The Housewife Assassin's Handbook by Josie Brown Read Free Book Online

kept an M&P9 with a silencer between the mattress and the box spring. After slipping it out, I crawled to the terrace door in the master bath. Silently I unlocked it and inched it open—
    The only light I had was coming from the moon, but it was all I needed: there he was, crouching by the back door. As still as he was, though, I had a wide-open shot.
    And that was my dilemma: if I hit him in the head, he would die instantly. Certainly there was some satisfaction in that. But we’d never get our answer as to who killed Carl.
    So instead, I shot him in the leg.
    He grunted loudly and rolled for cover under the picnic table. My second shot ricocheted off one of its planks. 
    He shot back, but it was sloppy. This gave me another chance to wing him, but he had ducked out of the moonlight, and I couldn’t see a thing. Realizing this, his aim suddenly got better. Of course, it helped that he was wearing night goggles. In fact, he was shooting so well that he had me taking cover back through the terrace door…
    Then I heard Trisha crying.
    Damn! Damn! I froze, torn between going to my baby and finishing the job. But what if she woke up Mary and Jeff too? 
    I knew I had to go to her. I rolled back in and locked the door behind me, and flicked the switches on the outside floodlights and the alarm that alerted both the police and Acme.
    I got back to the monitor just in time to see the prowler limping away his right leg dragging. At least he’d have one scar to remember me by. Perhaps that was how I would know him the next time our paths crossed.
    And when that time came, I wouldn’t have to resist the urge to kill him or any of the other bastards who took Carl from me.
    Because I’d be working for Acme.

    “I want in.”
    There. I’d said it. Ryan and I were sitting across the very wide table that spanned Acme’s hermetically sealed conference room. The office is located in one of the many nondescript, mirrored buildings that contribute to the mind-numbing sameness known as Ventura Boulevard. 
    “Hmmm. Well…” His words trailed off, although he did blink. Twice.
    Ha. Considering the grand recruitment speech he’d given me just the week before, I had expected him to do a cartwheel or something.
    At the very least he could crack a smile. 
    Instead, he frowned.
    “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts about the offer! What, have you filled your mommy quota for the month or something?”
    “Part of your charm has always been your sense of humor. No, Donna, we are always on the lookout for good field ops. And quite frankly, I can’t think of a better candidate for what we need. Your ‘mommy’ status is the perfect cover. And the fact that you already know how to shoot is a bonus, but–” He stopped abruptly. “Tell me, Donna: have you ever killed anyone?”
    It was on the tip of my tongue to say that his sudden change in attitude was giving me an itchy trigger finger, but I thought better of it. “No. Why do you ask?”
    “Because once you make the decision to join Acme, there’s no looking back. I just want you to be perfectly sure that you won’t regret the choice you’re about to make.”
    No looking back. No regrets.
    What was there to look back on? Behind me were secrets, heartache, and lies: my mother’s painful illness; my father’s inconsolable remorse; my husband’s double life.
    As for having any regrets, at that very moment I only had one:
    That I didn’t have the skills or the resources to take down Carl’s killers.
    Of course, as an assassin for Acme, I’d have what I’d need to do so. 
    “My bottom line is this, Ryan: I’m not spending the rest of my life as a victim. All I'm asking is that you give me a chance. It's the least you can do.”
    I was almost out the door when I felt his hand on my arm. “Okay, tell you what. Come back tomorrow, say, around ten. I’ll put you on the shooting range to see if you’re as good as Carl claimed. Then we’ll take it from