also, she wasn’t wearing a shirt.

  My heart plummeted as I realized that she was higher than the Empire State Building. She really hadn’t mastered the whole staying clean and sober thing.

  No doubt her relapse would displease Aunt Susan even more.

  The crickets joined her in song.

  I shook the bag of bugs and frowned at Leslie, unhappy that she was adding more tension to a household already filled to the brim with stress. She didn’t seem to notice as she wobbled precariously across the driveway.

  Hurrying toward her, I grabbed her elbow before she could trip and seriously hurt herself as she stumbled up the porch steps.

  “Maggie!” she beamed, as though it was a total surprise to see me at the place I live.

  “Hi, Aunt Leslie,” I said quietly.

  DeeDee skittered to the opposite side of the porch, eager to get out of the path of the lurching woman.

  “I love you, Maggie,” Leslie declared throwing her arms around me and placing a sloppy kiss on my chin instead of my cheek.

  “Sensitive skin!” God shrieked, truly panicked.

  Stepping away from Leslie slightly, as much to save myself as to protect the lizard, I told her, “Why don’t we get you inside?”

  “No.” She tugged her arm free of my grip, took a couple of unsteady steps and practically fell into the nearest chair. “I’m not going in there. It’s a war zone.”

  I didn’t disagree with her. Besides, maybe sitting out in the cold for a few minutes would sober her up.

  Armani finally climbed out of her car shaking her head. She beckoned for me to approach.

  “Watch her,” I ordered. DeeDee was already staring intently at my aunt.

  Hurrying to Armani’s side, I said, “Thank you for bringing her home.”

  “She sang that Irish lullaby all the way here.”

  “There’s an Irish lullaby about ratatouille?” I asked.

  “According to her lyrics, yes.” Armani leaned back against her car. “But she’s not the reason I’m here.”

  “She’s not?”

  “No, I’m here to warn you.”

  “About Scorpio.”

  She shook her head. “No. I have a message from the other side.”

  I resisted rolling my eyes. “Tell me.”

  “Beware pink.”

  “The singer?”

  “Why would you have to beware a singer?” Armani scoffed.

  “You’re the one who just said—” I argued.