Page 41 of A Wife's Duty

With that, he knew it was now time for them to move on from their lunch, and he also had a hunch.

“Come on, it’s time to head back,” he said.

They had been in the park for a couple of hours. He was relaxed and ready for the next few days. He had already told her father they would be attending the dinner, so he didn’t have to double-check that. Lucia was nervous, and he made a note not to let her worry.

Once the picnic was packed away, he took Lucia’s hand, and together they walked out of the park, heading toward the car, where one of his men waited, leaning against the vehicle.

Boone watched as the man with the newspaper left the park a few seconds after them, only he disappeared into the small local toilet.

“Watch her,” he said to the guard.

Lucia was already inside the car. He’d stashed the picnic into the trunk of the car and made his way toward the toilet. He was quiet, waiting. He closed the main door and flicked the lock back into place. He had his gun, but he wasn’t interested in using it.

The main bathroom door opened, and out stepped the man. For a second, they both just looked at one another. Boone couldn’t quite place him. It was a standoff.

The guy lightly turned his neck, and there on the side was a small little square. It was just a square, but Valdez’s men were each inked with a square on the side of their neck, signifying who they followed. Each capo had a different symbol, some of them even changed colors. All of Valdez’s men had a black square inked at the side of their necks.

Boone waited, and when the man went to strike, he was ready. The man lifted his arms as if to come at his face. No noise came out of him.

Slamming his arm against the man’s rib cage, he winded him, but he came back for more. He shoved his fist into the man’s gut, then sliced it in an uppercut motion, punching him in the face. He didn’t stop, but this little spy had a wit about him. The jabs didn’t stop him from coming back for more.

Boone was able to block multiple hits, but one got him in the nose. It wasn’t broken, but it stung, and he lashed out. He was getting tired of this piece of shit and that he just wouldn’t die. Through the chaos, he held the man’s tie and tightened it around his neck. They were now down on the ground, his body wrapped around the man’s, trapping him, keeping him in place, as he held that tie, cutting off his air supply. Seconds passed, or perhaps even minutes, before the man slumped and was dead.

Boone didn’t waste any time. He shoved the man into the bathroom, pulled the door closed, and then grabbed his cell phone. There was blood on his hands, and he quickly glanced in the mirror. It wasn’t from him. The guy seemed to bleed a lot easier than he anticipated.

The cell phone wasn’t locked, and there was only one message from an unknown sender: Follow them. Watch them.

Boone was keeping the phone. It might come in handy one day.

Chapter Eight

Boone was out to pick a fight.

That was all Lucia could think this was. Sunday dinner had come around way too quickly, and she was standing on her parents’ front porch, wearing her hair down, with a pair of jeans. This was not all. The jeans had a nice tight top that seemed to push her tits together and give her a very large cleavage. He’d also called in Mitchell and Sandra to take care of her hair and makeup.

In her hands was a bouquet of wild flowers. Again, Boone’s idea, not hers. Her hands felt clammy, she felt sick to her stomach. In all the years she had known her father, not once had she been allowed to wear pants. This felt so ... scary.

What if they fought? What if her father attempted to beat her? What would Boone do? He promised he would protect her and take care of her, should she believe him? She didn’t know what to do or think, or believe. It was insane.

The door opened and it was the butler. This was a new guy, and Lucia didn’t recognize him.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Valdez,” he said.

“Actually, that’s Mrs. Grinder now,” Boone said.

She glanced over to her husband and she breathed a sigh of relief. He had her back. This is what he promised.

Her name was Grinder now. She was Boone’s wife. She was no longer her father’s daughter.

She could do this. If they made it out of here alive, and without a single bruise on them, she was going to celebrate with ice cream.

They stepped over the threshold, and right on time, as if it had been choreographed, her mother stepped out of the sitting room.

“Darling, it is so good to see you,” her mother said.

This was a first. Her mother never, ever, called her “darling.” That was a title reserved for Isabella, the favorite daughter.

“It’s nice to see you, Mother. Boone and I brought you flowers.” She held them out, and right on queue, her father stepped out.

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