The Hitwoman Gets Lucky (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman) (7 page)

“There used to be a lot more games. Now it’s all shopping,” I complained. “My family spent a summer down here when I was a kid and my dad worked them. All the hucksters had to shout over one another to hawk their games.”

“Did you have fun?”

I smiled at the memory. “I ate a lifetime’s worth of saltwater taffy and cotton candy. When I think about it now, I suspect my sisters and I spent eight weeks on a sugar high.”

“Do you have a large family?”

The happy memory faded, replaced by current regrets. “It used to be bigger.” I shook my head, knowing it wasn’t the time to engage in melancholy reflection. “What about you? Do you have a big family?”

“Irish Catholics are by definition big families,” he said with an easy chuckle. “I was lucky to be raised by such a large, loving brood.”

“Hence your name?” I asked.

He laughed, “Believe it or not, my birth parents named me that.”

“Really?”

“Really. I don’t remember them, but my adoptive parents, Bob and Joann O’Hara, said they were real characters.  The Chens and the O’Hara’s had been friends since the 1860’s when both families helped to build the railroad.”

“So you weren’t adopted from China?’

“Naah. My American roots go back further than a lot of the people I meet. The O’Hara’s adopted me after my parents were killed in a car accident.” Reaching the games of chance, he suggested, “Why don’t I try to win you a prize?” He pointed to a basketball shooting game.

“Sounds good.” While he lined up for his shots, I looked around for Patrick. I couldn’t see him anywhere. I glanced at the chain dangling from Lucky’s pocket, wondering if there was a way for me to snag it.

He sank all five of his shots.

“You’ve done this before,” I accused on a laugh.

“I got pushed around a lot on the basketball court growing up,” he explained. “So I perfected my foul shot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the guy running the game groused. “Pick a prize from the top row and move on.”

I considered the collection of stuffed animals and chose a stuffed purple dog thinking Doomsday might like it.

“Your turn,” Lucky said. “Which would you like to play?”

I surveyed my choices. “That one.”

We crossed the aisle so that I could pick up a big, black water gun. I may be an inept hitwoman, but I’m actually a good shot. A really good shot.

Lucky cheered me on as I efficiently mowed down my targets.

“Remind me not to mess with you,” he laughed. “You’re one dangerous lady.”

If he only knew.

Having added a pink dinosaur to my collection of prizes, we moved on.

“Care to take a ride on the tilt-a-whirl?”

I shook my head. “Not me. I get too dizzy.”

He looked disappointed so I suggested, “You go on. I’ll wait.”

“You’re sure?” he asked with childlike hopefulness.

“Positive.”

I watched as he bought his ticket, a boyish grin lighting his expression. I realized I liked Lucky O’Hara. I felt guilty for wanting, no
needing
, to steal from him.

“Want me to hold anything for you?” I asked as he prepared to board the ride, hoping I could get him to hand over the flash drive.

“Nope. I’m good.” With a jaunty wave, he climbed on and buckled his seatbelt.

As soon as the ride began to spin, I heard my name called. “Maggie!”

I turned and saw Patrick lurking in the shadows. At least I thought it was Patrick. He was wearing an oversized camouflage coat and a hat with earmuffs.

I walked over to him, carrying my dog and dinosaur. “Are you cold?”

“It’s a disguise,” he said.

“Oh. It’s
not
a good look for you.”

“Gee thanks. I need you to get O’Hara away from the crowds.”

I eyed the hitman suspiciously. “Why?”

“So I can steal the flash drive.”

“But you’re not going to hurt him, right? Because he seems like a nice guy.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Are you falling for the mark?”

“I’m not falling for him.” I stamped my foot for emphasis. “I just don’t want to see him hurt.”

“I’m not going to hurt him.”

“Promise?”

He nodded.

“What’s on the flash drive?”

Patrick glanced over me at the spinning ride. “It’s safer for you not to know.”

His answer rubbed me the wrong way. “So it’s okay to expose me to the danger of interacting with him while you hide in the shadows, but you don’t trust me enough to tell me why?”

Patrick’s mouth flattened into a hard line. “Just get him alone.”

“And if I don’t?”

He frowned. “If you don’t, he might get hurt.” Spinning on his heel, he stalked away.

Chapter Eight

Lucky might have been the one to get off the dizzying ride, but I was the one who felt like she was on unsure footing.

Patrick’s threat had shaken me. I mean I’ve always known he kills people for money, but I’d never sensed that veiled violence in him before. Whatever was on Lucky’s drive was bringing out the worst in him.

“Thanks!” Lucky bounded up to me, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Want to go again?” I hoped he would so that I’d have a little time to think.

“Once was enough. Got it out of my system. What would you like to do now?”

“Let’s go for a walk.” I told myself I was doing it in order to protect him.

As we walked he told me about how his O’Hara brothers were real daredevils.

I laughed in all the right places of the story as I led him farther and farther away from the crowds and deeper and deeper into the shadows. The sky was overcast and the moonlight illuminated our path sporadically.

We left the boardwalk, crossed the beach, and strolled along the water’s edge, not an easy feat as my heels sank into the sand. The surf slammed against the shore, which I’m sure was the only thing that prevented him from hearing the pounding of my heart. I couldn’t see Patrick, but I knew he was out there. Watching.

“I think my parents had some sort of layaway plan with the Emergency Room doctors,” Lucky joked.

“But they’re all still safe and sound?” I thought of my two dead sisters.

“Yeah. Still getting into trouble. In fact—”

“Give me your wallets,” a deep, menacing voice boomed from the darkness.

Even thought I’d been expecting it, I flinched and stumbled, teetering precariously on my high heels.

Patrick emerged from the shadows, the hat covering the upper half of his face.  I bit back a chuckle when I realized he’d slapped on a black handlebar moustache, which gave him a decidedly cartoonish appearance.

“Give me everything,” Patrick demanded again, flicking open a switchblade for emphasis.

Lucky and I kept backing away, closer to the water’s edge.

Patrick stared at me, silently signaling I should set an example for my companion.

I held out the dog and dinosaur to him. “Here,” I said breathlessly, getting into my role. “Take them.”

Knocking them out of my grasp he growled, “Give me your valuables.”

That’s when Lucky O’Hara, the mark, the guy this whole thing was staged for, decided to play hero.

“Get away from her!” He bravely jumped in between us.

“Don’t!” I said, pulling Lucky backward. I really didn’t want him to get hurt. “Just give him what he wants. I read that in a magazine article once. You’re always supposed to give a mugger what they want. Don’t fight back. Unless they’re going to drag you into a car… then you should fight like a banshee.”

I felt Lucky’s hesitation.

“Do what the lady says, pal,” Patrick ordered.

“No,” Lucky said, holding his ground.

I barely suppressed a groan. This was going down as the worst stick-up in history.

“Listen, punk.” Patrick took a menacing step toward us.

I wasn’t sure he remembered his promise to me to not hurt O’Hara. I jumped between them.

“It’s just stuff,” I told Lucky. “Stuff trumps safety.” To prove my point I reached into my bra to yank out my cash.

My plan was to thrust the money at the would-be mugger, but instead I sent God hurtling through the air.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!” the lizard shrieked.

Instinctively, Patrick tried to catch him.

He missed.

God bounced off the sound with a pained, “Ooomph!”

With Patrick distracted by my flying pet, Lucky made his move, throwing his body at the mugger. Off balance from trying to catch Godzilla, Patrick toppled to the ground with Lucky on top of him.

“Help! Help!” God cried as the two men rolled toward him, locked in battle.

“Stop it! Stop it!” I yelled, skirting unsteadily around them, trying to reach the lizard in time to keep him from being crushed.

The sand, plus the shoes, proved too much to me. I crashed to my knees.

“I’m going to die!” God wailed pitifully.

Kicking off my shoes, I crawled toward him.

Meanwhile, the two men grappled for position, rolling into the surf.

“Nobody gets hurt!” I shouted, both as a reminder to Patrick and a promise to God.

“You tried to kill me!” God shrieked his indignation while Patrick and Lucky rolled around on the ground grunting.

The moonlight glinted off a piece of metal in the sand. Realizing that it was Lucky’s chain, I snatched it up. I fumbled to one end and found his pocket watch. A quick glance at the two men revealed neither was paying the slightest bit of attention to me. Hands trembling, I found the flash drive.  Pulling off the memory stick, I shoved it in my bra and threw the rest of it into the ocean before turning my attention back to the wrestlers beside me.

Lucky may have been wiry and quicker, but I got the distinct impression that Patrick was doing his best not to hurt him. All of his moves seemed defensive, while Lucky seemed to be on the attack.

As I watched, Lucky tore the switchblade from Patrick’s hand. Without a moment’s hesitation he plunged it into Patrick’s chest.

“Nooooo!” I wailed, launching myself at O’Hara. “Noooo!” I struck out at him, blinded by tears, a physical pain lancing my heart. I’d lost so many people in my life, I couldn’t lose Patrick too.

O’Hara rolled away from my assault.

Before I could hit him again, a strong hand wrapped around my wrist, tugging me into the water. Struggling to get free, I slapped at the offending hand.

It took me a beat, maybe two, okay three… three at the most, to realize that it was Patrick holding me.

“You’re…you’re not dead,” I said dumbly.

Gaze stormy, he released me.

I turned to Lucky, crouched a few feet away. “You didn’t kill him.”

“Who the hell tries to mug someone with a plastic knife?” he panted.

Getting to his feet, Patrick brushed sand off himself. “What kind of mugging victim fights back?”

Lucky fumbled for his cellphone. “You’d better get out of here, man. I’m calling the cops.”

I thought Patrick would take the phone from him. Instead, he took off running down the beach.

Lucky put his phone away.

“You’re not calling the police?” I asked, struggling to stand, while pulling down the hem of the dress.

It was bad enough I’d shown him my lizard.

“Who needs the hassle?” He bent to retrieve my water-logged, sand-filled shoes. He handed them to me with a hint of trepidation.

Banging them against my palm to dislodge the remnants of the beach, I said carefully, “I’m sorry I hit you. I thought you’d killed him.”

“You wanted a non-violent solution,” Lucky said. “I can appreciate that.”  He picked up my stuffed dog. “I think your dinosaur washed out to sea.”

Remembering the lost lizard, I shouted, “God?”

Lucky looked at me strangely.

“Godzilla?” I yelled. “My lizard,” I explained to Lucky.

“Over here, you imbecile,” God drawled imperiously.

Hurrying over, I scooped him up. “I’m so sorry.” I raised him to eye level to see if he was hurt. “Are you okay?”

“I’m cold,” he muttered.

Without hesitation I slipped him back into my bra, the back of my fingers brushing against Lucky’s flash drive.

“You carry a lizard around in your bra?” Lucky asked.

“He gets lonely,” I said defensively.

Lucky gave me the same look my mom, who resides in a mental institution, gets. It was half-pity, half-horror. I figured that meant we wouldn’t be going on a second date.

“I’ll take you back to your hotel,” he said as the remnants of his watch washed ashore, sloshing against his shoe.

He bent to pick it up, scowling when he realized part of it was missing.

“Did you lose something?” I asked with mock concern.

“A flash drive,” he muttered.

“Do you have a back-up?” I asked, pleased with myself for thinking to ask.

He shook his head.

“But you’ve got it all up here?” I asked, poking the side of my head.

“No.” He sighed.

“Are you going to get in trouble for losing it?” This time my concern was real.

“Careful,” God piped up. “You’re going to make him suspicious if you ask too many questions.”

“Are your boobs squeaking?” Lucky asked, staring at my chest.

“No.” I crossed my arms over my breasts, not wanting him to spot the memory stick.

“You’re smothering me!” God yelled.

Lucky’s eyes widened.

“It’s the lizard,” I admitted.

Lucky shook his head. “Look, Pearl…

He paused, choosing his next words carefully, which was a good thing because I was trying to figure out who the hell Pearl was until I remembered it was my alias.

“You’re a nice woman and I had a good time tonight.”

“You call getting mugged a good time?” I joked.

“But, and don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but I don’t see this… us, going anywhere.”

I hung my head, trying to look disappointed. “I understand.”

“It’s the whole lizard thing,” he elaborated.

I nodded.

“Come on,” he offered. “I’ll walk you back to your hotel. There’s no telling what kind of crazies you might run into out here.”

Chapter Nine

He walked me back to the hotel I told him I was staying in, shook my hand, and said it had been a memorable night. Then he hurried away.