The Hitwoman Gets Lucky (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman) (8 page)

BOOK: The Hitwoman Gets Lucky (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman)
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Of course I’d lied to him about which hotel I was in, so I had to stumble, alone, in my bedraggled state back to my hotel, no doubt leaving a trail of sand in my wake. People gave me a wide berth, but the lizard gave me an earful.

“You tried to kill me.”

“I did not.”

“You know I have delicate skin and you still tossed me.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Next time you try to kill me, try starvation. It’s less painful.”

“You’re the one who wanted to come along,” I reminded him for the umpteenth time.

Come to think of it, the people probably gave me a wide berth
because
I was muttering at my squeaking chest.

Cold, hungry, and tired, I shivered as I stepped into elevator that would whisk me away to the floor of my hotel room. As the door slid closed a man stuck his hand in, halting its progress. I leaned tiredly against the back wall, waiting for him to board.

Not wanting to make small talk with a stranger. I stared determinedly at the floor.

The man stepped in, the doors slid closed, and the elevator began its ascent. I could feel his eyes on me, cataloguing my dirty shoes, sandy dress, and messed up hair that probably rivaled Medusa’s.

Mercifully, he didn’t try to engage me in conversation.

The elevator dinged.

I kept staring at the floor, hoping he’d leave.

“This is your floor, Mags.”

Startled I looked up to find Patrick holding the elevator door open for me. He’d lost the hat, the jacket and the ridiculous moustache and looked a lot better after his roll on the beach than I did.

I stepped past him into the hallway.

He fell into step beside me. “You’ve got learn to leave the lizard at home.”

“She wouldn’t have had to come to this forsaken place,” God reminded him.

“Shhh!” I said.

“Me or the lizard?” Patrick asked.

“Both of you,” I muttered stalking in the direction of my room. “I’m tired, I’m dirty, and I don’t want to hear it from either one of…” I trailed off, noticing the Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the door of the room. I walked right past the room. “Great.”

“What’s wrong?” Patrick asked.

“Perfect,” I muttered.

Patrick looked from me to the door. “It’s only a few steps.”

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can.”

“I can’t. Armani’s in there.”

“So?”

I pointed at the sign. “Think of that as the proverbial sock on the doorknob.”

“You’re kidding.”

I shook my head.

“But it’s
your
room.” The redhead sounded outraged on my half, which normally would have made me feel good, but because I was in a bitchy mood, it just irritated me.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

He blinked, surprised. “Are you okay?”

“Just peachy.” I made a show of modeling my bedraggled state for emphasis.

“About how that went down....”

Turning away from him, I headed back toward the elevator, not having a plan of where I was heading, but needing to get away from him.  I leaned against the wall, my steps short and choppy because my feet hurt so much. I grit my teeth, determined to escape.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick said, stepping in front of me, halting my progress.

“I thought he’d killed you,” I accused, trying to shove him out of my way.

He didn’t move.

Tears blurred my eyes as I tried to stumble past him.  “And now I’m tired and hungry, not to mention I’m a mess.”

“C’mere,” Patrick said quietly, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me against the length of his body.

He felt warm and solid, and smelled of soap and wintergreen from the Lifesavers he was always sucking on. For a moment, I was tempted to stay there, protected.

“You’re crushing me!” God yelped.

I jumped away from Patrick.

“Stay!” Patrick ordered in the same tone he used for Doomsday’s commands.

Pulling a card key from his pocket, he unlocked the door of the room next to mine.

“How’d you get that?” I whispered.

He leaned close. “I rented the room.”

“The one next to mine?” I asked. “How?”

“Tricks of the trade.” He pushed the door open and motioned for me to enter. “Come in. You can take a shower while we wait for room service.”

I hesitated. It was a tempting offer, but I wasn’t sure that the sexy hitman’s hotel room was the safest place for me.

“You have somewhere else to go?” he challenged softly.

I swallowed hard. “No funny stuff?”

“You call the shots, Mags.”

In my heart, I knew that was a promise he’d keep. I just wasn’t so sure about myself.

Reaching out, he snagged my hand and gently tugged me toward the room.

His room was like the one I shared with Armani, except that while ours had two double beds, a king size was centered in this one.

“Towels are clean and I’ll give you one of my T-shirts,” he offered, but he didn’t release my hand.

“Don’t you dare squash me again,” God warned.

Hearing the squeak, Patrick dropped my hand, “I guess you’ll need to find a place for the lizard.”

I nodded.

“Maybe an empty drawer?” he suggested.

“Don’t put me in a box!” God called.

“Maybe a water glass?” I suggested. “He likes being able to see out.”

“Better,” the lizard murmured.

“How about the coffee carafe?” Patrick asked. “It’s bigger.”

“Perfect!” God said.

“Perfect.” I parroted. “But there’s no coffee pot in the room.”

“I bring my own,” Patrick admitted sheepishly.

“You bring your own coffee maker?”

“The best part of waking up is having a decent cup of coffee,” he said defensively. “I’ll clean it out for him.”

While the hitman rinsed out the coffeepot in the bathroom, I kicked off my shoes and plucked the lizard from my undergarment.

“He’s not so bad, “ God admitted.

I didn’t reply. I put him down on top of the dresser so that I could fish around in my bra for the memory stick.

I’d just picked up God again, when Patrick emerged with the clean pot.

“I think you should leave him in the bathroom,” he suggested. “That way he won’t be exposed to the draft. Plus there’s one of those fake sun lamp things… He’d probably like that.”

“I
do
like him,” God declared. “Brilliant man.”

“Me too,” I murmured. They each thought I was responding to him.

While I set up the lizard in his new habitat, Patrick laid out a T-shirt for me on the bed.

“Shower’s all yours. Feel free to use all the soap and shampoo. The towels too.”

“Thanks.” Grabbing the T-shirt, I retreated to the bathroom and indulged in a long, hot, sudsy shower.  Knowing that Patrick was on the other side of the door kept it from being as relaxing as it could have been. Not because I expected him to burst in and ravage me, but because I sort of hoped he would.

He didn’t. He may be a professional assassin and an inept mugger, but he’s a man of his word.

Retrieving the flash drive from the soap dish where I’d left it for safekeeping, I limped back into the room. Patrick, reclining on the bed, glanced over the top of the newspaper he was reading.

I was glad I’d shaved my legs that morning.

“Feet hurt?” he asked studying me.

“A little.” The T-shirt actually hung lower than the dress had, but I still tugged self-consciously at it.

“Did you twist your ankle on the beach?”

I shook my head.

He frowned. “I really am sorry about how that all went down.”

“I know.”

“It didn’t look like O’Hara was suspicious of you.”

“He wasn’t, but how do you know that?”

“You didn’t think I left you out there on the beach alone, did you?”

I hadn’t thought about it. “You followed us? Me?”

“Uh-huh. Don’t worry. You can relax the rest of your time here. I’ll figure out another way to get the flash drive from him.”

“That might be harder than you think.”

“I’m not putting you in harm’s way again.”

“I meant because his watch ended up in the ocean.” I left out the part where I was the one who’d throw it there.

“You’re sure?” A hopeful note threaded through his tone.

“Positive. I saw it wash ashore.”

“Oh.” His disappointment was palpable.

“The flash drive was gone.”

He frowned. “Which means it could be on the beach where any fool could find it. I’ll look for it tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that like trying to find a needle in a haystack?”

“I’ve got my metal detector.”

“Now I know why you bring it with you,” I said with a chuckle.  He’d once used the detector to help me find bullet casings after a shooting lesson. “But I think there’s an easier way.”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

I stepped closer. His gaze bored into mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine and made my stomach flutter.

“I could just give it to you.” I extended the plastic and metal contraption to him.

His eyes flicked from it to my face. “You’re sure that’s it?”

“Took it off the chain myself while you two were rolling around in the sand. Threw the watch into the ocean.” I waved it at him.

He took it carefully.

“He doesn’t have a back-up,” I confided.

Patrick tilted his head. “How do you know that?”

“I asked him.”

“You asked him?”

“If your computer crashes, what’s the first thing you’re asked?”

“If it was backed up,” he said slowly.

“So,” I explained, “he shows me half of a flash drive and the first thing out of my mouth was…?”

“Do you have a back-up?” Patrick grinned. “Brilliant!

He looked so happy I couldn’t help myself. Standing on tiptoe I pressed my lips to his.

He froze for a moment, caught off-guard by my move. I stopped breathing when I thought he might push me away, but then he deepened the kiss, his tongue searching for mine. Teasing. Dancing.

He groaned as he rested my hands against him to steady myself.

“Bad idea!” God yelled from the other room.

It might have been, but in that moment I just didn’t care.

Chapter Ten

Especially when he slipped his arms around me and pulled me closer. So close I could feel the steady beat of his heart. So close that my breasts were crushed to his chest. So close that I could feel his desire for me. I was burning and melting simultaneously.

Lost in the sensations, I was barely aware of a distant thudding impinging on my consciousness.

Patrick yanked his mouth from mine, putting distance between our bodies. “I’ve got to get the door.”

I stared at him dumbly, my body still overriding my mind.

“Room service!” Someone called from the other side of the door.

“Wait in the bathroom,” Patrick said, spinning me around and giving me a gentle shove in that direction.

I stumbled away on traitorously weak legs, locking myself in with the lizard as Patrick opened the outer door and dealt with the delivery.

“What are you doing, Margaret?” God asked. His use of “Margaret” signaled his disapproval.

“Mind your own business,” I whispered.

“This is a mistake.”

“It is not.”

“Is too.”

I listened to Patrick’s voice rumbling through the wall. “It’s my mistake to make. Why can’t I have what I want for once?”

God shook his head. “You’re tired. You haven’t eaten. You had a stressful night. Now is not the time to be making this kind of decision. You’re not thinking straight.”

“All clear, Mags,” Patrick said from the other side of the bathroom door.

“One sec,” I called.

“Don’t do it,” God said gently. “Not this way.”

Ignoring him, I pasted on my most seductive smile and stepped out of the room.

Patrick was lying in bed, watching the television intently. A baseball game was on.

Plates of food lined the center of the bed.

“I didn’t know what you’d want,” the redhead said, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Help yourself.”

I glared at him, not knowing why he was suddenly giving me the cold shoulder. Maybe kissing him had been a mistake after all.

“What are you watching?” I asked climbing onto the other side of the bed and picking up half of a grilled cheese sandwich.

“1999 World Series.”

Nothing destroys a woman’s ego faster than knowing the guy she wants to get busy with is more interested in watching a repeat of an old sporting event.

 

 

I awoke the next morning to the smell of coffee being brewed.

Disoriented, I bolted upright and found myself tangled in a blanket.  I looked around wildly, trying to figure out where I was.

Patrick sat in a chair by the window, watching me flailing like a seal caught in a fisherman’s net. “Morning.”

“Morning,” I muttered before I remembered I was pissed at him for rejecting me the night before.

I didn’t remember getting under a blanket, and I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I did remember him giving me the brush-off. I glared at him.

His expression was impossible to read as he stared at me. “Armani’s… companion left about fifteen minutes ago, so it should be safe for you to go back to your room.”

BOOK: The Hitwoman Gets Lucky (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman)
8.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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