The Hitwoman Hunts a Ghost (11 page)

Patrick blinked rapidly. “Well, no, but… I was worried about you so I came to check on you. Isn’t that more important than a momentary slip of the tongue?”

“Which is it?” I pushed. “A slip of the tongue or I’m a crazy woman?”

For a split-second, something dark and dangerous flickered in his eyes. My breath caught in my throat and I completely forgot what we’d just been arguing about. A frisson of fear and excitement skittered down my spine as he lunged toward me.

He used one arm to haul me against him and his other hand to cup my chin.

Nothing he did caused me the slightest pain, but I still shivered at his leashed power.

Bending his head, his stubble scraping across my cheek, he whispered in my ear, “What it is, Mags, is that you make me crazy.” Nipping my earlobe for emphasis, he slowly dragged his lips along my jawline.

I tried to turn my head, to meet his mouth with mine, but his grip on my chin kept me immobile.

Breaking the contact, he lifted his head so that his lips hovered above mine. He stared at me with a scorching intensity that made my throat go dry.

“You, Maggie Lee, are the most dangerous person in my life,” he muttered. “I should stay as far away from you as humanly possible and yet here I am again, like a moth to a flame. How do you do that?”

For a split second, I tried to figure out an answer to that question, then all thoughts left my brain as he lowered his mouth to mine.

“For Pete’s sake,” God groused from his enclosure. “You kiss. In a second, one of you will realize it’s a bad idea and pull away. Repeat ad nauseum.”

I tried to ignore the lizard, but part of my brain acknowledged he was speaking a painful truth even as my body melted into Patrick’s as he kissed me.

“Your dysfunctional pattern would be sickening if it wasn’t so pathetic,” God continued.

Ripping my mouth away from the sexy redhead’s, I whisper-shouted, “If you don’t shut up you’re not getting any crickets.”

Every muscle in Patrick’s body went rigidly taught. He carefully put me away from him so that he could step back and look at me. His gaze was guarded as he looked me over. “You’re talking to the lizard.”

“So?” I tightened the belt on my robe, just that I’d have something to do besides watching the concern on his face.

“Last night, on the video, you were talking to your cat.”

“I
like
the cat,” I countered, hoping the lizard would know that comment was directed at him.

“About the cat…” Patrick rubbed his chin nervously.

It felt like a giant ball of ice settled in my stomach. “What about her?”

“I sort of accidentally let her out.”

“She was going to look for the beast,” God supplied helpfully. Apparently, he’d taken my threat about the crickets seriously.

I frowned at the idea of the one-eyed cat searching for the grammatically-challenged dog.

Patrick thought my expression was meant for him. “I’m sorry. I opened the door and she just slipped out. I tried calling her to come back, but she ignored me.”

“She ignores everyone,” God muttered.

“She’ll find her way back,” I told them both. “It’s not her I’m worried about.”

“You’re worried about yourself?” Patrick asked. “Is that why you were banging on my door last night?”

“No.” I shook my head, despite the fact he was half-right. “I’m worried about DeeDee, and Delveccio, and—” Realizing I was about to reveal my search for Ghost, which would necessitate a discussion about Ms. Whitehat, I cut myself off.

Patrick narrowed his gaze. “And?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“It didn’t sound like nothing,” he prompted suspiciously.

“Well it was.”

“Are you keeping secrets from me, Mags?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.

He rubbed the back of his neck, signaling his agitation. “Keeping secrets. You’re even more dangerous than I imagined.”

Wanting to reassure him, I hurriedly said, “It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?”

If I wanted to protect him from Ms. Whitehat and her organization, he could never know I was being blackmailed into working for them, so I decided to tell him a bit of another secret I’d been keeping.

“It sounds stupid.”

“Try me.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back, fixing me with a cynical stare that had me wondering if he knew I was keeping a real secret from him.

“It’s about my sister.”

“Jewel?”

“I keep telling you, her name is Marlene, not Jewel.” I huffed, annoyed.

“Sorry. It’s just that I knew her for years as Jewel.”

I scowled at him, wondering, not for the first time, how “well” he’d known Marlene in her position as a professional prostitute.

As though he read my thoughts, he chuckled softly. “Jealous, Mags?”

“No,” I said too quickly.

He smiled slightly. “Good. You have no reason to be.”

“About this secret,” I said, needing to move the focus away from things I might or might not be jealous about.

He raised his eyebrows, encouraging me to continue.

“I need to find out what happened to Darlene.”

His eyebrows fell and scrunched together as his expression turned to one of puzzlement. “The dead twin?”

Since Gypsy had told me that my for-sure-dead sister Theresa had told her that Darlene was alive, I wasn’t sure how to answer his question without sounding every bit as crazy as he worried I might be.

Ignoring my silence, he continued, “She was murdered, right?”

“That’s what we were told,” I said slowly.

“You have reason to believe differently?”

I couldn’t tell him a psychic had told me she was still alive. “A reason? No. But I’d really like to understand what happened to her. Will you help me?”

He shook his head slowly. “You’re looking for a reason? A lot of times there isn’t.”

“But—”

He raised a finger in the air to silence me. “I don’t see how anything good could come from this.”

I couldn’t very well tell him that there was a chance I could find her alive, so instead I insisted, “I need to know.”

Patrick stared somberly. When he spoke, I knew he was weighing his words carefully. “I’ve seen what this kind of thing can do to people. They get obsessed with a loved one’s death and forget to live themselves. I wouldn’t want that to happen to you, Mags.”

“I appreciate the warning, but this is important to me.”

“Why?”

I shrugged, unable to tell him about the message Gypsy had conveyed.

“Is this about Marlene?”

“It could be,” I said agreeably, hoping he’d latch onto that and stop trying to figure out my true motivation.

Pulling a roll of LifeSavers out of the front pocket of his jeans, he silently offered me a mint.

I declined with a shake of my head.

Taking one from the roll, he popped it into his mouth. He crunched on it, the cracking sound echoing the silence.

“Okay,” he said when he was done chewing. “I’ll see what I can come up with, but I want it on the record that I don’t think this is your best idea.”

“Thank you!” I threw myself at him, looping my arms around his neck, and pulling his head down so that I could plant a grateful kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me close and murmured into my hair. “As much as I’m enjoying this display of gratitude, I think I’d appreciate it more if you’d put on some clothes before we end up doing something we’d regret.”

“Uh… okay.” I pulled away, an embarrassed flush warming my skin as I realized I’d thrown my half-naked self at him.

“A grown woman who blushes,” he murmured. “Is it any wonder you drive me crazy, Maggie Lee?”

“Just get dressed,” God shrieked. “Enough of this
will you or won’t you?
You both know you won’t… at least not now… or today… or if there’s any justice in the world…
EVER
.”

With God’s rant ringing in my ears, I rushed back into the bathroom and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, perfect dog catching wear. When I emerged, Patrick was sitting on the couch, staring at the lizard’s enclosure.

“You got him a new cage.”

“Home, you imbecile!” God shrieked. “It’s my home. My domicile. The place I rest my weary head.”

“I don’t think he likes it,” Patrick said. “He looks kind of agitated.”

I didn’t dare answer him for fear of setting God off on another diatribe.

“Where’s the dog?” Patrick asked.

“Missing.”

Patrick sat up straight, alarmed. “Missing?”

“
She
lost her,” God provided helpfully, despite the fact the man couldn’t understand him.

Ignoring the lizard, I said, “That’s why I was so upset last night. She ran away.”

“She ran away?”

“Are you sure he’s a man and not a parrot?” God mocked. “He’s repeating everything you’re saying.”

“Yes. She ran away and I couldn’t find her.”

“I can go look for her,” Patrick offered, leaping to his feet and heading for the door. “Where’s the last place you saw her?”

“The hospital,” I said sheepishly.

Stopping, he turned back to face me. “What was she doing at the hospital?”

“I took her there.”

“You brought a dog to a hospital?” He frowned at me. “Why?”

“I was short on time. I told her she should stay right where she was and I wouldn’t be long, but then I ran into Delveccio and then I tackled Bob…”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You told her to stay and you wouldn’t be long?”

I nodded. “Very specifically.”

“But
she’s a dog
.”

“Exactly my sentiments,” God piped up from where he lounged on a piece of driftwood in his enclosure.

Shaking his head, Patrick turned to leave, then turned back. “What do you mean you tackled Bob? You do mean your aunt’s boyfriend, Bob, right?”

I shrugged, tugging nervously at the hem of my T-shirt. “I thought he was hurting Katie.”

“So you tackled a grown man… and you wonder why I think you’re dangerous,” he muttered, spinning around to stalk away.

“And then there’s a Delveccio problem,” I called after him.

That stopped him in his tracks, but he didn’t turn to face me. “He’s been calling me.”

“And you haven’t answered.”

He turned grudgingly to look at me. “I can’t. I’ve got too much attention on me right now with that damn ‘hero cop’ thing.”

“So he gave the job to me.” I waited to gauge his reaction before revealing what said job was.

He nodded slowly. “I’m not surprised.”

“I’ve got to get rid of a guy, an accountant.”

“Ira Frankel?”

I stared at him surprised. “How do you know that?”

“Because,” he said drily, “I’m a hero cop, so I know that one of the Delveccio’s associates got whacked, and while no one can prove it, it’s pretty common knowledge that Frankel did it. So Delveccio wants him gone?”

“By Monday morning.”

He let out a low whistle. “Wow, that’s not much time.”

“No, it isn’t. Which is another reason I was banging on your door in the middle of the night.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“And Aunt Susan said I was crazy,” I blurted out.

He waited a beat. “Well that explains why you freaked out on me.”

“I’m not. Crazy I mean.”

“I know.”

“But you—”

“You’re not crazy, Mags, but your life is.”

I considered that for a moment. He was right.

“So you’ll help me?”

“With DeeDee or Ira?”

“Both?” I asked hopefully, knowing it was too much to ask of him, but wishing he could do it anyway.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He turned to leave and then looked back over his shoulder at me. “I left you a phone by your keys. Keep it on at all times, okay?”

I nodded.

“I’ll see you around.”

“Patrick?”

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs that led to the storm doors.

“Thank you.”

He glanced back at me. “Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.” Then, pitching his voice lower, he winked at me. “But maybe you should think about
how
you’d like to thank me later.”

He left and I sagged against the wall, my legs suddenly jelly-like.

“Think about how you’d like to thank me later,” the lizard mocked.

“Now who’s a parrot?” I threw the nearest pillow at his terrarium.

“I’m under attack!” he shouted, diving under the piece of driftwood for cover.

As the door closed behind Patrick, a blur of movement scooted down the stairs.

“You’re back quickly,” God groused as Piss sat down and licked her paw.

“I got the info I needed,” she purred with self-satisfaction.

“What kind of information?” I asked curiously.

She fixed her good eye on me. “Where to find DeeDee.”

“Did you find her?”

“Of course, Sugar. I’m a hunter. I can track prey for miles. Besides, none of these local alley cats can resist my Southern charms.”

An indistinct snort of derision emanated from God’s general direction, but we both ignored him.

“Where is she?”

“The pound. That overzealous animal control officer scooped the poor, naïve thing right up, bless her heart.”

“Let’s spring her,” God suggested excitedly, emerging from beneath his wood shelter. “A jail break.”

“I know it’s not in your DNA, but don’t be a fool,” Piss told him. “There aren’t going to be any jail breaks.”

“There aren’t?” God and I asked simultaneously.

“Of course not,” Piss told us haughtily. “Maggie’s just going to waltz right in there and claim her as her rightful owner.”

“Sounds like a plan,” God agreed.

I wasn’t so sure. My plans often go awry.

After some debate, it was decided that God would accompany me to the pound to retrieve DeeDee. His coming along was his idea; I was vehemently opposed to it. It fell to Piss to be the deciding vote. The lizard and I watched her intently, both trying to silently will her to side with us.

I must admit that I felt a bit betrayed when, with a casual flick of her tail she purred, “You need all the help you can get.”