Tiger Mom (Killer Moms Book 4)

by Eve Langlais

  Had who what?

  Ted blinked as he realized he lay on the ground.

  Why am I on the ground?

  She…

  The elusive thought skittered away, and he pushed up from the pavement. He was in the alley behind his place. A car was parked. Engine off. A fancy Civic done up sport-style with its emerald accents.

  Taotie’s car.

  Had he shown up at the studio? It was too early in the month. Ted staggered to his feet and glanced at the studio’s rear door—closed, but was it locked? He hoped not as he glanced down at his bare feet. Why hadn’t he put on shoes?

  How had he come here? Ted winced and rubbed at his temples. They pounded fiercely. Staggering only a little, he approached the car, empty of occupants. He paused by the trunk.

  Stared at it. For a moment, he saw a woman slamming it shut before turning to him.

  Portia…

  A name he didn’t recognize.

  His hand hovered over the metal. Did he want to see what was inside?

  I need to remember.

  He used the cuff of his gi to prevent him from leaving a fingerprint on the trunk release.

  It popped open. He blinked at the sight and slammed the trunk shut.

  Wiped it quickly with his sleeve and whirled to see if anyone else was in the alley. Not on the ground level but there were more than a few windows above.

  Shit.

  He hoped his feet didn’t leave too much trace evidence behind as he did a stumble jog to the far end of the lane, but rather than circling around to enter his dojo from the front, he aimed for a two-story building across from it. His friend’s apartment would be empty since he was on vacation. Mark had given Ted the access code to his place and asked him to water his plants. Given he couldn’t remember a damned thing, he thought it prudent to use it.

  The code took a few tries to enter, long enough that the sirens approaching had him sweating. Sweating was good. It would dissipate the drugs swirling inside him.

  The moment he entered, he quickly headed for the kitchen for a glass of water. He chugged it and then another, knowing he had to flush his system. He then snared an energy drink from the fridge for the caffeine rush. He kept blinking. His lids were still kind of heavy. He didn’t want to sleep.

  He parked himself by the window overlooking the street. There was his dojo, the window lit up. What time was it?

  A glance at the clock showed it past ten. He was done with classes for the night. And it was Monday… No, that didn’t feel right. It’s Thursday. He frowned. The shake of his head didn’t help the fog creeping in.

  He blinked, froze, a can of energy soda halfway to his mouth.

  Where am I?

  Why was he watching his studio?

  How had he gotten into Mark’s apartment?

  It had been a while since he’d suffered a blackout. He took stock of himself, dressed in his gi, holding a can of pure caffeine and staring out the window.

  Obviously watching. He was just in time to see a woman, someone who looked an awful lot like a chick he used to know in high school, as she crossed the street. She was clearly visible in the one streetlight before she got into a car parked on the sidewalk right below Mark’s window.

  Sure looks a lot like Macey.

  Portia.

  He frowned at the name and watched as she took off like a bat out of hell.

  Because she feels guilty she drugged me.

  Say what? The thought slipped through his fingers, so he drank another can of caffeine overload and put a call in to a friend. His old army buddy, Ben, answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, fucker, how come you’re not online yet? I thought we were playing at eleven.”

  Eleven. But it was only—his gaze slewed to the clock, and he saw it creeping past the eleven-thirty mark.

  And wasn’t this the wrong day of week? It’s… Monday? Thursday?

  This wasn’t a blackout. The gritty texture in his mouth, and the slippery threads of memory only confirmed it. “Ben, I need your help. Something happened to me.”

  “What?” Ben’s voice turned serious.

  “I don’t know.” Ted seriously didn’t remember. “It’s like something is messing with my memories. Hiding them from me, like with a heavy curtain.” A fog. It sometimes thinned enough for him to see, but mostly obscured, making him freak out a bit.

  “Drugged?”

  “Feels like it.” He rubbed the back of his hand, felt a twinge and looked down to see a needle mark pinpricking the skin. “I think someone injected me with something.”

  “I’m not surprised. I was going to warn you about her when we played.”

  “Warn me about who?”

  “Portia Stalone, aka Tiger Mom.”

  “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  “You don’t remember sending me a message last night, asking me to look into Portia Stalone? She’s a chick you used to know as Macey Munroe.”

  “Macey? Macey’s dead.”

  “Not according to you.”

  Ted rubbed his forehead, the fog thick on his memories. “Better tell me what you know because I seem to have forgotten a few things. Last I recall, it was Monday.”

  “Try Thursday.”

  “I’m missing three days!?” he couldn’t help but exclaim.

  “That would be Tiger’s doing.”

  “Tiger? What the fuck are you talking about?” Having Ben on the other line helped him to focus his thoughts but not enough to understand what was happening.”

  “First, let’s go back to Macey Munroe. What do you remember about her?”

  “Not much. And it doesn’t matter. She’s dead.” A shame. He’d had a crush on the smart girl in high school. Found her naturally pretty, and she’d not changed. Her hair was darker than before, but just as beautiful, and she had two very cute daughters. His eyes widened. “Macey’s not dead! She came to my studio.” Images flashed in his head. One in particular stuck. “Macey injected me with something.” He glanced at his hand.

  “Again, not surprised, given her rep. You should count yourself lucky you’re still alive.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You messed with Tiger Mom. Renowned for her ability to handle jobs, sometimes with just a single drop.”

  “She’s a drug dealer?”

  “No, more like an apothecary.”

  “What did she inject me with?”

  “My guess would be something to affect your short-term memory.”

  “Why would she try and make me forget her?”

  “Because running into you was probably a mistake. A link to her past that she’d rather not have forged.”

  “She’s hiding from something.”

  “You mean someone.”

  Ronin. For a second, Ted heard a name but lost it. “How do you know her?”

  “BBI has a file on her?” BBI, as in Bad Boy Inc, agency for elite mercenaries that could solve any problem. Ted used to freelance for them, still did when the nightmares became too much and he needed an outlet. “Turns out, your high school girlfriend works for a sister agency.”

  “Which one?”

  “The Killer Moms.”

  Ted snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Macey Munroe is a mercenary?” Personally, Ted had never met any of the KM operatives, but rumor had it the agency only employed single mothers in need. They also had a reputation for only going after the worst of the worst.

  And Macey was one of them?

  “It’s kind of a good thing you called because I was about to get ahold of you. Tiger’s handler is not happy about you poking around, looking for info on Tiger.”

  “Who is she hiding from?”

  “Ever heard of a man named Ronin?”

  It sounded familiar. Ted kept watch out the window as a dark-paneled van with tinted windows rolled into the alley. “No. Who is he?”

  “Ronin is a Chinese mobster with several bounties on his head. But so far, no one’s managed
to do the deed.”

  “A badass.”

  “The baddest.”

  “What’s Macey to him?”

  “She’s his wife. Or was. The official story was that on her way to a doctor’s appointment, a rival gang kidnapped her. In the attempt, everyone died. Including Macey. Or so everyone thought, including her husband, Ronin.”

  The realization drew a low whistle. “She chose being dead over being married or attempting a divorce?” The reason why hit him a second later. “She has two daughters. His, I assume.”

  “She was pregnant when the helicopter crashed.”

  “Does this Ronin guy know she’s alive?”

  “No idea. But I imagine seeing you, someone from her past, triggered her into acting.”

  “She tried to make me forget.” For a second, he saw bodies in the trunk of a car. Then another flash of Macey slamming it shut. “She knew Taotie.”

  “Who?”

  Ted shook his head. “A neighborhood thug.” She’d killed Taotie and Eddie, but not Ted. Why?

  A flash of orange in the window caught his attention. A glance had him gaping in disbelief at the flames licking at the windows of his dojo. Fuck.

  There went his business, his home. Good thing he had insurance. Bad thing he currently had nowhere to live.

  Because of Macey.

  At this point, some would have chosen to be angry. She’d come into Ted’s life and fucked it up: drugging him, killing people associated to him, and now burning everything he owned.

  Yet he saw the desperation in each act. The fear.

  He couldn’t resist, he had to do something. “I want to help her.” Despite what she’d done. Because of it. A woman who would fight that hard shouldn’t do so alone.

  “Let me see if her handler is interested in borrowing your services.”

  “I don’t need money.”

  “If we tell them that, they’ll say no for sure. They can be prickly in that sense.”

  “Do what you have to. I want to help.”

  It turned out there was no argument needed. Once Ben reached out to Portia’s handler, she was delighted to have Ted on board, and contacted him directly.

  He answered the unknown number. “Hello?”

  “So, you’re the Ted who completely ruined poor Portia’s life.”

  Way to pour on the guilt. “Not on purpose. Who is this?”

  The smooth reply was, “Call me Mother. After all, you’re about to become my son-in-law.”

  “Excuse me.”

  “A little bird told me you wanted to help.”

  “I do.”

  “Excellent. Then stop talking and listen. Once we hang up, you’re to go straight to Portia’s house and demand she give you the counter-remedy.”

  “She has one?”

  “Of course. We didn’t develop this forgetful serum for nothing. It’s often used by our agents in the field in case they’re ever captured or questioned with a truth tonic. Can’t have them blabbing secrets, now can we?”

  “I’ll remember everything?”

  “Yes. Now if you don’t mind, we don’t have much time. She’s preparing to flee as we speak.”

  “She’s in danger?” The thought kept him focused.

  “Very, which is why having you along playing husband and father will be perfect.”

  “I hardly look like the twins’ father,” he remarked, his recollection having the girls with Asian features.

  “Because you were infertile and adopted. You’ll have time to work on that story during the cruise.” Marie then went on to tell him the entire cover story. In a nutshell, he was going on a vacation with Macey/Portia and her kids. His job was to act as an extra layer of protection.

  If Portia didn’t slam the door in his face.

  “What are you doing here?” she snapped upon seeing him.

  “Hey, Macey. Portia. I don’t know what I should call you.” But seeing her triggered yet more memories. Of her cradling his head right after she’d drugged him. Remorse or wishful thinking?

  “Go away. I don’t have time for this.”

  “Can’t leave. I’m here to help you.”

  “Oh, hell no, you’re not,” she muttered before turning her back and marching into another room, a phone to her ear. “Mother! Don’t you dare hang up! Argh.”

  With Macey gone, Ted eyed the steely-eyed and haired woman at the door.

  He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Ted.”

  “That’s what I figured,” she said, eyeing him in his trendy clothes, the only thing he’d managed to find in Mark’s closet. His packed bag held more of the same. “Joanna. Aunt. Former special forces. Hurt my girls, and they will never find your body.”

  The threat might have intimidated someone else, but it actually brought a smile. He didn’t have to pretend to be meek anymore. “Also former special forces, and now a freelancer for hire.”

  The gaze turned appraising. “I hear BBI vouched for you.”

  “I work for them from time to time when I’m not teaching people martial arts basics.” He still held out his hand. She eyed it for a moment and then gave it a firm squeeze.

  “Good to know you’re not useless.”

  “I guess you know why I’m here?” he stated.

  “Judging by the yelling I hear going on in the other room,”—one-sided yelling as Macey ranted about the stupid plan—“Mother wants you to pretend to be her husband.”

  “Macey doesn’t sound happy about it.”

  “Give her a bit to cool down. She’s a bit frazzled. What happened tonight rattled her.”

  He tapped his temple. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Oh, crap, I forgot. Marie said to give this to you.” Joanna pulled out a syringe. “She figured Portia might not do it if asked.”

  The injection was barely a prick and didn’t come with instant memories.

  “It might take a little bit to work,” Joanna said, putting the needle away.

  “But I will remember?”

  Joanna rolled her shoulders. “Eventually.”

  Good, because the gaps were annoying. “When do we move out?” he asked.

  “Soon. We don’t think Ronin knows her whereabouts yet, so we’ll depart quickly and get out of reach before that even happens.”

  “You’re coming with us?”

  “Yes. You’ll refer to me as Aunt Joanna. Childless spinster, who lives with the family and helps with the girls.”

  “Are you my aunt or hers?”

  “Hers. She knows me better.”

  “Better than I know my fake wife. Wouldn’t it be better to pretend we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  “Only pretend?” Joanna queried.

  “What?”

  “I take it you’re not dating?” Before he answered, Joanna laughed. “I knew she was lying.”

  “Speaking of lies, what are we telling the girls? Mother didn’t really cover more than their names. Lin and Mae. Something I feel like I should already know. Will they know to play along with the charade that I’m their daddy?”

  “I’ll handle my daughters.” Macey returned, angry spots of color in her cheeks. “You need to leave.”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “I might not remember much yet, but I do know it’s my fault your cover was blown. Which means, I owe it to you to make it right.” He wasn’t a man who liked to have a debt.

  “Chen made it impossible for me to stay, not you.”

  “Chen?” he said questioningly, only to suddenly remember seeing Taotie’s dead body in a trunk.

  “I don’t have time for this,” she exclaimed.

  “Don’t you dare act all mad at me. You’re the one who stuck me with not one but two needles,” he reminded. But she’d also cradled his head on his way down to meet the pavement.

  “Did I really? Because if I had done it properly, you’d still be drooling. Not to mention, you wouldn’t remember me or even what you had for your last meal.”

  “I’m resistant to drugs.”
Years of doing them had built up a tolerance. He didn’t mention the Narcan.

  “And Mother had me give him the counter-dose,” Joanna added.

  “Why would you do that?” she exclaimed, flinging her hands. “He was supposed to forget.”

  “But I didn’t, and now I’m here to help,” he said, trying to soothe her agitation.

  “By what, stressing me out?”

  “Your mother said if we follow the plan—”

  Macey slashed a hand. “I don’t give a damn about the plan. We are not playing husband and wife.”

  “It’ll help your cover if you don’t look single.”

  “As if I need a man. I can take care of myself. Better than you.” The implication was clear.

  His turn to press his lips. “You think I’m useless.”

  “I don’t just think, I saw it. How many times did you let Chen and his cronies make you grovel?”

  The more he recalled what had happened, the better he understood her disdain. He grimaced. “I’m not weak. What you saw wasn’t the real me.”

  “What I saw was a man willing to let a lowlife like Chen walk all over him.” She sneered. “If you thought Chen was bad, Ronin is a thousand times worse.”

  “I learned in the war to pick my battles, and if I couldn’t win, to make sure I lived to fight another day.

  “You’re a soldier?”

  “Was. Honorable discharge.”

  Her gaze held a tad bit less disdain as she eyed him. “Rank?”

  “Classified.”

  Joanna jumped in. “He’s BBI-approved.”

  Definitely eyed him with more interest. Macey crossed her arms. “This isn’t a game. The stakes are deadly.”

  “I know.”

  “Doubtful.” She continued to eye him. “I assume you can fire a gun.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you have one?”

  “Not currently. My studio suffered a mishap.” The barb hit home, and she bit her lower lip.

  “I am sorry about that. I never meant to drag you into my problems.”

  “No worries. Insurance will cover the damages, and I was thinking about selling the business anyhow.”

  “You—” She would have said more, but the girls chose that moment to appear at the top of the stairs, Lin exclaiming, “Sir Ted, what are you doing here?” Mae, on the other hand, glanced at him then her mother and frowned. As for Joanna, she disappeared somewhere.