The Hitwoman in a Pickle (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman Book 18) Read online

  The Hitwoman

  in a Pickle

  HITWOMAN 18

  JB Lynn

  THE HITWOMAN IN A PICKLE

  Copyright © 2018 Jennifer Baum

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted by US copyright act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in any database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The Hitwoman In A Pickle is intended for 18+ older and for mature audiences only.

  Cover designer: Hot Damn Designs

  Editor: Parisa Zolfaghari

  Proofreader: Proof Before You Publish

  Formatting: Author E.M.S.

  Table of Contents

  THE HITWOMAN IN A PICKLE

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  More from JB

  Other Books by JB Lynn

  About JB Lynn

  Prologue

  You just know it’s going to be a bad day when a hand is clamped over your mouth and you’re lifted off your feet from behind.

  My name is Maggie Lee and I’m a kickass assassin. (Okay, I might be exaggerating a little with the whole “kickass” thing, but I’m not the kind of gal who does a ragdoll impression when I’m being manhandled, so I did what I do. I fought back. Hard.)

  Now, ideally, I should have gone for my attacker’s eyes, nose, throat, or groin, but since I had my back to him, and not much leverage, I kicked at his shins and clawed at the hand covering my mouth. I also made guttural grunting noises, trying to get the attention of my Doberman pinscher, DeeDee, who was at the other end of the yard, examining each blade of grass individually.

  It was her fault I was out here, doing battle with the deranged monster behind me. If she hadn’t been so insistent with her “Gotta! Gotta!” I’d have stayed safe in my bed. But no, I’d been outside, squinting against the sunrise, when the madman attacked.

  At the sound of my desperate grunts, the dog raised her nose from the ground, looked right at me, lifted a shoulder in what looked like a shrug, and went back to sniffing the earth.

  I tried to scream her name, but it only came out as a muffled moan.

  “Take it easy, Maggie,” my attacker whispered in my ear. “Are you trying to wake the whole neighborhood?”

  In the back of my mind, I knew his voice sounded familiar, but the arm wrapped around my ribcage was depriving me of air, so I just kept on kicking and clawing.

  “Ow!” he complained. “That hurts. Will you quit it?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s me, Maggie. Ian. I’m going to let you go now. Don’t scream.”

  As he lowered me to the ground, I tried to make sense that Ian, the brother I’d only recently met, was the person behind me.

  “Don’t scream,” he begged as my feet landed squarely on the ground. Slowly, cautiously, he removed his hand from my mouth.

  Whirling around, I glared at him. “What the hell are you doing?” I whisper-screamed.

  “I needed to see you.”

  “And you decided that giving me a freaking heart attack was the best way to do that?”

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Despite his impressive muscles, Ian looked down at the ground, thoroughly chastised, as he apologized. “I just didn’t want you to wake up the entire neighborhood.”

  “Do you normally pick women up from behind?”

  “Of course not.”

  “So don’t ever do that to me again.” I punched his shoulder to drive my point home.

  He rubbed the spot where I’d hit him. I doubted that I’d actually hurt him, but guessed that, like me, it felt weird to be having our first ever sibling fight.

  “I’m really sorry, but I had to see you.”

  “You could have called,” I pouted. As DeeDee slowly trotted up to us, I said to her, “And you could have intervened.”

  “Said God no,” the dog whined softly, flattening her ears when she realized she was in trouble.

  I frowned at her but didn’t ask what she’d meant by that mangled sentence since it wasn’t wise for me to have in-depth conversations with animals when in the company of other human beings.

  I turned my attention back to Ian. “So what’s so important that you had to come traumatize me first thing in the morning?”

  Ian winced at the description but answered me anyway. “It’s Uncle Thurston…”

  I frowned at the mention of my father’s twin brother, the man who’d raised Ian. “What about him?”

  “He’s missing.”

  Chapter One

  Now, I know that for normal people, finding out that a relative is missing can come as a terrible shock, but for me, it’s a pretty regular occurrence, so instead of reacting with concern or panic, I just asked with a heavy sigh, “Are you sure?”

  Ian blinked at my nonchalance. “What?”

  “Are you sure he’s missing and hasn’t just run off on some hare-brained scheme?”

  “Uncle Thurston does not run off.” Ian sounded offended that I’d even suggest such a thing.

  “Sorry,” I apologized. “I’m just used to my dad. He takes off every time the mood moves him.”

  “Guess it’s lucky I was raised by Thurston then,” Ian replied tightly.

  I nodded, unsure of how to respond. We were still working our way through the emotional landmines of having grown up in separate homes with separate lives.

  Speaking of which, voices could be heard from within the B&B where I lived.

  Ian’s eyes grew wide, probably panicking at the idea of meeting more relatives. He began to back away.

  “Do you know where Margot Simons Park is?” I asked, naming a spot a few blocks away.

  He nodded.

  “I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes,” I promised. “We’ll find Thurston.”

  Nodding, he turned on his heel and jogged away as I heard the squeak of the screen door opening.

  “Is that you, Maggie?” my Aunt Leslie asked, shielding her eyes against the sun.

  “It is I,” I mocked.

  “Wonderful, will you join us for sun salutations?”

&nbs
p; “Us?”

  My Aunt Susan pushed past her sister Leslie. “Who were you talking to, Margaret?”

  “Talking to?” I parroted nervously. There was no way I could tell her that I’d been talking to my brother, Ian. For one thing, he didn’t want anyone else in the family to know about him and for another, Susan had once passed out when I’d simply asked about Ian’s existence.

  “I heard voices.” Susan, who was dressed in a black and red striped leotard and black tights, the height of eighties aerobic chic, glared at me accusingly.

  “I was talking to DeeDee.” I pointed to the dog for emphasis.

  “Liar,” she barked.

  But thankfully, no one else knew what she said, and Aunt Leslie giggled at the dog’s apparent agreement.

  “I thought I heard—” Susan began.

  “Come, come,” Leslie urged. “Let us start our day with intention, energize our bodies, and clear our minds.” She walked past me, waving for Susan to follow.

  When Susan hesitated, I darted past her, back into the B&B, muttering, “I’m taking DeeDee to the park.”

  DeeDee rushed in after me, almost knocking Susan over.

  “That dog,” Susan huffed as she leaned against the siding of the wall she’d caught herself on.

  “Expand your gratitude,” Leslie intoned in her most peaceful voice.

  “I’d rather expand your face with my fist,” Susan growled, shoving herself off the wall and balling up her hands.

  Feeling a flash of sympathy for Susan, and some concern for Leslie’s safety, I called out, “I’ll start the coffee so it’s ready when you’re done.”

  “Who when done is?” DeeDee panted.

  “The spoils to the victor.” I opened a bag of coffee beans and inhaled deeply before continuing, “My money is on Leslie. Susan may be annoyed, but the fact that she’s even attempting sun salutations tells me she’s making an effort to bridge the gap between them.”

  Family dynamics had been more strained than usual with the return of my sisters, Marlene and Darlene, to the family fold.

  After quickly making coffee, I ran downstairs to the basement where I live and threw on some clothes, explaining to my other pets what was going on and that I was rushing out to meet Ian.

  “Be careful,” my one-eyed cat, Piss, warned from her spot beneath the couch. “It sounds dangerous.”

  “Danger. Danger. Danger,” a tiny voice repeated.

  I peered into the plastic box where the newest edition to my menagerie, a white mouse named Benny, was huddled in the corner, nervously shredding a paper towel with his tiny little feet. “Thank you for your concern.”

  “Danger. Danger. Danger,” he repeated softly.

  “It’s bad enough that I have to listen to the grammatically-challenged canine, but now I’m being subjected to repetitive rodent ramblings. It’s torture. Pure torture,” my brown anole lizard, God, short for Godzilla, complained.

  “You’d repeat yourself, too, if you’d been made to run in circles,” Piss hissed, extending one of her claws out from beneath the couch.

  “I can’t be expected to listen to that all day,” God huffed. “Take me with you.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, pulling on a pair of sneakers. “But only if you agree to keep your comments to a minimum.”

  “An impossible task for him,” Piss groused.

  I didn’t disagree with her.

  Still, the lizard kept silent as I scooped him out of his glass terrarium and placed him on my shoulder.

  “Be careful,” the cat warned once more as I snapped DeeDee’s leash on and hurried up the stairs leading to the kitchen.

  Normally, I would have exited through the basement’s storm door, but I wanted to avoid my aunts. Instead of running into Susan and Leslie, I ran into my third aunt, Loretta, Leslie’s twin, in the foyer. She immediately enveloped me in a tight hug.

  Thankfully, she was fully clothed, which was something of an anomaly.

  My eyes watered from the pungency of her overly sweet perfume and I fought the urge to cover my mouth and nose with my shirt as I struggled to breathe. I did, however, manage to extricate myself from her stifling grip.

  “Good morning,” I gasped.

  “The stench,” God moaned from his hiding spot in my bra.

  I couldn’t blame him. It was overwhelming.

  Loretta squinted at my chest area before she fluttered her fake eyelashes at me. “Where are you off to?”

  “I’m taking DeeDee to the park for some exercise.”

  She nodded approvingly. “Do you think you could come by The Corset later and help me out for an hour or so?”

  I shook my head, not daring to breathe, for fear the perfume fumes would overcome me. I couldn’t afford to pass out with Ian waiting for me.

  Loretta pouted for a moment. “Maybe Marlene could help.”

  I gave her a thumbs-up, knowing full well I was throwing my sister under the bus, but oxygen was my priority at the moment.

  “Toodles.” Loretta waggled a couple of fingers at me and sashayed past toward the kitchen.

  I bolted out the front door, dragging the dog behind me. Standing on the porch, I inhaled deeply, grateful for the fresh air. Well, as fresh as the air gets in Jersey.

  “Toxic. Poisonous. Vile,” God spluttered.

  “I thought you were going to keep quiet,” I reminded him, heading for the park.

  I was in a hurry to get there, but the dog was not. She stopped to sniff every tree and post along the way.

  “Hurry, DeeDee,” I urged, tugging on her leash. “We have to meet Ian.”

  She stopped sniffing long enough to give me a baleful look.

  “What?” I asked impatiently.

  “Feeds only he Maggie,” she pouted.

  I stared at her for a second, trying to translate the mangled sentence into something I could make sense of. Luckily, I had a lizard riding in my bra that could do just that.

  “She said,” God began impatiently, “that Ian only feeds you.”

  Feeling obligated to defend my brother, I said, “You’ve only met him once.”

  “Times two,” DeeDee countered.

  “Oh look, the beast can count,” God mocked.

  DeeDee raised her lip in a half-hearted snarl.

  “You’re not helping matters,” I chastised the lizard. “And it’s only been once.”

  “Au contraire,” God countered. “She met him in your car when he left you the olives and she saw him just now at the B&B. Therefore, DeeDee’s right.”

  “Right! Right!” the Doberman barked excitedly, celebrating the fact the know-it-all reptile had approved of something she’d said.

  Of course, her barking startled a nearby jogger, who veered away from us, into the road, straight into oncoming traffic.

  “Look out!” I warned as a driver of a car had to slam onto his brakes to avoid hitting the jogger.

  The poor runner looked traumatized, so I hustled my Doberman away.

  We entered the park and I started scanning the area to find Ian.

  “I must admit that I side with the cat on this issue, I’m not sure that getting involved in this search for your uncle is the wisest of moves,” God warned.

  Of course, no one else could hear his words, all they heard was my chest making strange squeaking sounds. A mother pushing a stroller raised her eyebrows and hurried away.

  “Can you please be quiet?” I murmured under my breath.

  “Hmmmphhhh!” he sighed dramatically before falling silent.

  “There over,” DeeDee panted, pulling me over a hill.

  I followed willingly; grateful she’d found Ian when I hadn’t been able to.

  She strained against the leash excitedly.

  “Take it easy. He’s not going anywhere.”

  Since my Doberman had suddenly decided to channel a sled-pulling Husky and drag me along for the ride, I just held on tight, fighting to keep up and stay on my feet at this point.

  “Whoa!” I g
asped. “Whoa!”

  “She’s a dog, not a horse,” God yelled. “Halt, beast. I order you to halt. All of this bouncing around of the mammary glands is going to bruise my sensitive skin!”

  But intent on reaching her target, the dog ignored our pleas. She picked up speed as she began to race down the hill.

  I was dimly aware of my name being called from somewhere behind me, but most of my focus was concentrated on keeping my feet under me and screaming, “Stop! Please, stop!”

  But the damn dog just kept barreling down the hill.

  “We’re going to die!” God wailed pitifully.

  At least, I think that’s what he said since his voice was muffled by my bouncing breasts, which were buffeting him like the winds of a Class 3 hurricane.

  Suddenly, the dog skidded to a stop, causing me to trip. As I fell, I made a superhuman effort to twist my body in the hopes of not flattening God when I hit the ground.

  As a result, I landed on my left side with a thud that knocked the breath out of me and made me see stars.

  I lay there, gasping for breath, trying to decide if it was safe to move my bruised, maybe broken, body.

  Deprived of oxygen and in shock, it took me a couple of moments to focus on the pair of green eyes peering down at me.

  “What the hell are you doing, Mags?”

  Chapter Two

  I blinked up at him. “Patrick?”

  The usually sexy-as-hell redheaded police detective (who moonlighted as my murder mentor) was looking a little worse for wear. Okay, a lot worse.