Chapter 13
In the evening, I’m sitting in the kitchen, my wife is in my lap, and we’re watching the security feed like two cops on a stakeout, looking for the black Mercedes driving past the house again.
The cousin has driven past the house three times in the past few hours, which tells me he’s restless and just waiting for the opportunity to come inside.
It’s gonna be while I’m gone.
Therefore, I shall be gone.
“There,” Benny points at the screen. “There he goes again. Oh my God.”
I pat her hip so she gets up before I stand.
Princess looks nervous. “He’s Daddy’s man. Remember that, Hudson.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
“Why can’t you hire this out?”
“Because you’re my wife.”
“That shouldn’t matter. A kill is always best hired out.”
“Baby, I appreciate how cold and ruthless you are, but I’m doing this.”
She giggles, but she’s far from comfortable.
I cup her face with one hand and sling on my cap with the other. “I’ll be okay. You know what to do.”
She nods.
“And that is?”
“Open the door and step out of the way.”
I grab my drag bag and don’t linger by the door when I hear Benny sniffing. The moon’s dim light barely shows me the way across my property and over the fence into the neighbor’s yard, where I crouch, making sure the Singhs are indoors. The couple’s watching television, and the kids must be asleep.
I creep along the fence, then sprint to their tree house and sling the drag bag over my back so I can climb the tree. Mainly because I’m a giant, I expend an effort to throw the bag inside the house first, then belly crawl into the small space, Legos poking my torso as I go.
Looking up, I gauge the distance to the tree house roof and find it bigger than I expected.
I’ve watched the Singhs build it and remember thinking a tall kid will tire of bending at age five and won’t use the house, but now I’m thinking it’s just the right height for their younger son.
One day, when their boys are older, maybe they’ll sell me this house for my boys.
Sitting up, I assemble the rifle and assume my position. I keep one eye on my phone screen, which is showing me the feed from the gate and from my front door.
I lie in wait. Millions of thoughts are running through my head while the sounds of crickets disrupt the still of the night. Maybe I’ll have girls instead of boys. It’s possible. I’m used to getting what I want, so that’s why I expect boys.
Do girls like tree houses? I have no idea. I didn’t have a sister, and most of my cousins are men. Jeanine and Michelle lived in the city, so nothing could be learned from them.
Are tree houses gender specific? What are the statistics on tree houses for boys versus girls? What if I have a boy who hates tree houses? Maybe I’ll have twins. Oh shit. That sounds like a reward and a nightmare at the same time.
Benny turns on the kitchen light. She’s changed into one of the new nightgowns she bought from the store.
It’s black silk and matches the pajama bottoms Blake gifted me.
My brother really does understand fashion.
I don’t give him enough credit in that area.
I ought to compliment his clothing choices more often.
I dress well, but he takes it to the next level.
Next time I see him, I’ll compliment his suit.
Benny’s fingers travel between her breasts, over her throat, and reach her lips, which she touches lightly, then taps them twice.
Is this a signal of some sort? My dick hardens, and I groan, shifting uncommonly in my position sprawled over the floor.
She swipes a hand over her shoulder, and the strap falls, revealing the top swell of her breast. What the fuck is she doing?
Sweating, I wipe my brow and glance at the gate. A black Mercedes parks across the street. Brando exits and jogs to the gate, gaze on his phone screen even as he punches in the codes.
As soon as this is over, I’ll upgrade the gate system. I never needed to before, but I will now. One man whose ass is never at home needs little in terms of security, but a man who’s got a princess in the house needs more than the average.
Like an entire tactical unit. Created entirely out of ex-military soldiers who are all women. God, I’m thinking well up in this tree house.
Mentally filing away the Badass WoSquad hiring for later, I continue monitoring my target. Brando is halfway up the driveway and is entering the front gardens area. My princess is still at the window. She waves, and he waves back, jogging to the front door.
I still, clear my head, and peek through the scope, now aiming at the door. Brando enters my view and fixes his hair before knocking.
Seconds pass, and my heart drums steady and calm. When Benny opens the door, I get that old jolt of excitement I used to get while on a mission and aiming at the enemy.
Lord knows I loved the navy and the narrow view of the target afforded through the scope when timing and execution have to be perfectly aligned. Laser precision has served me well in the family business too.
Benny stands before her cousin.
“Move aside,” I whisper.
They appear to be chatting, and he steps inside the foyer, but she’s still standing in front of him, and I can’t pull the trigger and risk killing my wife.
“Get out of the way, Benny.” For a split second, doubt and betrayal run through my head.
Did she set me up? Is he really her lover and they’re working together against me?
I clench my teeth, note my heart rate speeding up, my nostrils flaring.
Nothing can rile me up like she can, and that’s how I know I’m crazy in love with this girl.
Benny looks over the man’s shoulder as if she’s staring straight into the rifle scope. I don’t blink. I can’t now. It’s a spit-second window of opportunity to execute a perfect kill. I need her to step aside.
She does.
I pull the trigger.
Brando’s body stumbles forward, and he drops to his knees as Benny closes the door behind him. I lift my head and stare at the door for a minute to give her time to signal me in case anything went wrong. I know it didn’t.
I’ve never missed a target, and this one wasn’t even moving, but Benny could be freaking out inside the house. She doesn’t seem like a freaking-out type but one never knows.
Quickly, I put away my M82 and have double-checked I’ve cleared the space when I catch sight of a toy black Mercedes under the small tree house window. I snatch it as a souvenir and climb down the tree, then back up the fence, then jog across the garden to get into my house.
Benny greets me at the door as I sidestep the body, which is already wrapped up in a plastic bag. She’s wearing gloves and carrying bleach. She smiles, “Where did you learn to shoot like that?”
“In the navy.” A place where men train to shoot. The legal way, not the way a Mafia family might learn, but I don’t say that.
“Sexy.”
My wife is ruthless. I expected her to cry over his death, but she seems…
aroused. She really is a Mafia princess.
I find that sexy and walk up to her and kiss her.
She melts into me, her tongue eagerly stroking mine.
I wish we didn’t have cleanup to do so I can put one of those boys I’ve been wanting into her belly right now.