Maggie Lee (Book 10): The Hitwoman's Act of Contrition (13 page)

She regarded me for a long moment, deciding whether to confide in me. “You have enough on your mind now. Maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow. Have some more wine.”

As soon as Gladys started to snore, I scooped up God, snagged the ladder from beneath my bed, and headed back for the fence using my phone as a flashlight.

“Someone could see the light,” God warned.

“It’s that or I risk tripping and breaking an ankle,” I told him through gritted teeth. “I’m guessing that wouldn’t be the best for you sensitive skin.”

The trek back to the Krout estate seemed longer in the complete darkness as the woods made all kinds of strange nature noises and I found myself creeping cautiously.

“There could be bears around here,” God opined from his spot on my shoulder.

That didn’t make the job at hand any easier. “There aren’t any bears.”

“Sure there are.”

“Well they’re hibernating,” I countered, jumping as a branch snapped beneath my foot.

“Or they could be preparing to dine on whatever is in the dining hall dumpster.”

“Trust me,” I muttered, “no one wants those leftovers.”

“Well they’ll need something to eat.”

The image of being a bear’s dinner made me stop and listen more carefully to the sounds surrounding me.

“Can you speak bear?” God asked curiously.

“I don’t know. I haven’t tried.” I sent up a silent prayer that I’d never find out.

“You should go to the zoo.”

I stumbled. “What?’

“You should go to the zoo and see what you can and cannot talk to. Like penguins. Don’t you want to be able to talk to penguins?”

Instead of asking why I’d want to talk to penguins, I shouldered on, shifting the ladder from one hand to the other.

“And snakes,” God continued. “It’s important to know whether you can talk to snakes.”

Despite my better judgment, I asked, “Why?”

“It reveals what kind of person you are,” God replied matter-of-factly.

I considered that for a moment. “You’ve been watching movies about a certain boy wizard, haven’t you?”

The lizard didn’t reply.

I seriously considered revoking his television-viewing privileges.

Reaching the fence, I peered across the great lawn toward the Krout house. A single light flickered through a second-floor window.

“Wait here,” I told God, putting him down on the ground before slinging the ladder upward so I could scale the fence.

“Be careful,” the little guy warned.

“Always,” I replied flippantly, securing the end of the ladder to my side of the fence.

“Sometimes that’s not enough,” he reminded me.

Ignoring him, I went about the ungainly task of lurching up the swinging ladder.

I felt like I’d climbed Mt. Everest by the time I reached the top, dragged it over so that it hung on the Krout side of the fence, and climbed down..

Since I wasn’t particularly worried about being spotted in the dead of night, I strolled across the lawn like I didn’t have a care in the world.

Keeping half an eye on the flickering second-floor window, I surveyed the house. It was old, but well-maintained. Definitely an old-money kind of place. I circled the building slowly. Even though there were no alarm system stickers on the windows, I was sure there was one.

I wished Patrick had decided to give me some breaking-and-entering lessons, since I had no clue how I was supposed to get into the mini-fortress. He’d given me shooting lessons, a modified self-defense course, and taught me how to tail someone, but not how to get around an alarm system.

Suddenly, a light flared to life in a nearby ground-floor room. I ducked down and held my breath, afraid I’d somehow done something to alert the Krouts to my presence. When I didn’t sense any other activity, I slowly straightened and tiptoed toward the light.

I could tell from the intermittent flashing that someone was watching TV in the otherwise darkened room.  Cautiously, I peeked inside, hoping the viewer’s attention was on the screen and not directed outside.

It took my eyes a second to focus on what I could see. Then I wished I could bleach my brain as I realized Wayne Krout was watching porn. Kiddie porn.

Bile burned my throat as a wave of revulsion made me stumble backward. I covered my mouth. Both to prevent myself from vomiting and to keep from screaming as anger engulfed me. I wanted to smash through that window and choke the life out of the sick monster with my bare hands.

I looked around, but there was nothing nearby to use to break the glass. My whole body shook. I was overwhelmed with disgust and impotent anger.  The world began to spin.

Putting my hands on my knees, I forced myself to take a couple of breaths; otherwise, I would have passed out.  As oxygen reached my brain, so did logic.

I couldn’t kill Wayne Krout then. I didn’t have a plan and I couldn’t afford to get caught.

Vowing to return, I turned and stalked toward the fence. Fueled by loathing and anger, I climbed the ladder without hesitation, flipped it to the retreat side,  and clambered down, filled with determination.

I retrieved the ladder and repacked it with tight, jerky movements.

“I tried to warn you,” God said.

I jumped a little, having forgotten he was waiting. “Warn me about what?”

“That the other guy was there.”

“Krout?”

“No, him. Look,” the lizard ordered.

I looked toward the house and saw a shadowy figure unsteadily circling the house the way I had.

“Looks like someone else is going to do the job.”

I nodded, not sure I felt about that. I don’t like killing, but if ever there was someone who deserved it…

I held my breath as the man pulled something from his pocket and aimed it at the window where Wayne Krout sat, pleasuring himself. I waited to hear the sharp report of a gunshot.

“The early bird gets the worm,” God said.

“Don’t insult worms,” I muttered. “They’re way better than this guy.”

There must have been a silencer on the gun since I didn’t hear the explosion when the guy pulled the trigger. I did however hear the ear-splitting alarm that filled the night air.

I stood for a second, watching as the assailant aimed again, rooting for him.

I wasn’t aware of the lizard scampering up my body until he shouted in my ear, “You’ve got to get back.”

Knowing he was right, that the alarm was probably disturbing everyone at the retreat and it would be noticed I was missing, I grabbed the ladder and took off at a dead run through the woods, unconcerned about bears as thoughts of a worse kind of predator chased me.

I was sound asleep when someone, I’m pretty sure it was Shirley, the activities director, started ringing a ridiculously loud bell and shouting, “Time for morning question. Morning question. Morning question.”

Groaning, I covered my head with my pillow and scrunched my eyes closed, hoping the rude awakening was just the latest in the vivid dreams I was plagued by. It had taken forever for me to fall asleep after I’d snuck back into the cabin the night before, grateful Gladys slept with ear plugs.

My roommate tugged my pillow off my head. “We have to go.”

“No. I’ll just tell them I’m sick.”

She frowned. “Trust me. You don’t want to do that. They won’t leave you alone.”

I
needed
to be left alone if I was going to pull off the Krout job, so grudgingly opened my eyes.

“Where do we shower?”

“You don’t want to do that now.”

“Why? Because it’s
question time
?” I snapped.

“No,” Gladys replied calmly, “because everyone is trying to shower now. If you go later, you’ll at least have a chance of getting some hot water.”

“Is there anything you haven’t thought of?” I asked appreciatively.

She shook her head and sighed sadly. “It would be better to ask if there’s anything I haven’t already done wrong.”

“Hey,” I murmured, “we all make mistakes.”

Something flickered in her eyes, but then she turned away.

An hour later, I’d decided that attending the morning question session was a mistake. Listening to Father Vanpelt ask the attendees who they needed to forgive made me feel like I was in my own special hell. I sincerely wished I’d dragged God along so that he too could have been tortured, but he’d refused to come out from under the bed where he’d slept.

When participants started actually answering Vanpelt—
my ex-husband, my sister, my neighbor, my boss, my mother, the kid who called me four-eyes in second grade
—my stomach roiled.

Thankfully Millie, Linda, and Donna had chosen a seat closer to the front of the room (probably to ensure their place on the buffet line) so at least I didn’t gag when they started on about how they had to forgive their imperfect friends.

I could see Gladys’ shoulders shaking as Linda gushed about what a gift the whole process was.

I elbowed her to warn her that Shirley was giving us a hard stare and Gladys grew still.

Strangely, a sense of guilt engulfed me for hushing a woman who was already silent most of the time. For all I knew, she was at the retreat to have her “
inner voice
” heard. I made a mental note to apologize to her later, but when the question was over, she went to yoga, while I went back to the cabin to check on God.

Since breakfast had consisted of some slimy stuff that was supposed to pass for oatmeal, I thought the diet gods wouldn’t be too offended if I grabbed a couple of oatmeal cookies and ate those instead.

I was thinking about the sweet delicious crunchiness of those oatmeal cookies when I pushed open the cabin door, which is why the shadowy figure of a man lurking in the shadows caught me off-guard. But I’m a semi-trained assassin now, so I grabbed the nearest weapon, which happened to be the wine bottle I’d helped Gladys polish off the night before, and chucked it at his head.

He ducked and it shattered against the wall. I need more practice with my ninja throwing skills.

“Easy, Mags,” he chuckled.

Patrick.

He popped a wintergreen Lifesaver into his mouth and silently offered me one.

I refused with a shake of my head.

“Someone’s a little on edge.” Crouching down, he began to pick up the shards of glass while he crunched on his hard candy.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I whisper-screamed, my heart beating a mile a minute from the scare.

“An excellent question,” God opined from where he lay on my pillow.

To Patrick, God’s voice sounded like a squeak. He looked in the direction of the sound and saw the lizard sprawled out. “You brought the little guy!”

God’s response was to turn his back on the redhead.

“You shouldn’t go sneaking up on people like that,” I berated Patrick.

Putting the glass he’d gathered into the lone wastebasket, he replied calmly, “I wasn’t sneaking. I was waiting.”

I stomped my foot. “Waiting to give me a heart attack?”

A lazy smile drifted over his face. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

I wished I had something else to throw at his head.

Unaware of my violent thoughts, he stepped toward me. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

“No,” I answered honestly.

“Not even a little?” he cajoled, closing the distance between us.

I shook my head stubbornly, refusing to tilt my head back to look at him.

Gently lifting my chin, he raised my head, looking into my eyes. “I’m sorry I startled you.”

“I’m sorry my aim wasn’t better,” I countered defiantly.

He threw back his head and laughed. Then he skimmed his thumb along my lower lip, a devilish gleam in his green gaze. “The things that come out of this mouth.”

Lowering his head slowly so I knew what his intention was and could have avoided him if I’d really want to, he claimed my lips with his. The kiss curled my toes and made me desperate for more, but he pulled away too soon.

A mewl of protest escaped me, even though I knew he was right. This wasn’t the time or place to go pulling each other’s clothes off.

He pulled my head against his shoulder and cradled me in a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist and almost melted as the heat from his body flowed into mine. I closed my eyes and could smell his cologne, the mint on his breath, and… bacon?  Did I smell bacon?

“Did you bring me breakfast?” I asked hopefully, jerking my head back to look at his handsome face.

“The way to my girl’s heart is through her stomach.” He kissed the tip of my nose.

Something inside me twisted, warmed, and bloomed to life as I realized he’d called me his girl.

“Bacon and egg sandwich.”  Releasing me, he returned to the corner he’d been hiding in and pulled out a foil-wrapped bundle.

I snatched it out of his hands and tore open the packaging like a rabid dog that hadn’t eaten for days.  I’d wolfed down a quarter of the sandwich before I realized I should convey my gratitude.

“Tank ooo,” I said through a mouthful of cholesterol-laden goodness.

Patrick sat down on my bed and patted the spot beside him. “You’re welcome.”

“Don’t you dare sit on me,” God warned, flicking his tail, while I prepared to lower my butt to the mattress.

The sandwich had put me in such a beneficent mood that I just smiled at him.

I swallowed before speaking again. “Want half?” I offered Patrick, hoping he didn’t hear the grudging note in my voice. I really didn’t want to share.

“Already ate.” He reached into the front pocket of the jeans he wore. “I brought you something.”

I took another bite of the sandwich and actually chewed and swallowed like a civilized person.

He pulled out a small, round metal pillbox. He opened it and showed me that it contained two tiny tablets.

“You always bring me the nicest things,” I joked.

“I can take the sandwich back,” he threatened.

“Don’t you dare.”

He chuckled, but then grew serious. “Krout likes his martinis shaken, not stirred.”

I wondered if that was code for something, so I remained silent.