Page 44 of Danger Close (Mourningkill #3)

The Pleasure Is All Yours

Cobra

“You can’t promise that,” she whispered.

She smiled but she was so sad. If I wasn’t already determined to make this Ray pay with a pound of flesh I would be now. I’d do anything to wipe the sorrow from her blue eyes.

“I can.” I kissed one cheek, tasting her salty tears. “I do.” I kissed the other cheek. “I will.”

I kissed her lips again, greedy for her sweetness. I was insatiable for her affection, for her happiness.

“I don’t know the full extent of what he did to you.

I might never fully know unless you tell me.

” She shook her head, ready with her denials, but I silenced her with another kiss, so I could steer the conversation where it needed to go.

“Rest assured, that whatever it was, he will be more than punished for his crimes.”

She smiled sadly, still having no faith in my words. “He has damaged far more than just me. Will they have justice, too?”

“Yes.”

She scoffed in disbelief. Her eyes turned away, and I couldn’t have that.

I needed her to look at me. There was no line I would not cross for her. There was no price I would not pay to right the world that had wronged her.

When I had her attention again, I made sure she saw into my fucking soul with those perceptive, piercing cerulean eyes. “Try me, Princess.”

The only reason I even know what the world cerulean meant was because I was obsessed with the color of her irises. I was obsessed with how I could describe the exact perfection of their shade.

As a bit of a clothes horse, she’d kept swatches of the colors that matched her skin. I saw the color, and asked what it was.

She’d answered me in French. “Un bleu céruléen.”

That exact moment of our lives was emblazoned in my mind. Her hair was clipped up, tendrils falling down her shoulders. Her lips had the lightest gloss, and she had bags under her eyes from a late night of dancing in the rain. She was getting a cold, so I made her tea.

I held the swatch in my hand, just one of dozens that were stapled together. Un blee céruléen.

“I swear, I will fix this. I’ll fix our family.” I looked between her shining, tear-stained eyes, looking for the answer I wanted. The answer I needed. “Give me a chance.”

She was on the brink of saying yes. I could see it from the way the corner of her mouth pulled back to form the word.

But then someone clinked their knife against the side of a champagne flute.

The sound of metal on glass ringing like a bell surrounded us, as everyone forced the newlywed couple to kiss.

The moment was over. It was time for the bride’s parents to take their seats.

I reluctantly left Teri at the table. I had to track down Sonia Norkus and get her to tell me what she knew.

She was standing with a Secret Service agent, her arms crossed, one hip jutted out in her skin-tight business suit. She looked like trouble, and not in a good way.

“Norkus,” I said through gritted teeth.

Her head turned fast, but I knew she wasn’t surprised. She’d been waiting for me. Spies can’t have a normal God damn conversation–ever. We’re always pretending to be something else. In this case, she was pretending to be engrossed in conversation with the Secret Service agent.

She smirked, tilted her head. “How can I help you, Mr. Guerro?”

“First, if you ever imply that you and I are having an affair to Teresa Guerro, I will fucking murder you. Am I completely clear?” It wasn’t an idle threat. It was an absolute promise. “If you ever come near my wife, I will gladly slash your throat.”

“Your wife?” She tapped a single red nail against her matching red lips. “I thought you were divorced.”

I growled, towering over the Lilliputian woman. “I don’t care what the fuck your intel says, Norkus. She’s my wife. Don’t fucking forget it.”

“Oh, look at you. Big, bad Ghost Guerro, protective over a woman.” Her laugh was as piercing as the cutlery tapping against crystal that erupted in the reception hall, making the bride and groom kiss over and over again.

“I want a job with Paradigm. I don’t need anything fancy.

I’ll happily take an entry level position. ”

“A job?” I was incredulous. As far as asks, that was a rather small one.

Still, my gut churned. Her, working for my family’s company? “You’re a CIA black ops pod commander. Why the hell would you take an entry-level position?” I looked at her with absolute scorn. “Especially when your boss is wrapped around your finger.”

Her eyes flashed with anger and, if I wasn’t mistaken, hurt.

“I need a change of scenery,” was all she said when she closed herself off. “And I don’t do this for the money, Guerro.”

Then she threw her head back and laughed. It was a wretched, joyless sound.

“Considering your reaction,” she chuckled, her brow lifted. “Maybe I should change my opening position. I think I could fleece your wallet, based on the fucking look on your eyes. Lay out your cards, Guerro.”

The Agent she was talking to pursed his lips, took two steps away like Homer backing into the hedge, his eyebrows halfway up his hairline, then stepped away from our conversation.

“Cut the shit, and tell me what you know.”

“That’s your opening position?” she tsked, shaking her head. “You’d think you’d be a better negotiator.”

“Give me information that helps me find this fucker, and kill him.”

Plausible deniability and all that noise…

“You’ll have your job offer within 72 hours of his disposal.”

“How do I know you won’t keep him alive?” She lifted a single brow, though the expression never reached her willow-leaf eyes.

“I’m not a fairy, or a lawyer, Norkus. I won’t get lost in the semantics of our deal.”

“Humor me.”

“Fine!” God damn spooks. “When he’s no longer a threat to my wife, then I’ll get your job offer–”

“Too vague. Try again.”

I have never wanted to strangle the life out of someone more than this, right now.

“Once the man threatening my wife is in my custody–”

“This man you call Ray.” Her white teeth pressed on her bottom lip as she bit down on it. A sensual gesture that irked me.

If someone was watching us, they’d think that she was putting the moves on me, and I wasn’t punching her in the throat.

“I’m going to need you to specifically state his name. What if the bag boy at the market threatens your wife tomorrow? Does that restart the clock on those seventy-two hours.”

Homicide. I was going to commit cold-blooded homicide.

“Once I have my wife’s abuser in my custody and control, you will get a Paradigm job offer in 72 hours!”

“A job… as a field agent .”

“After you complete our training program, yes.”

“You’ll try to wash me out in training?” There went that brow again. Her left eyebrow arched like she was issuing me a challenge. “Good luck.”

“Then I don’t see a problem with that part of the stipulation.” She’s nuts if she thinks I’d just let her onto the field without beating all the bad CIA-habits out of her.

“Fine,” she smirked, as if she liked a challenge.

I fucking hated her. It wasn’t her looks, or the rumors, or the way drama seemed to follow her like a foul stench. There was something about her I hated that was soul-deep.

“I give you all the actionable intelligence you need on her boogeyman. When he’s dead, or in your positive control, I get an offer to be a field agent.” She struck out her slender hand, a large red ruby glinting on her ring finger, and I stared at it like it was radioactive.

She arched her brow, not at all annoyed that I was reluctant to make any contact with her.

“Agreed.” I finally huffed, shaking her hand.

“I’ll deliver my part of the bargain in the next few minutes.” She gave me a little one-shoulder shrug, and a brief finger wave, before she sashayed away. “Pleasure doing business with you, Joaquin Guerro.”

In a sickening moment, I realized exactly why I hated this. Why I hated her .

It was a disturbing, horrific feeling that I’d had only once before, when I’d struck a deal with a devil that led me down a path that altered the rest of my life.

Sonia Norkus was a smaller, Asian version of Jericho Vasiliev. As if I needed two of those in my life.

“The pleasure is definitely all yours.”