9 The Hitwoman's Downward Dog (12 page)

"Eyes up here, mister," I reprimanded, pointing Jack in the vicinity of my face.

To his credit, he seemed embarrassed by his behavior as he winced at his faux pas.

Loretta waggled her jewel-encrusted, liver-spotted hand in front of his face. "I'm Loretta, Maggie's aunt. And you are?"

"Jack. Jack Stern," he choked out, shaking her hand while staring at her eyes.

I suspected it wasn’t because he was taken by her beauty, but rather because her false eyelashes looked a lot like furry spiders.

"Well you and my niece certainly looked cozy." Loretta flashed an approving smile.

"We're not," I told her flatly. "What are you doing here?"

"Templeton wasn't feeling well, so I brought him to the E.R."

"Is he okay?" While her fiancé wasn't my favorite person, he had saved my life and he seemed to have a slight calming effect on Loretta.

"Just a reaction to the medication they gave him. They'll be discharging him within the hour."

"So what are you doing here?" I asked suspiciously.

"Looking for a room," she confided in a stage whisper with a wink at me.

"Maybe I can help you find it," Jack offered, having regained his composure.

"No," I snapped.

He frowned.

I, in turn, frowned at Loretta for having put me in this situation.

She shrugged. "I was hoping to have my way with my fiancé in a room," she told him. "Sort of a hot nurse and helpless patient scenario, if you get my gist."

An embarrassed blush heated my cheeks at Jack blinked and then took a step back from the sex addict that is my aunt.

"Loretta, stop this," I hissed.

She waved a hand dismissively. "Don't mind my niece, Jack. She's a bit uptight. I blame it on the fact she hasn't had sex in years."

Jack transferred his attention to me, something more than idle curiosity in his gaze.

I started to believe that spontaneous combustion was possible as my face burned with embarrassment and anger. "Shut. Up. Loretta," I ground out between gritted teeth.

My aunt shrugged an apology at Jack. "It was nice to meet you."

Jack nodded, not saying a word.

"If you see, Templeton," Loretta said to me, "make sure to tell him to hurry up. A girl has needs."

With a toss of her hair, she click-clacked away on her stiletto heels.

Jack watched her go in silence.

I watched her go, plotting half a dozen ways I was going to get my revenge for her humiliating me.

"Nothing like first-hand experience," Jack murmured.

I didn't dare look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I read up on your family and I was expecting quirky, but that, that..." He trailed off for a long moment, the professional wordsmith unable to coming up with the words to describe my aunt.

"You read up on my family?" I demanded, some of the anger I'd felt for Loretta finding him as a target.

He nodded. "That bothers you?"

"Why shouldn't it? It's stalkerish." And even more embarrassing than Loretta's comment about my love life. "It's bad enough that you follow me here, and to the..." I'd almost said "nuthouse." "The place where my mother resides."

He raised his hands signaling his surrender. "I was just trying to get a better idea of who you are."

"So now you know," I spat out, my voice barely louder than a venomous whisper. "Daughter of a professional criminal and a mental patient. Does that sound about right?"

He tilted his head in silent agreement.

I’d expected him to back off. Instead, he held his ground, which enraged me more.

"You've done your professional due diligence and figured me out. So why are you still here? Trying to see which of my parents I take after? Or maybe you're hoping I'm more like my former hooker sister. Or my druggie aunt. Or my nymphomaniac aunt?"

"Stop it," God ordered from chest. "You shouldn't say those things about the people you love."

Anyone else would have retreated from the assault, but not Jack Stern. He moved closer, even when God squeaked.

"Actually," he whispered in my ear, "I was trying to figure out what kind of woman would put herself in danger to help her friend. Now I’ve got my answer."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He smiled slightly as though he knew a secret I wasn’t privy to. He pitched his voice low. "Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful when you’re angry?"

I blinked and my mouth may have opened once or twice like a beached fish, before words actually passed through my lips. "That’s the best you can come up with, Mr. Man Who Writes For A Living? A tired old cliché?" I glared at him before mocking, "You’re beautiful when you’re angry."

"I’ve also learned that you really suck at accepting a compliment," he countered, unfazed by my barbed cliché insult.

"That isn’t a compliment, it’s… it’s…"

Raising his phone, he snapped my picture. "Beautiful," he told me before strolling away. "If you decide you want to know why I was here, you’ve got my number," he called over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

My anger left with him, leaving me feeling weak and deflated. I sagged against the wall for support.

"Well that went well," God drawled. "Did regurgitating all your hardships on a fellow I’m fairly certain was here to help you make you feel better?"

Ignoring him, I put my hands on my knees and forced myself to take a few deep breaths to keep from bursting into tears.

"What happened?" a familiar voice, laden with concern, asked. "Did something happen to Katie?"

I looked up to find Templeton, Aunt Loretta's fiancé, watching me worriedly. I was inordinately pleased that, unlike his paramour, he was fully clothed. "She's fine." I forced myself to stand up straight. I felt guilty that he'd thought something had happened to her. He seemed to have a genuine soft spot for her and her for him.

"Then what is it? Are you okay?"

I nodded tightly, a lump lodging in my throat at his concern for me.

He reached out carefully and patted my shoulder reassuringly. "I know I'm not one of your aunts, but if you need someone to talk to…"

"Dominic Delveccio is waking up." I jerked my head toward the room.

"That's excellent news."

I nodded.

"And yet you don't look happy."

"I'm just a bit overwhelmed."

"Because of Armani?"

I nodded and tried to keep my expression blank as I remembered I'd once seen Templeton leaving an illegal poker game that Lucky O'Hara had attended. I wondered how tight Templeton was with O'Hara and if he knew more than he was letting on about Armani.

"I'm sure the police will find her," he assured me.

"I'm not," I replied flatly.

Templeton blinked and suddenly looked nervous. "You're not looking for her, are you?"

"Of course not," I lied smoothly. "I've been ordered to stay out of it."

He narrowed his gaze as though he knew I was lying. I'd never had much of a poker face.

"Loretta was here a few minutes ago looking for you," I told him in a rush.

His face cleared at the mention of his beloved. "Which way did she go?"

I pointed in the direction my nymphomaniac aunt had disappeared.

Templeton strode away, but then paused and looked back at me. "You're sure you're okay?"

I gave him a thumbs-up, which seemed to satisfy him because he hurried on his way.

Leaving a message on my supervisor, Harry's, phone, I called in sick to work as I drove back to the B&B to pick up some supplies before I headed to the Poconos to find Armani. I stopped in the kitchen to grab something to eat—no point in mounting a heroic rescue on an empty stomach, and that's where Susan found me.

"We've been looking for you," she said as way of greeting.

"Good morning to you too," I countered. "Who's we?" Snatching up a leftover brownie and shoving it into my mouth before she could start to lecture me that dessert is not breakfast. On a day that you're not sure whether you'll make it out alive, I say eat dessert first.

Frown lines appeared at the bridge of her nose, signaling her disapproval of my dietary choices.

I'd been swallowing a mouthful of semi-stale chocolatey goodness when she said, "Detective Mulligan." Surprise and worry had me choking on the baked treat.

Shaking her head, Susan walked out of the kitchen saying, "I'll tell him you're on your way."

After spitting out the rest of the brownie into the trash and wiping the tears from my watery eyes, I checked my reflection in the microwave door.

"What's he doing here?" God asked from my chest.

"I don't know."

"It's odd he didn't use the basement entrance."

I thought so too, but instead of agreeing with the lizard, I smoothed my hair.

"He must be here on official business," God continued. "That can't be good."

"Can you shut up now, please?" I hissed. I didn't need him to make me more nervous than I already was, and I certainly didn't want my chest to squeak when I spoke with Patrick.

The reptile fell silent and I strode into the dining room with what I hope passed for a pleasant smile pinned to my face. "Good morning."

"Morning," Patrick replied easily, but I saw an angry spark glittering in his green gaze.

I'm pretty sure my smile wobbled.

"He's here about Armani," Susan told me, pressing a banana into my hand, a none-too-subtle hint to eat better, as she left the room.

I settled into the seat opposite Patrick and eyed him nervously. He was definitely pissed about something, but when he spoke his tone was pleasant, "Your aunt made coffee. Care for a cup?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

He poured a cup for me and added milk without asking, before reaching across the table to hand it to me. As we made the exchange our fingers brushed and an electric spark jumped between us. I knew he felt it too because of the way his jaw tightened, but when he spoke, he was all business.

"I'm here on official business."

"Told ya!" God whispered.

Patrick's eyes flicked from my face to my chest and then away. He gave his head a tiny shake of disbelief before speaking again. "As you know, I'm working the disappearance of Detective Joy Gilbert." He paused, studying me.

I waited silently unsure of where this was going.

"Apparently, your friend Armani and Joy know each other."

I did my best to look vaguely disinterested.

The lines around Patrick's eye grew more pronounced and his voice pitched deeper. "They exchanged a lot of phone calls."

Deciding the safest thing I could do in the situation was to keep my mouth shut, I didn't respond.

"What about you? Do you know Joy Gilbert?"

I sipped my coffee to give myself a moment to consider my response. From the way Patrick raised his eyebrows, I knew he wasn't fooled by my stalling technique. I decided to go with a half-truth. "I met her once."

"How?"

"At the hospital cafeteria. Armani and I were grabbing a meal, and well, you know Armani, she talks to everyone. When I got to the table, she was chatting with this Joy woman."

It was Patrick's turn to sip his coffee. He watched me steadily over the top of his cup and I knew that he knew I wasn't telling him the whole truth. He was right. I may have only had one conversation with the woman, but I'd seen her more than once since Ms. Whitehat had assigned me the task of keeping her from doing something desperate, something that had involved Lucky O'Hara. But I couldn't tell Patrick that; he didn't know about Whitehat, while she seemed to know everything about him and used it as leverage to get me to do things for her.

When Patrick finally spoke, his voice was no louder than a whisper. "You didn't think I should know that Armani knows the woman I'm searching for?"

I did my best not to flinch at the note of accusation in his tone. I just shrugged.

"Dammit, Mags," he growled, leaning across the table and grabbing my hand. "Are you ever going to learn how to trust me?"

Yanking my hand free, I glared back at him. "Why should I? You're always working on your own agenda."

I knew from the way he winced that he knew full well that I was referring to the fact he stayed in a sham marriage. "That's not fair."

"But it's true."

"Easy," God warned from my chest. "With that temper, you've already chased off one guy who wanted to help you."

Not caring that Patrick was watching, I plucked the collar of my shirt off my chest, dipped my head inside, stared at the little guy in the shadow of the valley of my breasts, and scolded, "If you don't shut up, you're not getting any more crickets."

When I looked back up, Patrick was holding his head in his hands as though the evidence of my apparent insanity was too much for him.

"Was there anything else, Detective?" I asked coldly, getting to my feet.

He lowered his hands and looked up at me. "What was going on between Armani and Joy?"

"I think Armani was doing her whole matchmaker thing with her."

"Who did she set her up with?"

"How should I know?"

He stared at me for a long moment, trying to determine whether I was telling the truth.

"If there's nothing else…" I moved toward the dining room door.

Before I knew what was happening, he was on his feet and had closed the distance between us. His professional demeanor had evaporated and before me was the man I knew. The man I thought I'd loved until I realized he was unwilling to leave his wife for me. "I never meant to hurt you, Mags."

I lifted my chin proudly, unwilling to let him know just how much I was suffering. "You're flattering yourself. All you managed to do was disappoint me."

Emotions flickered in his eyes like the flashing of a strobe light: regret, respect, anger, sadness. My breath caught in my throat at the intensity.

And then he broke Rule Number One.

Don't get caught.

He kissed me. Right there in my aunts' dining room where anyone could have walked in and seen. His lips fused to mine, his tongue tempting mine, his body pressing against me. His kiss, achingly gentle despite how firmly he'd grabbed me, offered the apology he hadn't been able to make with words.