Maggie Lee (Book 17): The Hitwoman Takes A Road Trip

by JB Lynn

  Instead of answering me, he took my elbow and began to lead me in the direction Armani had disappeared in.

  “What happened?” I asked again, falling into step beside him.

  Piss ran slightly ahead of us.

  “What the hell were you doing jumping into the arms of that reporter?” Zeke asked through clenched teeth. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought I heard a thread of jealousy weaving its way through his words.

  “I didn’t jump, I tripped.” I left out the part where I’d punched Jack.

  “What was he doing there?”

  “I don’t know. But he wanted to know what I was doing there.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “The truth.”

  “You didn’t.” Zeke skidded to a stop, but I kept on walking. He had to hurry to catch up with me. “What truth did you tell him?”

  “That Armani won the lottery, bought an RV, and hired me to be her chauffeur.”

  “That’s all?”

  “What kind of idiot do you take me for, Zeke? Do you think I told him that I was standing on that street corner for some freaking fuzzy dice?”

  “Of course not,” he soothed, his relief evident.

  “Of course not. Now why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  He sighed. “Everything was going to plan. Armani got Eugene’s attention, I lifted the key fob and brought it to the tech guy, but then there was a problem.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  “Technical difficulties.”

  “What kind of technical difficulties?” My voice rose along with my frustration.

  “I don’t know. I know how people work, not machinery. Whatever it was, it didn’t work. I had to put it back and now we need a new plan.”

  “A new plan?” I practically shrieked.

  Other people on the street regarded me curiously. Some crossed the street to get away from me.

  “Relax, Maggie,” Zeke soothed. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

  I winced as the words came out of his mouth. I winced again as Piss changed course, ran full speed at Zeke, and knocked him over. He landed on the ground, scraping his hands and knees in the process.

  “Did you hear what he said?” the cat meowed indignantly.

  “It’s just a figure of speech,” God replied.

  I bent down and scooped her into my arms, hoping to calm her. “An unfortunate choice of words,” I said to Zeke, who’d stood back up and was brushing himself off.

  “It’s not like she understood,” he muttered. “Besides, she knows I’d never do anything to hurt her.”

  He reached out to pet the cat’s head and she swiped at him with her paw, nails glistening in the sunlight.

  “Now don’t be like that,” he admonished gently. “You know you like me.” He reached for her again, undeterred by her unsheathed claws.

  To my surprise, she not only let him pet her, she purred contentedly. “I still love you, Zeke.”

  “Fickle feline,” God groused.

  “So like I was saying,” Zeke said. “We need a new plan.”

  “I’ve got one,” Armani piped in.

  Turning, we found her standing a few paces away, watching us. I realized we’d returned to the banged-up Jeep.

  “You don’t even know what went wrong with the old plan,” I pointed out gently as I scrambled into the back seat.

  “I don’t need to. The new plan is flawless,” Armani assured me.

  “No plan is flawless,” Zeke warned, as he helped her into her seat. “But let’s hear it.”

  “Opera,” Armani stated simply.

  “Opera?” Zeke, God, and Piss all asked together.

  I fought back the urge to just burst into laughter at how crazy the whole thing was.

  “As I tell all my clients of PMS,” Armani began as Zeke started the Jeep.

  He glanced at her sharply.

  “Psychic Matchmaking Service,” I reminded him.

  “Like I tell all of my PMS-ers, it’s important in a first meeting to find out something about your potential date’s interests.”

  “He’s not a date, he’s a mark,” Zeke muttered.

  Armani shook her head. “I managed to find out what Eugene truly loves. Opera.”

  “We can’t stage an opera just to get the dice,” Zeke argued.

  “We don’t have to. We just need to introduce him to a diva.”

  Zeke glanced in the rearview mirror at me. “There’s no way Maggie could pass as a diva.”

  Twisting in her seat so that she could get a look at me, Armani ran her gaze down me from head to toe.

  My stomach hurt just from the idea of having to impersonate an opera diva.

  “Of course, Maggie couldn’t,” Armani declared, shattering any ideas I might have about being glamorous. “But she could introduce Eugene to his favorite opera singer, Arianna Puchelo.”

  “What?” I protested. Arianna was the stage name of my friend, Gladys, whose angelic voice saved my life once when we met attending this horrible spiritual retreat Aunt Leslie had suggested (and I’d used as a cover to pull off a hit).

  “No way. I’m not dragging Gladys into this. Besides, she’s on a world tour.”

  Armani smiled like the proverbial canary-eating cat and my stomach hurt more.

  “But that’s the beauty of my plan, Chica. She’s in town.”

  “How do you know that?” I pulled out my phone, which buzzed with a text message.

  “Because Eugene told me he has tickets to see her tomorrow night.”

  “It might work,” Zeke said, warming to the idea. “If we set him up on a date with her…”

  “Speaking of dates,” I interjected, looking at the message from Jack. “I’m going to need the Jeep since I’ve got one tonight.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  I’d told Jack I hadn’t brought any clothes appropriate for a date, in the hopes to bow out of the date, but he assured me that jeans and a t-shirt were fine. He sent a time and address as an efficient end to the conversation.

  Zeke wasn’t happy about the date, even after I explained that I’d set it up in order to get rid of Jack since I hadn’t known about the technical difficulties.

  Armani, on the other hand, was thrilled I was getting my glow on. “See?” she beamed. “I told you this trip would be good for you.”

  “You did,” I agreed as Zeke parked the Jeep in front of his house and stalked inside.

  “He’s jealous,” Armani said, watching him go.

  “A little.”

  “You two never…?”

  I shook my head. “Too much history.”

  She considered that for a long moment before she unbuckled her seatbelt.

  I was surprised she didn’t comment at all. All she did was limp toward the house.

  “I’m going to put Piss in the RV,” I called after her.

  She raised her good hand in acknowledgement.

  “We’re back,” I called softly as I opened the door to the vehicle. I hoped that by warning Benny about our return, he’d be a little less frightened.

  Piss leapt from my arms and ran over to the plastic box. “Feeling better?”

  “Much,” he squeaked.

  “Oh no,” God moaned, scrambling up my bra strap to stand on my shoulder. “He’s a squeaker.”

  “You squeak too,” I told him.

  “I most certainly do not. I’ve told you before. I do not squeak.”

  “You doth protest too much,” Piss mocked.

  I peered at the white mouse, sitting in the center of the box. His pink-rimmed ears followed the conversation. “Hi,” I whispered. “Would you like some more water?”

  “Please,” he squeaked back shyly.

  Removing the lid of the box, I carefully took out the cap of the bottle. I moved slowly so as not to frighten my new little friend and, while he flinched a little as my hand moved close to him, he did not go and hide in the corner.

  We were maki
ng progress.

  I just wished I was making progress with other areas of my life.

  Someone knocked softly on the RV’s door.

  “I know, I know,” God said in his most put-upon voice. “Time for me to hide.” He scrambled down into my bra muttering something about living his life in darkness.

  “Never a dull moment.” I pushed the door open and almost fell out when I saw the man standing there. “Ian?”

  “You’re probably mad at me for disappearing on you like that,” he said sheepishly.

  I shrugged. “I’m pretty used to people bugging out without offering a heads up.”

  “I shouldn’t have—”

  I held up a hand to silence him. “I’m just glad you came back. Come inside.” I ushered him into the RV.

  He entered slowly, slightly hunched to ensure he didn’t hit his head. He surveyed the interior of the vehicle for a long moment. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

  “It’s not mine. I’m just the chauffeur. Have a seat.” I motioned toward the beds.

  He carefully sat down on one and I plopped myself onto the other one. We watched each other for a long uncomfortable moment.

  “Don’t just sit there giving him the silent treatment,” God squeaked from my chest. “He’ll be sorry he came back.”

  Ian’s eyebrows shot upward.

  I smiled weakly, unsure of how to explain away the squeaking.

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to because Ian said, “I shouldn’t have left.”

  “No. You shouldn’t have,” I agreed. “But I kind of get it. Meeting me must have been a little overwhelming.”

  “You have no idea,” he said with feeling.

  “If meeting you spooked him, imagine how he’ll react when he meets the rest,” Piss murmured, as she rubbed against his shins.

  He responded by stroking her.

  She purred her delight.

  “I’m glad you came back though. I think I have a solution for your problem with the Sorvina family.”

  He eyed me suspiciously. “You’re not going to tell me to forget about it too, are you?”

  I shook my head. “No. I know a crime reporter you can give the information to. He’s a good guy. Name is Jack Stern. You can look up his stories online. He’s the real deal.”

  Ian took a moment to digest the suggestion. “And you trust him?”

  “To report a story like this? You bet.”

  Ian nodded thoughtfully.

  “I’ve got a date with him tonight. I’ll introduce you to him then.”

  Ian squinted at me. “You want me to crash your date?”

  “It’s not a date, date. I mean, he thinks it is, and I agreed to it, but it’s not really a date.”

  “A date, date?” he mocked.

  I shrugged. “Trust me, he’s the kind of guy that would choose a scoop over me any day of the week.”

  Ian scowled. “Not sure I like the sound of that.”

  Amused by his protective brotherly instinct, I swallowed a smile. “There will be no hard feelings,” I promised. “Jack and I don’t have that kind of a relationship.”

  His stomach growled.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked, grateful to stop discussing the non-date.

  He shook his head, but his stomach growled again, revealing his lie.

  “We must have something to eat here.” I jumped to my feet, set up the little dining table, and began to rummage through the cabinets.

  “You don’t have to,” he protested.

  “Chocolate chip cookies!” I declared, waving a package triumphantly. I held my breath waiting to see if he’d accept the offer.

  “Usually I prefer salty over sweet but they’ll do in a pinch,” he replied easily.

  “Me too.” I put the cookies on the table and motioned for him to take a seat. “What kind do you like?” I turned to get the milk out of the little fridge.

  Moving slowly, so as not to trip over the cat, he sat at the table, dwarfing it with his size. “Olives.”

  I froze for a moment. “Olives?”

  “Yeah, I know. Some people think they’re slimy or look like eyeballs.” He chuckled self-consciously. “What can I say? I like them.”

  “Me too,” I admitted shakily, realizing that we’d just discovered we had something in common besides our DNA. Glancing over at him, I saw the same stunned realization I was feeling displayed on his face. “Don’t get overwhelmed,” I begged.

  He shook his head. “Not overwhelmed, just a little surprised.”

  “Me too,” I chuckled, putting the half gallon of milk on the table. “Let me find us some glasses.”

  There was exactly one oversized plastic cup in all of the cabinets. It featured a woman sunbathing in a bikini on the beach.

  Sighing, I put it down in front of Ian. “Sorry, this is the only one I’ve got.”

  After filling it with milk, I put the milk back in the refrigerator. That’s when Ian started to chuckle.

  I looked back, startled, “What?”

  He pointed to the cup.

  The woman’s bathing suit had completely disappeared and she was stark naked.

  “Armani must have gotten it from The Corset,” I muttered, sliding into the table’s other chair, knocking my knees against Ian’s in the process. Suddenly, I was grateful there had been only one cup. No doubt if there’d been a pair, the missing cup would have featured a naked man, since Loretta believed in equality for gender, sexual preference, and poor taste.

  “The Corset?” Ian asked.

  “It’s a lingerie shop slash adult store owned by my aunt Loretta.” Catching what I’d just said, I quickly amended the explanation. “I mean, our aunt Loretta.”

  He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

  “Oh, no one is ever ready for Loretta,” I assured him breezily, trying to dispel some of the awkwardness.

  Removing a cookie from the package, he stared down at it for a long time.

  I wondered if he had some sort of OCD-type thing where he was compelled to count chocolate chips.

  Finally, he raised his gaze to meet mine. “Do you have to tell them about me?”

  “Well…” I began slowly. “They already know about you, at least my aunts do, and Armani was going on about you at a séance so Marlene and Darlene know about you too.” I frowned. “I mean, your other sisters know about you too.”

  He paled slightly and a muscle in his jaw jumped as though he was gritting his teeth. “But do you have to tell them you found me?”

  Anxiety soured my gut and I got the distinct impression that I had to answer this question carefully or I might never see my newfound, half-brother again. “Technically, I didn’t find you. You found me.”

  “True. But are you going to tell them?”

  I hesitated.

  He frowned.

  “It’s just that there have been so many secrets in the family,” I explained weakly. “I don’t want to be a keeper of another.”

  Disappointment clouded his gaze and he tensed up.

  “But,” I hurried to mollify, “if that’s what you want, I can keep the secret.”

  He relaxed and nodded.

  “Temporarily,” I amended. “Not indefinitely. Not for decades like some people have done.” I frowned thinking about the secret my dad and Aunt Susan and who knew who else had kept. All these years I’d had a brother and hadn’t had a clue.

  “Fair enough,” Ian agreed. “I’ll dunk to that.”

  We clinked our cookies together, and tried to dunk them in the one cup of milk simultaneously. We each giggled.

  And for a second I felt like a little kid, fooling around with my brother. A painful lump rose in my throat and a couple of tears slipped down my cheeks.

  As a result, when I bit into my cookie, it was both sweet and salty.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  After Ian left, having promised to crash my date, I hooked the leash onto the cat’s collar and took her for
a walk.

  “I never properly thanked you, Sugar,” she purred as we circled the RV. “You were kind to take me back to that place and you were brave to save us.”

  “You’ve saved me,” I reminded her. “But I still don’t understand why you wanted to go back there. That man is a monster. He’s the one who hurt you, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” she hissed, pained.

  “So why put yourself through that again?” I asked as she stopped to sniff a clump of grass.

  “I wanted to face him. To let him know that while he’d beaten my body, he hadn’t beaten my spirit.”

  “Well, I guess you did that.”

  She rubbed against my leg. “But I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “Or me,” Mike squawked from a nearby tree.

  Looking up, I spotted the black crow and waved.

  “Or you,” the cat agreed.

  Tilting his head to the side, he eyed us. “What can I help you do next?”

  “She needs to steal some fuzzy dice out of a car without getting caught,” Piss said. “Think you can help her with that?”

  “No way.” He flapped his wings and flew to a higher branch. “I do not do interiors.”

  “Chicken,” Piss mocked.

  “Crow,” he corrected. “Crows are never raised or led to slaughter, unlike our farmyard relatives.” With that he flew away.

  “I guess that means I’ve got to call Gladys,” I muttered.

  “I’m sure she’ll be happy to help,” Piss soothed.

  And she was.

  I called my favorite opera diva. She saved me again when she agreed to help me, after I told her what I needed. Not the why I needed her to do it, since the less she knew the safer she’d be, but I did tell her I needed her to distract an opera fan.

  After arranging things with Gladys, I went back inside the RV and called home.

  Aunt Susan picked up on the first ring. “Is that you, Margaret?”

  “The caller I.D. told you it was me,” I reminded her, absentmindedly stroking Piss who’d hopped up on the bed beside me.

  “Where are you?”

  “Maryland.”

  “When are you coming home?” Her voice was stretched thin with tension.

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “You Maggie miss I,” DeeDee whined pitifully in the background.