4 The Housewife Assassin's Relationship Survival Guide

by Josie Brown

  Instead, I smile. “Frankly, I’m surprised to see you here. I thought learning you’d killed the father of your child would have left you too bereft to make the rest of us so miserable.”

  He pulls me closer. “No such luck. As it turns out, as I suspected the Romanian whore’s child wasn’t mine after all.”

  “Liar. You’re just trying to assuage your guilt.”

  “Hey, don’t take my word for it. Acme did the autopsy. Ask Ryan if you can see the DNA report on the fetus.”

  “Seriously, Carl, enough with these childish attempts to come between Jack and me! I’d never do that. I don’t have to, because I’ll always take his word over yours.”

  “That’s easy to do, now that the competition is dead and buried.” He shakes his head. “It was a beautiful ceremony, wasn’t it? Just the two of you. Oh yeah, and the gimp came late to the party. C'est la vie! Although I do love Paris this time of year. It would be perfect for a second honeymoon. We can leave tonight! Admit it, you’ve missed me.”

  I want to spit in his face again. Instead, I smile up at him. I can only imagine how much he hates my smile.

  I test that theory by whispering, “Maybe you should refresh my memory as to why that might be the case.”

  Guess I’m wrong. His lips graze mine gently, then hungrily.

  No, I don’t resist him. I can’t.

  Otherwise, my family is doomed.

  It is true that hate is a desire just as strong as love. Whereas the latter is now driving an involuntary instinct to enjoy what I am feeling, the former gives me the strength to reach down, gently and slowly—

  And pull a stiletto from my right heel.

  “Oh yeah,” I murmur gently in his ear, “Now I remember.”

  Then, with a flick of a nail, the knife is open and I stab him again, in his old wound. “I remember I shot you here.”

  He roars in pain. On reflex, he smacks me hard across the face, and I fall to the floor. By the time I get up again, he has yanked the stiletto from his shoulder. A corsage of blood seems to be growing on his crisp, white tuxedo jacket.

  He pulls off my wig and jerks me back up to my feet by my hair. I’m still woozy, and I know he’s got to be, too. Still, he’s strong enough to drag me through the open balcony doors.

  “The fireworks are going off any moment now. I wouldn’t want you to miss them.”

  He’s right. Already the party guests are gathered by the pool, counting down the seconds:

  …47…46…45…

  “You see, my darling wife, thanks to the intel provided by the dearly departed Chinese general Huang Zitong—some of the missiles we’ll shoot off tonight are going further than the bay out there. All the way to China, in fact. As well as Russia, England, France, New York. And yes, as close as Los Angeles.”

  He’s holding the knife at my throat, ready to cut my jugular if I scream out.

  Despite this, I whisper, “But Mary is there! And Jeff, and Trisha—”

  “The children? Believe me, I thought about them. You know, Donna, considering your superb cooking skills, I’d think you’d be the first person to adhere to that old adage, ‘If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.’ Time to retire, don’t you think? If not for your own sake, then for the kids. That is, if they’re still alive after tonight.” He shakes his head in mock horror. “You’ve raised them with absolutely no survival skills! What kind of mother does that make you? If they survive, I’ll certainly push even harder for joint custody.”

  The crowd’s singsong shouts are making me dizzy. 22…21…20…

  Doesn’t he have a conscience? “Millions of people will die—and for what?”

  11…10…9…8…

  He smiles down at me. “What do you think? For money. Believe me, those in power knew the cost. And guess what? They refused to pay the ransom.” That smile of his, which I’ll never forget as long as I live, is dazzling, brilliant. “Donna, you and I both know better than anyone—hell, even Valentina knew it! You always pay a price.”

  “Three! Two! ONE!” shouts the crowd.

  Then—

  Nothing.

  Not a thing.

  I look at him and shrug. “Oopsy. My bad.”

  Trisha taught me that one. Rarely does it get her out of trouble.

  I don’t think it will help me here, either.

  At first, he doesn’t get it. When he does, he drags me over to the computer, but it’s too late. Arnie’s bug—in this case, a centipede—dashes around the screen before morphing into a one-finger salute.

  “Why, you little bitch! You did it again!”

  “Yeah. You see, we housewives have another saying: ‘Fuck off’.”

  “Touché. Well, at least you’ll die for a great cause. I’ll say so, at your funeral. I’m sure the kids will appreciate it.”

  This time when he pulls me in close, it’s only to rip the locket from my neck. “I’ll take this, as a keepsake. Oh yeah, and for old time’s sake—”

  His tongue is down my throat.

  This time I play hard to get. I chomp down hard, and he screams in pain.

  The next thing I know, I’m hanging over the balcony railing. I claw at his hands, but he is too strong for me—

  Not for Jack, though, who punches him in the kidney.

  Jack has just pulled me back onto my feet when he doubles over from a kick to the gut. He retaliates with a swing at Carl, but misses.

  The next think I know, it’s Jack who is being choked. As he hangs half over the balcony, all I can think about is what happens if he should fall:

  I’d lose the man I love.

  No way. Ain’t happening.

  Once was enough.

  Any woman will tell you that there are very few things a mere two inches long that pack a wallop. My Swiss MiniGun is one of them. The bullets may be tiny, but the velocity from just one shot to his right bicep is enough to jerk him away from Jack.

  And off balance.

  His arms flail like pinwheels in a mad breeze as he tries to straighten up. He almost makes it, too.

  But then I snatch my necklace out of his hand.

  Oh yeah, and I tip him over the edge with a finger to his bloody wound.

  Oopsy. My bad.

  Just before he tumbles over the balcony, he looks up at me.

  The hatred I see in his eyes will stay with me, always.

  No mistaking it for love, that’s for sure.

  Jack holds me as we stare into the inky abyss below. All we can hear is the crashing surf.

  Finally, he kisses me gently on the forehead. “Hey, have you had a chance to think about my proposal?”

  I take a deep breath. “My answer is yes—now that I’m free.”

  “Free? You mean… Wait! That was Carl?”

  I nod through my tears. “He’s had facial reconstruction. He enjoyed the fact that I didn’t recognize him, but I’ll always know his voice.”

  “Damn! Wish I had, since I never got to say two words to him. Those two words being, ‘Fuck you.’”

  I can’t help but laugh at that. “You had your hands full, remember? And considering that you’ve been sleeping in his old bed, trust me, I’m sure he had a few choice words for you, too.”

  “I’ll just bet he had.”

  Had. It all seems so final.

  Carl, the father of my children, is dead. And I killed him.

  In all fairness, he tried to kill me, too. Four times, in fact. Oh yeah, and obliterate the rest of the world while he was at it.

  Seriously, what did I ever see in that guy?

  The ruckus behind us—shouts and guns blazing—gives us fair warning that the party is over. For us, anyway.

  Jack and I look down. Then we look at each other.

  Holding hands, we leap out together—

  And pray that the tide below us is deep enough to keep us alive.

  As we plummet below the water’s surface, I say prayers that Jack and I live to see another day. That we will get home s
afely to Mary and Jeff and Trisha.

  That for once and for all we’ve proven our love and commitment to each other.

  Trust is the rarest of treasures for spies like us.

  Finally my fall stops. I open my eyes. For just a few seconds, I am suspended in an underwater prism of immense beauty and wonder. A swarm of tiny rainbow fish darts away, whereas a sea turtle, almost my height, hovers just within reach. I imagine he wonders about the strange creature before him.

  Good question.

  Mother. Lover. Assassin. Member of the neighborhood welcoming committee.

  And soon-to-be divorcee.

  Then it hits me: if we survived the fall, maybe Carl did, too.

  Oh….

  Hell.

  But I guess the fact that he’s a terrorist gives me strong grounds for divorce.

  I feel an arm around my waist. It is clad in a tux jacket. As it hauls me up toward the surface, its shirt cuff glistens, blinding me when it hits a wavering shaft of light.

  I can’t tell if it belongs to Carl, or to Jack.

  A shiver goes up my spine. A torrent of tiny bubbles obscures the view of my savior. As they bombard me, instinctively my eyes shut tight.

  All I can do is pray that I’m in the arms of the right man.

  We break the surface. His kiss lets me know that it’s okay to open my eyes.

  Even before I do, I know I have the answer to my prayers.

  Jack smiles as he treads water beside me. “I could use that couples’ massage. How about you?” he asks.

  “Sounds yummy. Let’s do it,” I answer.

  Why not? It’s still my birthday.

  Next Up:

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I owe a lot to the following people, whose love and support gives me the courage to write, every day:

  Karin Tabke, who first fell in love with this book, and pushed me (quite adamantly; what are friends for?) to make it a priority; Andy Brown, who is a go-to guru for anything technical and metaphysical. Andy, thanks making the virtual a reality; Austin Brown and Anna Brown, who are my emotional touchstones, in so many ways; my agent, Holly Root, for her unwavering support; Andree Belle, Darien and Don Coleman, Linda May and Ben Brown, and Mario Martinez and Patricia Steadman, who are always there to encourage, nurture and feed me.

  To sharp-eyed wordsmiths Tom Johnson and Pamela Welsh; and to Andrew Brown, for creating Donna just as I see her.

  And always last but never least, Martin Brown: you complete me.

  Dear readers: If you liked the story and Donna, I’d be honored to get a review from you! We authors live by them, and they are always appreciated.

  Thank you,

  —Josie Brown

  HOW TO REACH JOSIE BROWN

  www.JosieBrown.com

  www.AuthorProvocateur.com

  www.HousewifeAssassinsHandbook.com

  www.twitter.com/JosieBrownCA

  www.facebook.com/JosieBrownAuthor

  Find a typo?

  Even with the professional scrutiny of three sets of eyes, a few get away from us. Feel free to email me with what you’ve found. You’ll be my new best friend!

  THE HOUSEWIFE ASSASSIN SERIES

  The Housewife Assassin’s

  Handbook

  (Book 1)

  Every desperate housewife wants an alias. Donna Stone has one … and it happens to be government-sanctioned. But Donna earned it the hard way. Her husband was killed the day she delivered their third child. To avenge her husband's murder, Donna leads a secret life: as an assassin. But espionage makes for strange bedfellows, and brings new meaning to that old adage, "Honey, I'm home..."

  The Housewife Assassin’s

  Guide to Gracious Killing

  (Book 2)

  A nuclear arms summit, hosted by a politically connected billionaire industrialist, provides the perfect opportunity for a rogue operative to assassinate the newly elected Russian president, on American soil. Donna Stone’s mission: seek and exterminate the shooter before all hell – and World War III – breaks out. Also on Donna’s to-do list: file for divorce. Throw in a couple of killer playdates and a few naughty neighbors, and you’ve got a whole lot of fun.

  The Housewife Assassin’s

  Killer Christmas Tips

  (Book 3)

  ’Tis the season for murder, mayhem and mistletoe! There will be no peace on Earth if Donna and Jack don’t find a shipping container filled with heat-seeking missiles. Forget Santa! Terror is coming to town…

  The Housewife Assassin’s

  Relationship Survival Guide

  (Book 4)

  In this fourth full-length novel of The Housewife Assassin series, Donna Stone finds out that breaking up is hard to do. Then again, so is dating a terrorist, let alone eleven of them! Does this make Donna a serial dater, or a serial killer?

  Worse yet, an old love gets in the way of Donna's chance for true love.

  But she doesn't cry...She gets even.

  (A small portion of this book appeared as a novella in "Guns and Roses: A Murder She Writes Anthology".)

  The Housewife Assassin’s

  Vacation to Die For

  (Book 5)

  A nude sunbathing serial killer, rabid (literally) eco-terrorists, mafia hit men...

  Talk about a fantasy (nightmare?) island!

  Breck Industry's former getaway, Misfit Quay, as redeveloped into three resorts.

  There's something for everyone:

  Like Kamp KidStuff, where families frolic among dolphins, cartoon characters, and (due to a major booking glitch) warring Cosa Nostra families having separate reunions;

  And Eden Key, a nude singles sanctuary where tiki-hut treehouses provide the perfect setting for rum-fueled romances and casual hook-ups—not to mention the occasional swinger slashing…

  Finally, there's Hunters Paradise, an exclusive club which caters to big game hunters seeking a most unusual quarry:

  humans who are political prisoners of countries doing business with the Quorum.

  And you call this a vacation?

  OTHER BOOKS BY JOSIE BROWN

  Secret Lives of Husbands and Wives

  Soon to be a dramatic series on NBC,

  produced by Jerry Bruckheimer

  "If you like Desperate Housewives, then you'll fly through this gossipy novel full of Wisteria Lane-esque characters living in a suburban jungle. Brown entertains up to the satisfying ending in this lively novel.

  – Examiner.com

  "Just in time for summer, Brown's novel offers an enjoyable take on suburban California family life, complete with mommy cliques, rebel teenagers, and, of course lots of adultery....The momentum of Brown's writing and plot keeps the pages turning."

  – Booklist

  "Already touted as the perfect summer beach read, this character driven (sometimes steamy) book can best be described as the offspring of an affair between Desperate Housewives and a Jennifer Weiner novel....A quick look into the sometimes catty world of wealth where priorities get shifted, friendships get broken and marriages, like their mansions, get rearranged. It was light and fluffy (with some excellent dialogue.)...This coven spread gossip like wild fire, fight like verbal wrestlers and plot like army generals to put together the very confused puzzle of Harry's love life."

  – GoodHousekeeping.com

  Totlandia (Series)

  Friendship. Lies. Seduction. Betrayal.

  Welcome to Totlandia.

  "Josie Brown writes Totlandia with her usual storytelling flair. The dialogue is smooth and flowing. The characters are easy to side with or become angry with, depending on each situation. The scenery is easy to visualize. And we mustn't forget all the sex (blushworthy, at that) and scandal that is a staple of a true Josie Brown novel.”

  –Chick Lit Central

  “Totlandia a truly entertaining read and difficult to put down. This book is wonderfully written and has more than just drama. There are touching moments, parts that made me laugh out loud, and as I read the s
tory I felt like I was reading a television show! It came then as no surprise to me that author Josie Brown, who has published five novels, had her Secret Lives of Husbands and Wives (Simon & Schuster), is being optioned by producer Jerry Bruckheimer as a dramatic television series. With any luck, someone will pick up this series for television.”

  —Divine Secrets of a Domestic

  “There are some really sweet moments mixed in with the catty wonderfulness that Brown always seems to capture. I just can't believe I have to wait until the installment which will be released soon…”

  —Mary Jacobs, Bookhounds Review

  The Baby Planner

  "Brown takes baby mania to its illogical, hysterical extreme in this bubbly romp. . . . But what begins as a light foray into Bugaboo country turns into something bigger than a satire of status-obsessed Bay Area yummy mummies as Brown takes a dark look at the fears of parenthood and family, with Katie's heartbreaking longing for a child unveiling a disturbing reality about her marriage and family. Still, the message from the somber realities is one full of hope: love makes a family, commitment keeps it together."

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A funny, engaging, and often bittersweet tale from the author of Secret Lives of Husbands and Wives."

  –Cincinnati Public Library Spotlight Feature

  True Hollywood Lies

  “The writing is laced with venomous humor..."

  –The Wall Street Journal