Page 63 of To Curse A Knight

“Today, I visited my Ma’s place. She’s a part of this life, too, but forcibly retired. Had a job go south years ago, and now she’s champing at the bit to get back in the game. She wants me to double-cross my employer and sell it to her black-market contact, and give me four times what I’d get for it otherwise. She wants to retire with her new beau and disappear.”

I waved a hand at the innocent little fortune resting between us.

“I’m not doing it. I don’t con for the money; I’ve made my little nest egg already. I con for the thrill. You were the ultimate thrill, Blondie. Never expected for anything to come out of it. I’m two months behind on this job because I don’t want it to end. I don’t wantyouto end.”

Her smooth mask creased into a series of crumpled wrinkles, like a cute, little—but dangerous—puppy dog.

“Who’s your mother, Lucky? Give me that, and I’ll find a reason to trust you.”

Betray my mother to a vengeful billionaire to save my skin. Was I that callous? I was a lot of deplorable adjectives, but handing over my Ma to be butchered was a line I couldn’t cross.

“I can’t do that, Blondie.” I met her hawkish stare with a sorrowful one of my own. “I’d have to be a sorry sack of shyte to sell out my mother. I’m not all keen on the woman, but I don’t want her dead, either.”

Was that respect in her eyes, or indigestion? Impossible to tell with the furrowed brow and pursed lips and narrowed eyes—her poker face wasn’t neutral; it looked like she’d swallowed a lemon. But she hadn’t sicced Aaron’s blade on me yet, so that had to mean something.

Her sexy little killer body stood from the couch and faced me, a ferocious warrior in a pretty blue dress and pink lipstick.

“Here’s the deal. I’m having this painting shipped today. It’s going on a boat to a secure facility where you willneverfind it. So, you’ve lost this contract.”

She pointed a delicate finger at the doorway behind me.

“I’ll let you leave right now. You can disappear forever. Take that little nest egg and find somewhere to bury it on the other side of the world. No questions asked. You have no evidence of anything you’ve seen here, and knowing your history, you won’t risk going to any authorities, anyway. Leave now, and you can be scott-free.”

Blackbird had already confirmed everything with Alvarez was already in motion. I could walk away knowing even without my involvement from here on out, he would get what was coming to him. And yet…

The offer was far more generous than I would have expected. I mulled it over briefly before asking the obvious question.

“And if I stay?”

“No more secrets,” she repeated. In rapid Spanish, she exchanged a few words with Aaron, who agreed with what she was saying, nodding with deference before turning a hard, murderous stare on me.

“You’ve proven yourself to be valuable to all of us. No more secrets, and you can be part of the team. After Alvarez is off the board, we need to take out Antonio. After Antonio, I don’t know what the agenda is, but it's going to be arduous and brutal and bloody. Are you in, or are you a free man?”

What a hell of a question. But an easy one to answer.

I hung all of my bullshit training on the proverbial coat hook and spoke with all the sincerity I could muster, swiveling my head to make the promise to both of them.

“I’m in.”

“If you have any news on our son’s whereabouts, please reach out to our hotline.”

Veronica’s simpering appeal blared through my phone speaker, interrupted by Vicente’s soothing baritone. “A reward will be offered to anyone bringing forth accurate information. We just want our son back.”

The two of them stood at the mayor’s podium, the public plea for their only son’s return the biggest farce I’d heard this year. Veronica wore a long, fitted black dress, a netted covering over her face like a 1930s damsel in mourning, and Vicente completed the picture with a tailored black suit and red-rimmedeyes.

I choked on a bitter scoff as I shut off my phone, shifting my gaze to the missing man in question.

“Laying it on thick, aren’t they?”

I caught Aaron’s eye across the living room; he was splayed out on the couch opposite me, laying on his back with his nose in an art history book. I hadn’t even known he liked art.

He snapped the book shut and shifted in his seat. Rolling his long body to the side to face me, his dark eyes seared into mine.

“They are dutiful parents, yes?” he deadpanned, his emotionless stare betraying nothing, as if we were discussing something as demure as the weather. “Ensuring I am fully dead before planning my funeral.”

“They’re vile humans,” I spat, my wrath at the Rodriguez pair no longer hidden. “The only good thing to come from them is you.”

“Oh?” His lips quirked up the tiniest fraction. “IsMi Reinaplotting revenge on my behalf? I believe your torture palace is no longer an option.”

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