9 The Hitwoman's Downward Dog

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Authors: JB Lynn

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Table of Contents

 

 

 

 

The Hitwoman’s Downward Dog

Book 9

 

 

 

JB LYNN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE HITWOMAN’S DOWNWARD DOG

 

 

Chapter 1

 

You know it's going to be a bad day when you end up sitting in the back of a police cruiser that smells worse than a New York City taxi.

I tried not to inhale. The mixture of puke, urine, cheap cologne, and a particularly offensive pine-scented air freshener had me on the verge of succumbing to nausea.

"You could have killed me," Zeke complained for the tenth time.

My name is Maggie Lee. I'm a paid assassin, albeit not an adept one.

And yes, one of my oldest friends was right; I could have killed him.

"But the important thing is I didn't," I reminded him for the seventh time. The first three times he'd raged about me almost killing him, I'd apologized. Profusely.

But now we were sitting in the back seat of a police cruiser, the hitwoman and the con man, and it was making me very nervous.

We had more important things to worry about than one badly aimed swing of a tire iron. If I’d actually managed to hit him, Zeke would've had a legitimate reason to complain. Luckily, I’d missed.

I watched the growing crowd of police detectives and uniformed officers gathering in front of the home of my friend Armani Vasquez.

Detective Brian Griswald, who I’d called when I panicked that something had happened to Armani, had told me
not
to go inside, an instruction I’d disobeyed. Now he seemed to be in charge, barking orders, pointing fingers, and generally looking pissed-off. It was a look that didn't suit the usually laid-back detective.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked Zeke without taking my eyes off the roll of yellow Do Not Cross police tape that was being used to "X" off Armani's front door.

When Zeke didn't answer, I turned to see why not. He shook his head slightly, a warning look in his eyes, letting me know that a cop's car was not the time or place to be discussing his arrival.

Usually ridiculously handsome and charming, Zeke now just looked tired and stressed. Armani had told me on more than one occasion that Zeke had bedroom eyes, but all I saw in his gaze right now was worry.

Knowing he was feeling the same as I was didn’t do anything to help settle my nerves.

I turned back to watch the crowd of nosy neighbors who'd gathered on the sidewalk to gawk and gossip. "What a mess," I muttered under my breath.

"She'll be okay," Zeke assured me.

"Did you see what happened?"

Worried because Armani hadn't shown up for work and wasn't answering phone calls, I'd left work in the middle of the day to check on her. When I'd gone inside her home, it was plain to see a violent struggle had taken place. That's when Zeke had snuck up behind me and I'd almost brained him with a tool normally reserved for automobile repair… or in my case, setting off car alarms.

"She's smart and resourceful," Zeke murmured, trying to reassure me.

"She's foolish and impulsive," I countered. "I knew something was wrong. I told her to stay away from him."

"Who?"

"Her new boyfriend, Ike Medd. The moment I met him I sensed he was trouble."

"Maybe," Zeke suggested gently, "considering everything you've been through lately, you're imagining the worst when a perfectly reasonable explanation exists."

I turned again to face him.

He didn’t wither beneath my disbelieving glare, but he did push himself deeper into his seat, like that extra millimeter could save him from my wrath.

"Explain to me why her place was trashed."

He shrugged. "She is unique. Maybe she likes it like that?"

I heard the doubt in his voice.

"If something happens to her..." I trailed off, my eyes filling with tears.

Zeke didn't hesitate to pull me into his arms. I sagged into him, grateful for the comfort of his offered support.

"I can't take much more," I whispered, the tears flowing down my face.

Zeke hugged me tighter. "I know it's been rough lately."

That was a massive understatement.

In the past few months, my sister Teresa had died, my niece Katie had been in a coma, I'd become a hired hitwoman, a couple of different people—including a guy I'd dated—had tried to kill me, my apartment had been blown up, I was being blackmailed by a secret organization, and, oh yeah, because of a head injury, I'd developed the ability to talk to animals, which sounds cool, but trust me, it's as much a curse as it is a blessing.

Of course, in Zeke's defense, he didn't know about the whole paid assassin or talking to animals things.

He may be one of my oldest friends and may have confessed to being a con man himself, but a girl has got to keep some secrets... especially if she wants to stay out of prison, or worse, the nut house.

The car door behind Zeke opened and I found myself staring into the eyes of Detective Brian Griswald. He was blurry because of my tears, so I rubbed my eyes to dash them away.

Once my tears were gone, the grim set of the detective's jaw became clear.

"You okay?" he asked as Zeke and I disentangled ourselves from one another.

"Is she...?" I managed to whisper, even though I was pretty sure I wasn't breathing.

"She's not in there," Brian assured me, waving for Zeke to get out of the car. "And at first glance, we haven't discovered any blood."

Zeke climbed out and offered me a hand.

"But it looks like there was a fight," I argued with Brian as I put my hand into Zeke's and allowed him to haul me out of the back of the cruiser.

The detective nodded. "It does look like a struggle could have occurred."

"
Could
have?" I squeaked incredulously.

"Maggie," Zeke warned in a low voice, warning me not to antagonize the nice police officer.

Brian jammed his hands into his pockets. He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot before confirming in a voice that was barely audible, "There was a struggle."

I nodded. "I have to find her."

"No!" Brian and Zeke exclaimed simultaneously.

Zeke grabbed my wrist and yanked me against his side, like he intended to act as a human anchor to keep me from flying off and doing anything stupid or dangerous.

"You have to stay out of this," Brian warned. "Let the professionals do their job."

"I—" I began to protest.

"I could bring you down to the station and question you as a suspect," Brian interrupted, making a show of pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

"But
I
called
you
," I reminded him.

"And I told to wait for me, but no, you traipsed through a crime scene, carrying a tire iron. You could have contaminated evidence. You probably did. You put a hole in the wall, Maggie."

"You could have killed me," Zeke reiterated once again.

"I'm sorry," I huffed. Both men thought the apology was meant for them, but in truth, it was just a ploy to get them to shut up and leave me alone.

I knew I'd screwed up. I should have waited for the detective. I should have come looking for Armani sooner. I should have warned her against her relationship with Ike more strongly.

Whatever had happened to her was my fault.

I didn't know how I was going to live with that.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

"Look," Brian reasoned gently. "I know you're worried about your friend..."

"Worried?" I shrieked. "She got involved with a serial killer."

"A serial killer?" Zeke gasped, shocked.

"You can't go around saying he's a serial killer," the detective warned.

Feeling as though he wasn't taking my hunch about Medd seriously, I pulled out the big guns. "Your uncle agrees with me. He said so."

Brian cocked his head to the side and gave me a look that let me know he thought I belonged in the loony bin with my mom. "No, he didn't."

"Did too."

"He'd never say anything like that."

"Well he agreed with me that Ike is creepy," I conceded.

Brian nodded. "Yeah. Okay, I believe that, but you can't go around accusing a person of stuff like that. And you shouldn't go around saying someone else said stuff like that."

"Stuff like what?" a familiar, gravelly voice asked. Jack Stern, a reporter I'd met recently who seemed to have a knack for showing up wherever I did, stepped closer. As always, he wore a black leather jacket and a cynical expression.

"Nothing that concerns you, Stern," Detective Griswald said sharply, while giving me a "now see what you've done" look.

Properly chastised, I hung my head.

"What are you doing here?" the detective asked.

"Heard it on the scanner," Jack murmured, studying the possessive arm Zeke had wrapped around my waist.

As though he sensed his position in my life being threatened, Zeke pulled me closer.

"You should be behind the line," Griswald told the reporter.

"Sure." Jack shrugged effortlessly. "Just let me confirm a couple of things."

"No," Brian said. "Back."

Ignoring the rebuff, Jack asked, "So how's this shaking out? Word is you've got no victim."

"She was kidnapped," I blurted out.

Zeke slapped his hand over my mouth, but was too late to stop my reveal.

I shoved his hand off my face.

"Not another word, Maggie," Brian warned.

Jack flicked his gaze toward me, his expression unreadable, before turning on the detective. "Maggie, huh? You two seem quite chummy. Is that why you're here?"

Brian balled his hands into fists. "Walk away, Stern."

"You're the boss." Jack strolled toward the crowd of onlookers, but then turned back around to face us. His dark gaze bored into mine for a long moment like he was trying to read something there. "No victim. No witnesses. It can’t even be considered a Missing Persons case yet."

I looked at Brian. "Is that true?"

"Technically," he began slowly. "But—"

"Technically?" I was so angry I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Zeke gave me a warning squeeze. "Maggie, don't—"

Twisting free of his grip, I marched right past Jack Stern. He had the good sense to quickly back out of my way.

"Where are you going?" Brian called after me.

"Back to work," I shouted. "You've made it abundantly clear that I'm wasting my time."

My friend was missing, and no one was going to do anything to help find her. No one but me. I'd go back to work and check her desk. Maybe she'd left behind a clue.

Reaching my car, I threw open the door and hurled myself into the driver's seat. I started the engine with a roar and popped the car into gear as I reached out to close the door. It didn't budge.

Looking up, I found Zeke holding the door.

"You are not driving in this condition."

"Back off, Zeke," I warned. I might have to put up with Detective Brian Griswald, but there was no way I was going to let Zeke boss me around.

Instead of bullying me into obeying, Zeke chose a different tactic. "Please, Maggie. I'm not trying to control you. I'm just worried about you. I'll drive you to your office. I just don't want you behind the wheel when you're this upset."

It's hard to get angry at someone when they're looking out for your best interests.

"Besides," he added with a teasing grin, "I remember what happened when you got upset when Warren Breamach made Darlene cry."

I shook my head, trying not to smile at the ridiculous memory. My old friend had a point. When Warren had upset my sister I'd been so mad as I’d gone to confront him, I'd driven the wrong way down a one-way street, almost taking out the mayor. "Fine."

"Thank you."

I turned off my car, handed him my keys, and climbed out. "Where are you parked?"

"Two blocks over."

I raised an eyebrow. Parking that far away meant he'd been anticipating trouble and hadn't wanted to get caught. Again, I wondered why he'd shown up.

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