Further Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman Read Online Free PDF
Author: JB Lynn
wasn’t alone here.”
“Not!” Doomsday interjected.
“Not what?” God asked.
“She thinks I’m not alone because the two of you are here.”
“She’s right.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A quick glance at the dog revealed that she was grinning from ear to ear (the sight of a Doberman beaming is downright scary if you ask me), obviously pleased that God had said she was right about something.
“Technically . . .” I conceded grudgingly.
“You should get used to the idea.” The lizard climbed back onto his branch and lay down. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Doomsday licked my hand for emphasis.
“Now go to bed. You look exhausted,” God lectured.
Without showering or changing clothes I flopped onto my bed tiredly. Doomsday jumped up and curled against me.
Just then, feeling the warmth of my canine companion and listening to God snore, I’ve got to admit that a strange sense of peace stole over me as I drifted off to sleep.
It wouldn’t last though. All hell was about to break loose.
Chapter Four
I SHOULD HAVE known something was up the moment I walked into Insuring the Future and saw Armani sitting at her desk. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I assured myself that I wasn’t late for work. That meant Armani was on time . . . a few minutes early, in fact. In the entire time I’ve worked at the insurance company, she has shown up late every single day.
Maybe it was Harry’s offer of a free breakfast, but I thought it was more likely the imminent threat of heads rolling that had scared her into acting like a model employee.
“Morning, Chiquita!” she practically chirped as I strolled up to her desk.
“Morning. Meeting start yet?”
“Uh-uh. E-mail sent out this morning says the start’s been delayed by an hour. Think that means Harry’s bailing on the breakfast deal?”
I shook my head. “I think it means he’s fucking with our heads. Showing us who’s in control.”
Nodding, she held out a purple silk bag. “Pick.”
I hesitated. I knew what was in the bag. Scrabble tiles. My partially disabled pal claims to be able to read the future in them, sort of like reading tea leaves.
She shook the bag impatiently.
Sighing, I indulged her, pulling seven tiles from the bag and placing them on her desk. Up until a few weeks ago I would have told you that I didn’t buy into this psychic act at all, but things had changed. I now was open to the possibility that my work friend could catch glimpses of the future. Unfortunately I was just as convinced that her interpretation of those visions was usually way off base.
Shaking her mane of thick, dark hair so that it partially obscured her face, she quickly put them in alphabetical order: DEFIRRU. Pitching her voice deeper, a standard part of her fortune-telling act, she mused, “Eleven. Not such a great number.” She’s also superstitious about the numerical value, as computed by Scrabble tiles, of people’s names and important words or phrases.
Big surprise there. Only an idiot would have suggested that my life was filled with sunshine and roses. Even though Armani knew nothing of my murder-for-hire venture, she was well acquainted with Katie being in the hospital and the car accident that had put her there.
She stared intently at the letters, as though willing them to reveal my future to her.
“Armani, I—”
“Shh!”
I smelled pepperoni a split second before Harry spoke from behind me, “Good morning, ladies.”
“Hey, Harry.” I answered for both of us since Armani was engrossed in her study of the tiles. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Donuts. Could I speak to you for a moment alone, Maggie?”
“Sure.” I tried to catch Armani’s eye as I followed Harry into his office, but she was busy moving the Scrabble pieces around.
The second Harry shut the door to his office, I forgot all about the faux prophecy being dreamed up, because Harry draped an arm around my shoulders. A hot, sweaty, possessive arm. “We
“Not!” Doomsday interjected.
“Not what?” God asked.
“She thinks I’m not alone because the two of you are here.”
“She’s right.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A quick glance at the dog revealed that she was grinning from ear to ear (the sight of a Doberman beaming is downright scary if you ask me), obviously pleased that God had said she was right about something.
“Technically . . .” I conceded grudgingly.
“You should get used to the idea.” The lizard climbed back onto his branch and lay down. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Doomsday licked my hand for emphasis.
“Now go to bed. You look exhausted,” God lectured.
Without showering or changing clothes I flopped onto my bed tiredly. Doomsday jumped up and curled against me.
Just then, feeling the warmth of my canine companion and listening to God snore, I’ve got to admit that a strange sense of peace stole over me as I drifted off to sleep.
It wouldn’t last though. All hell was about to break loose.
Chapter Four
I SHOULD HAVE known something was up the moment I walked into Insuring the Future and saw Armani sitting at her desk. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I assured myself that I wasn’t late for work. That meant Armani was on time . . . a few minutes early, in fact. In the entire time I’ve worked at the insurance company, she has shown up late every single day.
Maybe it was Harry’s offer of a free breakfast, but I thought it was more likely the imminent threat of heads rolling that had scared her into acting like a model employee.
“Morning, Chiquita!” she practically chirped as I strolled up to her desk.
“Morning. Meeting start yet?”
“Uh-uh. E-mail sent out this morning says the start’s been delayed by an hour. Think that means Harry’s bailing on the breakfast deal?”
I shook my head. “I think it means he’s fucking with our heads. Showing us who’s in control.”
Nodding, she held out a purple silk bag. “Pick.”
I hesitated. I knew what was in the bag. Scrabble tiles. My partially disabled pal claims to be able to read the future in them, sort of like reading tea leaves.
She shook the bag impatiently.
Sighing, I indulged her, pulling seven tiles from the bag and placing them on her desk. Up until a few weeks ago I would have told you that I didn’t buy into this psychic act at all, but things had changed. I now was open to the possibility that my work friend could catch glimpses of the future. Unfortunately I was just as convinced that her interpretation of those visions was usually way off base.
Shaking her mane of thick, dark hair so that it partially obscured her face, she quickly put them in alphabetical order: DEFIRRU. Pitching her voice deeper, a standard part of her fortune-telling act, she mused, “Eleven. Not such a great number.” She’s also superstitious about the numerical value, as computed by Scrabble tiles, of people’s names and important words or phrases.
Big surprise there. Only an idiot would have suggested that my life was filled with sunshine and roses. Even though Armani knew nothing of my murder-for-hire venture, she was well acquainted with Katie being in the hospital and the car accident that had put her there.
She stared intently at the letters, as though willing them to reveal my future to her.
“Armani, I—”
“Shh!”
I smelled pepperoni a split second before Harry spoke from behind me, “Good morning, ladies.”
“Hey, Harry.” I answered for both of us since Armani was engrossed in her study of the tiles. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Donuts. Could I speak to you for a moment alone, Maggie?”
“Sure.” I tried to catch Armani’s eye as I followed Harry into his office, but she was busy moving the Scrabble pieces around.
The second Harry shut the door to his office, I forgot all about the faux prophecy being dreamed up, because Harry draped an arm around my shoulders. A hot, sweaty, possessive arm. “We