by Eve Langlais
“Who says he won’t? The best athletes out there are the smart ones who are educated. And the academy is all about ensuring that the kids’ minds are exercised along with their bodies.”
“His previous coach never said Nico should play higher.” A stubborn rebuttal.
“Your previous coach probably knew if he lost Nico, his team would rank close to last place. I’ll wager your son is the only reason this team has been winning.”
“Nico is a team player.”
“Never said he wasn’t, just that he should be playing on a team better matched to his abilities. Think about it. I can get him looked at. And, as for cost, there are scholarship programs available.”
“You think he’d qualify?”
“The boy is good. The academy would be lucky to have him.”
She chewed her lower lip in a way that made a man want to chew on her.
“Maybe.”
Which was the best he was going to get.
He watched her get into the rental car with her son and drive down the road before pulling out his phone and dialing. When the call was answered, Philip said, “She didn’t bite.”
There was a pause. “Is it money?”
“Partially, which ties into her pride. She won’t accept charity. The boy is talented, though.”
“Told you he was. He’s wasting his time there. They both are,” his boss replied.
“Perhaps you should try contacting her and speaking to her directly.”
“You have met her, right?” was the wry reply.
“The word stubborn does come to mind.”
“Try harder. I want that boy here, at my academy, playing on a proper team.”
“I don’t know if she’ll want to move.”
“Then find a way to convince her.”
Philip hung up and rubbed his jaw. That might be harder than expected.
Chapter Six
The coach’s words spun around in Carla’s head as she left the soccer field. Nico could be playing for Yaguara Academy. The big leagues. Not exactly money-making at his age, but Moore was right when he said it was a stepping stone to greater things. Like a scholarship to a good college or university, even a career. Soccer might not pay much in the USA, but over in Europe, her son could be a star.
A star that, if accepted into the academy, wouldn’t be sleeping down the hall. Or giving her goofy grins in the morning. The academy was over eight hours away by car, meaning, he’d have to board. She’d lose her son.
She understood that Nico would eventually move out. Children weren’t meant to live with their mothers forever. But the idea of losing him at twelve was ridiculous.
Which meant if they pursued this, they’d have to move.
Moving didn’t frighten her. She had no attachment to her townhouse or even her things. She kept the most precious items in a box. Pictures for the most part, and her mother’s rosary. Not that she believed in religion. God hadn’t been listening when Matias gunned down her family.
I’m not moving. Moore was probably just saying he could get Nico an invite to try out. The man obviously didn’t get that Carla wasn’t interested and thought he could butter her up. It wouldn’t work.
Still, he’d managed to frazzle her, enough that she didn’t notice the SUV trailing her for a few miles. But it became pretty obvious when it ran a red light, causing people to honk.
She peeked in her rearview mirror and noted it a few car lengths behind. Not tailgating. Not doing anything untoward. Could be a coincidence. People were impatient and ran reds all the time.
Training had taught her to never trust coincidence, though. Without using a signal, she turned a sharp right, and her son squealed.
“Damn, Mami, are you turning into a stunt driver?”
“Don’t use that kind of language,” she absently chastised, glancing again in her mirror.
The SUV followed.
“Damn is not a bad word. They use it on the radio and television all the time.”
“It is too a bad word.”
“What about darn?”
“Kind of the same thing.”
She turned again. Left. Right. Her son thought it was a game and held on to the bar overhead, yahooing before continuing his argument. “You use it and the f-word all the time.”
“I’m an adult.” With a foul mouth. No denying that, but that didn’t mean she let her child use the same language.
“That’s not fair.”
“That’s life, mijito.”
When she slammed into the parking lot for the grocery store, she fully expected the SUV to pull in behind her. It slowed, and she stared at the tinted windows until it passed.
“I thought I was supposed to shower,” Nico complained, looking at the store. “I hate shopping.”
“We need milk.” And time to see if the SUV returned.
Half an hour later, with a few bags of groceries and a grumbling tween appeased with the purchase of some snacks, she kept a sharp eye on the parking lot, then on the vehicles behind her as she drove home.
No one suspicious appeared to be parked on her street. She’d notice since she kept a journal of the cars that frequented the area. Just like she knew what time her neighbors worked.
Her paranoia had only grown over the years with the more jobs she did. She’d been living here a while. Too long, some might say. She worried about her cover being blown. A woman in her line of work had enemies. None that should know her true face. However, that assumed she’d not made any mistakes on her jobs.
Have I been compromised?
Only once Nico was in bed did she head to her tiny office with its regular-looking laptop sitting on an MDF desk bought at Walmart and assembled with much swearing. Duct tape covered a spot where the pressed wood popped because she’d overtightened a screw. She pulled the shade over the window before she plopped into the wooden kitchen chair.
Opening the lid to her laptop, she ignored the sign-in box. She plugged a pink skull USB into the side, hit a series of keys, and waited for the KM icon to appear. The KM standing for Killer Moms, the agency she did mercenary work for.
Clicking the icon brought up a different sign-in box, and she tapped in her credentials, the username an apt Soccer Mom. All the agents had aliases. Frenemy Mom was Audrey. Cougar was Meredith. Then you had Hockey Mom and Tiger. There was even a MILF Mom, which Lolita bore with pride. She had, after all, chosen it, given that her specialty was seduction.
All the mothers had their own code name, specialty, and cover. None of the active agents lived in the same town, but if help was needed, they were all ready to drop everything and fly to the rescue.
Carla didn’t think she needed help, not yet. However, she did have questions. Things she couldn’t ask regular folks.
The USB didn’t just give her log-in access to the KM network, it encrypted all her activity so that if anyone watched, they’d see Carla surfing a few shopping websites and checking out threads on a mommy forum. All a sham because she was, in fact, browsing her secure mailbox. Still empty. No new jobs.
The lack of work wasn’t why she put in a call to Mother, a call with no video, just voice.
It took only a minute for a reply.
“Hello, my darling daughter. How is my grandson?”
“Nico is great. Coach thinks he’s got enough talent to play with the big boys. He also got an A in algebra.”
Code for “It’s safe to talk.” If it weren’t, she would have said, “He failed a Spanish quiz.”
“An A? I might have to send him some of my special cookies.” The proper reply that meant Mother could talk freely, as well, and Carla could drop the act. She dove right into the problem. “I think my cover might be compromised.”
“What happened?”
Carla told her about the drive-by shooting and the SUV that had appeared to be following her.
Mother took a moment before asking, “Could it be a coincidence?”
“Maybe.”
“What’s you
r gut say?” Mother didn’t accuse Carla of being paranoid. In their business, you could never be too paranoid.
“My gut wants me to wear a piece.” And shoot at the next person who looked at her funny.
Mother tsked. “If anyone sees it—”
“They’ll ask questions. I know,” Carla grumbled. “But I don’t like it. I had Nico with me in the car when they followed me today.”
“And they were brazen enough to be seen? Seems kind of sloppy, if you ask me.”
“I agree. It doesn’t sound like pros.” Because pros would have set up a high-powered rifle with a scope and taken her out from afar.
“Could it be you caught someone’s attention with your actual job?”
“Someone with a beef over not getting insurance? Possible.” People could get very irate when you wouldn’t hand them money.
“Do you want me to relocate you?” Mother would if Carla asked. She never took chances with her operatives. KM might be an agency of killers, spies, and mercenaries, but it was also a tight-knit family.
“Not yet.”
“Then what do you need?”
Assurance that her son was safe. “I don’t know. If this is random, then things will stop on their own.” If it weren’t, Carla would hunt them down and shoot their asses.
“I don’t like if’s. I want you and Nico safe.” Because despite Nico being no relation, Mother had known him since he was a baby, and she wouldn’t let anyone harm him. “Tell you what. Let me talk to my contacts out there. See if I can find out if something is going on.”
“Guess it could be a scare tactic.” Kind of dumb, because if Carla caught them, they’d die. There were no second chances where her son was concerned. She wouldn’t have him threatened.
“If these are intimidation tactics, then you’ll soon receive a warning.”
After that, talk went to business with Mother grumbling, “Of late, all we’ve gotten is a ton of interior design work. Nothing else.”
Killer Moms was the hidden part of the business. Publicly, KM—which had offices around the world—provided interior design services for the elite. The rich unknowingly let trained spies into their homes, which in turn increased KM’s knowledge network.
Carla was one of the few who didn’t work directly for the KM agency. Probably because her sense of style involved the use of white paint, no colored feature walls, and basic furniture.
Since she lacked the artistic talent, she’d ended up in the insurance gig instead, which suited her much better. But not being directly involved didn’t mean that Carla got left out of the underground agency that only hired women—mothers, to be precise. KM believed in offering training and employment only to those who had nowhere left to go, those whose lives were in jeopardy, usually because of bad romantic decisions, and individuals who would do anything—even kill—to keep themselves and their children safe.
What did KM do with those they recruited? Just about anything they wanted. They offered education—which, for those who’d barely gotten a high school diploma like Carla, meant options in the real world. They taught life skills. Money management. How to defend against an attacker. Loading and unloading guns in the dark. Filching information from secured networks. How to bake a cake from scratch.
If a trainee made it through all the courses—and not all did, some were retired before they even got into the field—then they became an elite agent. A spy. A mercenary for hire. And, in Carla’s case, a killer.
Which was ironic, given how weak and afraid she used to be.
New Carla would have never fallen for Matias and his violent bullshit. However, she didn’t regret being old Carla, because it had given her Nico.
For the most part, the KM agents were sleepers. Living normal, mundane lives. But at least once a year, without notice, Mother called and offered a job. Anyone could say no. Mother never forced the moms she took in. However, refusing to act got you kicked out of KM. Which, for some, was fine.
Many settled into their new lives with ease and got comfortable. Happy. Not everyone wanted to risk their lives on a mission. Even if the money was crazy good.
Carla was one of the moms who thrived on the danger. Who socked the money away, ensuring her future.
And she wasn’t about to let some asshole ruin it for her.
The next morning, her son was less than impressed when she insisted on taking him to school herself.
“Why can’t I ride my bike?” he whined from the front seat. “Only babies get driven by their mommies.”
“It’s supposed to rain later. Maybe even thundershower.” A lie. She’d not even peeked at a forecast.
“I’m not gonna melt.” His lower lip stuck out in a mighty sulk.
“Stop complaining and be out front after school. I’ll pick you up, and we’ll go out for dinner.”
“Why?” he asked, suspicion in his gaze. With good reason. Dinner out was for special occasions.
She dropped another fib. “Mommy got a promotion, and we should celebrate.”
That brought a smile to his face and a promise to meet her out front at four.
Only she ran late getting there. Not by much. Five minutes because the repair place that had her minivan had tried to overcharge her, and she’d ended up arguing with them.
That five minutes almost cost her, though. As she drove up the street to Nico’s school, she saw him on the sidewalk, standing only a few feet away from an SUV. Possibly the same one that had followed her previously. The passenger door opened, and a leg appeared.
Since she couldn’t exactly start shooting in a school zone, she did the only thing guaranteed to draw attention. Carla slammed her hand on the horn, and the loud beep drew Nico’s gaze. The guy in the SUV stepped out, his leather jacket and bandanna a bad sign. She slid her hand between her seat and the center console for the gun she kept tucked there as the guy reached for Nico. She stepped out of her van, gun tucked out of sight, ready to shoot despite the few curious parents milling around. The thug lost his chance as her son jogged towards her. She quickly tucked her gun back into its spot and grabbed her phone.
While Nico got into the passenger seat of the van, she snapped an image of the vehicle’s license plate. She’d run a search on it later.
First… “What were you doing talking to strangers?” she harangued her son.
“I didn’t do it on purpose. They pulled up and asked me where the nearest gas station was.”
“You should have gone into the school. What have I said about staying safe?”
“I didn’t get in the truck. Geez, Mami.” He blew out a raspberry of tween irritation. “I’m not stupid. I stayed far away.”
Not far enough. Someone following her and taking pot shots, she could handle. But they needed to stay away from her son. This made three incidents.
Three.
Threatening her baby.
Like fuck.
Once Nico went to bed, she once again logged into KM and put in a call to Mother.
She told her handler of her latest odd incident.
“I don’t like it,” Mother mused aloud. “Too many coincidences for my liking. I’ll have you moved tonight.”
It was tempting.
However, at the same time, Carla didn’t want to yank Nico out of his life. He wouldn’t understand, and she couldn’t make him comprehend without divulging things a young boy wasn’t ready for.
“Could be that I’m overreacting.” She wasn’t. She also didn’t like the idea of some asshole running her out of town.
“And if you’re not?”
Carla sighed. “I don’t know what to do. On the one hand, if this is just a shitty week, then I’m uprooting Nico for nothing. The only way I can be sure is to watch him twenty-four-seven, which isn’t feasible. He will wonder why he’s not going to school, and I’m staying home from work.”
“Holing yourself up in your house is not a solution. I think you should go away for a few days.”
“How does that help?”
“It gets you out of sight.”
“What if they follow?”
“If they follow, then we’ll have to take more drastic action.” In other words, put a bullet in someone’s head.
“And if they don’t?”
“Then you enjoy yourself for a few days. And when you come back, if it continues, we act.”
“Do I really need to run?” The idea ran counter to her gut, which wanted her to shoot something. “So far, I’ve only seen them in connection with the school.” First night at the soccer field, then following her from it, and now, trying to steal Nico from the sidewalk in front.
“Which means, it could just be a crime based on location. They saw you, or Nico, and decided to act. The question still remains: why?”
“Because they’re assholes,” was Carla’s smartass reply.
“Assholes or not, we need to be prepared. The next attack might hit closer to home.”
“They’ve yet to make an appearance on my street.”
“If they’ve been tracking you via your presence at the school, could be they don’t know where you live. However, it’s only a matter of time before they figure it out. Someone will blab if asked.”
“Which means, they might hit my place next.”
“They might, but you won’t be there,” Mother stated. “I’ll have someone watching your house, office, and Nico’s school while you’re gone. See if someone is stalking you.”
Probably Aunt Judy, who wouldn’t look amiss popping in and out of Carla’s house to water plants and bring in the mail.
“Leaving for a few days means Nico will have to miss school. How will I explain it?”
“You don’t have to. You’re his mother.”
True. But Carla worked hard to maintain her cover of ordinary mom. One who was broke. Single moms working paycheck to paycheck didn’t go on vacation out of the blue. Unless… “I think I know where I can go for a few days.”
She hung up with Mother, removed the signal-jamming device, and then—in case anyone watched—pretended to browse online for a bit. She did a search on the Yaguara Academy. Went through their website. Perused photos. Then did some online searches for Pasadena, the city it was based in. Once she’d done her due diligence, she finally dialed his number.