He just grinned. “Because Emily Ramirez Rodgers Reyes, names mean nothing. But since one of these days, I’d like for you to carry my last name, I suppose you should know, it’s Hofi. Tamir Hofi.” Then he kissed me, and I’d never felt so happy in my entire life.
Chapter 32
Tamir
Three months later
“I’m not going to be in town next week to train with you,” I informed Maria as she practiced a series of punches into the pads on my hands.
“It’s not like I can do much with this watermelon in my gut. It’s made me slow, and my balance is shit.”
“Only one more month.” I smirked, knowing my sentiment wouldn’t help.
“Don’t remind me. I want my body back, but I’m terrified of having to care for a baby. We’ve hired someone to help out, and that’s the only reason I’m not a total basket case right now.” She stopped her strikes and went for her water bottle, squeezing a long stream into her mouth. Her hair was soaked, sweaty strands clinging to her face from all directions.
“You have nothing to worry about. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” I held her eyes, appreciating the strong young woman she’d become. “It hasn’t escaped my attention you’ve changed enormously over the past six months, and I don’t just mean your belly. I’m proud of you, Maria. I know your life hasn’t been easy, but you’ve persevered and become better for it.”
Her eyes became glassy before sweeping the room for anyone who might be watching. “Fucking hormones,” she muttered, wiping at tears before they could fall. “You can’t go saying shit like that, not to a pregnant lady. And what about you? You don’t think I haven’t noticed how much you’ve changed in the past few months?”
I chuckled, placing my hand on her back. “Come on upstairs. I think it’s time you and I had another chat.”
I walked my protégé up to my apartment—the apartment I now shared with Emily. After spending two weeks together in the tiny cabin, living together felt more natural than being apart. We wanted to be together; there was no reason to keep separate apartments for some arbitrary courtship period.
The moment Maria entered, her eyes narrowed. “Are you living with a woman?”
I smirked. “Have a seat. There’s a good deal I’d like to share with you.”
A half hour later, I’d told Maria facts about me that, up until recently, I’d never considered trusting her with. Maria and I had reached a point in our relationship where I felt it was important for her to know the truth, and I knew I could trust her with the sensitive information. I wanted her to know. Wanted her to feel as though she was equally welcome to talk to me if she ever needed to.
“You sly bastard. All this time, you’ve been working as an assassin, and I never had a clue.” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Is that how you and my father came to know each other?”
“Your father is well connected in many ways. Perhaps he’d enjoy enlightening you about how our paths crossed, but that’s not a story for me to tell.” I smirked.
As expected, Maria huffed with agitation. She never liked being refused. “So this trip you’re taking next week, will it be for pleasure or … work?”
“A little of both. Of course, I’m fortunate enough to enjoy my work most days, but this excursion will be particularly enjoyable.”
Maria grinned, her eyes glinting with perfect understanding. “Well then, I look forward to hearing all about it when you get back.”
Three days later, I was back in San Antonio. This time, I’d come alone. What I needed to do was a one-man job, and I certainly wasn’t going to risk bringing Emily with me. In fact, I’d told her I was meeting up with Uri to help him on a project in Denver. I didn’t want her to worry, but more than that, I wanted to surprise her when I got back, and that wouldn’t have been possible if she’d known where I was.
I spent several days on reconnaissance, tracking Emily’s uncle and learning his habits. Killing him would be simple, but only after I’d spent the proper time researching my target. It was crucial his death was unquestionably an accident. We didn’t need anyone looking into why he might be killed if there was any chance it might point back to Emily.
Adrián drove his Harley almost exclusively, and like most bikers, he was highly territorial about the bike. No one else went near it, which made it a perfect means of execution.
He also never wore a helmet, making my job that much easier. I’d have to pass along my appreciation after his rotting heart beat for the last time.
Most modern bikes were almost entirely electronic and contained anti-tamper software that alerted the owner when the bike was moved. However, that didn’t prevent someone from plugging into a terminal and entering a new code into the bike’s primary computer system.
If someone, like myself, had the proper equipment to link a laptop to a motorcycle, they could tap into the acceleration and braking systems without the driver ever having a clue. It wasn’t a simple task, so the risk to the everyday bike enthusiast was minimal, but I happened to have a friend who was exceptionally good with computers.
Before I’d even left New York, I’d had Uri get me everything I needed. I watched Adrián until I felt confident about the best opportunity for a motorcycle crash, then waited until three a.m. that night to set my plan into motion. Uri guided me through the process in my earpiece, instructing me on how to connect the electronics, then we worked on overriding the bike’s programming.
Adrián Reyes had started each day with a drive to a mechanic’s garage about ten miles from his home. The trip took him on a highway that curved through the hilly countryside.
The perfect setting for a fatal accident.
After I finished with the programming, I waited in my car, not allowing myself to sleep. Adrián rolled out of his house, as expected, just after ten in the morning. He hopped on his bike and pulled onto the road, completely unaware that this would be the last time he ever walked this earth.
I followed him at a safe distance. It was important that my timing was perfect so that I could pull over after the accident as a concerned citizen, ready to render aid.
I could tell the second our programming kicked in.
When Adrián’s bike hit the seventy miles an hour mark, the computer initiated a dramatic acceleration. The motorcycle shot forward. Traffic at that time of day wasn’t bad, so he didn’t have to swerve to avoid other vehicles. He was going fast but maintaining control, that was, until he tapped the brakes. Following the commands of its new programming, the bike’s braking system locked down the second the brakes were initiated. There was zero chance a driver could control the spinout of a bike locking up at almost ninety miles an hour.
The wheels wobbled, straightened, then caught a bump and sent the bike flying into the air in a twisting tornado of shiny chrome and black leather. Adrián was immediately thrown from his seat, launched forward like a child’s toy, and sent careening onto the pavement before him. Even if he’d had a helmet on, the outcome would have been dire. As it was, there wasn’t the slightest chance of survival.