The Hitwoman and the Flash Mob: A Comical Crime Caper -- Book 40 Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman by Lynn JB

Author:Lynn, JB [Lynn, JB]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-09T06:00:00+00:00

19

“This doesn’t look like much of a secret lair,” I told Patrick.

We’d parked on a nondescript suburban street and were now creeping around the backyard of the most boring house in the neighborhood. We’d left the Doberman in the car.

Ignoring me, Patrick marched up to the back door, jiggled the handle, and pulled a lock-picking tool out of his back pocket.

“That man is prepared,” God approved. “He’s got the right equipment and I have no doubt he’s packing.”

“I’m armed,” I whispered defensively.

“Only because he gave you the gun,” the lizard retorted.

There was a satisfying click. Patrick turned the handle and pushed open the door.

“C’mon,” he said, waving me toward him. “Let’s see if we can find the ring.”

I followed him into the house. We moved past a laundry area and into the kitchen. The smell emanating from an overflowing trash can made me hold my nose.

God gagged. “It smells like something died.”

We hurried out of the kitchen into a living room. A giant television screen covered an entire wall. Empty energy drink cans were strewn across the floor. A gaming chair, the seat and headrest worn bare from use faced an oversized computer monitor. Piles of comics covered a bridge table wedged into a corner.

“Charming place,” I murmured.

“Where would you hide it?” Patrick asked.

“Sock drawer!” God yelled. “People always hide things in sock drawers, which is odd when you think about how often socks get lost.”

Ignoring the lizard, I told Patrick, “It would be helpful to know why the ring is so important.”

Patrick tilted his head but remained silent.

“Maybe under his mattress?” I suggested.

“Sock drawer,” God insisted.

“Or his sock drawer,” I added grudgingly.

“I’ll check them out.” Patrick hurried away.

While he searched the bedroom of Brent Davis, I wandered over to the comic-laden table.

“You’re not exactly tearing the place apart,” God commented.

I shrugged. “I’m not feeling terribly motivated. I don’t know why the ring is important and Patrick wouldn’t tell me who was in the red Corvette.”

“Somebody that alarmed him. He seemed pretty panicked.”

I nodded. “But why?”

“He’s a cop and a part-time assassin, he’s got to have his share of enemies.”

“Maybe—” I began. Hearing the scraping sound of a key being inserted into a lock, I fell silent.

“Hide!” God urged.

I made a mad dash for the kitchen as the front door of the house began to swing open.

“No games,” a man commanded gruffly.

“No games,” another man agreed weakly.

Peeking around the corner into the living room, I spotted Brent Davis, hands raised overhead, shuffling forward. His eyes were round with terror.

Behind him, a bigger man, who looked like he’d had his nose broken a half dozen times, casually brandished a gun. “Where is it?”

“Kit—kitchen,” Brent stammered fearfully.

“Excellent hiding place you chose,” God whispered.

Ignoring him, I backed up, grabbed a kitchen chair, and hefted it overhead.

“You do remember you have a gun, right?” God asked.

Nodding, I pressed my back against the wall so that when the two men entered, I wouldn’t be seen.

“A gun is a more efficient weapon,” God continued.

I held my breath as Brent Davis stumbled into the room.

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