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Authors: Leslie Langtry

'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy (9 page)

BOOK: 'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy

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“Ah. Well, I can answer the second question first. You do. I think you are the most unusual woman I’ve ever met.”

“Uh, is that good or bad? ’Cause I can see it taken either way.”

“Unusual is good. In your case, very, very good.”

I was blushing. So I changed the subject slightly (I don’t want to lose that train of thought just yet). “How about the first question?”

Diego’s fingers started to stroke my shoulder, and I was afraid of losing consciousness. “I like piña coladas. And getting caught in the rain. I’m not much into health food . . .”

“Okay,” I protested, “you’re not gonna cough it up. Fine.”

Diego laughed, “Actually, that’s not too far off. I’m a pretty easygoing guy. I like all kinds of food, have no favorite color, and while I enjoy virtually every kind of music, I prefer jazz and Spanish guitar.”

I raised my eyebrows. “That’s pretty specific.”

“And you?”

“I’m kind of the same. I love Italian food, everything but rap in the music area, orange is my favorite color, and you trip my trigger too.”

Diego leaned in and kissed me. That shut me up. Oh my God did he have wonderful lips! Every movement felt like a caress, and my lips pulsed in time to my flamenco heartbeat. After a few moments, he pulled back. As he looked into my eyes, I realized that this conversation was over. Before I could figure out if it was wise to do this without making sure Romi was passed out, I pulled his lips to mine and kissed him ferociously.

Diego moaned and the sound did all sorts of naughty things to me. His voice was so raw, so warm, I couldn’t focus on anything more than the moment. My living room dissolved around me and the only thing in the universe was Diego’s lips on mine.

He gently parted my lips with his tongue, slipping in slightly to stroke my mouth. I moaned deeply and Diego pulled me onto his lap.

I don’t know how long we kissed, maybe hours, maybe weeks. At first I wanted to get right to the meat of the sex, but then I realized that I’d never kissed anyone like this before. It was amazing. Sensual. Liberating. Wait,
liberating?
What the hell did that mean?

“Gin?” Diego had pulled away and was staring at me. “Are you okay?”

“Um, sure. Why?” Hormones fogged my brain. What did I do?

“You weren’t breathing.”

“Oh. Right. I’ll remember that,” I said, pressing my lips to his again.

A voice spoke up, and I responded, “I’m breathing! Trust me, air is going in and out of my lungs.”

Laughter followed. Shit. I recognized that voice.

“Dak!” I scrambled off Diego’s lap. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Dak grinned, his whole face lighting up with amusement, “Just checking on you. You said you wanted me to watch Romi while you did some work.”

I did ask my dumb-ass brother to babysit. But tomorrow night! Not tonight!

Diego rose from the sofa and extended his right hand cautiously. “Diego Jones. And you are?”

Dak responded with reserve. “Dakota, Gin’s brother.” Why do men have to act so weird all the time?

Diego relaxed and smiled. I, on the other hand, glared at my brother.

“Dak, that was for tomorrow night. Not tonight.”

He slapped his forehead. “Oh, right. Sorry about that.” Then the bastard took a seat. I toyed with the idea of poisoning him. No, that would just piss Mom off.

“Out!” I found my voice. “Or I’ll kill you.” Okay, so I was only half kidding.

Dak held up his hands. “All right, fine. Tomorrow night it is.” He turned to Diego. “It was nice meeting you.” Diego responded the same way and my asshole brother left.

“He seems okay,” Diego mused. “I think I’ve met everyone now.”

That was sad but true. Once again, my family had invaded my personal space. From my neurotic mother and good-natured father to my bastard brother, Diego had met them all within the same week I met him. Oy vey.

“I’m sorry. He’s just a little . . .” I couldn’t think of the appropriate adjective. “I guess my family had me followed.”

“It’s fine, really. In fact, I think it’s rather nice.”

I arched my right eyebrow. “Really?”

Diego laughed. “Really. Charming actually.”

“Charming? Are you insane? This is the kind of stuff that usually drives men away! A single mother approaching forty, whose mother acts like she’s twelve, whose brother stalks her on dates? Do you go out with women like me a lot?”

“No,” he said with a smile. “It’s just nice to see a family who is so close. My father died when I was at university. And Mum is, well, colorful.”

Oooh! I’d forgotten his father was dead. I wanted to comfort him. Something about being an orphan screamed,
Let me make it all go away.

“Sorry about that. Your father, I mean.”

“It’s okay. I just learned to appreciate family more, that’s all.”

Okay, now he had my underwear. If only this game of strip date were real....

Poppy padded into the room, sniffing the floor and indicating that she wanted to go outside.

“I have to take her out,” I said to Diego. “I’ll be right back.”
Oh
,
and feel free to remove any constrictive articles of clothing while I’m gone.

Once outside, I took a deep breath. Poppy waddled around the yard, looking for the perfect spot to kill my grass. This thing with Diego was going fast. Not that I minded. I wasn’t exactly the pillar of moral turpitude, myself. Mentally, I had convinced myself this was just a fling. Why not just have sex and move on?

Wow. I hadn’t even had sex for a while. What if I did something wrong? How could you do something wrong? It was pretty simple, really, stick-plug-into-socket technology at best.

Obviously the attraction was there. Was it ever! And I was pretty sure he wanted me too. Okay! That’s it! I’m gonna go in there and have mind-altering sex!

I walked confidently into the kitchen, announcing triumphantly, “I’m ready!” Then my jaw went slack. Diego was putting on his coat! Why in the hell was he doing that?

“Sorry, Gin.” He had the grace to look a little crushed. “My client just got a suspicious phone call. I have to check it out.”

“What?”
What?
How could this happen? I was ready, dammit!

Diego kissed me on the lips. “At least you’re in the business and know what I’m dealing with. Most women wouldn’t be so understanding.”

“Oh sure, I understand,” I said weakly. Okay, so I didn’t mean it. But what could I do? I’d told him I was a bodyguard. It was my own damn fault.

After he left, I settled on the couch with my knitting. I tortured the yarn for about four rows before taking a cold shower. As I emerged from the bathroom, shivering, I realized that I could channel this energy for good. I was ready to kill someone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Death. The eternal blink. The capricious
dance of Now You Stop Moving
Forever. Well, contrary to popular belief
, death isn’t just for dead people.
It can happen to anyone.”

—
The Tick

All this sexual frustration needed to be flushed from my system, and I knew just how to do it. I would project it onto my job. At least, that’s what I told myself as I crawled through the hedges behind Vic’s house.

Dak had made good on his offer, so here I was, at 10 p.m.—on a school night, nonetheless—trying to find a way to off Leonard. There was no sign of life anywhere on the grounds. Even the evil Vivian wasn’t home. But these hedges were scratching me something awful. Oh well, can’t complain. Assassin Rule #2: If your hit is stupid enough to plant shrubbery, use it to your advantage. Of course the rule said nothing about how hot it was or how badly my arms were getting scraped. I guess that particular rule is up to your own personal interpretation.

I found the back door without incident. Wouldn’t you know the dumb-ass had a spare key under the doormat? His Witness Protection contact must have had a screw loose. I pulled the egg of Silly Putty (Assassin Fun Fact #2: You can use everyday things to your advantage) out of my purse and imprinted the key on both sides of it, then slid the putty back into my purse. After looking both ways (always look both ways—it works for more than crossing the street), I gingerly inserted the key into the doorknob and turned it.

A doorknob lock! Puhhhhleeeease. For a moment, I wondered if it wouldn’t be more lucrative to hire on as this idiot’s security.

I slipped into the house after replacing the key and locked the door behind me. My hands were sweating inside the latex gloves, but I knew better than to take them off. I remained crouched until my eyes adjusted to the dim interior. I was in the kitchen. And it was a mess. Now, I’m not the best housekeeper, but this was ridiculous. Dirty dishes were piled high in the sink, and the funk of sour food wafted from the disposal and garbage. Apparently, it was the maid’s week off.

The bathroom was always the best place to begin—especially if it was Vic’s personal bathroom. I found it on the second floor. I adjusted my LED flashlight to red and searched his medicine cabinet. There was only one prescription bottle, for heart medication. So Leo had heart trouble, eh? That’s good. I slipped one of the capsules out of the bottle and into my pocket, carefully replacing the lid.

From there, I quickly scanned each room in the house for entrances and exits, making a mental map. On the first floor, I found Leo’s study. Bulls’-eye. And there, on the desk, was his appointment book, conveniently opened to tomorrow’s activities. Hmmmm. Doctor’s appointment in the morning. I was pretty sure Dr. Anwar was a cardiologist.

I checked out the kitchen before leaving. Vic had a proclivity for drinking. Woo-hoo! Drinking and heart medication don’t mix. Looked like it would be an easy job after all.

Later, after sending my brother home and crawling into bed, I picked up a notebook and recorded everything I had seen. Once the job was done, the paper would be burned in the fireplace. No point in leaving any clues, eh?

I yawned and stretched. Not that I’d be considered a suspect. Nothing connected him to me. Of course, that would all depend on whether I could make it look like natural causes. I slid the notebook into the bottom drawer of my nightstand and locked it. I could work on it some more tomorrow.

“Hey, Mom,” I said as I approached her in her backyard. According to the city’s ordinance, homeowners could only have six-foot-high privacy fences. But Carolina Bombay’s were eight feet tall. Funny story, that. Seems the city clerk used to date her in high school.

Mom turned around, brushing the honey blond hair from her eyes. In her hand was a Gil Hibben knife. Twenty feet behind her was a tall piece of plywood, sharp knives dotting its surface in a tight little group, dead center.

“Gin! I wasn’t expecting you!” She gave me a warm hug, then collected her blades from the plywood. “How about some iced tea?”

We settled at the glass table on the patio just as Dad walked out with two tall glasses of iced tea. Blackberry Sage, no doubt. Mom was a creature of habit.

“You shouldn’t drink loose tea,” I started. “It would be easy for Uncle Lou to poison.”

Mom arched her right eyebrow. “Not likely. The teaspoon and kettle are rigged to my and your father’s biometrics. The wrong fingerprints and spikes plunge into your fingers.

That was Mom, always practical.

“Besides, I’m not a target,” she added.

“And who is? Are you saying you know who’s getting spanked at the family reunion?”

She shook her head. “You know I’m not privy to that information, Ginny. Only the Council knows.”

I set my tea down. “Mom, why the meeting? What’s going on?”

Carolina frowned, deep creases forming in the middle of her forehead. “I don’t know. I really don’t. And your grandmother isn’t very forthcoming either.”

That would fit. Grandma believed in the system. She believed in the Council and its work. It would be impossible to get the info from her. And to be frank, she scared me shitless. Two years ago, I saw her throw a man forty years younger and three feet taller out a seventh-story window. No, it wouldn’t be in my best interest to ask.

“Any theories?”

“None. Sorry, honey. I wish I knew.” Mom chewed her lip, and I could see she was worried. Every time there was a reunion, any one of us could be marked for termination. And I don’t mean with a pink slip.

“So how’s the job?” she asked, blithely changing the subject.

“Oh, easy. Shouldn’t take any time.” Vic had a doctor’s appointment in two hours, and I wasn’t going to miss it.

“Just see that you get it done before the trip. You don’t want that hanging over your head.”

BOOK: 'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy

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