My Heroes Have Always Been Hitmen (Humorous Romantic Shorts) (Greatest Hits Mysteries) (6 page)

That
's right, I was plain. I wasn't a looker like my mother, and I didn't have my father's handsome features. My parents always worried about this (and Gaul was merciless), but I always sort of embraced it. I liked being an assassin. Being average looking made things so much easier. No one could remember my face. I didn't stand out.

Unlike my female cousins, I didn
't care about getting married or even having lovers. Okay, so maybe it would be nice to fall in love someday—but I wasn't obsessed with it or anything. I liked who I was, and I liked living at home and looking after Father.

It was still late morning when I slipped out of the inn, keeping to the walls as I worked the streets in a circular movement. The brothels and gambling dens wouldn
't be open yet, but I had to get my bearings. Making note of the side streets and alleys that connected to my hotel, I radiated outwards until I'd exhausted the red light district. Gaul wouldn't be awake yet, wherever he was. There was very little chance I'd run into him. Still, I had a small drawing of him to show people, should I need it. It was a good likeness of him. Art was kind of my thing when I wasn't killing people. Even assassins needed hobbies in the down time between jobs.

Once I
'd made a map in my mind of the area, I headed back to the inn for food and rest. I had completed step two—figuring out my surroundings—and it gave me a strong sense of satisfaction. But I needed some down time to digest it all. Back in my room, my mind again wandered to the task at hand—killing my brother for my family.

I was getting used to the idea now, and t
hat bothered me a little. No matter how much I scoured my memories, I found it difficult to come up with a reason why Gaul should continue living. To my surprise, I realized now that the Council was right. How long had it taken them to make this decision? As harsh as Grandmother was, I'd like to believe it wasn't an easy choice.

No,
Gaul had forced their hand. It was what any other family would be faced with if harboring a murderer. Except that other families could turn the killer in for justice to be done. My family had their own thoughts about how to handle it. We took care of it ourselves.

Would future generations hate me for what I now knew I had to do? I hoped not. The image of my brother killing that poor, helpless girl loomed heavily in my thoughts. Allowing this to go on would only make things worse for all of us. What he
'd done was wrong. Monstrous. And I believed I was ready to do my job.

I needed to h
ead out again and figure out where Gaul was staying. I tied my purse onto my belt, stowed the drawing of my brother into my toga, and ventured back out.

The trick to making inquiries is to make the person you ask forget what you asked
, and that you asked it, immediately after. This was not easy to do. Money helped loosen lips, but it also made you memorable. Show too much money, and it made you a memorable target. Too little, and word spread that you didn't know what you were doing. It was a seemingly impossible task but one we were trained for. I liked these "invisibility" lessons as a child. It didn't work on a group of Bombays, but, on any street in Rome, I could ask directions and make you forget you'd even given them to me.

I had to get back to work.
Time was on my side. Gaul didn't know about the order against him and likely wouldn't find out for a bit. So my next goal was to figure out where he might stay and the places he would most likely be.

I started with the brothels, hoping I could recognize the women who
'd accosted my father and me in the streets, complaining of abuse by Gaul.

"
Hey boy!" a woman with brashly bleached blonde hair called to me. I nodded and slouched over to her.

"
Looking for some company kid?" Up close, the woman was slathered with garish makeup in order to cover a seriously ugly face. I wondered if that worked for her.

I shook my head
. "No ma'am. I'm looking for someone. I have a message for him from a senator."

That gave the woman pause
, and she nodded. The word "senator"' meant "be discreet and forget I said this." I shoved my drawing of Gaul toward her trying to emulate a clumsy youth.

The woman shrank back.
"Oh. HIM," she said with an ugly sneer. "I don't do anything for him. He's a nasty one. Try the gambling house." She pointed out the way and shrank back from me with a shudder. Another victim of Gaul. The prostitute would try to forget me like a bad memory as soon as I left.
Good
.

I headed toward the gambling house. The shadows of the afternoon were lengthening
against the white, marble pillars. Gaul would be on the prowl soon. I needed to spot him from a distance. He'd certainly recognize me. And that I couldn't have.

No matter what happened, I couldn
't forget that Gaul had had the same training as I did. He'd notice someone following him. That was how we were taught. He may be fearless, but he wasn't stupid. Most of our victims had no idea a contract had even been taken out on them until we snuck up behind them and bashed them over the head. This time, the prey I was hunting was more aware than usual. I'd have to be very careful.

The gambling den was in an open building
, and I circled it before entering. There were several exits, of course. People would want to have a number of escape routes should they be caught in the act by parents, spouses, or someone they owed money to.

I was wary. The job wouldn
't be this easy. It would be unusual if Gaul were actually inside. Bombays didn't rely on coincidence or serendipity. In fact, we didn't trust those things because most of the time, they'll kill you. I waited a few moments and entered.

Noise assaulted me as I moved inside
—people shouting insults, placing bets, making bawdy jokes. Cruel remarks aimed at me and anyone else bounced around the atmosphere. It was a cold and unforgiving place.
Perfect.

I skirted the walls, trying to get my bearings. So this was what people did when they wanted to throw away their money. Red-faced men full of wine argued with each other as cheaply made up prostitutes plied their trade. I didn
't see Gaul on my first pass, and that was okay. I wasn't really prepared to do anything. I had no knife or other weapons, but killing him here would be fairly easy. Tempers flared all around me as people lost their money and their heads.

I was just getting ready to leave when I
heard shouting coming from a small room I hadn't noticed before. I crept to the doorway and peered inside.

There were only two men in the room. A short, portly man in purple senatorial robes, and the man who was beating the crap out of him…my brother, Gaul Bombay.

"I don't have your money!" the fat man gasped between blows to his head. He was in pretty bad shape. A couple of more punches might kill him.

Gaul
sneered, "Then I'll kill you, old man!" He pulled back his arm, and I saw the trajectory of his blow. Gaul was going for a kill shot to the throat. Without thinking, I grabbed his arm and yanked him out of the room.

My brother spun on me with a furious look. It took a few seconds for hi
m to realize who I was. Then someone down the hall began screaming, and I knew it was time to go.

"
This way!" He roughly grabbed my arm and dragged me out a side exit and into the street. We didn't stop running until we came to a narrow, dead-end alley with a nondescript door. Gaul opened the door and pushed me inside.

"
What are you doing here, Cas?" His voice was filled with naked hostility. Anyone who didn't know him would be terrified. And, years ago, that would've included me.

"
Piss off, Gaul!" I shrugged loose of his grip. "What the hell were you doing back there? You were going to kill that man. He's a senator! What's wrong with you?"

Gaul
narrowed his eyes at me, sizing me up. He said nothing as he went to a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of wine. He poured a glass for himself and drained it quickly. I looked around and realized that he lived here. There were few items that Gaul was never without—his lucky chisel (Don't ask.) and a bronze cup he'd had since he was a child. These were sitting on a shelf not far from me. I also noticed that he'd pilfered one of Father's miniature badgers and had decapitated it.

Other than that
, the apartment was small but clean. Why did he live here, off this anonymous little alley? He had enough money to buy a villa.

"
That," Gaul finally said during the break that it took to pour himself another glass of wine, "is none of your business. What I want to know is why you're here in the first place."

I rolled my eyes
. "Well clearly," I said pointing at the single glass of wine, "it isn't for your hospitality."

"
Is it Father?" Gaul's eyes flashed with anger and then went cold. He asked, almost bored, "Is he dead?"

I felt my anger swelling. He was such a bastard. If Father was dead, he clearly didn
't care about it.

"
No," I said evenly, "Father isn't dead. Not that you care about us."

Gaul
shrugged. "I just thought maybe there'd be an inheritance or something."

That
's when it hit me. The small, hidden apartment. Beating a man to death (well, trying to) over money. Gaul was broke. And he was hiding out from the law. It was inconceivable to me that he had burned through all of his funds. Maybe the Council had cut him off?

"
You're broke," I said as a statement of fact. "You've gambled and whored away all of your money. That's why you live here."

His eyes flickered with mild surprise.
"Why yes. You've figured it out. I have nothing."

He continued to pour himself more wine, ignoring the fact that I was something of a guest.
"The fucking Council has cut me off. Those bastards. I really should kill them all."

I froze to the spot
. I looked into his dead eyes, eyes that had always frightened me and worried my parents, and realized he just might do it. Gaul said it casually, but in my heart at that moment, I knew. Gaul was thinking about wiping out the Council.

"
You wouldn't!" I said, wishing I hadn't. Of course he would. Why did I even say that?

My brother nodded
. "I've thought about it. No one would miss those dried up prunes anyway."

I could kill him now, I thought. No one would be able to trace it back to me. The Council would be pleased. His body wouldn
't be found for days. Gaul had so many enemies, the authorities wouldn't even try hard to solve the case.

"
Maybe you'd want in on that action?" Gaul was grinning evilly at me. "Maybe you'd want to be the one who plunges the knife into Grandmother's heart? She's never been that nice to either one of us."

He was baiting me
, and I tried not to let revulsion show on my face. Gaul wasn't just tormenting me like he did when we were kids. He was trying to decipher my loyalties with a dangerous trap. If I reacted negatively, he would probably try to kill me and take whatever money I had. If I responded positively, chances were he wouldn't buy it.

Gaul
was on his guard here. Trying to take him out right now would be almost impossible. It would be two Bombays fighting against each other—two Bombays who had trained side-by-side and knew each other's strengths and weaknesses. I'd walked into a trap.

The only advantage I had was that
Gaul didn't know about my assignment. The disadvantage was that now I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my brother would not hesitate to kill me or any of us for his own gain.

"
I'm leaving." I shrugged—trying to re-create my nonchalant actions when he'd annoyed me in the past. The trouble was, I was shaking. "You're a dick, and I'm gone."

It took everything I had to turn my back to him and walk calmly to the door. My senses were heightened to the highest level of awareness. Somehow, I made myself put one foot in front of the other until I was out the door and out of the alley
. Then, I ran.

Back in my room at the inn, I paced the floor, shaking with rage and fear. Why hadn
't Gaul attacked me? He'd practically laid out a plan to kill the Council, and I'd rejected it. Didn't he know I was dangerous?

Hmmm…maybe not.
Gaul's arrogance had always seen me as his useless little sister. Maybe that was why I'd been able to leave? If that was the case, could I exploit that to my advantage?

And what about the Council
? I needed to warn them. They'd be angry that I hadn't finished him off on the spot. But then, they weren't there. If they'd seen his eyes…

I needed to calm down. And I needed a plan that would be more than just one step…

"Father?" I shouted once I crossed the threshold to the house. There was no answer. I ran through the home, checking every room. Nothing. My heart was pounding. If my brother so much as touched a hair on our father's head, I'd kill him with my bare hands.