My Heroes Have Always Been Hitmen (Humorous Romantic Shorts) (Greatest Hits Mysteries) (7 page)

"
Caspian?" Father emerged from the courtyard, looking bewildered. "Where have you been? I've been worried!"

I hugged him and made sure he was all in one piece
. "I had to run out. One of my friends was having some trouble. It's sorted."

Father nodded absently and then said,
"Well it's all right now! Come out to the garden—we have a guest!"

I sighed. Company was the last thing we needed right now. I needed to get Father to leave the house for a while until I took care of
Gaul. Maybe I could talk him into a little trip—leaving immediately. There were rumors of a zoo in Carthage. I could tell him they have some weird new animal he could introduce into his dioramas and offer to help him pack. Hell, I could make up an animal, and by the time he got there and realized I lied, this whole mess with Gaul would be over. I started to sketch out a creature in my mind as we walked. Something that could spit poison perhaps. He'd like that.

As we walked to the terrace, I tried to come up with excuses
for why this guest should leave so I could send Father away. I was working on a doozy of an excuse where malaria was making the neighborhood rounds when I came face to face with my brother. Gaul was standing in the garden, an evil grin on his face.

Father smiled
. "It's going to be okay, Cas. I told Gaul about the misunderstanding with the Council. He's going to straighten things out."

My heart stopped beating. Father told
Gaul about the Council's edict? Did he tell him I was the one who was supposed to carry it out? This was worse than anything I could've imagined.

"
What?" I asked Father. "You told him what?"

He nodded
. "We don't have to worry about it anymore. Gaul has assured me that he will explain everything, and things will go back to the way they were. Isn't that wonderful?"

I
'd misjudged my father's mental stability. The man had snapped. And now, he'd helped Gaul move forward with his idea of killing the Council.

This was all my fault. I shouldn
't have told him about the assignment. Bombays had rules for a reason, and now I understood why we didn't tell other Bombays about our assignments. And that reason was staring at me with murder hiding behind his placating eyes. It was all an act. A deadly and evil act.

"
So, Caspian," Gaul said nonchalantly. "I guess you had come to warn me, then? That's why you came to find me?"

He said those words, but I knew he didn
't believe them. And I realized that now my Father and I were also on Gaul's kill list.

My brother walked over and casually draped his arm around me with a big smile. I shrugged it off. Who was he trying to fool
? We weren't one big happy family. In fact, very soon, I was going to try to reduce us to a family of two. If I could.

"
There's a Council meeting in a few minutes," Gaul said. "Cas and I will just go over there and settle things."

Oh crap. It
was the first night of the week. This was the night the Council met to review business. Of course they'd all be there…Grandmother, Athens, Asia, and Syria. Granted, all four were accomplished assassins, but all four were also very old…nearly fifty years in age!

There was no way to warn them. I
'd have to figure something out along the way. Which meant I'd have to wing it. Which was something I didn't do well.

Gaul
clamped my hand in his and squeezed painfully. "We'll go together, dear sister. I don't want you wandering off, now, do I?" He dragged me out of the house before I could respond. I'd have to think faster than that if I wanted to make it through this alive…with Gaul dead.

"
You know, Cas," Gaul said casually as he dragged me down the street. "I really have to thank you for this opportunity. You're giving me the chance to end the Bombay Family once and for all. You deserve some of the credit, I think."

I said nothing because I was thinking furiously, trying to come up with a plan. And unless I did so, I
'd be dead too. But my brain was muddled. I had trouble putting thoughts together. I felt that old panic creeping up my spine.

It took us exactly ten minutes to reach the Council chambers. Julian,
Grandmother's right hand slave, admitted us with no problem. I didn't try to warn him because he was unarmed, and Gaul would've surely killed him. I liked Julian—and he didn't deserve to die like this.

"
Caspian?" Grandmother rose from the dais when she saw me. The sight of Gaul didn't cause so much as a flicker on her face. "What's this?"

Gaul
shoved me roughly aside, and then gave a deep bow of deference. "Grandmother," he said, "you're looking well."

Grandmother narrowed her eyes
. The rest of the Council stood there, wondering what was going to happen next.

"
Thank you, Gaul. I just had my hair hennaed. You're looking rather slimy yourself."

I suppressed a snicker. Grandmother wasn
't one to pass up a good insult. My humor was short-lived when I remembered that not only was Gaul there to kill them, but I had just demonstrated that I'd failed at my assignment.

Gaul
spread his hands and shrugged. "Well we can't all be serpents like you, now can we?"

Grandmother arched her eyebrows at this but said nothing. She turned to me.

"Caspian? Why did you bring your brother here? You had your orders."

Oh great. My grandmother had just
outed me. In front of my target.

Gaul
's expression was confused for a moment, but he recovered quickly. "Oh. I see. You sent my own sister to kill me." He tut-tutted. "Not very nice. The Bombays have never killed one of their own before."

"
Yes, well…" Grandmother said. "You set a rather unfortunate precedence for it. I'm afraid you signed your own death warrant."

Gaul
flushed at this, his rage showing. "You can't assign me to someone! I'm a Bombay! You cut me off from my money! Who do you think you are?"

Grandmother rose to her full height
. She looked regal, like a goddess—well, one of the not-so-crazy goddesses that is. "I am on the Council of the Bombays. And this," she motioned to her sister and cousins on the dais, "is the full Council. And we decide who lives and who dies." She shook her head slowly. "And this, Grandson, is not your lucky day."

Gaul
charged the dais, leaping up the steps, and raised his fist at Grandmother. She deftly stepped aside, and, as he ran past her, she tripped him.

"
You need to control your anger," she said as Gaul fell to the floor.

Gaul
pulled a knife from his belt and ran at her, slashing furiously through the air. Grandmother countered by shoving his knife arm away and kicking him in the ass until he fell off the dais and landed at my feet.

"
Are you quite done?" Grandmother asked, sounding bored. I had to admit, it was pretty badass. Grandmother 1, Gaul 0.

"
I WILL KILL YOU!" Gaul screamed and charged for the dais again. I had no doubt he would try. Eventually his youth and strength would wear down the old woman who was giving him a beating.

Without thinking,
I tore off the belt I was wearing and looped it around Gaul's neck. He was brought up short and fell backwards onto me. I tightened the belt, and he dropped his knife, his fingers clawing at the belt now cutting off his air supply.

Grandmother and the others watched calmly from the dais. They were studying me, waiting to see if I would do it.
I'd never intentionally had an audience for my work before. It unnerved me.

But
I had no choice. Gaul was writhing and spitting like an animal. Letting go now would mean he would keep coming at us until he or we were dead—just like he'd charged the dais and Grandmother, over and over.

Gaul
's skin was turning purple, and he was beginning to lose consciousness. I looked at the Council. Their calm demeanor was sickening. But I had an enraged and murderous animal in front of me. I had no choice.

My arms were strained
, and I thought I might lose my strength at any moment. But I continued to hold on. Tears began streaming down my face. I was weeping for my family. Weeping for the Council. Weeping for myself. And weeping for Gaul.

I waited a few minutes after his struggling stopped, just to make sure he was dead. When I was convinced, I let go of the belt. I rose to my feet and dropped the belt on the ground next to my brother
's body. After giving the Council a withering look, I turned and left the chamber.

I did not go home. I couldn
't face Father after what I'd done. Instead, I somehow found my way back to Gaul's small, rented room. Taking a blanket from the bed, I curled up on a divan and went to sleep.

The Council offered Father and I retirement from the family business at the next meeting, and we eagerly accepted it. They made it clear that this wouldn't happen for others who had to take out their own family, but they thought it was a fitting reward for me being the first and for Father having to lose a child. Grandmother begrudgingly congratulated me on a job well-done. It was weird.

Somehow, we were able to move on with our lives. Father hired me an art tutor
named Janus, and to this day I spend most of my time drawing. The art tutor is pretty cute—in a sort of professorial way and we seem to be hitting it off. I'm not making any promises, but maybe I might be interested in a little romance after all, especially now that I'm out of the family business.

Oh, I still consult for the Bombays. Turns out there are other family members that have the same problem with tasks that I do. Grandmother asked me to work with them
, and occasionally I have to travel to meet with distant cousins and show them the
lion by lion
method. They seem very grateful, and it's a relief to see that others have the same problem focusing.

Father has, oddly enough, found some fame for his diorama work. Turns out people like the little scenarios
he makes, and the fact that the little stadiums are often filled with toga wearing storks, and the arena features plants attacking each other doesn't seem to matter. I think the storks kind of look like Grandmother.

But maybe that
's just me.

Richmond, Virginia—1856

"
I'm boooooooored, darling," Troy Bombay whined from his chair as he tossed aside the newspaper. His immaculately clad leg dangled recklessly over the arm of the chair, in definite danger of being obscenely wrinkled. "What time is the party?"

"
Keep that up and you'll get frown lines," I said. Well, I more like wheezed. Siobhan was torturing my tender flesh into the confines of the latest corset from Paris. Just as I tried to inhale, my maid took advantage of my breathless state to squeeze a fraction of an inch more out of my lungs. And I was paying her to do that.

"
Someone has been overdoing it at the buffet," Troy mumbled quietly.

"
I heard that!" I shouted in short, restrained gasps. "Remember that you're next, Auntie India." That would take the wind out of his sails if he were a normal man. But my cousin Troy loved dressing as a woman to be my chaperone. In fact, I think he enjoyed the pain of the corset a little too much. But that was something I never asked him—mainly because I didn't really want to know the answer.

Siobhan
said nothing. She was an excellent maid and never commented on our weird arrangement. Of course I paid her well. That may have had something to do with it.

Troy
rolled his eyes. "I'd bet my waistline is smaller than yours today."

I tried to growl, but it is difficult with no oxygen in your lungs. Instead, I shot him a look that hopefully said,
Knock it off or I'll tell the other Bombays that you impersonate your mom.

My name is Aberdeen Bombay
, but I prefer Abby. My cousin, Troy Bombay, prefers Auntie India. And that works well for me because as an orphan in a southern town, I would not gain acceptance into society if I were a young woman living alone. And I lived for these parties. No one parties like southerners. No one.

Oh yes, and we
're assassins. I probably should've mentioned that. Troy and I come from a long line of assassins. The Bombay Family has been in business since Ancient Greece, and everybody born a Bombay works in the field.

It was my late mother who was the
Bombay before me. A tried and true Yankee, she somehow fell in love with a southern boy from an old family. And then they had me.

"
Do you think that little tramp Carmella will be there?" Troy wiggled his eyebrows at me.

I shook my head
. "After the way you humiliated her at the Green's party last week? Never!"

Troy
grinned wickedly. "All I said was that she shouldn't wear that décolletage in public."

I narrowed my eyes at him
. "No. You said she looked like a painted harlot who had no business pretending to have cleavage. And you
said
it in public."

Troy
giggled. "Oh, that's right. I did say that."

I rolled my eyes.
"I don't know why I ever agreed to this whole Auntie India charade."

"
Sure you do," Troy said. "Because you wouldn't get invites to all the best parties if I wasn't here."

"
If Auntie India wasn't here," I corrected.

Troy
was suddenly engrossed in the newspaper again. "Didn't I say that?"

I actually lived in hotels. My parents
were deceased, and as soon as my father passed, I sent my newly inherited and immediately freed slaves north to live. It might have been a tad impulsive to sell the family plantation, but there was so much wicked history there that I simply couldn't keep it. It was only after the fact that I'd realized I had forgotten about some of our victims being buried there. Hopefully, that wouldn't come back to haunt me later.

Slavery had been an issue with me. My father never understood that
, and, to my consternation, Mother never fussed about it, and she was a Yankee. On my tenth birthday, in fact, I asked for my father to free my personal slaves. To my amazement, he did. Then I immediately asked for a paid servant because how could I manage without one? He responded by throwing his arms up in the air and exiting the room. Mother gave me Siobhan. She'd been with me ever since.

So, equipped with an Irish,
paid
servant and my cousin, Troy Bombay, and no plantation to live on, I lived in hotels. This one, The Washingtonian, being my particular favorite. The lifestyle suited me, and I still had someone to take care of me.

My father was from a very old, southern f
amily that had settled at Jamestown in 1609. He was proud and obnoxious, to say the least. We had our disagreements, but in the end he was my father after all. And I was the typical southern belle—in love with dresses and parties and plantation mansions. It made it difficult being an assassin, but I'd learned to adapt, just like my family has for centuries.

My mother, on the other hand, was a Yankee and a
Bombay. The very essence of an independent-thinking woman, she'd disdained the frippery and frivolity that went with a southern life. But she had loved my father—for reasons I'll never understand.

It
's actually an acceptable southern tradition for the man to occasionally take his wife's last name. Mostly this is due to seeing the end of the family name on the horizon. Men are so terribly sensitive about their family names, don't you think? At any rate, the Rhett family had done it—so had many others. It always surprised me that my father had agreed to it. But then, you had to if you wanted to marry a Bombay.

I was fifteen when they
had died in a bizarre carriage incident. I'd always suspected foul play, but the Bombay Council came down from New York City and checked it out and found nothing unusual. I personally haven't trusted a herd of goats to this very day.

M
y Auntie India and cousin Troy had moved here and taken care of me for the next two years, looking after things until I was able to do so on my own. It was they who introduced me to living in hotels. Moving up north where most of the Bombays lived was completely out of the question. Northerners are soooooo serious and dull. And their parties! Dreadful!

Auntie
India returned to Massachusetts, but Troy stayed because he too loved the parties. Unfortunately, having a male relative living with me was considered quite scandalous—which meant I wouldn't be invited to these lovely, aforementioned parties. So Troy became Auntie India—with his mother's assistance and tutelage, provided he didn't tell the rest of the family.

Now in my nineteenth year, I was becoming a bit long in the tooth by marriageable standards, but that didn
't stop me from having several suitors. I flirted and teased but mainly ignored them. They were after my fortune of course, and I simply didn't have time for that.

Besides
, I was having too much fun! Why tie myself down to some boozy old colonel or some silly-headed plantation owner's son who did nothing but laze about and party? Okay, so
I
lazed about and partied, but that didn't mean I wanted the same thing in a mate.

"
Darling." Troy lounged in an overstuffed chair in my room as I got ready for the picnic. "Tell me you aren't wearing that tired old thing!" He pointed to the blue and white dress on the bed.

"
Dearest cousin, that
tired old thing
just arrived from Paris yesterday, so be a darling and do shut up," I answered him. "When are you getting dressed? We have to leave soon, and I can't go to the party without Auntie."

Troy
suppressed a yawn so it wouldn't mar his delicate features. "I'm already in my corset. Once Siobhan is done stuffing you into yours, she'll go to work on me."

Siobhan
said nothing, as if helping a man dress in drag was an everyday occurrence in Ireland. And maybe it was, for all I knew.

"
Do you think that silly Susanna Thornton will be there?" Troy asked. "I really do hate her. Always tossing those ratty curls like she's all that."

I giggled.
"I doubt it after the tongue-lashing you gave her at the Franklin's party last week. What was it you said exactly? That her horsehair coat looked better on the original horse?"

Troy
rolled his eyes. "I think she was wearing the horse's teeth too…poor dear." Troy always ended a slam with "poor dear," as if it forgave him for his sharp tongue.

"
And still you get invited to all the best parties," I sighed.

"
People
love me
, darling." Troy pouted. "I just say what they're thinking anyway."

"
Miss Abby, ma'am?" Siobhan was helping me lace up my corset. The Buckinghams were having a barbeque, and it was THE event of the month. I ate early, so I wouldn't eat at the party. If I did, my corset would surely burst open.

"
What is it Siobhan?" I asked in short bursts of breaths as she tugged hard on the laces. She would have made an excellent torturer under Torquemada. That made me a little proud.

"
There's a packet for you in the hall. It was just delivered. Had one of those red wax seals on it. I thought you should know."

Oh. An assignment. I breathed out
, and, unfortunately, Siobhan took advantage of my breathing out to tighten the corset. Now I couldn't breathe in. Well, as they say, fashion is pain…gorgeous, gorgeous pain.

"
Well…you'd better…bring it…here then," I said after a few attempts at breathing. Siobhan nodded and left the room. She returned in moments with a large, brown envelope with my name on it and the blood-red crest of the Bombays sealed in wax. She excused herself. The maid had been with me enough to know she wasn't allowed to see the contents of the envelope, and she never pried. She really was an excellent servant.

Troy
rose daintily to his feet and giggled like a toddler who'd just figured out where the hidden candy was. "I'm going to steal Siobhan now." He nodded and followed the maid out of the room. He knew an assignment was private. He also knew I would tell him anything, and he'd get the details later.

I cracked the seal and opened the envelope, spilling the contents onto my bed. Oh sure, I could
've left it until after the party—but what if my target was attending? After all, half of Richmond would be at the Buckingham's this afternoon. Never let an opportunity pass you by. That's what Mother always said during my training, and I've found that to be true in almost every situation.

A drawing of a handsome, young man stood out among the files. He had short, dark hair and a darling set of sideburns. His eyes seemed to be looking right at me. The notes in the margin said they were green. That should make him easy to find.

"Carter Livingstone Sperry," I read quietly. It really was too bad. He was such a handsome man. Oh well.

Apparently, Mr. Sperry was in
Richmond, visiting from California. He was staying, where else, with the Buckinghams. He'd surely be at the picnic today. Serendipity! A kill AND a barbeque!

I stuffed the rest of the file back into the envelope and moved
it to my suitcase, where I had a false bottom hidden. Tucking the assignment inside, I decided I needed to pick a hatpin for the occasion. That was one of my favorite ways to kill someone at a social engagement. Hatpins were so perfect—functional and pretty and left very little mess (which is very important when wearing the latest fashions). The holes were undetectable most of the time—which meant I could enjoy the rest of the party and make a clean getaway.

I didn
't know what Sperry had done to warrant me killing him, and I didn't care. I stopped reading the reasons why in the files long ago. I'd realized that the Bombay Council always had good reasons for dispatching someone. Why waste my time with more reading than was necessary?

Our targets were always villains. Always. There was simply no point in questioning it. So I didn
't. Instead, I summoned Siobhan and told her I'd need a hat.

She picked out a simply
lovely
straw hat with a blue ribbon that circled the brim and tied under my chin or fetchingly around my neck. The maid then handed me a long, mahogany case, and I opened it.

"
The sapphire, I think," I said as I selected a very long and very sharp hatpin. The head of the pin was a large sapphire, encrusted with diamonds. It was a personal favorite because it went with my eyes. It is always beneficial to coordinate one's accessories with your best feature. And if it was lethal, all the better.

Siobhan
finished dressing me. Once she styled my hair, I added the hat and pierced the hat and hair with the pin. Now I was ready to have some fun and kill someone naughty. It was the perfect day.

Troy
joined me an hour later dressed as Auntie India. He looked positively gorgeous in an emerald green dress with matching bonnet.

"
You
are
not
wearing that hat!" Troy pointed his matching parasol at the straw hat on my head.