The Housewife Assassin's Hostage Hosting Tips (Housewife Assassin Series Book 9) (36 page)
Read The Housewife Assassin's Hostage Hosting Tips (Housewife Assassin Series Book 9) Online
Authors: Josie Brown
Ryan is keen to meet me for lunch. I suggest a little café near his office, one we both know well from way back when I was young and innocent and nudging him for news on Carl’s killers when my husband was supposedly dead.
It was also where he nudged me to consider joining Acme.
I wonder how he’ll feel this time, as I prod him to consider my doing so once again.
I wait until he settles into a three-inch-thick corned beef sandwich on rye. It’s only because his mouth is full that I’m able to make my case so fully. I point out that the world’s terrorist organizations are getting more sophisticated, and that they’re getting better funded–to that extent, thanks to the Quorum, whose players I know well.
Worse yet, they’re getting closer.
“I know you’ve had your issues with me in the past,” I concede. “But we both know my skill set is as good as you’ll find anywhere, and my track record speaks for itself–”
He gulps down the food in his mouth. “Let me get this straight–are you saying you want to come out of retirement?”
“Yes. Exactly. And I hope you feel I’m not being presumptuous to–”
“Presumptuous? Who …
you?
” He’s laughing so hard that he begins to choke on his corned beef.
His face is so red that I stand up and jerk him under the arms with the Heimlich maneuver.
“You saved my life,” he gasps.
“Only because I can’t have everyone snickering over my killing another Acme agent,” I sniff. “To your credit, you didn’t place a bet in the office’s black widow trainer pool.”
His mouth opens, then shuts quickly. We both know the truth: he won the damn pool. He was the only one who felt certain that Tally would show, God rest her soul.
He picks up the check. “What took you so long to call?”
For that, he’s earned a kiss on his bald spot.
I’m in my car heading home when I get a call. Caller ID shows that it’s Penelope, and it’s marked urgent. Knowing her, she’ll just keep calling if I don’t take it now, so I hit the speaker. “What is it now, Penelope?”
“I’ve got wonderful news, Donna!”
“Do tell.”
“Despite the fire you started, the Hotel Savoy has decided not to sue the PTA after all.”
“Nice to know,” I exclaim. “And by the way, as for the fire,
you
started it. The proof is in the security feed. Don’t you just love all those tiny little cameras?”
Penelope is quiet as that realization sinks in. “
Hmm
. You don’t think a picture of me, practically naked and on fire, will end up online, do you?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On how I feel about what you’re about to say next.”
She chuckles as if I’m kidding. Little does she know I’ve already hacked the Savoy’s security feed and downloaded the footage. Whenever I get low, I’ll play it just for tickles and giggles. If–
oopsy!–
I hit a button that loads it onto FunnyOrDie.com, well, hey, accidents do happen.
“Because of the fire, Henry has agreed to refund all of the room fees. Between what we save there, and what we made on ticket sales, and what we’ll make on sales of the bottles of liquor, the dance will have its biggest profit ever! I’m very proud right now.”
“Well, thank you.”
“What? ...Oh, you thought I meant
you
.” I can imagine her shrugging at the thought. “In any case, today is your lucky day! The PTA steering committee took a vote and has decided to make your position as the prom committee chairperson a permanent one. What do you think of that?”
My response is a dial tone. I’ve got bigger fish to flambé.
As Trisha puts it, “I love, love,
love
my flower girl dress for Emma and Arnie’s wedding!”
Of course, she would, since Emma instructed her to pick out any frock she wanted for her petal-strewing stroll down the lawn in front of Los Angeles’ Griffith Observatory.
Her original choice was the Snow Queen Elsa’s costume from
Frozen.
Noting my grimace, Trisha’s new crush, Evan, made it a point to tell her how awesomely gorgeous she looked in the dress I’d suggested to her: the dusty lilac Zunie glittered tulle dress with a wide satin sash and a bow at the waist.
I blew him a kiss for that.
My own dress was chosen by the bride, who declared, “I want you to cut loose at my wedding! No elegant sheath and pearls! Something
fun
!”
I groaned. “We already had our ‘fun’–last night at your bachelorette party, remember? I’ve got the tattoo to prove it.”
“I’m sure Jack appreciated it,” she exclaimed with a knowing wink.
My blush told her she guessed right. Hey, what man wouldn’t appreciate a heart with his name on it, on his beloved’s right butt cheek?
It hurt like hell. My consolation is that he kissed it–among other things–to make it better.
So, here I am, in a sleeveless ice blue Oscar de la Renta mini-dress overlaid with tea-length floral tulle, and making my way down the path in front of the crystal ball-topped obelisk known as the Astronomers Monument, toward a very nervous Arnie and his best man, Jack.
Emma follows, escorted by Ryan. Her dress has the Goth edginess I’d expect: a white body-hugging below-the-knee sheath–really a pencil skirt and crop top with sleeveless cut-ins and a rounded neckline, held together by a sheer mesh overlay. Her white pillbox hat has a tiny veil. White elbow-length gloves complete her ensemble.
Aunt Phyllis is in the front row, along with Jeff, Evan, and Mary. She holds Nicky, who squirms and coos. His onesie resembles a tiny tuxedo.
The rest of the wedding party is small. Besides their closest Acme colleagues, there are some of Emma’s biker pals and Arnie’s hacker buddies. The reception in the jumbo-sized tent beside us should be quite a party.
In the final rays of the setting sun, as the minister invites them to say their vows, Jack’s eyes catch mine. He mouths the question,
Will you marry me?
Yes,
I whisper
, and I will always love you, with all my heart.
But, of course, I want to hear him ask that question out loud.
Perhaps later tonight, when we are hand in hand, dancing beneath the stars.
Next Up!
RELEASE DATE: MAY 2015
In Book 10 of the Housewife Assassin Series:
Housewife assassin Donna Stone’s green thumb–and for that matter, her trigger finger–is put to the test, when it’s discovered that Big Agra has released genetically enhanced seeds that can mutate our DNA, and destroy the human race.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I owe a lot to the following people, whose love and support gives me the courage to write, every day:
Karin Tabke, who first fell in love with this book, and pushed me (quite adamantly; what are friends for?) to make it a priority; Andy Brown, who is a go-to guru for anything technical and metaphysical. Andy, thanks making the virtual a reality; Rita Abrams, Kendra Williams, Pam Welsh, Elisa Turner, Janell Parque, Susan DiMuzio, Dianne Wallace, Jeanette Conkling, Kimberly Turner and Tom Johnson, who have sharper eyes than mine; Austin Brown and Anna Brown, who are my emotional touchstones, in so many ways; Eddie Concha, Andree Belle, Darien and Don Coleman, Linda May and Ben Brown, and Mario Martinez and Patricia Steadman, who are always there to encourage, nurture and feed me.
And always last but never least, Martin Brown: you complete me.
Dear readers: If you liked the story and Donna, I’d be honored to get a review from you! We authors live by them, and they are always appreciated.
Thank you,
–Josie Brown
HOW TO REACH JOSIE
www.HousewifeAssassinsHandbook.com
www.facebook.com/JosieBrownAuthor
NOVELS IN THE
HOUSEWIFE ASSASSIN SERIES
The Housewife Assassin’s
Handbook
Every desperate housewife wants an alias. Donna Stone has one … and it happens to be government-sanctioned. But Donna earned it the hard way. Her husband was killed the day she delivered their third child. To avenge her husband's murder, Donna leads a secret life: as an assassin. But espionage makes for strange bedfellows, and brings new meaning to that old adage, "Honey, I'm home..."
A nuclear arms summit, hosted by a politically connected billionaire industrialist, provides the perfect opportunity for a rogue operative to assassinate the newly elected Russian president, on American soil. Donna Stone’s mission: seek and exterminate the shooter before all hell–and World War III–breaks out. Also on Donna’s to-do list: file for divorce. Throw in a couple of killer play dates and a few naughty neighbors, and you’ve got a whole lot of fun.
