The Hitwoman Gets Lucky (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman) by JB Lynn Read Free Book Online

declared triumphantly.
    “You’ll what?”
    “I’ll ride between your boobs. They’re soft, aren’t they?”
    My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation.
    “Hurry up,” he ordered. “Plop me in there.”
    “You can’t ride between my breasts,” I said in the most reasonable tone I could muster.
    “Why not?”
    “Because.”
    “Because?” he mocked, sneering.
    “Because that sort of thing isn’t done.” I winced as I realized I was parroting a phrase Aunt Susan had subjected me to a million times.
    “Going around killing people for money isn’t done either,” the lizard reminded me.
    “Can’t smile without you…” Armani crooned from the bathroom.
    “If she’s that pitchy when she sings, imagine the noises she makes in the midst of carnal lust. You’ve got to take pity on me.” He hung his head, doing his best to look pathetic.
    “What if you suffocate?” I asked, hating the way my resolve was crumbling.
    “Without youuuuuuuuuu.”
    “If I get into trouble, I’ll bite you,” God pledged solemnly.
    I gnawed on my bottom lip, agonizing over the decision.
    “Hurry,” he begged. “Make up your mind before she comes out again.”
    Shaking my head, knowing I was nuts for doing so, I moved toward his case.  “Remember, this was your idea.”
    I stuck my room key in one cup of my bra, twenty bucks in the other cup, and extended my hand to the lizard. “Be careful in there.”

Chapter Seven
    We never got dinner.
    Armani, who’d apparently done quite well against the slot machines wanted to play a few games of roulette first.
    As far as I could tell, she had no rhyme or reason to her method of betting, just yelling out “red” or “black” as the mood hit her. Then again, it is a game of chance.
    Standing there, watching the roulette wheel spin round and round, I didn’t bet a dollar, despite the urging of the crowd around the table. I fought the urge to fidget as I pretended to be interested in Armani’s gambling. It felt as though a million pairs of eyes were giving me the once over as I stood there in the zebra-print dress that was even shorter than the black dress Patrick liked so much. I desperately wanted to tug down the hem, but there was nowhere for it to go.
    “You’re stifling me,” God complained on a whisper.
    I ignored him
    “You’re crushing me,” he insisted, more loudly.
    Armani, in the midst of scooping her winnings toward her, gave me a strange look. “Are your boobs squeaking?”
    “What?” My face grew hot as everyone in earshot focused on my chest.
    “Are your boobs squeaking?” Her voice carried far enough that people at other tables started staring at me.
    I thought my face might spontaneously combust.
    “I’m going to the ladies’ room,” I told her, tottering away on my high heels.
    “Don’t you dare slouch,” God berated me. “Every time you do, my air supply is cut off.”
    Face burning, breasts chirping, balance teetering, I retreated to the relative calm and quiet of a restroom. Locking myself into a stall, I reached in and pulled the lizard out of his hiding place.
    “Easy! Easy!” he cried. “I have delicate skin.” He balanced on my palm, giving me the evil eye, which wasn’t the slightest bit intimidating considering he’s only inches long.
    I was tempted to drop him in the toilet and let it flush him into the Atlantic, reasoning that my life would be a whole lot easier, not to mention quieter.
    “Either I leave you in the room, or you shut the hell up,” I whispered. “You can’t have it both ways.”
    “I’m bored.”
    “Yeah? Well I’m bored, my feet hurt, and I feel like a t-bone hanging in front of a dog pound.”
    “So let’s go back to the room,” he suggested. “I’ll even let you choose what to watch on television.”
    “I dunno…” His suggestion was tempting.
    “You know she’s going to stay at the that table until her money runs out. Is that really how you want to