Maggie Lee (Book 7): The Hitwoman and the 7 Cops (8 page)

I blinked and took in the officer’s uniform. It was probably a good thing I couldn’t yet speak since the only thought that came to mind was,
“Great. Another cop.”

The cop’s name tag identified him as Sergeant Victor.  “You swerved into traffic.”

“We were being chased,” I whispered painfully.

“Chased?” He looked alarmed. “By who?”

I looked to Marlene to explain, noticing for the first time the dark smudge of a bruise blooming on her cheek.  She looked away.

I wondered what Patrick would say about me getting a moving violations ticket. It was probably a direct violation of his “Don’t Get Caught” rule. I winced at the thought of how pissed he’d be. Then I let out a yelp, remembering I’d hung up on him.

I bent over to look under the seat for my phone.

“What’s wrong?” Marlene asked worriedly.

“Phone,” I whispered. “I dropped my phone.”

“You shouldn’t use the phone and drive,” Sergeant Victor lectured. “Only hands-free are legal in the state of New Jersey.”

“Great.” I felt around for the phone.  My voice was scratchier than one of Aunt Leslie’s hemp bracelets.

Victor chuckled. “I’m not going to ticket you.”

“Here it is.” Marlene handed me my phone.

“I need to make a call,” I told Victor, disengaging my seatbelt. “May I get out of the car?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He took a step back, but grasped one of my elbows to steady me when I swayed unsteadily once I was standing.

“I’m fine. Do you mind? This is a private call.”

Shrugging, he circled the car to go open Marlene’s door.

I stumbled a few paces while I placed the call, taking care not to step into the path of oncoming traffic. I held the phone to my ear and was pretty sure I heard a sneeze over the dull roar of the passing cars. “Are you there?”

“What the hell, Mags?” Patrick sounded more ragged than I’d ever heard him.

“Sorry. There was this guy chasing Marlene and…” I looked around, trying to spot the pimp, but he was nowhere in sight.  The arrival of the cop must have scared him off.

“What guy?”

“Her old pimp.”

“Wally?”

“I think so.” Hating that he knew more about Marlene’s past than I did, I leaned against the hood of a beat up, old, yellow Mustang parked behind us. It was warm and solid and steady, which was a good thing since it seemed like the rest of the whirl felt slightly off-kilter.

“Why is he after her?”

“She owes him money.”

“How much?”

“I don’t know.”

“Find out.”

“Now?” I glanced over at Marlene, who was being examined by Sergeant Victor. “There’s someone else…”

“I heard.”

His tone was taut with annoyance and rubbed me the wrong way.

“Look, this wasn’t my fault. None of this was my fault. I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t go looking for trouble. It just finds me. So before you go getting all high-and-mighty on me, maybe you should—“

“Easy, sweetheart,” he said gently, using the same tone he soothed the injured animals with. “I know it wasn’t your fault.”

“None of it,” I insisted, tears prickling the backs of my eyes. “I just have the world’s worst…” I trailed off, my mouth dropping open.

“Mags?”

“Um… yeah?” I muttered absentmindedly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Not as fine as Marlene.”

“Huh?”

I watched in amazement as Sergeant Victor wrapped his shirt around Marlene’s shoulders and she leaned her head against his shoulder. While it registered in the back of my mind that Victor’s actions were strange, I was too distracted by the cop’s Channing Tatum physique to pay much attention to anything else. “Holy cow.”

“Is something wrong?” Patrick asked.

“Um… I don’t think so.” I shook my head and averted my eyes. It’s bad form to mentally drool over a guy while talking to another man.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Just peachy.”  Although, not as peachy as Marlene appeared to be.

“That call… You’re going to be the death of me, Mags.”

Considering that Delveccio had once almost hired me to take out Patrick, that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. “I’ve got to get Marlene back to the B&B.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“When am I ever okay?” I quipped lightly and disconnected the call before he could reply.

I walked back to Marlene and Sergeant Victor.

The cop’s concern was evident as he cradled my sister’s frail form against him. “She’s going into shock.”

Taking in Marlene’s full-body trembling, I had to agree with his assessment. “She had quite the scare.”

“I don’t think she needs to go to the hospital. But she should go home and get some rest.”

Marlene gave me a worried look.

“Don’t worry.” I opened the passenger’s door, trying to not let my eyes dwell on the fresh dent that had been left by Wally’s kick. “I’ll make sure the witches back off.”

“Witches?” Victor asked.

“Bitches,” Marlene corrected bitterly as she climbed into the car.

“Our aunts.” I closed her door firmly. “Thank you for your help, Sergeant Victor.”

“My friends call me Doc.” There was a strain in his voice I couldn’t identify.

I smoothed my palm over the dent in the door. “Yeah?” I couldn’t imagine ever being friends with another cop, so I really didn’t care what he was called.

“Yeah. There’s kind of a funny story about that.”

I turned to shake his hand and realized he was still shirtless. “Oh.” I looked from his bare chest to Marlene. “She has your shirt.”

“Let her keep it,” he urged. “I’ll follow you to make sure you get home safely.” Turning around, he headed for the yellow Mustang.

I got into the driver’s seat of my car. Marlene’s eyes were closed. She was pretending to sleep, just like she’d done whenever she encountered a problem as a little kid. Understanding her reticence, I played along and silently drove back to the B&B, keeping a close eye on the yellow Mustang following closely behind.

It was mercifully quiet when we pulled into the driveway.

“You’ve got his shirt,” I reminded Marlene as she stirred, pretending to awaken.

She pulled it from her shoulders and tossed it into my lap. “Tell him
thanks
.”

“Why don’t you…?” I began, but she jumped out of the car and ran inside before I could finish.

Scooping up the shirt, I slowly got out of the car and walked toward the Mustang idling at the edge of the driveway. Sergeant Victor climbed out as I approached.

“She said to say thank you.”

He nodded, holding out a ridiculously muscled arm to take the shirt.

I handed it to him. “Thank you, Sergeant. I know it’s all part of your job, but if you hadn’t stopped…”

“Actually it isn’t, but I was glad to help.” Amusement glinted in his gaze. “And it’s Doc. I told you that my friends call me Doc.”

I dipped my chin. “Thanks, Doc.”

He shrugged into his shirt, the fabric stretching. “Do you think it would be okay if I stopped back to check on your sister?”

“Um. I guess so.” Far be it from me to tell a cop what he could or could not do.

“Cool.”

I blinked, startled. “Cool?”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Uncertain whether that was meant as a threat or a promise, I dumbly nodded my agreement.

The Mustang roared off in a cloud of smoke. I watched it disappear from view before turning to head back toward the B&B.

“Good-looking guy.”

“Aaah!” I gasped, stumbling backward.

“Sorry, Maggie.” Coming around the corner, Zeke flashed his easy grin at me. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your daydreams about Mr. Chippendale.”

“Zeke. What the hell are you doing here?” Remembering for the first time that he’d shown up when I was waiting for the ambulance, I added, “Where the hell did you go?”

“Miss me?”

“No. Forgot you were even here.”

Throwing back his head, he laughed. “That’s why I like you. You’re always so brutally honest.”

I smiled weakly. He had no idea the lies I’d told and secrets I was keeping. “What are you doing here, Zeke?”

Grin fading, he jerked his chin in the direction of the street. “Walk with me, Maggie.”

I looked longingly at the house. All I really wanted to do was go inside and curl up with my animals.

“It’s important.”

Nodding, I turned back around toward the street. The last time Zeke had needed something from me, I’d ended up babysitting a wacky ghost whisperer, breaking up a sex slavery ring, defusing a bomb, and finding out that my sister Darlene, Marlene’s twin, might not have been murdered as we’d long believed. Considering everything else that was going on, I wasn’t sure I was up to whatever he needed from me now.

Casually draping his arm around my shoulder as we walked, he asked, “Talked to Alice lately?”

“She seems happy in Chicago.”

Our mutual childhood friend had married a man from the Windy City, gotten knocked up with his kid (just not in that order), and they’d moved to his hometown, halfway across the country.

“Glad to hear it.”

I doubted that he wanted to talk about Alice, but that was as far as the conversation went for another block.

Finally he dropped his arm. “I’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” I asked cautiously.

He kicked a rock out of his path. “I’m being blackmailed.”

So was I. By Ms. Whitehat. But of course I couldn’t tell Zeke that. “What do you need?”

Zeke stopped in his tracks and stared at me. I kept walking.

Hurrying to catch up, he said, “You do realize that anyone else would have asked what I’m being blackmailed about, don’t you?”

I shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Seriously?”

“You’re going to ask me for help. Chances are I’m not going to turn you down. So do the specifics really matter?”

“You
could
turn me down.”

I shook my head. “I seem to have difficulty doing that with anybody lately.”

Reaching a corner where I had to pause to let a car pass, he caught my wrist, forcing me stop walking so that he could look me in the eye.

“I hate asking, Maggie, especially since you’ve got so much going on.”

“You wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” I supplied helpfully, watching a car slow behind him.

“Exactly. It’s just that I’m in a bind and I don’t know who else I can trust.”

Something, maybe Armani’s abilities were rubbing off on me, I don’t know, but
something
made me look at the driver of the car, as he made the turn. Wally headed straight toward the B&B.

“No!” I shouted.

Startled, Zeke dropped my wrist and backed up a step. “Um… okay. You don’t have to.”

“It’s Wally.” Spinning around, I ran back toward the B&B. “I have to stop him.”

“Who’s Wally?” Zeke asked, running up beside me.

“Her pimp,” I panted, silently cursing myself for not taking Alice’s advice and taking up running as a hobby.  Being able to run faster than a sloth would probably be advantageous in my line of work.

While I was sucking wind, Zeke hadn’t broken a sweat. “Whose pimp?”

“Marlene’s,” I explained breathlessly. “He’s after her.”

Have you ever seen one of those cartoons where one character leaves another in the dust? That’s what Zeke did.

The moment he realized Marlene was in danger he kicked it into high gear, leaving me behind. As he sprinted ahead, I slogged onward, hoping the old
better late than never
adage would apply in this situation.

What the hell kind of hitwoman couldn’t run a couple of blocks?

Chapter Ten

I probably arrived at the B&B thirty seconds after Zeke, but those thirty seconds made all the difference.

When I got there, the front yard resembled a war zone. Marlene was crying, Zeke was bleeding from a cut over one eye, and Wally was out cold on his back with DeeDee snarling as she circled his head.

Susan and Leslie came out on the porch to see what the cause of the commotion was.

“Oh my.” Leslie hurried to hug Marlene.

“Archie Lee,” Susan muttered, turning to go back inside the building.

“Man bad. Man bad.” DeeDee growled.

“Good girl.” Trying to catch my breath, I staggered over to Zeke who was swaying unsteadily.

He was holding shards of a terra cotta flower plant, no doubt the first thing he’d seen to use as a weapon.

“You okay,” I wrapped my fingers around his bicep to support him.

He leaned against me heavily. “Dizzy.”

“You should sit.” I led him over to the front steps, past Marlene who was sobbing hysterically and Leslie who was helpless to comfort her.

Lowering Zeke into a sitting position, I grabbed his chin and tilted his head so that I could get a better look at his injury. “What’d he hit you with?”

“His fist.”

Aunt Susan stalked back onto the porch. “The police are on their way, the US Marshals too. Can you think of anyone else I should call?”

“No, ma’am.” Even when injured, Zeke was decidedly polite.

“What happened to my flower pot?” She frowned at what remained of the pottery strewn across the yard.

Marlene wailed louder in response.

“Get a hold of yourself, Marlene.” Susan, hands on her hips, glared at my sister. “Loretta already had a breakdown today. I’m getting tired of mopping up tears.”

“Hey!” I shouted, my temper flaring.

Zeke winced.

Before I could compose a more eloquent defense of Marlene, Leslie went at
her
sister like a bull after a waved cloak. “You stop it, Susan.” Leaving Marlene’s side, Leslie marched past us onto the porch so that she could go toe-to-toe with Susan. “Just stop it. Loretta had the right to be upset. Marlene is shaken up. If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. Just go.” She pointed at the entry to the B&B.

Susan blinked, unaccustomed to being challenged. “But—”

I chuckled and looked down at Zeke to see if he too was entertained by the exchange. He didn’t look amused. His eyelids fluttered quickly.

“Zeke?” I grabbed his shoulders, catching him as he pitched forward. “Help!” I yelped.