Chapter 11
Staying with Elodie and Paschal was making Ricardo regret wanting to get back into the assassin game.
This quiet time with family—well, as quiet as anything could be with August involved—had been a reminder of why they’d retired.
Living on a knife’s edge and facing death every time they took a job—that took its toll.
It was stressful. Ricardo wasn’t even sure he could cope with the idea of August doing a solo job.
Sure, August could absolutely hold his own, and he had for years before they’d teamed up, but Ricardo would be a mess of anxiety and fear until August was home safe.
Now they had two disastrous jobs under their belts and some asshole was doing his level best to hurt their ratings and reputations.
For fuck’s sake. He should’ve just stayed retired. He should’ve never logged back into the app at all. Never been tempted by another job. Never noticed their ratings going haywire. Just continued with the quietest, most peaceful existence possible with August.
Sitting at a table beside Elodie’s enormous pool, cradling a cup of strong coffee while the sun rose, Ricardo swore into the peaceful morning. He should’ve left well enough alone.
But he hadn’t. And now they were here. Not returning to their quiet life, but waiting for Heidi to make contact so they could figure out who was trying to make a fool of them. And maybe take another job to salvage their hemorrhaging reputations.
He exhaled and sipped his coffee.
Footsteps on the flagstones behind him made the hair on his neck prickle, and he held his breath and listened.
It was a response ingrained in him during his time in spec ops; he didn’t actually think the new arrival was a threat—not with Elodie’s security rivaling August’s—but it was instinctive now to zero in and analyze the person.
By the time they were close enough to almost enter his peripheral vision, he already recognized the gait.
“Morning, Paschal,” he said without turning around.
The steps faltered for half a beat, then resumed. Elodie’s husband appeared, exhaustion radiating off him like the steam coming from the mug in his hand. “It will never stop creeping me out that you can do that.” He gestured at one of the empty chairs. “Mind if I sit?”
Ricardo mirrored the gesture; an unspoken, go ahead.
Paschal eased himself down, wincing with the movement. His back, Ricardo guessed. Maybe his knee.
“Long shift?” he asked.
His brother-in-law laughed dryly. “There’s no other kind in my line of work.”
Ricardo huffed a quiet chuckle. “I can relate.”
Paschal was usually quick to put people in their place if they tried to relate to the mental and physical toll of his job. He was proud to the point of arrogant, and he didn’t appreciate those attempts to relate.
“I’m sure they know exactly what it’s like,” he’d muttered after a few too many drinks at a party one night. “A long shift at a hardware store absolutely compares to spending eighteen hours trying to put human bodies back together when they’re desperately trying to catastrophically disassemble.”
It annoyed Ricardo sometimes, but at least Paschal didn’t try to put Ricardo in his place. He had done that in the past—once. A pointed and perhaps unnecessarily graphic account of a particular op gone bad had disabused Paschal of any notion that Ricardo was unfamiliar with “a tough shift.”
So they had an understanding now.
He studied Paschal, who was gazing at the pool with exhausted eyes. He looked like he might topple over at any moment.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Ricardo asked.
“I will.” Paschal brought up his mug and took a sip. “Just need to… you know, wind down a little.” From the somewhat faraway look in those tired eyes, it had been an exceptionally difficult shift.
Ricardo didn’t ask. Paschal was probably trying to think about anything other than that right now.
Ricardo wasn’t sure what to say, but his brother-in-law broke the silence first.
Facing him, Paschal asked, “So you and August are in trouble.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it…” Ricardo hesitated. “Not trouble, no.”
Paschal raised an eyebrow. “So, what would you call it? Because Elodie says she hasn’t seen either of you this stressed since before your wedding.”
Since before you retired, he didn’t say.
Exhaling, Ricardo shifted his attention to the pool, watching the sunlight play on the gently rippling surface. “It’s… complicated.”
Paschal grunted. “Complicated, like… complicated? Or complicated, like you’d have to go into detail about what you and August actually do?”
Ricardo pursed his lips, unsure how to answer.
When Paschal spoke again, his words had a slightly sharper edge. “It would break her, you know.”
He looked at Paschal. “Huh?”
“If something happened to August.” Paschal gestured at Ricardo with his mug. “And you, honestly. She’s already lost one brother, and she’s never gotten over that.” He shook his head as he brought up the mug for a sip. “She can’t lose him. Or you.”
Ricardo swallowed. There was a prickly part of him that wanted to ask if he’d been this concerned about her potentially losing her husband when he got his dumb ass hooked on painkillers, but he bit that back.
It would be out of line and he knew it; addiction wasn’t that simple, and anyway, Paschal had been endlessly repentant over it.
This thing August and Ricardo were doing—it wasn’t an addiction. It was a choice.
Wasn’t it?
Was that why he’d been so twitchy that he couldn’t stay away and had finally given in? Was this less about unretiring and more about relapsing? Hell, maybe.
To Paschal, he said, “I know. And so does he. We’re doing everything we can to keep ourselves safe.”
The laugh that came was caustic. “Oh yeah? How does ‘getting back into your highly dangerous and illegal line of work’ qualify as ‘doing everything you can to keep yourselves safe’? For fuck’s sake, Ricardo, the first time I met you I was trying to keep you from bleeding out.
And I’ve had to show up and put one of your idiot friends back together, too, complete with a field transfusion from August.” He flailed his free hand.
“I don’t have to know exactly what you two do—and God knows I don’t want to know—to be fully aware that it’s dangerous as all hell.
” He scoffed and pulled his gaze away from Ricardo.
“Don’t tell me the goddamned details, but don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining. ”
Guilt prodded at Ricardo. He had to admit—that was fair.
The first time Ricardo had ever even been aware of Paschal’s existence had been while he was fading in and out of consciousness.
The man who was now his brother-in-law had been prodding at the gunshot wound on Ricardo’s side, making the pain a million times worse as he told August to drive like hell because they were running out of time.
So, no. Even if Paschal didn’t know the details of what they did, he wasn’t stupid. And despite very nearly destroying his wife with his addiction—or maybe because of it—he was being fiercely protective of her now.
Ricardo sipped his coffee and sighed. “I know it’s dangerous.
And we’re…” He trailed off, not even sure how to explain what they were doing.
Because even he wasn’t sure what they were doing anymore.
Somehow, coming out of retirement had turned into trying to figure out who the fuck was screwing with their reputations.
And was securing those reputations really worth the risk?
Was it worth being the reason Elodie finally collapsed beneath the weight of everything life had thrown at her?
She may have been a billionaire with more money than she could spend in a lifetime, but she’d been through hell, too.
And she’d been in that car with Paschal as he’d fought to save Ricardo.
She’d been to the hospital with them when August had been temporarily blinded and nearly killed.
She’d seen the aftermath of two battles that had played out in her brother’s house.
Was retirement really so bad if it saved Elodie—if it saved everyone the heartache of losing one or both of them?
There’d been times when he hadn’t imagined anyone would care if something happened to him.
His parents and his grandmother, sure. His siblings.
But during some dark and nihilistic periods, he hadn’t even believed they would care.
Now he was closer to his family than he’d been in a long time.
He had a new family—August, Elodie, Paschal, and even to some extent, his mother- and father-in-law.
He’d reconnected with his ex-wife. Hell, two of his former nemeses were friends now, married to each other and living under new identities in Spain.
He had people. He was loved and couldn’t deny that anymore.
So what happened if coming out of retirement meant all of those people had their hearts broken?
What happened if he lost August?
And even before they’d come out of retirement, someone had been sneaking onto their Maltese property, which meant they might’ve already been in danger.
It could’ve just been some idiot trying to rob them or something, but it could’ve been someone after one or both of them. God knew they’d made enough enemies.
Fucking hell. This really had been a mistake.
He sipped his coffee to wet his suddenly dry mouth. To Paschal, he said, “We’ll stay safe.”
He didn’t know if he was lying or not, and that bothered him more than it would have a few years ago.
Paschal didn’t argue with him. Ricardo had no idea of he believed him, but he didn’t argue, and a moment later, he was shuffling back inside to get some sleep after his long shift.
And Ricardo sat out there alone, his coffee cold and the pool area silent except for the quiet slosh of water against the sides.
What the hell was he supposed to do when Heidi called?
“Wait, so now you want to quit again?” August stared at Ricardo from where he sat against the headboard. “Dude, is this some perimenopause mood swing or something?”
“Peri—what?” Ricardo rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
August laughed, but it didn’t last. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and gingerly rose.
“Okay, but seriously—what’s with the back and forth?
You wanted this. Now you don’t. I…” He threw up his hands, concern written all over his face.
“Look, if you’re not happy with me, just fucking say so and—”
“What?” Ricardo shook his head and put his hands on August’s shoulders. “What makes you think I’m not happy with you?”
August chewed his lip. “I mean, I thought we were happy. And then you suddenly decide…” His shoulders sagged beneath Ricardo’s hands.
“You told me back in Malta you were just restless and wanted to get back to being what you’ve always been.
But now we’re doing that, and you’re still not happy. What gives?”
Ricardo sighed, and he reeled August in close. “I don’t know what I want. Why I can’t get used to just being retired.” Stroking his husband’s hair, he added, “But there’s no question about wanting to be with you.”
“But you’re not happy.”
“I’m not…” Ricardo closed his eyes and exhaled. “I told you before—I don’t know how to be someone who isn’t a soldier or an assassin.” He loosened his embrace and met August’s gaze. “Maybe that’s just something I need to learn to live with. It was just… It was harder than I thought it would be.”
At that, August relaxed a little. “Yeah, it’s not easy. But it isn’t like we can do this forever.”
Ricardo nodded. “I know. Maybe we just need to figure out what we’re doing instead.”
“Maybe.” August’s lips quirked, a hint of mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Maybe it’s just easier for me because I didn’t do it for as long. You know, since I was still in diapers when you enlisted.”
Ricardo rolled his eyes and shoved August back. Gently—not enough to make him stumble on his tender feet—but enough to make him cackle.
“What?” August laughed. “I’m just saying, you’re more set in your ways. But I’ve heard that with time and patience, it is possible to teach an old dog new tricks.”
Ricardo pinched the bridge of his nose. “August. Shut up.”
More cackling. Because of course.
August may have had a point, too. Ricardo had almost seventeen years on him.
By the time August came into existence, Ricardo had numerous burglaries and petty thefts under his belt, not to mention quite a few that would’ve been felony grand larceny if he’d ever been caught.
While Ricardo was a Green Beret, August was going through the traumatic years of being kidnapped, not to mention losing his brother.
Though they’d both come into the hired gun world at roughly the same time, Ricardo had already been a sniper and a soldier for years.
Most of Ricardo’s life had involved the kinds of things that gave good, model citizens the vapors. Maybe he needed to give himself more time to adapt to the quiet, law-abiding life instead of bailing at the first whiff of boredom.
He was telling August as much when the shriek of his phone stopped him mid-sentence.
August’s eyes widened. “That’s Heidi, isn’t it?”
Ricardo nodded, pulling the phone from his pocket. “Yeah. It is.” He looked at his husband. “I can ignore her. We can go back to Malta and put all this behind us.”
The phone kept shrieking.
August swallowed. “Or you can take this, we can figure out who the fuck NightPigeon is, and we can retire on a high.”
They held each other’s gazes. The phone didn’t shut up. August’s expression said nothing if not, “It’s up to you—I’ll follow where you lead.”
That alone made Ricardo want to ignore the call.
They could be on a plane back to Malta before the day was over. They could be back in their own bed—their own quiet life—tomorrow. They could—
“Answer it,” August said.
Ricardo raised his eyebrows. “Should I?”
August nodded sharply. His expression was full of certainty. “We’ll retire after this.” He gestured at the phone. “Answer it.”
Ricardo studied him, then accepted the call and put it on speaker. “Hey, Heid—”
“Jesus, finally,” she snapped. “Listen, I haven’t found heads or tails of this NightRaven weirdo. The site owners are being dicks.”
“What do they want? A subpoena?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” August said dryly. “Can you imagine the cops getting a subpoena for that site?” He put the back of his hand to his forehead and sighed dramatically.
Ricardo bit down on a laugh as Heidi made an irritated noise.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Anyway. Apparently you boys reactivated at just the right time, because there are so many jobs right now. I don’t know if it’s a full moon or what, but—anyway, while I keep digging on NightRaven, I’ve got another job for you.”
August and Ricardo locked eyes. In a matter of seconds, they’d had a full conversation with their eyes, checking in with each other and asking if they were going to do this or not.
Confident he knew where his husband stood, Ricardo asked, “What’s the job?”