Further Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman (12 page)

“I thought so.” He flashed a mysterious smile at me.

He was up to something. I just didn’t know what.

Chapter Thirteen

I
HAD A
couple of hours to fritter away between when I finished cleaning up after Alice’s shower and before I was due to kill Jose Garcia, so I went home, in the hopes of taking a nap and getting some much needed sleep. Despite the cooperation of the animals, sleep eluded me.

“Tell me the plan again,” God urged.

“Jose has some special silver goblet that he uses to make toasts. No one else is ever allowed to drink from it. The plan is to get the poison into that. He makes his toast, he croaks, game over.”

“Frog like?” Doomsday asked.

God chuckled. “No, he doesn’t croak like a frog. He dies.”

I checked the outfit I was wearing for lint. It was the same black dress I’d been wearing when I met Delveccio after I’d attacked his son-in-law to prevent him from killing the mobster’s young, comatose grandson. I wondered if, like baseball players and their lucky socks, this was somehow my “lucky” dress.

“How are you going to get close enough to the cup?” God asked.

I shrugged. Patrick had gotten me the poison and the information about the toast, but he’d been unable to come up with a plan as to how I could put the two together. “I’m winging it.”

God covered his eyes and shook his head. “Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.”

“Do you have a better one?”

“A better one than walking into a room full of drug dealers and their relatives and hoping you can get close enough to poison one? Sure. Don’t do it. Walk away from the job.”

“I can’t. I need the money for the lawyer . . . not to mention the hospital bills.”

“You’re going to get caught.”

“I’m not going to get caught,” I told him with way more bravado than I was feeling. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll get the job done and everything will be okay.”

“Delusional,” God muttered.

Ignoring him, I slipped on my black high heels, wobbled for a moment, and then headed for the front door. “I’m off to meet Patrick. He’s driving me to the job. Wish me luck.”

“Luck!” Doomsday panted.

“Tell the redhead to check in on us if you get caught,” God said. “Otherwise we’ll starve to death.”

I stumbled, realizing that not only my safety was at stake, but that of the lizard and dog too. “I’ll tell him.”

I walked out, locking the door behind me, unsure of whether or not I’d ever return.

Leaving my car at home, I walked the couple of blocks to the bowling alley where I’d arranged to meet Patrick. In hindsight, I realize this wasn’t the best of plans. Walking in a dress and high heels is enough of a challenge for me, but when the various catcalls and wolf whistles were directed at me, it became even more difficult. I did my best to hold my head high and ignore the “compliments” but I really wished I had my gun with me so that I could teach some of the pigs a lesson.

I’d worked up quite a head of outraged steam by the time a white panel van pulled alongside me, slowed, and lowered its window. “Fuck off, loser,” I shouted, before the driver had a chance to say anything.

The van fell behind and I felt a moment of triumph. I resisted the urge to fist pump the air, but inside I was doing a victory dance.

Then the van pulled alongside me again.

A frisson of fear danced down my spine as I remembered every movie I’d ever seen where a kidnap victim is dragged into a panel van and never seen again. I moved as far to the far end of the sidewalk as I could and pretended not to notice I was being stalked.

“Are you planning on walking all the way, Mags?”

I stopped and so did the van.

Peering inside, I saw my favorite redhead. “You!”

He threw the van into park, hopped out, and ran around to where I stood. “You didn’t really mean it when you told me to fuck off, did you?”

“I thought you were another of the dozen jerks who propositioned me on the way here.”

He opened the passenger door. “I’m sorry about that. I should have realized that you walking through this neighborhood in
that
wasn’t the best of ideas.” He motioned for me to climb into the van.

“In that?” I asked, not budging.

He ran his eyes slowly up and down the length of my body with blatant appreciation.

I swallowed hard as every cell in my body responded to the implied caress.

“C’mon. Let’s get you in.” Taking my elbow in his warm, firm grip, he steered me into the van, helping me to balance on the step up. Once I was situated, he let go of my arm, but he didn’t move away.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked down into his stormy green gaze. My heart stopped as he reached up, his fingers skimming the tender flesh of my throat as he adjusted the chain of the necklace.

“Ready?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure if he was asking if I was ready to kiss him, or if he was asking about the upcoming assassination.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

He stepped back, breaking the contact. “Seat belt.”

As he climbed back into the driver’s seat, Patrick said, “You don’t have to do this. You can still back out.”

“I’ve got to do it. I’ve got too much to lose.”

Nodding, he started driving toward the restaurant where the Garcia family wedding rehearsal was taking place. “I want you to promise me, though, that if it looks like you’re going to get caught, you’ll abort.”

“If I get caught, Delveccio will have me killed, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

“But you said that if I didn’t kill his son-in-law, Alfonso, that he’d have me killed.”

“He could have been tied to Alfonso.”

“And what about Gary the Gun?”

“Him too.”

“But you think it’ll be different with Garcia?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“For one thing, I get the impression he really likes you. For another, I doubt anyone could win a case against him based solely on your testimony.”

“Why not?”

He glanced over at me. “You’re the daughter of a convicted felon. They’d paint it that you’d cut a deal to get your father out of jail.”

“I wouldn’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“I just wouldn’t.”

“Because you think he deserves to be there?”

I shrugged.

“What if you found out he didn’t really kill that teller, that all he was guilty of was robbing the bank? What if you found out there’d been a miscarriage of justice? Would you leave him there then?”

I stared at Patrick. He’d voiced the questions lightly, but I sensed an urgency behind them.

What did he know about my father’s case? Could it be that my father really had told the truth when he said he wasn’t a murderer? I’d entertained the idea as a possibility, but I hadn’t thought much beyond that. Did my father really deserve to be free?

I examined his expression, but Patrick’s face was a stoic mask I couldn’t read. Instead of answering his question, I asked, “So if I get caught, I’ll just rot in prison?”

He pulled to a stop at a red light. “You could probably get yourself a pretty good deal.”

“How?”

He turned to face me. “You could testify against me.

“Patrick!” I gasped, stung by the suggestion. “I’d never do that.”

“I know,” he said with a sad smile. “Which is why I need you to promise me that if you think you’re going to get caught you won’t go through with it. Promise me, Mags.” He stared at me with an unnerving intensity, willing me to make the pledge.

“I promise.”

The horn of the car behind us blared, and Patrick returned his attention to driving.

“I need a favor though,” I said.

“Name it.”

“If something goes wrong and I do get caught, I need you to take care of God and Doomsday. I know you can’t give them a home or anything, but if you could make sure they don’t starve, and if you could find them new homes . . . good homes . . . they deserve that.” I was choked up with tears by the time I finished.

He reached out and patted my knee. “Of course I will.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t do this. Just walk away from the job now while you’re safe,” he pleaded.

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“You worry too much.”

He glanced over at me, his eyes glittering with emotion. “That doesn’t mean my advice isn’t good. Speaking of which, take these.” Flipping down the sun visor, he caught a pack of opened cigarettes mid-fall. He held them out.

“Thanks, but I don’t smoke.”

“I’d noticed.”

I wondered what that meant, but before I could ask, he tossed them on my lap.

“You don’t have to smoke them. They’re a prop.”

“A prop?”

“A useful prop. You can walk right out of a lot of situations simply by saying you need a cigarette. Plus they’re a great conversation starter. You can always walk up to anyone and ask if they have a light. And last, but not least, they can help you blend in with a group you have nothing in common with except for the cigarettes in your hands.”

“Oh. Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome, I guess.” He pulled the van over to the side of the road and pointed at a driveway. “That’s the rear entrance.”

I reached for the door handle.

“You can still change your mind.”

I hesitated, unsure whether to be touched or freaked out by his concern. “You’ll be here when I come out?”

“I’m going to park up a hill a block or so away. I can see both the front and rear parking lots from that vantage point.”

“How?”

“Binoculars.”

“I guess this is it.” I smoothed my dress over my thighs, trying to quell the sense of uneasiness that was making me queasy.

“Don’t get caught.”

“I’ll try, but if I do . . .”

“The animals will be well cared for,” he promised.

I climbed out of the van and tottered down the driveway. There was no turning back now.

G
ETTING INTO THE
restaurant was easier than I’d expected. I made a show of stuffing the cigarettes into my clutch as I approached the back door where a couple of waiters and waitresses were hanging out, smoking.

“Is this the door I came out?” I asked them.

“Not this one,” a waiter said.

“But you can go in through this door,” a waitress offered, holding it open for me.

“Thanks.” I scooted past them, skirted around the kitchen, and found myself smack in the midst of a bustling cocktail party.

People were talking and laughing, the staff was passing out appetizers, and there was a line at the bar. I got on it, thinking it was probably the least auspicious place to stand and survey the room. I didn’t see Uncle Jose. I saw a lot of unsavory characters and what looked like some hired muscle, but I couldn’t spot the man I was there to kill.

“Quite the turnout,” the older gentleman who’d gotten on line behind me said, as he stared at my legs.

Gritting my teeth, I smiled politely. “Have you been here before?”

“Many times.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you, my dear. Tell me, do you have an escort this evening?”

I managed to keep from rolling my eyes. Barely. The last thing I needed was to be saddled with this old letch for the evening. “He’s here somewhere. I think he went to look for Jose. Do you know where he is?”

“No doubt in the private room upstairs. It’s his daughter’s day, but I imagine he’s planning on making a grand entrance.”

“Oh,” I exclaimed. “There’s my better half!” I waved at a crowded corner at the opposite side of the room. “If you’ll excuse me . . .” I hurried away.

Crossing the room was a bit of an obstacle course, but I managed to dodge waitstaff and maneuver around clusters of guests without tripping in my high heels. When I looked back at the bar, I saw that the old letch was no longer watching me, but was instead focusing his unwanted attentions on another single female guest.

I slipped out of the room and wandered down a deserted hallway, searching for a stairway that would lead me to the private room and my prey.

Instead I found a pair of inquisitive, dark eyes staring out from behind a potted plant.

“Who are you?” a small voice asked.

“Who are you?” I asked the little girl.

“Christina.” A five-year-old, dressed in the cutest purple party dress, emerged from behind the plant.

“What are you doing, Christina? Playing hide-and-seek?” I looked up and down the hallway, but saw no adults the child might belong to.

“I’m looking for Grampa Jose. He promised me a piggyback ride.”

“Where are your mommy and daddy?” I had better things to do than watch over this kid, like kill her grandfather, but I couldn’t in good conscience just leave her alone.

“Daddy’s in heaven.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. And where’s Mommy?” I asked, hoping that I wasn’t about to find out that Grampa Jose was the little girl’s only living relative. That knowledge would make murdering him much more difficult.

She pointed at a restroom door.

“Is she sick?”

“She’s crying.”

“How about we go check on her,” It felt like I’d been punched in the stomach when Christina grabbed the hand I held out to her as I remembered Katie doing the same thing countless times. I barely held it together as I walked her over to the ladies’ room.

“Hi, Mommy,” she said, letting go of me and running inside as I pushed the door open for her.

I let the door close before her mother could see me, but I heard her exclaim happily, “There’s my girl!”

I stumbled away, my vision blurred by unshed tears. What I wouldn’t give for Katie to take my hand again, but because of Jose Garcia, I might never get that chance, and I knew for sure that Theresa never would.

Fueled by anger, I flew up the first set of stairs I found. Clasping the pendant, I stopped at the top of the flight, when I spotted my target.

Jose Garcia stood not twenty feet away, his back to me, busily shining the silver cup which would deliver him to his death.

Chapter Fourteen

R
EVENGE WAS MINE.
I could practically taste it.

“Carry this out on a silver platter for me when it’s time to make the toast,” Garcia ordered a young, pimply-faced waiter. “No one else touches this cup, you understand?”

The waiter nodded nervously.

“No one but me drinks from it, you got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The wine guy knows what I want. He fills it and you bring it to me.”

“Yes, Mr. Garcia.”

Garcia thrust the cup at the young man, who took it with trembling hands.

“You drop that and there’s gonna be hell to pay,” Garcia warned.

Nodding, the waiter clasped it to his chest with both hands before hurrying in my direction. I ducked down the stairs before anyone could see me. I turned my back, pretending to be searching for something in my purse, as the waiter rushed past.

My plan had been to follow him, but that was derailed the moment I turned around, since I almost plowed into little Christina and her mother.

“Hi!” Christina waved at me. “What are you doing here?”

“Christina, where are you manners?” her mother hissed. She looked up at me with a tired smile. “I’m sorry, she’s a bit of a busybody.”

“Not a problem,” I assured her, noticing that she had the same curly hair as her father, but while his eyes had always sparkled with mischief, this woman’s were dulled by sadness. “I have a niece about the same age.”

“Oh really? What’s her name?”

The waiter had already disappeared with the cup and I didn’t think Patrick would approve of me chitchatting with the daughter of my intended victim. “If you’ll excuse me,” I said with a wave to Christina, “my boyfriend must be looking for me.”

Hurrying away as fast as my heels would let me, I raced down the hallway hoping to catch a glimpse of the waiter, but he was nowhere in sight.

“I should have paid attention during the tailing lesson,” I muttered to myself.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” a waitress of no more than twenty asked.

I frowned. When had I become a
ma’am
?

“Ma’am?” she prompted.

“Where can I find the wine guy?” I asked.

“The sommelier?”

I nodded.

“I believe he’s in the wine cellar getting a special bottle for Mr. Garcia. Would you like me to find him for you?”

“No. That’s okay. Thank you for your help.”

“No problem, ma’am.”

I considered yanking out her perky ponytail as she walked away. Instead I went in search of the wine cellar and/or the sommelier. The necklace weighed heavily on me, each step jostling the pendant, reminding me of what I had to do.

It wasn’t just getting the poison into the cup that caused me anxiety. It was that I’d never killed anyone in cold blood before. Sure, I’d gone looking for both Delveccio’s son-in-law and Gary the Gun with the intent to kill them, but, both times, when push had come to shove, I’d been defending my own life as each man attacked me.

Garcia wasn’t going to attack me. When he died, he was going to be standing in front of friends and family, celebrating.

I physically stumbled at the thought of his loved ones watching him die. Could I really be so cold as to do that to a group of strangers who’d never done anything to me? But then I thought about how my family had suffered, the losses we’d endured, and I suddenly felt a whole lot better about wiping Jose Garcia from the face of the Earth and preventing him from destroying any other families. I clutched the pendant as though it were some sort of magical amulet that would give me the power and resolve to pull off this assassination.

A flash of silver caught my attention, but before I could get to it, the hallway suddenly filled with partygoers as the guests moved from the cocktail hour to the dining room. I was swept up in the sea of guests and transported by the current into another room.

As soon as I could get out of the way of the flow of people entering the room, I stepped to the side, scanning the space for the silver cup. I didn’t see it, but I did spot the waiter ducking through a door on the far side of the room. I made a beeline straight toward it, but before I’d gone ten steps, someone grabbed my arm.

My heartbeat stuttered and fear skittered down my spine.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I turned slowly to face my captor.

It wasn’t one of Garcia’s badass men who’d caught me, it was the letch from the bar. I breathed a sigh of relief as I tried to shake my arm loose from his grip.

“Still haven’t found that phantom date of yours?” The letch’s breath was laden with scotch.

I leaned back to escape the fumes. “He’s around here somewhere.”

“I don’t believe you. Come sit with me.”

“Can’t.” I glanced at the door the waiter had disappeared through, keenly aware I was running out of time to put my plan into action. “Let go.”

I tried to tug free of the letch’s grip, but he tightened it painfully.

“You’re hurting me.”

He didn’t ease up. “And you’re breaking my heart by not sitting with me. How about we go outside and talk it over?” He led me toward the exit, exerting so much pressure on my arm, I worried it would snap.

Tears of pain filled my eyes. I couldn’t make a scene and risk attracting attention, but I was starting to panic that if I let this guy get me alone, he’d hurt me. “Please,” I pleaded. “Let me go.”

He looked down and smiled malevolently at my fear and pain.

“Where are you going, Uncle Mo?” a familiar voice asked. Christina’s mom stepped into our path.

My captor stopped in his tracks, but squeezed my arm even tighter. “We were just going to step outside to get some air.”

“My father is going to make his toast soon. He’d be disappointed if you weren’t here to hear it.” There was no mistaking the implied threat in her tone.

While he didn’t release me, the letch’s grip slackened.

Christina’s mother stared pointedly at where his fingers curled around me. He released me immediately. “You can walk me to my table.” She extended her arm.

The letch had no choice but to go with her, leaving me free to make my escape.

I made my way across the room on rubbery legs. Frightened both by the violent encounter and by the fact that Christina’s mother had now seen my face twice.

I could hear Patrick’s voice in my head, urging me to abort if I thought I was going to be caught. I was ready to do just that when the cup appeared before me, served up on a silver platter.

The waiter carried it right past my nose and I followed closely on his heels.

He went into the kitchen and so did I, knowing that if I lost sight of it again, I’d never get my chance with the cup. He put the tray down on a counter and disappeared around a corner.

My hand trembled as I snatched up the cup. This was it, my chance. I reached for the pendant, ready to unscrew it and pour a few drops of the deadly poison.

“What the hell are you doing?” an angry male voice boomed.

Startled, I almost dropped the goblet. Instead I bobbled it like some lame-ass juggling act.

“What are you doing back here?” A man in a high white hat, which I took to mean he was a chef, glared at me. “Give me that.”

Two of Garcia’s goons, alerted by the chef’s raised voice, hurried over. They loomed menacingly. I tried not to stare at the bulges beneath their jackets, which I knew were poorly concealed guns.

I’d been caught!

“Are you on the guest list?” the bigger goon asked suspiciously.

I swallowed hard, trying to come up with a plausible story to save my butt, but came up blank. I considered fighting my way out of the situation, but the only weapon I had was the cup and I doubted I could do any serious damage with it. I thought about making a run for it, but knew I’d never outrun a toddler in my heels, let alone hired muscle.

“Let’s go have a chat,” the goon said. They each grabbed one of my arms.

The chef plucked the cup from my hand. “Stay out of my kitchen.”

The two scary men propelled me out of the kitchen. I probably should have screamed for help at that point, but my mouth had gone dry and I couldn’t seem to make my vocal cords work.

They half carried, half dragged me down the once again deserted hallway, and I knew that worse than getting caught, I was getting myself killed. I hoped Patrick would keep his promise about God and Doomsday. I prayed that Abilene would take care of Katie.

“Let me see what the boss wants me to do with her,” the goon said.

“Now?” his partner in crime asked. “He’ll be pissed if you interrupt his party.”

The bigger goon nodded slowly. “We’ll keep her until it’s over.”

I took a big gulp of air, grateful for the momentary reprieve.

“Put her in the coatroom,” the big guy said.

“Can I have some fun with her,” the smaller one asked, staring at my legs like he’d never set eyes on a pair before.

“As long as she doesn’t scream.”

I tried to scream then, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper. “Help! Help!”

The leg man chuckled. “You’re going to be fun.”

I kneed him in the groin. I didn’t even think about it, I just did it.

Grunting in pain, he bent over, loosening his grip on my arm. Wrenching free, I stumbled away.

He made a grab for me, but I ducked away. I didn’t think I’d get so lucky with the bigger guy, who lunged for me as I dodged around the corner. I turned to see how close behind me he was.

From behind me, an arm snaked around my waist, lifting me off my feet. I was spun around so that my back was to the wall.