“Help me put him in the car!” Señora hollers, following Little Lord’s path.
I pretend to trail behind them, making it halfway down to the staircase landing, dragging my feet, delaying the inevitable.
What am I going to do now? The second Juan Carlos recognizes me, I’m toast.
Something flashes in my eyes, catching my attention. A light. Blinking, I turn toward the source, and quietly gasp.
Diego is standing there, just inside the parlor door. Holding a lighter and frantically gesturing to me.
I’m so shocked I don’t know whether to throw myself into his arms or run the other way. At least he’s not glaring at me.
He holds up two fingers.
Two, I mouth, still not fully processing why he’s suddenly here.
He points to the back of the house.
I partially turn to go back upstairs and brightness blinds me. This time I catch him turning the lighter in the light and intentionally catching my attention.
His head shaking. No. He moves his pointer finger back and forth.
Downstairs, I move my lips.
Yes, he nods, holding up his fingers. Two minutes, his lips whisper.
Juan Carlos stands a hair’s breath away on the porch. My eyes follow the track of my thoughts. When I glance back at Diego, he’s gone.
Two minutes to reach the back of the house.
I step as far as I can out of his line of sight, my hip brushing the railing as I force my feet forward. Down one step. Down two. My heart racing in a way my body can’t quite keep up with. A car door slams. Gravel crunches beneath the car’s tires as it pulls away.
I frown as a sudden thought occurs to me. Sylvester is leaving without his nanny. That strange woman . . . Cassie.
If I’m going to evade Señora and her horrible son, it’s now or never.
I take two steps at a time, listening to their conversation as they ascend the front porch.
“Where’s father?” Juan Carlos asks.
“In the shed, mijo. Where the double-crossing bastard belongs. He disrespected you. And he underestimated me. No more. Our plan worked. I’m proud of the way you distracted him. The entire time he remained clueless about the uranium.”
I reach the lobby seconds before they reach the top step. “You sure you don’t want me to travel with the shipment?” Juan Carlos asks.
“No. I need someone to care for Hacienda Santo Miguel. Make sure my lovely home is well-maintained. Besides, my caretaker could use some help with the garden.”
I’m running now. Mindless of whether or not they hear the clitter clatter of my feet hitting the floor. These people are evil. These people don’t have respect for anyone but themselves. I don’t understand what they’re up to. Or what they’ve done. But if I count the money in the hidden closet, the dead animal in the shed . . . with his disrespectful father . . . oh my God.
The hacienda seems to grow still as I reach the end of the hallway. Like the exquisitely beautiful building is holding her breath.
For me?
Within seconds, the silence is broken by a loud boom, and the house begins to shake.
A second boom and the double doors fly off their wrought-iron hinges.
I stare at the crack slowly working its way down the wall. Like a teardrop. Like the beautiful hacienda is crying. And a second later, the whole structure begins to crumble.
As I hurry into the courtyard, all I can think about are three words.
Holy shit.
Diego.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Diego
I’m on my feet.
Praying Aubrey isn’t still standing on the stairs. She had plenty of time to reach the courtyard.
If she listened.
BOOM.
Boom. Boom. With a few less drastic booms that follow.
The front of the house, the foyer, the rose-colored room, the dining room beyond . . . but especially the porch . . . go up in smoke.
Time to be quick, the servants will be on their way. I find Mendoza crouched over Señora on what remains of the porch, his phone in his hand.
“Hand it to me,” I calmly tell him.
“You fucking, lying . . .” He doesn’t finish because I put a bullet in his head.
Señora stares at me with lifeless eyes.
A few minutes ago and after Mendoza stepped out of that car, I’d placed my second call to Hayden. Sent pictures of the paperwork and filled him in on everything, especially how Señora has already wrapped up her deal and is meticulously killing off anyone who knows too much. I braced myself for his next orders, that I head to Kenya. I should have been more excited about this turn in events as my sister has accepted a Peace Corps job in Malawi. Instead, Hayden has decided to get his hands dirty. My orders were to terminate both targets and to cover my tracks. My timing was impeccable with the little boy safely out of danger.
As for Aubrey . . . I glance toward the direction she’d headed in. But all I can see are crumpled walls and smoke.
I pocket Mendoza’s phone. Hayden plans on calling Señora’s contact for an update on Sunday’s shipment to Cork. Keeping the game in play, one that will soon be shipping McDuff to the green fields of his homeland.
I straighten and turn to address the servants standing around us. Paid killers, just on the wrong side of the tracks.
No one challenges me. I could kill them and guarantee their silence. But a threat will do the trick.
“Say a word about what happened here and Los Lobos will have a bone to pick,” I warn them, pinning the blame for what they’ve witnessed on the gang. “Leave. Before the rest of the hacienda goes bye-bye.”
Their eyes widen and they’re off and running, out of the house and down the driveway.
I head in the other direction, sprinting around broken tile and crumbled walls, and colored shards of glass scattered about from the former window in the parlor. The staircase is intact; I couldn’t risk blowing it up with Aubrey standing there.
Aubrey.
I skim my eyes across the rubble in the hallway.
Dios. Please tell me she followed directions. Like she . . . never does.
“Aubrey!” I shout, jumping over debris as I race down the hallway. An unfamiliar panic rises up inside me. I’m known to be heavy-handed. Using too much TNT, causing too much of a blast. I’m the big-boom guy. Always have been. Case in point is the plaster on the walls on either side of me, which have crumbled and cracked straight down to the frame.
“Fuck, Aubrey!” I holler louder, but keep moving forward.
The door leading out to the courtyard is off its hinges yet I give it no mind as I rush through it.
I see her facedown on the stone pavers, her arms cradling her head.
My heart skips a beat as I believe the worst. I draw up beside her, ignoring the loud roaring sound in my ears. It’s like a bomb blast on repeat, its epicenter deep within my heart. I drop to my knees and gently touch her arm.
“Dios, Aubrey.”
Her skin is warm, and it’s all the encouragement I need.
“Mi querida. I thought you were . . .” I stop, breathe. “Are you hurt?”
She turns her head.
“You blew up the hacienda?” she whispers.
Thank fuck. Thank holy fuck.
I watch as she lowers her arms and pushes herself up onto her knees. No blood. A dirt smudge on her cheek is all.
I reach out and wipe it away. “Yeah. Not my best work,” I admit.
“You’ve done this before? Blown up buildings?”
“First things first. Are you injured at all?”
“Just a scraped arm.”
“Can you run?”
“Run?”
“Or do I have to carry you?” I rise to my feet and grasp hold of her, ready to lift her into a fireman’s carry and haul her out of this place.
She leans into me. Her lips so softly brushing against mine. “I’m sorry I broke my promise about leaving. The airport—”
<
br /> “Shhh. I know, querida.”
“You’re not mad?”
I kiss her lips lightly, gently. “I’m mad, all right. But not in the sense you mean. Mad with need for you. Mad with the possibility of what might be if only I were a better man. I’m mad for thinking this thing between us might work. Take a look around you. This is the life I lead. Danger and disaster is second nature to me.”
“You can trust me, Diego. If your work is secretive, I’ll keep quiet. If only I understood better . . .”
I pull away and stare down into her beautiful, pained expression. “You build things,” I tell her in a neutral tone, not giving anything away. I gesture to the hacienda. “And I blow things up.”
It’s better this way, I remind myself. Push her away now before you . . . can’t.
She opens her mouth to reply but I cut her off. “Time to get going.”
“Fine. But if you think this conversation is over, it’s not.”
I sigh and point to the wall. “I’ll help you up. We’ll crawl across what’s left of the roof and climb down the backside of the hacienda.”
A puzzled look crossed her face. “Or we can cut through the banquet room and climb out a window. That would be the easier way out.”
I grab her hand and tug her along behind me. Sure enough, there’s a broken window on the far side of the room.
Before she climbs through, she pauses and turns. “I can’t believe I’m asking you this, but, you’re not planning on blowing the entire hacienda up?”
I shrug.
“Diego. There are boxes and boxes of pesos in a secret closet beneath the staircase.”
“Boxes?
“So much money. Dirty money, I suppose. We should contact the Mexican authorities.”
I shake my head, making a mental note to have Hayden send someone to retrieve it. No sense in letting the Mexican police get their hands on it. “Dirty money needs to go to a cleaner cause.”
“I just wish . . . that money would do a lot good . . .” She stops and frowns. With a long sigh, she climbs through the window.
And, just like that, the knot is back inside my throat. My dream of what could be is straight-up impossible. But Aubrey’s do-gooder dreams . . . it’s the least I could do for her after the danger she unintentionally found herself caught up in.
I can give her that.
I can leave her with something before I leave her forever.
As I follow her toward the back of the property and toward the gate, I make up my mind. Hayden won’t like it and it’s going to take big balls along with a hell of a lot of persuasive power to convince him. But in our younger years, if an opportunity to better our lives had presented itself, would we be the same men we are today? Or would we be waking up next to the women we love, in nice homes in quiet towns, where danger is something you read about in newspapers?
Aubrey and I reach the gate without incident. That’s what happens when you kill the men you hired to protect you.
I remove my matches from my pocket.
Aubrey bends and removes a key from beneath a boulder.
I stare at her in wonderment.
“Long story.” She pauses and glances up at my face. So beautiful. So fucking beautiful my heart breaks. I’m not a good enough man for her. I’m a hit man. A killer. A man’s worst nightmare. A woman’s naughty dream that in daylight turns into a nightmare. She’s deserves a peaceful life. A quiet neighborhood full of laughing children, happy neighbors, and love evident within every nook and cranny.
“Will you stick around long enough to listen?” she asks. In a short time, she’s grown to know me well.
“Like dynamite,” I respond, grabbing hold of her and tugging her into me. Stealing a sigh straight off her lips. Knowing full well what needs to happen, and hoping that, for once in my life, I can sneak off without a rumble.
With the only thing broken being my own jaded heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Aubrey
I feel it in my bones. Tomorrow, Diego’s going to dump me at the airport and drive away. Again. Nothing’s different. Nothing that’s happened has changed how things might be between us. The moments we’ve shared are just that—moments.
The possibility of us seems impossible.
I finish tugging on his oversize sweatpants and a deep blue T-shirt, taking my time to comb my wet hair. Calming my nerves as I prepare to confront him. To ask the hard-hitting question I’m gambling I know the answer to.
He’s looking out his apartment window when I reenter the living room. Two fresh glasses of wine are on the table in front of the sofa. The aroma of basil and spices heavy in the air, a remainder of the meal we’d eaten in near silence.
I settle down onto the sofa and sip my wine.
I’ve had a taste of the quiet life. Predictable. Boring.
Since arriving in Mexico City, I’ve had a steady diet of excitement, danger, surprises. How easy it’d be to retreat back to my old ways. Forget the near-death experiences I’ve been through. Give up on Mexico City, on my housing project. On Diego.
The new year is a month away yet it seems it has arrived early for me. Life as I know it is about to change. Out with the old and in with the new, right?
The only problem is, Diego hasn’t yet caught on to how much I want this. How much I want him. And not just now but forever.
Courage, Aubrey.
He stealthily approaches. Quiet, like the big, dark cat I always associate him with. I feel the energy of him, my pulse kicking up and my heart thumping wildly as he takes a seat beside me.
He begins speaking, and beats me to the punch. “You have a kind heart. Me? I’m heartless.”
“That’s not true.”
He ignores my denial. “You put others before you, do good things for other people. Hell, you invested ten grand of your own money for a project to help total strangers.”
“A lot of people do a lot more generous things with a lot more money involved.”
“My mother would have loved you.”
I gasp and tighten my hold on my wineglass, my hands shaking at his confession. His fingers touch my lips, gently. Tracing the moist tint of wine left behind from my sip.
“You’re a beautiful woman on the inside and out.”
“Diego,” I softly say, “You can trust me.”
He pauses. “My work is complicated. Dangerous. Not for the faint of heart. My boss is ruthless, demanding, not easily pleased. The way I do good in the world is by putting an end to bad people like Señora and her son.”
“CIA work.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” I frown.
“I lied.”
My mouth drops. More so because I sense he’s about to tell me the truth than the lie I’ve been fed.
“I’m a private security contractor. I do work like the CIA, only I’m not linked to any particular government. I spy on people, hurt them, kill them when directed. I keep the world safe from fanatical groups who mean to disrupt the status quo. Harm innocent people. Overrun governments and ruin peace and prosperity.”
“But you work for the United States Government?”
“Several governments. None of them will acknowledge it, though. It’s best we work in the shadows. What the average citizen doesn’t know won’t kill them, but it will protect them.”
I sip my wine, processing what he’s saying. Can I see Diego spying on people? Ah . . . yes. That’s what happened at Casa Bella, right? It all makes sense now. Us running from Juan Carlos’s men. His sudden appearance at that gang warehouse. Him turning up unexpectedly, seeming to come out of nowhere.
As for him killing people, the idea doesn’t sit well. But if he is a hired soldier, isn’t that part of the job?
“What was Señora del Leon doing?”
“Distributing the components to make nuclear weapons. What you stumbled upon that rainy day at Casa Bella were Juan Carlos’s men unloading crates of enriched uranium. To be stored in a cave be
neath his home until a shipment could be arranged. He and his mother didn’t want his father aware of the transaction. Double-crossing a double-crosser.”
“That was the rock I saw in your bag? Enriched uranium?”
“Yep.”
“Oh my God. You stopped them from building a nuclear weapon?”
“My work has put us one step closer to finding out exactly who is hoping to build one. Also, we can now shut down the source who is illegally selling it on the black market. Nothing is ever as simple as it appears.”
“You could have told me what you were doing,” I murmur.
“No, I couldn’t have. What I’ve revealed to you, even taking you to this apartment, puts you in danger. My boss isn’t fond of outsiders or outside complications.”
“Is that what I am to you? An outsider?”
He takes a long sip of wine before answering. “Your life and mine run parallel. Your lightness would be overshadowed by my darkness. My crossing the line would only benefit me.” He looks up from his wineglass and our eyes meet. “Aubrey, I can’t do that to you.”
“In a short time, I’ve learned a lot about survival. I’m willing to learn more if you’re willing to teach me. Because, whether you like it or not, I’ll be venturing back to Neza Chalco. I made a promise and I plan on keeping it.”
“Aubrey—”
“Shhh. I’m not finished. You said so yourself, you’re a protector—”
“That’s not the word.”
“—someone whose job it is to help others. Instead of donating money, you’ve committed your life, your safety, your future . . . or so you believe—”
“I don’t believe it. It’s just how my world operates.”
“None of your colleagues are in relationships?”
He frowns yet doesn’t answer.
“So why is your being in one any different?”
“It just is,” he mumbles. Looking very . . . unsettled, like he wants nothing more than to end this conversation.
“Diego?” I say, ignoring my heartache, my hurt.
“Yeah?”
“Not everyone you care about is going to end up like your mother.”
He sucks in a breath.
I push onward, driving my point home. “You’re afraid.”
Hit Man: A Sexy Action-Packed Alpha Adventure Romance Page 26