by Lynn, JB
The Hitwoman and the Fallen Angel
Book 21
JB Lynn
Copyright © Jennifer Baum THE HITWOMAN AND THE FALLEN ANGEL
All rights reserved. Except as permitted by US copyright act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in any database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The Hitwoman and the Fallen Angel is intended for 18+ older and for mature audiences only.
© 2019 Jennifer Baum
Cover designer: Hot Damn Designs
Editor: Parisa Zolfaghari
Proofreader: Proof Before You Publish
Formatting: Leiha Mann
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Author’s Note
Also by JB Lynn
About JB Lynn
1
You just know it’s going to be a bad day when an angel has fallen and can’t get up.
Too bad I had no idea about that at the moment. My current problem was that my aunts, Loretta and Leslie, were squabbling incessantly.
You know that research that says moving is stressful (like any of us need a chart to tell us that)? They’re downplaying how bad it really is. At least for my family. To be fair, my aunts hadn’t moved in more than three decades. Now that they were, they’d ended up circling each other like hyenas ready to pounce on some freshly killed wildebeest.
We were in the process of adjusting to the move to my grandfather Herschel’s farm. Poor Herschel, who had not been in his daughters’ lives for decades, was standing in the corner of the room looking shell-shocked. The twins were busy screaming at each other. I had to assume this was the same thing they had done as children, so I didn’t know why Herschel looked quite so appalled. Then again, he was of the generation when fathers were hands off. He looked pale and sweaty, and I was more than a little concerned that the bickering was taking a toll on his physical health, especially considering the old guy had been recently shot by someone trying to kidnap my beloved niece, Katie.
“Make them stop,” God implored from his hiding place in my bra as my aunts’ screeching reached a crescendo.
I glanced down at the lizard, curled up between my breasts. “How?” I asked. Usually, I don’t want any of the little guy’s suggestions, but now I was desperate for any advice.
“You’re just being impossible,” Loretta huffed, her fake eyelashes quivering indignantly.
Leslie, who is always the easiest going of the sisters, was for once, holding her ground. Which was unfortunate because it meant this wasn’t going to just blow over. “You’re being impossible,” Leslie retaliated.
I half-expected her to stick out her tongue at her twin. Taking a deep breath, I waded into the fray, stepping between them. “I’m sure we can find a solution.”
Both my aunts turned their glares onto me, and I found myself taking a step backward. I really wished Aunt Susan was here, she was much better at wrangling her younger sisters than I was, but for some reason, she hadn’t shown up yet.
“The room is perfect for what I want,” Leslie said.
“And it’s perfect for what I want,” Loretta replied, stamping her foot, which made her barely contained cleavage jiggle like it was about to make its great escape.
If you’re wondering what they each wanted the room for, Leslie wanted it so she could build herself a grow room for her marijuana. Aunt Loretta wanted it so she could install a stripper pole.
What I wanted was for both of my middle-aged aunts to just grow up and shut up. Moving into Herschel’s place was supposed to make things easier. It was a multi-building compound, with enough space for the entire family, and it had seemed like the perfect solution considering we were all displaced after the Bed & Breakfast that had been our home had been blown up.
Nothing ever works out as cleanly as you think it’s going to. Nothing. Ever.
“We’ll put it to a family vote,” Loretta said. She gave me a significant look, letting me know she expected me to side with her.
Not wanting to get sucked further into this unwinnable battle, I quickly looked away.
“Family vote tonight,” Leslie declared. “I will be victorious.” She fist-pumped the air for emphasis.
“I’m skipping that,” God told me.
I wished I could do the same.
With a huff of indignation, Loretta click-clacked out of the room, her stilettos drumming her displeasure into the floorboards.
“You’ll side with me, won’t you, Daddy?” Leslie asked Herschel, who had pressed his back against the wall as though he was hoping he could pass through it.
“I’m not voting,” he said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.
“But it’s your house,” Leslie argued.
“I’m not taking sides.” Herschel shook his head and pursed his lips, signaling that he wasn’t going to have anything further to say about the topic. “I won’t choose between my children.”
Sighing dramatically, Leslie skulked out of the room.
“You could always rescind your offer of having us stay,” I said to my newly found grandfather.
He chuckled. “Those girls have been fighting like that their entire lives.”
I shook my head. I’d spent more time with his daughters than he had and I knew they were not normally at each other’s throats like that. The stress of losing the B&B had gotten to everyone.
“Have you figured out which space you want?” Herschel asked.
I shrugged. What I really wanted to say was that I wanted to go far, far away from my crazy family, but that wasn’t an option. As it was, everyone had spread out over Herschel’s compound, laying claim to different wings or buildings. Considering that I’m not above sneaking out in the middle of the night to perform things that aren’t exactly legal, I wanted a place as far away from everyone else as I could get. The family vote was tonight, to figure out who would live wher
e.
DeeDee, my Doberman pinscher, came bounding into the room.
“Here, Zeke! Here, Zeke!” she barked excitedly.
“Who’s Zeke?” Herschel asked.
I blinked at him, surprised. It was taking me a while to reconcile myself to the fact that not only can my half-brother, Ian, understand and speak to animals, but my grandfather can, too.
“He’s one of my oldest friends,” I told him.
A panicked look flew across his face. “Is he going to move in also?”
I felt sorry for the old guy. He’d spent decades living alone and now his space had been taken over by more than a half dozen virtual strangers.
“We don’t have that kind of relationship.” It wasn’t like I could explain what our relationship was. Zeke and I both skirted along the edges of the law, working for Ms. Whitehat, a woman in charge of a shadowy organization. No doubt he was here to tell me she had another job for me. For a while I had been out from underneath her thumb, but recently, I’d needed help and I had to go to her for it. Now I owed her, and she was obviously ready to collect.
“You don’t seem happy that he’s here,” Herschel remarked.
I avoided his gaze. “There’s just so much going on.”
He squinted at me, and I knew he didn’t believe my excuse.
“I’ll see you later,” I said with a wave.
When I stepped outside, I saw Zeke leaning against his car, Piss curled up in his arms. My one-eyed cat and my old friend had established quite the bond since she’d saved his life.
Zeke smiled when he saw me walking toward him. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I muttered, not convinced that there was anything good about it.
“Do you have time to go for a ride with me?”
I nodded. It wasn’t like I had much choice if Whitehat had sent him to summon me. I wondered what type of trouble I was about to get into.
2
“You stay here,” I told the dog. “I’m gonna go for a ride with Zeke.”
She whined, “Too me.”
I shook my head. I was pretty sure Zeke was there under official orders. I didn’t want to drag the dog into it. “I’ll be back soon,” I promised her.
I looked over to Zeke for confirmation.
He looked from me to the dog disbelievingly. Apparently, it’s strange to look for confirmation for your dog, but eventually he nodded.
“See?” I patted her head. “Back soon, promise.”
“Promise,” DeeDee repeated.
I climbed into Zeke’s car, and he got behind the steering wheel.
“Nice ride,” I commented as he sped away from the farm.
He shrugged. “It’s not mine.”
“Rental?”
He gave me a sideways look and shook his head, concentrating on his driving.
“I don’t suppose you can give me a heads up as to what this is about?” I asked hopefully.
He squeezed the steering wheel a little bit tighter and shook his head again. “I don’t know. That’s above my pay grade.” The tone he used let me know he wasn’t open to any further discussion about it, so I just closed my mouth and looked out the window at the road rushing past.
After a long moment, he said, “So the crazy old guy is…?”
“Believe it or not,” I told him, “he’s my grandfather. The father of Susan, Loretta, Leslie, and my mom.”
Zeke let out a low whistle. “You have the most complicated family I have ever known.”
That was saying something considering Zeke and I were such good friends because his dysfunctional family had kicked him out of the house back when we were teenagers.
I nodded, not telling him about the stuff he didn’t even know about, like a familial ability to talk to animals.
“So you’re all moving in there?” he asked.
I nodded slowly. “That’s the plan. Loretta and Leslie are really excited about it. Marlene is happy to go along with everybody else. I’m just not so sure about Aunt Susan and Darlene.”
Zeke’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly at the mention of my sister who had spent so many years away from the family.
“Do you know something I don’t know about her?” I asked worriedly.
He shook his head, and I knew he was lying. He and Darlene shared a history that neither of them was willing, or able, to discuss.
“I thought maybe you’d move in with the mobster,” he murmured.
“Delveccio?” I asked, surprised.
“Don’t you have a thing going with his son? The manny?”
I took a moment to look out the window and considered my answer carefully. I was attracted to Angel Delveccio and we’d gone out on a date or two, but I wasn’t really seeing him. “He’s his nephew, not his son, and things are complicated with him. He’s kind of a straight arrow…”
I trailed off, letting the implication that I’m not, hang in the air.
Zeke chuckled. “With you, Maggie, things are always complicated.”
He didn’t know the half of it. “What about you?” I asked. “Are you seeing anyone special?”
Again, his jaw and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “My life doesn’t really allow for that type of thing.”
I let the silence between us stretch for a moment, unsure of whether I should ask him if he was unhappy being in the employ of Ms. Whitehat. It really wasn’t any of my business why he worked for her, or what he did, but I got the distinct impression that something was bothering him. Before I could ask him about it, he asked, “And what’s Armani up to?” he asked.
That was the million-dollar question. My friend, who had recently regained some of her psychic abilities, was the wild card in all of this. I wasn’t sure where she was going to end up, or what she was going to do next. “She’s sort of seeing Jack Stern, the crime reporter.”
He gave me a sharp look. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
I knew what he meant. He knew that, like him, I skate on the edge of the law. What he doesn’t know is that I often break the law in ways that would probably shock him. If he were to find out that his childhood friend was a paid assassin…
I sighed heavily and sank deeper into my seat. “Can you imagine trying to tell Armani who she should or should not see?”
He laughed at that, the noise echoing in the interior of the car. “So, what are you doing back in town?” I asked him. “Besides perfecting your drunken bum look.”
He shook his head and pointed with one finger toward the car’s stereo system. “This and that,” he replied noncommittally. He took his eyes off the road long enough to give me a hard look, making sure that I’d received his message. He didn’t think it was safe for us to speak openly in the car.
I gave him a brief nod.
“How’s your mom doing?” he asked, steering the topic of conversation back to something safer.
Not that talking about my mom was ever a safe topic, but for anyone listening in, it would have sounded like two old friends catching up on family business. “She’s still in the nut house,” I said with a shrug.
“Mental health facility,” God lectured from the depth of my bra.
Zeke rolled his eyes at the squeaking noise that the lizard made but didn’t comment on it.
“Is she stable?” he asked.
“Stable is such a relative term with my mother,” I murmured.
“Have you seen her lately?”
“No,” I admitted. I felt the familiar sense of guilt creep over me when I realized how long it had been since I’d seen my own mother.
“Well, next time you see her,” Zeke said with an open smile, “tell her I said hi.”
I nodded, like it was a normal thing to do to just tell her someone said hi. I guess it is, but things with my mother were never normal. The same could be said for the rest of my life.
3
Zeke pulled the car to a stop in front of a nondescript house at the end of a dead-end street.
“Thi
s is the place,” he said, nodding at the building. “She’s waiting for you.”
I reached for the handle of my door and noticed he wasn’t doing the same. “You’re not coming in?”
He shook his head. “Orders.”
Nodding my understanding, I climbed out of the car, squared my shoulders, and marched toward the door.
Technically, I had nothing to fear. Ms. Whitehat and company had never physically threatened me, but she had such a frightening demeanor that I felt like I was a five-year-old being sent to the principal’s office for the first time. (Not that I was five when I was sent to the principal’s office for the first time. That would have meant I was in kindergarten. I didn’t get sent until first grade, but that’s a whole other story.)
Reaching the door, I glanced back at Zeke, who gave me an encouraging thumbs up from the car. I knocked twice on the door, then pushed it open, not waiting for permission to enter.
Maybe that was me living dangerously.
“Hello?” I called.
“In here.” Whitehat’s cool tone carried through the unfurnished home, bouncing off the bare white walls. She always picked the most impersonal places to meet.
I walked in the general direction her voice seemed to come from. She was sitting at a card table in the kitchen. Hers was the only chair in the room, which meant I would be left standing for this meeting.
Again, it reminded me of my first visit to the principal’s office, not that I had done anything really wrong. It wasn’t like I’d known Aunt Leslie’s brownies were laced with marijuana when I’d brought one in for my teacher. I’d been trying to be nice. The best of intentions can lead to the worst troubles.