I’m not staying married to her forever.
But I will keep her around long enough to get her out of whatever this mess is.
“I do,” I assure her with another stroke of my thumb under her eye, and I obviously said that already. “I promise.”
****
NATALIA
Natalia Esposito: still good this AM
X Reyes: ¿casada?
Natalia Esposito: told u that last night
X Reyes: watch ur mouth, perra or I’ll slap the shit out of u next time I see u.
Natalia Esposito: …
Natalia Esposito: sorry
X Reyes: he believes u?
Natalia Esposito: yes
X Reyes: does he sound like he wants to end it yet?
Natalia Esposito: no, he believes the story
Natalia Esposito: says he’s going to help me
Natalia Esposito: going to meet up w/the sisters
X Reyes: good. Get him to take u back to NY
X Reyes: we need Ernesto’s bank info before u get to the job
X Reyes: and find out if the duke still has people watching us
Natalia Esposito: u already told me all this
X Reyes: puta, if u keep mouthing off ur gonna be as dead as he is
Natalia Esposito: sorry
My job is difficult for the first time ever. Because for the first time ever, I have to kill a guy who’s not a greasy, disgusting, violent, rival drug lord, rather this guy is the polar opposite.
This guy is not only muy guapo, he is nice. He’s got manners. He’s funny. Even while drunk and then drugged last night, Joaquin’s simple, gentleman-like kindness never faltered once. In fact, unlike every other target I’ve been assigned, he only got cuter and sweeter and more docile with the more blitzed he became. Every other target before him would make a Hulk-like transformation under the influence of drugs and alcohol. I’ve had the bruises, and black eyes, and broken bones to prove it.
But rather than smacking me around while intoxicated, Joaquin held me close to his side while we staggered from casino to casino and eventually to the little white chapel, all the while repeatedly reassuring me that he was going to protect me from all the sinister darkness lurking in the wings of my life.
Completely fictional sinister darkness, that is—as far as Joaquin knows.
The only real sinister darkness in my life is me, the cartel that owns me, and my job as an assassin.
I am La Viuda Negra.
The Black Widow of Los Dolorosos.
And my job is to kill men when they least expect it.
And poor, sweet, chivalrous, oblivious Joaquin, my latest and soon-to-be late husband, doesn’t suspect a damn thing.
Neither do his sisters, for that matter. Nor do the other people at this brunch who are related to Joaquin in some capacity. None of them have any clue. They don’t know who I am, they think I don’t know anything about them, but I already know everything.
“So, wait, back up,” I say to his sister, Isla, waving one hand excitedly while rubbing Joaquin’s thigh under the table; pretending that I don’t even notice myself doing it, and pretending I don’t notice him warring with lust and apprehension over this whole situation. “You’re like actual royals? As in castles and crown jewels and parades and the whole nine yards?”
Isla hitches one shoulder and casts a glance at Malachi, a man she remarried last night after they had previously been divorced following a brief, shit-tastic marriage. He is the Duke of Corwick, a small island nation nestled between England and Ireland, and he was the wrench in the cartel’s plan to go after Ernesto Reyes’ fortune. Which is why I am now involved. That and to rain down the retribution owed to Joaquin for his involvement in fucking up that plan.
“Yeah.” Isla offers an apologetic, but friendly smile. “But it’s really not a big deal. I mean, we’re not stuffy and snooty.” She gestures around the table at Liliana, the youngest Reyes kid, Colin Flannery, an unofficially adoptive son of Ernesto, and his wife-as-of-last-night, Elle Kissinger. “Our families have been friends since before any of us were born, so it’s never been a thing.”
“Dios mio,” I say with a laugh, offering Joaquin a playful glance while I reach to stroke his cheek. “Amor, I had no idea you were basically a real prince.”
He’s not basically a real prince, and I already knew all of this.
Joaquin chuckles, his handsome, chiseled features tightening with an expression that’s half cringe, half lust, and all amusement, and I have to hand it to him. He is taking this totally awkward situation in stride, and I only feel the tiniest bit bad that I’m going to have to kill him. “I’m not. Only Mal is.”
Malachi purses his lips and arches one dark eyebrow. “When are you going to stop calling me that?”
Joaquin turns over his palm as if shrugging. “Maybe after you prove that you’re not going to be a piece of shit to my sister this go ‘round.”
“It’s really not that much to ask, Malachi,” Elle chimes in, and I have enough info on her to know she basically hates his guts.
“Fair enough, and neither of you are incorrect,” Malachi says, offering a patient nod while remorse blanches his features. I know it’s remorse because I have all the info on the previous go ‘round, too.
Malachi was a total brute to Isla during their first marriage after the cartel framed her for infidelity, and he punished her for it almost as badly as all my previous targets punished me. Because of that, I don’t like him either. I don’t agree with anything the cartel does despite complying with it, but knowing how he treated her leads me to believe he totally deserved that bullet they unsuccessfully attempted to bury in his skull. And yes, he is remorseful now that he knows he was wrong about believing she cheated on him, but what he did to her was inexcusable even if she had.
If there’s anything I hate in this world, it’s men who are violent with women.
After all, men who are violent with women are the reason my freedom was stolen from me and I was forced to become an assassin. They’re also the reason I don’t have a problem being an assassin because my targets are always bottom-dwelling monsters who, among other things, commit atrocious acts of violence against women.
And all of that is why I really don’t like that I’m going to have to kill Joaquin.
Despite the fact that he murdered the leader of the cartel’s operations in El Norte, along with two of their top soldiers, he did so to save his sister’s life. It was a righteous killing. I respect him for it.
But I still have to kill him.
What a pity.
I offer Malachi a sweet, but totally fake smile. “Well, I’m obviously in the dark about all that, but…” Lies. “I think it’s sweet that you two were able to work through whatever it was.” I turn to Joaquin and offer him a well-practiced look of total devotion that I know is irresistible to men, even though we both know we’re literally strangers. “A marriage only works if both people are willing to work through difficulties.”
Joaquin eyes me, unconvinced and incredulous, so I lean toward him, brushing my bottom lip along the line of his jaw to whisper into his ear.
“We could make this work, amor.”
He stiffens against me, and I actually respect him for that, too, because it means he’s not stupid. He thinks I’m crazy for wanting to make this work, and even though I like that he’s not stupid, it’s only going to make my job harder. So, I double-down.