'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy (27 page)

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Authors: Leslie Langtry

BOOK: 'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy
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I pushed the button and we listened. It was Richie’s line. And he was in mid conversation.
“It was so easy. That bitch Gin is so stupid. She didn’t even know I was following her.” My mind rewound to that night in Vic’s house when I had seen a man in the den. “It was so easy to tell Turner she was an assassin and convince him to go to her house.” I thought about Diego. “But setting up Dak was the best idea I’ve had yet!”
Liv pushed the save button and stopped it. “We need this, Gin. To play for the Council.” She was right in thinking I was about to destroy the damned thing.
“It was Richie?” I squeaked. “How could I be so stupid?”
How did I get so lucky?
“Dak, delete the photos of you from the memory card but keep the family pictures. In fact, download them onto my laptop. Liv, you don’t have to go with us. You have your own family to think about.”
Liv shook her head violently as Dak plugged the stick into the computer. “I’m going with you. How do I know they won’t do this to me next time?”
I looked at her. It was a wonderful sentiment, but I didn’t want anything to happen to her. Besides, if I failed, I needed someone to finish the job—you know, avenge me and all that crap. I was about to protest when she nodded at me defiantly. Fine. There would be three of us. That would be enough for the punishment I would mete out to Richie and the Council. Now I just needed a plan.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“
Assassination has never changed the history of the world.”
—
Benjamin Disraeli
 
 
The doorbell rang. I didn’t even have to look at the monitors to know that Carolina Bombay was standing on my porch. Why was it I could always sense when she was going to call, or show up, or embarrass me in an Italian restaurant?
“Mom.” I swung the door open. “Go home.”
She pushed past me. “Like hell I will! It’s my fault Romi’s gone!”
Okay. She had me there. Not that I think she willingly served Romi up with a smile and even offered gas money to the kidnappers, but I did want to know what had happened.
So, Mom and I joined Liv and Dak in the kitchen.
“It was Lou,” Mom started. “I always hated that son-of-a-bitch.” This kind of salty language raised my eyebrows, but I didn’t interrupt.
She took a long drink of beer, and I thought that hell must truly have frozen over, but I still didn’t interrupt. “I answered the door and he came in, telling me you were in trouble with the Council, Gin. Your father was out walking Poppy, and Romi and I were making Halloween cookies—she said she needed them for school.” I winced, silently vowing to stop Vivian once and for all when this was over.
“I shouldn’t have turned my back on him,” she continued. “That’s when he got me. He always was a backstabber. Never could look you in the face, the slimy old fart.” She took another drink of beer, draining the bottle. “When I came to, Romi was gone and there was a note saying the Council was taking her. So what I want to know is, what the hell is going on and when are we leaving to get my granddaughter?”
I looked at my mother. In her white blouse with a Peter Pan collar and long denim jumper, she looked like she belonged in a Hallmark ad. No one would ever suspect she was the woman who once had taken out a whole drug cartel in Colombia. In one sitting, no less.
“Mom,” I said, “you can’t go with us. Dak, Liv and I are going.”
Liv piped up, “I’m going to call Paris. That’ll be four of us.”
Dak nodded. “Really, Mom. You need to stay here.”
Suddenly, the Hallmark ad got scary as Mom’s face turned grim. “Tell me what’s going on.”
So we told her. Come on. You can’t lie to your mother about a thing like this. And we really didn’t want her to go.
“If Richie’s behind this, I’ll bet Lou’s involved too,” Mom said quietly. “No one takes my granddaughter and lives.”
I shuddered. My own mom creeped me out. Even with the Mary Englebreit wardrobe. Or maybe because of the Mary Englebreit wardrobe.
“I don’t care if anyone else is involved. You’re staying here.” Have you ever tried to go up against your mother? Well, it ain’t easy. But I put on my Sunday best steely resolve and stared her down.
Carolina looked at each of us for a moment, then sighed. “Fine. But if anything goes wrong, I’m taking them all out Painfully. Slowly. Real Spanish Inquisition-like.” Something in her voice gave me involuntary shivers. But I nodded and Mom finally left.
She wasn’t gone ten minutes before the doorbell rang again. I rolled my eyes, but Liv caught me.
“It’s Paris.” She answered the door and then there were four of us.
Granted, we weren’t the Magnificent Seven, but I thought we’d do all right. After all, we were younger and stronger than the Council. And a five-to-four ratio was pretty good odds. We sat down and started working out our plan.
An hour later, we took a break, and the others went home to get their gear, flashlights, guns and anything else they would need for the trip. Liv arranged for a private jet out of St. Louis so we wouldn’t be tracked. Troy had hacked into all of the airlines’ systems a few years back, so they’d be watching for us. And something told me that airport security would be a bit concerned to see four of us dressed ninja-style and armed to the gills with more weapons than you’d find at a Hezbollah-Hamas ice cream social.
I got dressed quickly, then hit my lab to get my Glock .45. As I closed the door, I looked down the hall at Romi’s room and my blood chilled. I took one look inside, taking in the pink and purple room filled with stuffed animals, toys and books. On her dresser, I spotted an old picture of Ed. My throat closed up and started to ache. She had been just a baby when he died. It would’ve killed him to know who I was and what Romi was supposed to become.
Romi had never known her father. But this photo had a place of honor in her room. I blinked back the tears and looked at the ceiling, wondering how in the hell I was going to pull this off. As I closed the door, I hoped that Ed would forgive me for all I’d done and for what I was about to do.
The doorbell rang as I hit the first floor and I answered it without checking the monitors, figuring it was Dak, Liv or Paris. Imagine my shock when I found Diego standing there.
He looked me up and down. I must have been a weird sight, decked out in black from head to toe.
“Going somewhere?” he asked calmly, but I thought I detected something else in his voice.
“Diego, if you’ve come back to put more salt in the wound, I’d tell you I deserved it and open another vein for you to use. But this is a bad time.”
He pushed past me into the hallway. “No, Gin. I just wanted to talk.”
I was at a loss for words. It never occurred to me I’d see him again.
“I’m sorry, Diego, for everything. I never should have said those rotten things. I really didn’t set you up. I would never do that to you. I meant it when I said I love you. But I completely understand how you must feel.” My words came out Gatling-gun style.
“I didn’t come here to yell at you or lecture you,” he said slowly. “I came back because I want to try to understand this. I didn’t think you really meant what you said.”
The tears started, and I couldn’t stop them. That’s right, I was a crybaby assassin. And this was the right conversation, just at the wrong time. My relationship with Diego had to take a backseat to the life of my daughter.
“Diego, it’s Romi. The Council has her at Santa Muerta. They won’t hurt her if I turn Dak over to them.” I ran my fingers through my hair as if that would make any of this easier. Actually, all it did was mess up my hair.
He stopped sharply, his face stony and hard. “What do you mean, they took Romi?”
I managed to fill him in before the others arrived. Once they saw Diego, Liv and Dak waved sheepishly at him, fumbling out a greeting. There were some awkward introductions once Paris arrived.
“So, you’re all assassins?” he asked solemnly. Not knowing what else to do, Liv, Paris and Dak nodded.
Diego looked at our clothes. “I’m going with you.”
I wanted him to. I mean, I really, really wanted him to. But it didn’t seem right for an outsider to get mixed up in the Bombay mess.
I shook my head. “No. You can’t. You’re not even supposed to know any of this stuff. They’ll kill you just for being an outsider.”
Diego placed his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I’m going with you. No one messes with my family.”
Had he just said we were his family? I toyed with swooning, but there was no time.
“I’m going,” he repeated. “Don’t even try to talk me out of it.”
“Okay,” I finally agreed.
The five of us piled into my minivan (sounds like the beginning of a joke,
Four assassins and a bodyguard get into a minivan ..
. ) and drove to Diego’s hotel, where he changed into dark clothing. The others accepted Diego’s presence with a sort of awe. I figured it was hard for them to imagine an outsider wanting to get involved. And it brought the ratio to one to one.
It took us a couple of hours to get to St. Louis. During that time, Dak filled Diego in on the island, the Council, and the most embarrassing stories he could think of regarding my childhood. You’d think there’d be a statute of limitations on how much mileage you can get out of a story where I ran naked through the streets at age six with a cereal bowl on my head.
Somehow, during this trip, we managed to come up with a cunning plan. We boarded our private jet, freaking out the pilot. We were delayed a few moments while we reassured him we weren’t terrorists, ninjas, monochromatic mimes or anarchist beatnik poets. We knew what we had to do. But best of all, Diego was there, rushing into the fray alongside us, to save a little girl he considered family. Sigh.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“I’ve got a cunning plan
...”
—Baldric,
Blackadder
 
 
We landed in Ecuador at eight a.m. It didn’t take long to find a speedboat to take us to Santa Muerta. We didn’t rent it, just bought it outright, as there was the slight chance it might be destroyed in the rescue. I still wasn’t convinced that there wasn’t an explosive device implanted inside me. With my family, you could never be too paranoid.
The trick to landing at Santa Muerta was to enter the island where they wouldn’t expect us. I mean, I knew they were expecting us, but it would be in our best interest to hide from the Council for as long as possible. Paris claimed he knew of a hidden cove near the bungalows, and after we all looked at him curiously, we set out.
By this point, Diego and Dak had become mates, as they say in Australia. I watched the two of them together, marveling at the differences and similarities. Diego was taller and more muscular than my brother. His wavy dark hair stood in contrast to Dak’s blond, prep-school haircut. Diego moved like he’d seen combat, while Dak had a young, cocky self-assurance about him.
And yet, the two got along like twins. Before I started to compare them and feel icky that maybe I was dating a type like my brother, I turned my attention to the island in the distance.
It occurred to me that I’ve never tried to enter Santa Muerta clandestinely before. The island was strewn with booby traps, but as kids, we had played in and around them. Getting past security wasn’t my main concern. It was how we’d pull it off when we got to the main building.
I didn’t want to risk anything happening to Romi. I didn’t think the Council would use her as a human shield, but then I never thought they’d use her as bait either. What had I learned from this mess? Never underestimate your family. Good advice.
I also didn’t want anything to happen to Diego. He was an outsider, and this wasn’t even his fight. Plus, I wanted a future with him. The Council would be much harder on his presence than ours. No one from the outside had ever set foot on the island before. I was breaking every family rule.
Screw the rules. I came here to punish these bastards once and for all. But when it came down to it, would I really kill my own family? Yeah. I could do that. And in my mind’s eye, they asked for it when they took an innocent little girl.
The wind ruffled my hair and the engine roared like it was desperate to see some action too. All five of us stared ahead, frowns of grim determination on our faces.
The family in this boat was what family was about. People who’d lay down their lives for you and yours. People who take care of each other. Not people who plot against each other. Maybe Richie knew a little about what he was doing. I patted my backpack, reassuring myself of the evidence lodged there.
Whoa. What was I thinking? Richie was a good guy? No. He had set up Dak and me to take a fall. He’d plotted to turn the family over to the authorities. But something in his thinking wasn’t so foreign. While I doubted his motive was altruistic in any way, he wanted (for whatever reasons) to break up the family’s vocation of dealing in death.

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