Kills Well with Others

Four women assassins, senior in status--and in age--sharpen their knives for another bloody good adventure in this riotous follow-up to the After more than a year of laying low, Billie, Helen, Mary Alice, and Natalie are called back into action. They have enjoyed their time off, but the lack of excitement is starting to chafe: a professional killer can only take so many watercolor classes and yoga sessions without itching to strangle someone...literally. When they receive a call from the head of the elite assassin organization known as the Museum, they are ready tackle the greatest challenge of their careers. Someone on the inside has compiled a list of important kills committed by Museum agents, connected to a single, shadowy figure, an Eastern European gangster with an iron fist, some serious criminal ambition, and a tendency to kill first and ask questions later. ;This new nemesis is murdering agents who got in the way of their power hungry plans and the aging quartet of killers is next. Together the foursome embark on a wild ride across the globe on the double mission of rooting out the Museum’s mole and hunting down the gangster who seems to know their next move before they make it. Their enemy is unlike any they’ve faced before, and it will take all their killer experience to get out of this mission alive.

Autorentext

Deanna Raybourn

Klappentext

*“Much like fine wine, battle-hardened assassins grow better with age.”—#1 New York Times* bestselling author Lisa Gardner

Four women assassins, senior in status—and in age—sharpen their knives for another bloody good adventure in this riotous follow-up to the New York Times bestselling sensation Killers of a Certain Age.**

After more than a year of laying low, Billie, Helen, Mary Alice, and Natalie are called back into action. They have enjoyed their time off, but the lack of excitement is starting to chafe: a professional killer can only take so many watercolor classes and yoga sessions without itching to strangle someone...literally. When they receive a summons from the head of the elite assassin organization known as the Museum, they are ready tackle the greatest challenge of their careers.

Someone on the inside has compiled a list of important kills committed by Museum agents, connected to a single, shadowy figure, an Eastern European gangster with an iron fist, some serious criminal ambition, and a tendency to kill first and ask questions later. This new nemesis is murdering agents who got in the way of their power hungry plans and the aging quartet of killers is next.

Together the foursome embark on a wild ride across the globe on the double mission of rooting out the Museum’s mole and hunting down the gangster who seems to know their next move before they make it. Their enemy is unlike any they’ve faced before, and it will take all their killer experience to get out of this mission alive.

Leseprobe
Chapter One

April 1982

"Billie, you have a run in your stocking. Again." Helen's voice is cool as she hands over an unopened package of fishnets. "Have my spares." Billie has been in this position before and knows better than to argue with Helen's eye for detail.

"Just like the last time," Billie says with a grin.

She changes stockings and shimmies back into her costume. "I think I'm going to have to burn my feminist card when this is done," Billie says as she tweaks her Bunny ears in the mirror. Three months of working undercover at the Playboy Club and her blue satin ears are still a constant source of irritation.

Mary Alice, sitting next to her in the dressing room, purses her mouth as she flicks black eyeliner into a sharp wing. She moves back, admiring the effect. "I kind of like it."

"That's because you don't need to stuff your damned bra," Natalie counters from the other side of the room. The lower half of the corseted costumes are altered to slim the waist, elongating the legs and making the hips appear fuller. But the cups only come in 34 or 36D, forcing most of the Bunnies to augment their curves with whatever is lying around-gym socks, fresh maxi pads. Billie needs only a powder puff of a Bunny tail in each cup, while Helen requires a rolled gym sock and Natalie needs three pairs of pantyhose. Mary Alice, whose resemblance to Marilyn Monroe has been deliberately heightened by lightening her hair with a platinum rinse, is the only one of the four whose seams have had to be reinforced. Makeup finished, she stands, straightening the little starched collar and cuffs that finish off the uniform. Like everything else in the club, the costumes-witty and modern twenty years before-are now seedy and tired. The club has been refurbished in an attempt to make it relevant again, but a long decade has passed since it was anything but tacky. The veneer of forced, flirty fun is wearing thin, and they are tired of smiling at the same jokes, ignoring the same worn-out come-ons.

For three months they have carried drinks and sold cigarettes and checked coats. Every shift they have come prepared, ready to carry out their mission, and every shift they have clocked out with aching feet and a rising rage that they have to repeat the cycle all over again. Billie hardly remembers a time she wasn't schlepping drinks with a perky smile. Their current target is the nephew of a Toronto gangster, heir apparent to his uncle's crew. The gangster is happy with his protection racket and gambling, but the nephew is ambitious, pushing the gang into drugs and underage prostitution. He likes violence for its own sake, and his plan is to expand into Chicago, upsetting the status quo.

The old man visits Chicago every few months and he brings the nephew with him, making the rounds of his connections, renewing contacts, smoothing the way for the succession. In his prime, he was a keyholder, dining at the club every night, harassing the girls and paying off the bouncers to look the other way. He's trained the nephew well. The younger man grins as they make their way to the table and he sees a new server approaching. This one has ash blond hair brushing her shoulders, a mouth with a tiny scar just above the top lip, and an ass he'd like to get to know better. He drops a casual hand to her hip as she takes the drink order and watches her reaction. She's good; she almost masks the flinch but not completely, and this is the part he likes best-when they realize he can touch them and there's nothing they can do about it. He relaxes back into his chair and bobs his head to the music as the server slips out of his grasp and heads to the bar to put in the order. She's got a small smile set on her lips and so he has no idea what she's really thinking.

It's only when she turns her back that the smile drops. Mary Alice slides up to Billie after Billie relates the order to the bartender. "How's our boy?" Mary Alice asks.

"Peachy. He copped a feel and smells like a bottle of Drakkar Noir threw up on him," Billie tells her. "Just once, I'd like to kill a gentleman."

"If they were gentlemen, they probably wouldn't need killing."

Mary Alice puts in her own order and turns to scan the room. It's a slow night, with less than half of the tables occupied. To make it seem like the place is swinging, the music has been turned up and the lights down. Olivia Newton-John is blaring from the speakers, wanting to get physical.

Near the entrance, Helen is working the coat check. Her job is to remove the EpiPen that the nephew's bodyguard carries in his overcoat, substituting it with the one they've prepared specially. According to the dossier they've received, the nephew is highly allergic to peanuts. The plan is to induce an allergy attack, mild enough not to kill, but severe enough to require the EpiPen.

Instead of epinephrine, the pen he will use has been loaded with a m…