Free Stand By Your Hitman by Leslie Langtry

assignment, we act upon it from a distance. We rarely know much more about the Vic than his dossier.
    In this case, I was spending 24/7 with Vic. Hell, I was catching and cooking fish for him! That had to be a first. And it was going to be a lot harder.
    The rest of the group seemed to interpret my silence as dealing with the pain or not feeling well. The spa staff had fed us fruits and finger sandwichesfor dinner, so there wasn’t much to do when we got back to camp.
    I sat down on the mat in the shelter and suddenly felt dizzy. My hand started to throb beneath the bandage. The ibuprofen must have been wearing off. I lay down and started to force myself to sleep. Somewhere in the night, someone put some fronds over me and whispered, “Good night, Missi.” Either someone smoothed my hair, or I was hallucinating. It didn’t really matter either way.
    The next morning found me wandering off into the jungle to see if I could find any fruit other than coconut. My hand was a little sore and I needed some alone time away from my team.
    Remember when I said I didn’t know how I’d react to being around a group of strangers constantly? Well, it’s pretty damned exhausting. Especially when I’m the one who always seems to make things happen.
    The other thing was that I was missing my boys. At first I thought some time off from being a mom would be great. But honestly, I hadn’t really been away from them all that much. And soon, they’d be heading off to college. There was a blind sense of panic washing over me as I realized that this would be what the future holds. Once they went off to school, it would take a miracle (or at least the promise of greasy food and for me to be their personal maid) to lure them back. And I’d have the condo all to myself.
    I shrugged off my homesickness. My alone timewouldn’t last much longer and I did need to get some food. Spotting a mango tree, I pushed all thoughts of Monty and Jack from my brain.
    I was just reaching up to grasp a large fruit when it just plopped into my hand. Did I just imagine it, or did I hear someone say, “Mom”? I must have an infection . I examined my bandaged hand, but it didn’t seem to be swollen or seeping. I reached up and grabbed another mango and thought I heard it again.
    This time, I looked around. I’d have bet it was those cameramen, messing with me. But I didn’t see anyone. Just a couple of howler monkeys, and I could do without them.
    Have I mentioned that I’m not fond of monkeys? I mean, they’re okay, but there’s something about them that bothers me. Some people are afraid of the dark, others are afraid of clowns. My irrational fear is more like a nails-on-chalkboard kind of thing. I can’t stand pictures of monkeys dressed as people. Especially chimps. I don’t know why, but it makes me want to gag. I once threw up in a spectacular, Technicolor fashion when my college roommate papered my walls with a “Chimps of the Office” calendar for my birthday. Let’s just say she was not as amused as she thought she’d be.
    “Mom!” a voice called rather urgently, causing me to drop my mangoes.
    “Hello?” I said, staring around me. That’s it. I’ve lost it. Completely lost my mind. And on a cheap, Canadian knockoff of Survivor , no less. I knew this day wascoming. I just hoped it would be sooner than later. Not that I’d be the first Bombay to flip out. My great-great-great grandma told everyone that sunflowers yelled at her all the time and developed a scorched earth policy on all flowers. Hell of an assassin, though. She once took out a Russian hitman with one finger. No lie.
    “Jeez, Mom! Up here!” The voice was louder now. I guess everyone has a breaking point. Apparently mine involved a piranha named Bob.
    Something began to unfold from a branch above me. It only took seconds for me to recognize Monty, hanging upside down from the mango tree. Oh. So I’m not crazy. Huh .
    “What are you doing here?” I whispered loudly at