Fields' Guide to Assassins by Julie Mulhern

Author:Julie Mulhern [Mulhern, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery.Cozy Mystery
ISBN: 1230002515144
Google: j7ZGuwEACAAJ
Amazon: B07H19BCJH
Goodreads: 41581178
Publisher: J&M Press
Published: 2018-09-24T22:00:00+00:00

Twelve

I settled into the passenger’s seat of Jake’s car and stowed the battered laptop at my feet.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Jake locked the car doors and left me there. He disappeared inside the building.

I sat, my eyelids at half-mast, almost too tired to move.

A nearby train roared through the night and the air vibrated with the violence of its passing. I closed my eyes all the way and thought about the crate of ball bearings, wires tangled across the scarred desk, and the misery they promised.

Tap, tap.

I jumped.

Jake stood by the window. “What’s the code?”

“The code?”

“To close the door.”

“Eleven, thirteen, fifteen.”

He stared at me for a long second, then turned on his heel, returned to the metal door, and punched in the numbers.

A moment later, Jake climbed into the car and wrapped his fingers around the wheel.

I waited for him to start the engine, but he didn’t move.

“You killed a man with a pen.” He didn’t look at me. Instead he stared out into the darkness.

“It was him or me.”

“What did you do to the other guy?”

“He’s dead, too?” My stomach sank.

“Yeah.”

The laptop at my feet drew my gaze.

Jake’s gaze followed mine. “You’re kidding. You beat him to death with a computer?”

“I hit him on the head.” Four times. “Can we go now? Please?”

Jake started the car and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “I have to make a call.”

“Whatever.” I was too tired to care what he did as long as he got me as far away as possible from the men I’d killed.

With the phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder, Jake put the car in reverse. “We have a problem.” He glanced my way and a grimace darkened his features. “She’s with me. She’s fine.” That was debatable. “She says she saw Ahmed Badawi and—”

Jake listened.

“Yes, sir. Ahmed Badawi. She killed two of Badawi’s men and the place where they were keeping her—”

He shifted to drive and merged into traffic. “Yes, sir. She killed them.”

A driver in a beat-up Renault honked at us.

Jake swerved. “I’m sure they’re dead, sir.” He glanced my way a second time. “I’m bringing her in.”

I closed my eyes.

“The place where they were holding her—” Jake’s voice seemed to come from a great distance “—we need a team there as soon as possible.”

The seats of Jake’s car felt like heaven—soft leather, lumbar support, heated—so much like heaven I couldn’t worry about whatever was coming next.

“They were making suicide vests.”

I’d heard enough. More death was more than I could handle. I leaned my head against the window and let my exhausted body drift to sleep.

“Poppy, wake up. We’re here.”

“Stop poking me.” I opened my eyes. Jake had parked in an enclosed courtyard. “Where are we?”

“Neuilly sur Seine.”

I was so not in the mood for the suburbs. “What are we doing here?”

“Someone’s cranky.”

“I’m entitled.” I was so entitled. “Why aren’t we at the Ritz?”

“We’re at a safe house.” That didn’t exactly answer my question.

“Why?” I insisted.

“Mr. Brown wants to talk to you.

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