Hitwoman 42-The Hitwoman VS the Training Schedule by J B Lynn

Author:J B Lynn [Lynn, J B]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-17T05:00:00+00:00

17

He wasn’t wrong about the shiny, sticky stuff that spreads insidiously, Devil’s Dust indeed. I still had some in my hair the next day when I pulled into the hospital lot. I caught a glimpse of the sun reflecting off it in the rear-view mirror. When I’d walked into the kitchen the night before, Katie had thrown her arms around me, inadvertently ensuring I’d have bits of glitter stuck to me forever.

“You should bring a weapon,” God recommended as I put the car in park. He ran up my arm and executed a perfect swan dive into my bra.

“It’s just recon,” I reminded him.

“You should be ready to defend yourself,” he argued, his voice now slightly muffled. “Or what if the perfect opportunity to knock off Videgain presents itself but you can’t because you’re not carrying an instrument of death.”

“An instrument of death?” I mocked.

“Fine,” he sulked. “Do your usual and show up unprepared.”

Sighing, because I knew he was right, I pulled one of the canisters of poisonous gas out of the box in the glove compartment and slipped it into my pocket, thinking it would be less likely to attract attention than a syringe.

I skirted around the crowd that was forming in the east parking lot. The group carried picket signs like the one Katie had been helping Aunt Leslie make the night before. The one that was responsible for the glitter in my hair.

“I’m not expecting violence,” I reminded him as I walked toward the hospital’s entrance.

“You never are,” he countered. “That’s why it’s called unexpected violence.”

“Maggie!” a gravelly voice called.

Turning, I found my favorite crime reporter striding toward me. I forced myself to smile at him. “Hey, Jack. Everything okay?”

“So much for doing recon under the radar,” God muttered. “The Dudley Do Good of reporting spotted you.”

“I’m here to cover the picketers,” Jack explained, pointing toward the crowd.

“It’s not against the law for them to protest,” I reminded him testily. “At least for as long as the Supreme Court upholds the First Amendment.”

His gaze narrowed thoughtfully. “No, it’s not. Same amendment gives me the right to report on what they do. What are you doing here?”

“There’s a fundraising meeting for this 5k that Susan roped me into doing.” It was an honest answer, I just left out the part of using it as an excuse to figure out how to kill a man.

“I’ve heard about that. It’s a good cause,” he approved. Then, as though he realized who he was talking to, he stammered awkwardly, “Of course…of course you, you of all people, know the good work they do in that wing.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time there,” I acknowledged. “I’ve really got to go.”

“Yeah, sure, go,” he urged. Turning on his heel, he strode toward the growing crowd of protestors.

Not wanting to arouse suspicions, I checked in with security and waited for an elevator. I concentrated on keeping a pleasant expression on my face as I focused on breathing. I wanted to look relaxed and approachable, not like someone who was plotting a murder.

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