Maggie Lee | Book 24 | The Hitwoman Plays Games Page 9

  Embarrassed by my shortcomings, I threw a bunch of neon owls into “the box” with undo vigor. It didn’t take long and the additions didn’t do much to help the level reach the star, but I wasn’t going to make any more attempts at taking the initiative. I just stood there.

  As I waited for Dale to return, other employees began to filter in. They all introduced themselves and I smiled politely, but I made no effort to remember their names, knowing our interaction was going to be very temporary.

  Dale returned, looked at the level of toys and declared, “Good enough.” Then she marched over to a metal box sticking out of the wall. “You might want to cover your ears when the rumbler runs.”

  Before I could ask what the rumbler was, she opened the box and flipped the red switch.

  Everything began to shake and a loud rumbling noise filled the center.

  “Earthquake!” God screamed, streaking across the room. “It’s the big one! Take cover! We’re all going to die!”

  Meanwhile, the toys in “the box” were bouncing around like heated kernels in a popcorn maker.

  Just as suddenly as it had begun, the vibration stopped, and the place fell silent.

  “Does a good job of mixing up the toys,” Dale explained. “Did you hear a squeaking noise?”

  I shook my head. I knew better than to admit I had.

  16

  “Hey, new girl!” a voice called out.

  I turned to find Patrick crooking his finger at me, indicating I should join him.

  As I approached, he said, loudly enough so that half the building could hear, “Stephanie’s out sick, so you’re on tattoo duty.” He thrust an oversized shoebox into my arms. “Dale, get her set up.”

  “Right, boss,” Dale replied.

  With that, Patrick turned and marched away. I looked to Dale for guidance.

  “This way,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “You ever done tattoos before?”

  “No,” I said, hurrying to catch up with her as she headed back toward the rock-climbing wall. “Is it difficult?”

  She shook her head. “Easiest gig in the place. Boss must like you.” There was no missing the bitterness in her tone.

  She brought me back to a small table and chairs set. A banner that said, “Tattoo parlor” hung lopsided over the table. “Water. Pressure. Peel. Think you can handle that?” She walked away before I could answer.

  Settling into one of the tiny chairs, my knees practically at my chin, I put the box down on the table and peered inside. While I examined the contents, an oversized index card box filled with temporary tattoos, a bowl, and a couple of tongue depressors, God skittered beneath the table.

  “Do you know how to do this?” I muttered under my breath to him, while silently cursing Aunt Susan’s opposition to tattoos, piercings and hair colors that don’t occur in nature. I’d led a sheltered life…except for the whole mom in the nut house and dad doing time thing.

  “Of course not,” he sniped back. “Do I look like I have opposable thumbs?”

  I took a tattoo of a unicorn out of the box and squinted at it, trying to read the instructions that were printed in a font that was better suited to a pinhead. “I’m going to have to do a test run before I try this on a kid.”

  “Not on me you aren’t,” the lizard declared. “Can you imagine what that would do to my sensitive skin?”

  I filed the tattoo back under “U” and picked up the bowl. “Find anything useful on your scouting adventures?”

  “If you open the female sanitary needs dispenser in the employee restroom, you’ll find it is full of contraband.”

  “Contraband?” I mocked, standing up, no small feat considering how low to the ground I was starting from.

  “Vape pens,” he clarified, running beside me as I strode, bowl in hand, toward said restroom.

  “And how do you know this?” I asked, knowing there was no way he could open a metal box like that.

  “I saw one of the employees open it.”

  I wondered if Patrick, who was looking to make a drug bust, knew about the stash. I wondered how the hell I would explain to him how I’d found it.

  Once we were in the small bathroom, which consisted of two stalls, God ran all the way from the floor to my shoulder. Bending over to check to make sure there was no one else in the room, I put the bowl on the small counter surrounding the sink and made quick work of opening the dispenser.

  As God had said, there were vape pens, a pack of cigarettes, a deck of cards, a switchblade, and a decidedly herbal scent.

  Hearing voices just outside the door, I closed up the box and grabbed the tattoo bowl. As the door swung open, God dove into my bra and I turned on the water.

  Dale glanced over at me filling the bowl. “How’d you make such a quick impression on him?”

  “Excuse me?” I tried to keep my expression blank.

  “The hottie. What did you do to get his attention?”

  I shrugged helplessly, unsure of what to say, as I turned off the water.

  She scowled and stepped into one of the stalls, slamming it behind her.

  I hurried out, taking care not to spill the water as I made my way back to my table. The machines had all come to life, their bright lights pulsing, as we approached opening time.

  I spent a few minutes practicing my tattoo placement skills, putting a couple of hearts on the inside of my arm. It was as simple as Dale had said. Wet the tattoo, apply pressure with the tongue depressor, and peel off the paper.

  What she hadn’t said, and the directions didn’t specify, was that it was a good idea to wait a full minute to let the ink “set” before performing the peel part, but I was a quick learner.

  I’d just about mastered my technique when the music blared, the overhead lights flickered, the games beeped, and the doors were unlocked.

  Hell was open for business.

  It wasn’t long before I had my first customer, a fidgety four-year-old, followed by another, then another child, then another. I quickly realized that Dale had been messing with me. This wasn’t the easiest job. It was a constant stream of demanding kids who didn’t want to hold still while I worked my magic.

  To make matters worse, the occasional terrified screams from the nearby rock wall drilled through my skull like an ice pick. Within ninety minutes my nerves were shot, my head was pounding, and I was sticky. Sticky because every kid I touched either spilled their soda on me, smeared me with melted chocolate, or got their cotton candy in my hair.

  I knew I was supposed to be keeping an eye out for Alicia, but I was too busy dodging gooey gobs of god-knows-what.

  I’d just finished putting smiley faces on the cheeks of a flushed girl, when I heard another scream. This one was different, though, because it was quickly followed by shouts of concern from adults, including the twenty-something manning the attraction.

  Looking over, I saw a young girl at the top of the wall hanging sideways. Half of the safety harness she wore had snapped and she could fall to the ground at any moment. All I could imagine was Katie being in the same predicament.

  I didn’t think, I just moved. Abandoning my post, I pushed through the crowd and began scaling the wall as the girl above me struggled to keep her footing. For once, I found myself grateful to my dad about something. Like I’d told Templeton, he’d taught me to climb.

  It was only a few seconds, but it felt like hours as my muscles burned, and I gasped for air from the exertion of fighting gravity. I dimly heard the voices below me, but paid them no attention, my entire focus on the child in danger.

  I glanced up to see her foot slip and she began to tumble. Somehow, I managed to grab her and still maintain my hold on the wall. We swayed unsteadily for a long moment.

  “I’ve got you,” I told her. “We’re going to climb down together.”

  “I c-c-can’t,” she stammered breathlessly.

  “Sure you can,” I told her with more confidence than I felt. “We’re going to do it together. Just find yo
ur handholds.”

  Tentatively, she did as I told her. Slowly, with me sort of cupping my body like a safety net around her, we carefully made our way downward, until my feet hit the floor. Then, her father swooped in, grabbing her in a bear hug.

  Legs weak, either from effort or fear, I couldn’t tell which, I fell in an undignified heap onto the mat below. Suddenly cold because of the adrenaline leaving me, I shivered.

  A warm hand cupped my chin and lifted it upward. I found Patrick’s olive-like eyes, stormy with worry, looking down at me.

  “I’m okay,” I murmured.

  Patrick nodded his understanding. “You’re going to have to fill out an incident report.”

  “I’m going to sue this place for negligence,” the father threatened, putting his daughter down beside me.

  The girl’s wide eyes reminded me so much of Katie’s. Her cheeks were still damp with tears.

  I smiled at her. “You did great.”

  Then, I looked at her dad.

  Phillip beamed his gratitude at me. “You, I’m taking to dinner.”

  17

  After work, I reported to Griswald everything that had transpired, ending in Phillip’s insistence that he buy me dinner in order to thank me for saving his daughter’s life.

  Griswald was thrilled. “I knew you could do it.”

  I shook my head, not wanting to get his hopes up about my abilities. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t know it was his kid that was dangling up there.”

  We were standing in the barn. I was waiting for Katie to finish school and absentmindedly feeding Irma a carrot.

  Piss was pacing restlessly outside the donkey’s stall, giving me the side-eye with her one good eye, which was making it difficult to focus on my conversation with my boss.

  “And you were smart to put it off until tomorrow,” Griswald continued. “I’ll need the time to get set up.”

  “Set up to do what?” I asked, wondering if his plan was to snatch Alicia while her dad was out on a date with me.

  “Observe,” Griswald said. “A lot can be learned from observing. I’ve got to go tell our partner about this latest development. Good job!” He clapped me on the shoulder for emphasis and then hurried out.

  That left the opening Piss had been waiting for. “Is he okay?” she meowed worriedly.

  “Benny’s fine,” I assured her. “It was his idea for me to leave him there overnight.”

  “What if he gets nervous?” the cat asked, twitching her tail. “That happens to him, you know. He’s got anxiety.”

  I bent down to scratch her between her ears. The affection she had for the little mouse was actually quite endearing. “He promised me he’d be fine.”

  “Three times,” God groused from within my bra.

  “You’d better hope he is,” Piss muttered before prancing off.

  “Have any more carrots?” Irma brayed.

  “Afraid not,” I told her. “Herschel is limiting your treats.”

  She half-heartedly kicked the back wall in protest.

  “Don’t sulk. He just doesn’t want you to get sick again.”

  Our conversation was interrupted by the door to the school area opening. Katie came flying out. She ran at me full speed. Normally, I’d have picked her up and swung her around, but my shoulders ached from my earlier climbing escapade, so instead, I knelt down and gave her a tight hug.

  “How was your day?” she asked.

  “Pretty good. How was yours?”

  “Gr-r-r-r-eat!”

  “That good?” I asked, standing up and offering a smile to Miss Lassalan, who was emerging from the classroom.

  “She’s a very bright girl,” the teacher said.

  “Can I go get a snack?” the intelligent child asked.

  I ruffled her hair. “Go.”

  She ran away, saying, “C’mon, Piss!” as she went.

  The cat quickly followed her, no doubt hoping for some cream.

  I smiled at the teacher. “She seems to be doing really well, Miss Lassalan.”

  “Lorraine,” she corrected. “Please, call me Lorraine when my students aren’t present.”

  “She seems to be very happy with you, Lorraine. I—”

  “Tea!” Aunt Leslie interrupted, bursting into the barn. She carried a tray laden with tea, cream, sugar, a teapot, two cups with saucers, a plate of cookies, and a single rose in a crystal vase. “I brought tea.”

  She wobbled mid-stride as she made eye contact with me.

  “I can see that,” I told her.

  “Lorraine likes tea,” Leslie said. “I thought at the end of a long day…”

  The teacher smiled. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  Leslie shuffled toward the classroom door, precariously balancing the tray.

  I took in the two cups and realized Leslie hadn’t planned on me being there, which meant I wasn’t obligated to stay. Relieved to have the excuse to leave, I snagged a cookie from the tray as she went past, smiled at the teacher, and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  And with that, I was out of there.

  Free, except for God, of being in the presence of anyone else for the first time that day, I practically skipped up the driveway, eager to go for a walk and clear my head.

  The lizard climbed up onto my shoulder. “What’s bothering you?”

  “Why do you think something is bothering me?”

  “First off, because you sounded less than enthused when you told Griswald about your date plans. Secondly, because you just avoided the question.”

  I sighed. “He seemed awfully worried about her.”

  “Phillip about his daughter?”

  “Yes.” I walked along in silence, not elaborating. It was a jumbled mess in my mind. I’d thought I’d known what I was doing was for a good reason, but seeing him genuinely care about his child’s well-being had me confused.

  Considering that God had nothing to say, I assumed that he was feeling the same way.

  I wondered if Griswald’s source could’ve misled him. But I also knew, at least, I hoped, that Griswald was too good at his job to let something like that happen. I sighed, even more confused than I had been a second ago.

  I hadn’t gone more than a quarter mile when a car pulled to a stop beside me.

  “What now?” I muttered under my breath as I turned to face the driver. I expected to see Gino, but was surprised to find it was Patrick. He was scowling.

  Leaning across the car, he pushed the passenger door open for me. “Get in.”

  “This doesn’t look good,” God muttered, choosing for once to hide under my hair instead of in my bra.

  Feeling more than a little nervous, I climbed inside. It smelled like something had died…and of disinfectant. I wondered if he’d transported a body in it and was trying to mask the odor. I wondered if I should tell him his attempt had failed.

  He drove in silence. I noted that there was no food offering visible and was disappointed.

  He pulled off onto a quiet side road, parked, and turned in his seat to face me. His gaze was so intense that I involuntarily shivered.

  “What the hell are you doing, Mags?” His voice was pitched low, like the words were being dragged out of him.

  “Huh?” I replied.

  “Always eloquent,” God whispered so that only I could hear.

  “You wear that…this all day,” the redhead complained, miming a sexy silhouette with his hands. “Are you trying to drive me crazy? I’m working a case. I can’t afford to be so…so distracted.”

  I bit back a smile, realizing that he had noticed my new look. It was a heady feeling to know that I had gotten him hot and bothered. I intentionally pitched my voice, so it sounded a little husky. “It’s not always about you, Patrick.”

  My former lover sucked in a breath. “Now you’re just playing with me.”

  “Maybe,” I admitted with a coy smile. I blinked at him, feigning innocence. I didn’t usually play the part of the seductress an
d I was reveling in feeling wanted. Perhaps it was the gravity-defying bra or an after-effect of the pheromone perfume, but whatever the reason, I liked being the one with the power.

  Patrick leaned an inch closer. I could smell the wintergreen Lifesavers he’d been chewing on.

  “This is a bad idea,” God whispered in my ear.

  I knew he was right, but I didn’t care.

  Patrick yanked himself backward, grabbed the steering wheel at two and ten, and let out an exasperated sigh as he began to drive. “You can’t go out with him.”

  I sank back into my seat, slightly disappointed and very angry. “You can’t tell me who I can go out with.”

  Patrick shook his head. “You do know you just sounded like a petulant teenager, don’t you? That’s precisely why you can’t go out with him. He’s a predator. You’re a…a gazelle.”

  “A gazelle?” I asked, trying not to chuckle.

  “Prey,” he elaborated. “For a guy like him, you’re prey. A conquest.”

  Since my murder mentor didn’t know that Phillip was Griswald’s target, I had to play dumb. “He’s just grateful I saved his kid.”

  “He’s just grateful that he got your phone number,” Patrick snapped back. “I mean, look at you.”

  “Maybe this is the new me,” I countered.

  Patrick stopped the car and I realized we were at the edge of the driveway of Herschel’s compound, my current home. “Use your head, Mags,” he urged. “Using your body will just get you into trouble.”

  “Says the guy who dumped me for his ex, who then tried to kill him,” I said, getting out of the car and slamming the door shut.

  We glared at each other through the window for a long moment. Then he shook his head and drove off.

  “He has a point,” God opined. “You are prey.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered, turning to head back home.

  “Well, it’s true,” the lizard said. “You’re out of your depth with this one, Maggie. I mean, look at you, trying to pull off a sex kitten act when you’re really a sloth. Sloths are cute, but not sexy.”

  I tried to muster up indignation, but his description wasn’t far off how I felt. But then I forgot all about what he’d said, too distracted by the sight in front of me.