Maggie Lee (Book 10): The Hitwoman's Act of Contrition

The Hitwoman’s Act of Contrition

Book 10

JB LYNN

THE HITWOMAN’S ACT OF CONTRITION

You know it’s going to be a bad day when a nun is giving you the evil eye.

At least I think that’s what my Aunt Leslie said the woman flashing me the evil side-eye had been in a former life.

I kind of lose track of who’s who in Leslie’s drug-free life. Back when she was a mellow pothead, I knew who the players were: her dealer and the kid from the local convenience store who delivered her munchies for a nominal fee. But ever since she got clean, there have been an endless supply of fellow ex-addicts and do-gooders (not to mention her sponsor who tried to kill me) parading through her days. I just can’t remember them all.

In my defense, I, Maggie Lee, have
a lot
going on. For one thing, after my sister and her husband died in a car accident, I’ve become the guardian of my niece, Katie. This responsibility, along with the accompanying medical bills, led me to becoming a paid assassin. (But I only kill really bad people. I swear!) The killer-for-hire gig inadvertently led me to working for a mysterious organization that, on occasion, blackmails me into doing their shady bidding.

As if all that wasn’t enough to contend with, I live with my three wacky aunts and I can talk to animals. Talking to animals isn’t really so bad. The problem is that they talk back.

That’s how I got in trouble with the nun…

“Just once,” I muttered, letting DeeDee, my Doberman pinscher, into the backyard, “I’d like to start the day without drama. Is that so much to ask?”

“Gotta! Gotta!” the dog panted excitedly, rushing past, almost knocking me over in her haste to get outside and sniff every square inch of grass before deciding where to go.

I followed her up and out (I live in the basement of my aunts’ Bed & Breakfast) and into the sun. I squinted at the offending light.

“He does have a point, Sugar,” Piss, my one-eyed, one-eared cat, drawled as she slunk past me and sniffed the morning air, whiskers quivering.

“You’re taking his side?” I asked, emerging from the steps of the storm cellar entrance to look at the backyard.

The cat twitched her tail. “I don’t take sides. I just think that while he’s normally a self-important jerk, in this instance, he’s in the right.”

I sighed, knowing what she said was true.  Just because DeeDee had been tired of listening to
Wheel of Fortune
, she hadn’t had the right to yank the TV’s plug from the wall, especially since she knew it was his favorite show.

“You’re going to have to make it up to him,” I called after the dog.

She stopped her sniffing long enough to cock her head to one side. “Apologize but already I.” She said in her high-pitched, blonde-bimbo voice before trotting farther away.

I blinked. While I can talk to animals, I’m often stumped by the grammatically-challenged mutt. Especially when I haven’t had any coffee.

“She said,
But I already apologized
,” Piss translated, stretching out in the sun and cleaning one of her paws.

“God doesn’t forgive easily,” I yelled after the dog. “He holds a grudge. He’ll make you miserable.”

That’s when I noticed the nun giving me the evil eye. She and Aunt Leslie were in the side yard doing morning yoga.  They were mid-Stork Pose.

She frowned at me, silently rebuking me for bad-mouthing the Lord.

I couldn’t very well tell her that the “God” I was referring to was a snooty anole lizard named Godzilla, who prefers God for short, so I just smiled. “Morning.”

The nun, or whatever the hell she was, ignored me.

“Good morning,” Aunt Leslie trilled cheerily. “How are you this fine day?”

From the way the nun grimaced, I assumed she wasn’t happy that her yoga partner was engaging me in conversation. No doubt we were disturbing her inner peace.

“I’m good.” For once, that was the truth. Things had been surprisingly calm for the last couple of days. Usually, my life was complete chaos, what with dealing with my family obligations along with juggling my real job and my hitwoman responsibilities, but lately no one had asked anything of me. “How are you?”

“Counting down the days until Katie comes home.”

“We all are.” I forced myself to grin. Not wanting to get into a discussion about my niece being released from the hospital, I gave a quick wave and called for the dog. “Come, DeeDee, back inside.”

She bounded back to me. She may not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but she is obedient and loyal.

“Already?” she pouted, watching a squirrel scurrying across her line of vision.

“She’s avoiding talking about the kid,” Piss explained.

“Why?” the dog asked.

Ignoring them both, I descended the stairs back into the basement. They followed closely behind.

“Why?” the dog asked again as I pulled the door shut behind her.

“Why what?” a superior Englishman inquired from the far corner of the room. “Can’t you speak in more than single syllables?

I glanced in the direction of the voice, finding the lizard perched on a piece of driftwood in his terrarium. He flicked his tail, a sure sign he was annoyed.

“Maggie is avoiding talking about the kid,” Piss supplied helpfully.

“Just with Leslie,” I argued.

I’d spent a lot of time over the last few days talking to just about everyone else about the plans to bring my beloved niece home.  It was just that Leslie had all these ideas about how we needed to focus on healing the little girl’s emotional wounds now that her body was on the mend.

“Leslie doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” I continued defensively. “The professionals know best.”

That was my fallback position on everything that had to do with Katie’s recovery.  I had to believe that the people with degrees and experience knew what they were doing, because I sure as hell didn’t. I was terrified at the prospect of being responsible for the care of the little girl. I wasn’t equipped. I wasn’t ready.

My chest tightened as the familiar doubts set in. I struggled to breathe normally.

As though he knew my thoughts, God said quietly, “You’ll be fine. You’re not alone.”

The pressure loosened slightly. I greedily gulped in air.

He was right, of course. I wasn’t alone. I had my family, as dysfunctional as they may be, friends, and pets who would help with Katie. I’d muddle through.

But I didn’t just want to muddle through. I wanted to give Katie the best possible life.

I’d done the unthinkable, becoming a hired killer, in order to earn the money to provide her with superb medical care. I’d do whatever it took to give her an amazing life.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do about the job?” God prompted.

I shook my head.  I hated my job as an automobile claims service representative at Insuring the Future, but I was afraid to quit. Not because of the salary or benefits, but because if I left my nine-to-five existence, I’d be giving up my last link to the normal world.

“Why haven’t you asked the crazy psychic for advice?” Piss asked.

She meant Armani Vasquez, my friend, who moonlighted as a psychic and a matchmaker. She was surprisingly good at both.

“I haven’t seen her,” I admitted. “She took a couple of days off to recover from her ordeal.”

Her ordeal was that she had been kidnapped, her boyfriend murdered, and I, along with my pets and a surprise assist from some mysterious ninjas, rescued her.

The cat narrowed her good eye. “You’re avoiding her. You’re avoiding a lot.”

I shrugged. “I’m considering the possibilities.”

I had three job options. Well, legal job options. I could stay at Insuring the Future, but my work schedule there wasn’t conducive to taking care of Katie. I could go to work at my Aunt Loretta’s lingerie shop, but I really don’t have the personality to deal with retail customers. I might be tempted to strangle them with a garter belt. My third option, which I hadn’t explored yet, was a career in real estate, working for the sister of my Aunt Susan’s ex-boyfriend, Lani.

None of them appealed to me.

“Hungry,” DeeDee panted, interrupting my thoughts of my future with her immediate need.

“Okay, okay.”  I fed the cat and turned to the lizard. “Hungry?”

“Not if you’re offering dreck like mealworms.”

God’s a picky eater. His meal of choice is live crickets. He turns his nose up if I offer him anything else.

“I’ll stop by the pet store later today,” I promised.

Realizing he wasn’t getting breakfast, the little guy turned his back on me.

“Hungry,” DeeDee whined.

Instead of replying, I started up the stairs that led to the kitchen. She scampered up ahead of me.

“Eat. Eat. Eat,” she panted like it was some sort of bizarre affirmation and the food would manifest itself before her.

I grabbed her collar before opening the kitchen door. “Remember, you can’t just go barreling through. You almost knocked over Aunt Susan yesterday and she was upset that she almost dropped her meringue pie.”

“Okay,” the dog agreed.

Giving her collar an extra tug for emphasis, I released her, hoping there were no humans in the kitchen to get in her way.

“There you are,” Aunt Susan greeted before I crossed the threshold.

I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or the dog, but she was in the kitchen.

“Would you like some scrambled eggs?” Susan asked.

“Please,” I replied.

“I was talking to DeeDee,” my aunt replied.

I bit back a smile. While she and the dog had gotten off to a rocky start, complete with a chomped umbrella, Susan had ended up being the person who spoiled DeeDee most. Except for Patrick.

The thought of the red-headed cop/hitman who’d declared he didn’t want to lose me in the midst of Armani’s rescue, made me sigh heavily. I hadn’t heard from him since that night. Maybe he was doing cop things. Or maybe he was distracted with assassination needs. Or it could have been that he was attending to family obligations… like his wife.

The thought of his bizarre marital situation (he’s married to a woman who pretends to be disabled and is having an affair with another woman) made me sigh again.

“Fine,” Susan agreed grudgingly, thinking my sighing had something to do with eggs. “I’ll make some for you, too.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I quickly assured her.

Turning, she arched an eyebrow. “It’s better than whatever fast food you were going to pick up.”

I shrugged my agreement.

“Toast?”

“Please.”

While Susan cracked some eggs into a bowl, I poured some dry kibble into DeeDee’s bowl. She gulped it up greedily, keeping an eye on Susan the whole time, hoping to get some egg.

Susan whisked the eggs. “Templeton picked up a nice loaf of rye this morning.”

“He got an early start.”

“That stay in the hospital scared him. Going out for a walk is part of his new health regimen.”

“Good for him.” I have mixed feelings about my Aunt Loretta’s fiancé. On the one hand, he’s saved my life—literally. On the other, I find it hard to trust him because he’s had some shady dealings.

“Maybe he’s decided that he needs more cardio exercise than sex with Loretta provides,” Susan mused snarkily.

I chuckled.

“What do I provide?” Loretta asked, breezing into the mixture in a cloud of perfume and lace.

I averted my eyes.

It’s always a good idea to avert one’s gaze around Loretta, who continues to flaunt her sexuality even as she nears her sixties. A glance out of the corner of my eye revealed the morning ensemble: too little red lace and too much wrinkled skin.

“What do I provide?” Loretta asked again.

I tried to catch Aunt Susan’s eyes, but she was taking in her younger sister’s look through narrowed eyes.

I sensed that at any moment she’d tell Loretta to “put on something decent.” I’d already caught the side-eye of the nun; I really didn’t want to end up in the middle of an argument between my aunts.

“That you provide the means to bring couples closer together,” I lied quickly.

Turning toward me, providing the full-on vision of her barely clothed self, Loretta beamed. “What a lovely way to think of it.”

Behind her, Susan stuck her finger in her mouth, pretending to gag herself.

Locking my gaze on Loretta’s face, I smiled back at her.

“That’s another reason why you should come work at The Corset.” Loretta batted her fake eyelashes for emphasis. “You can do some good in this world.”

I flicked my gaze in Susan’s direction. She turned away, busying herself with cooking, not because she had a burning desire to serve breakfast, but because she wouldn’t offer an opinion on my job prospects, since she equally despised the idea of my working at The Corset and the idea that I could work for, Lani, her ex Bob’s sister.