Page 82 of A Wife's Duty

This surprised her. She stayed seated on the coffee table.

Boone didn’t say anything else. She didn’t move, though. He clearly wasn’t used to talking about himself, and she didn’t want to push him. She watched him and waited.

“My mom died when I was five years old. I knew for a short time how happy they were. It’s all vague as most of that time is for kids that grow up. There are a few pieces I remember. She used to smell like cinnamon. Dad loved cinnamon and he would often say the only reason he dated her was because she smelled so good.” There was a smile on his lips, but it was tinged with sadness. “Whenever he’d see her, he’d go to her, but he’d never kiss her. No, he’d make her laugh by sticking his nose right against her neck and breathing her in.”

Lucia smiled.

“It was a long-standing joke of theirs. Dad just loved the way she smelled.”

She wanted to know what happened. How did he lose her at five years old? But she stayed quiet. Boone never talked about himself like this.

“Dad was a military man. We moved from job to job,” Boone said. “He loved serving his country. Mom always told me he was doing good work. Never knew what it was, just that he was doing good work. For five years, life was amazing. Dad wasn’t expecting me. Mom and Dad had tried for many years to have kids, and from what I could gather, had all but given up. Then I came along. They told me I made their family complete.” He smiled.

Lucia saw the pain in his eyes.

“It was a perfect life. My dad was amazing. My mom was one hell of a woman. They were the couple that other couples dreamed about. Then, one night in December, that all changed. We’d gone to the mall to see Santa, and Dad got a call. Anyway, what we didn’t know at the time was there was a war brewing on the streets between the cartel and a local, small mafia group. While we waited for my dad, they decided to have their showdown in the mall. Guns went off. Mom was caught in the crossfire.” Boone stopped and she saw it in his face, like he’d been transported back to that day.

She knew what was coming.

“Bonaldi was the small mafia group, and in my arms, Mom told me it was going to be okay. Then dad came in,” Boone said. “He went to Mom, and the blood was too much, and she was cold. I remember her complaining of how cold she was, and she told him she loved him, and it was time for him to take care of me. ‘Raise a good boy.’ That is what she said. ‘Raise a good boy for us.’”

Boone looked at her. “My mom died less than five minutes after the shooting.”

Tears filled her eyes. Bonaldi had done this? Lucia couldn’t believe it. Was this the real truth behind his vendetta?

“Dad ... uh, he lost it. At five years old, I watched him chase down one of the gunmen, and right there in the alleyway, my dad killed the man who murdered my mom,” Boone said.

Lucia didn’t know if she should offer him comfort, console him, or anything else. Bonaldi had taken from his perfect family.

“After that, I’m sure people were expecting me to say that my dad became a shell of his former self, but that was not the case. He was still hardworking, and he worked his way up into the military, but as he did, he also took on other jobs. He expanded, and it didn’t take him long to become one of the best contracted killers out there. If people wanted jobs done without ... mess, my dad was the one they called. He trained me, made sure I had what it took to get in the army. On my eighteenth birthday, he told me what he did, how he did it, then he said it was time for me to make my own path. So, I did. I became one of the best candidates they had seen since my dad. I worked my way up the ranks until I became someone that had to disappear. All the time, I remember Dad keeping an eye on the Bonaldi situation.”

“Why didn’t he ... deal with it that night?” Lucia asked.

It was the first time she had spoken since he started to talk.

“I asked him that, and he said there is always a time and place to handle problems. That night, my dad killed your grandfather,” Boone said.

Her father never talked about his dad. She was aware he was killed by someone no one knew, or at least that was what she heard. Whenever she would listen in on conversations, he rarely spoke of his dad. At the time, Grandpa Valdez was attempting to make a name for himself in the Bonaldi empire. Capo had not been guaranteed. Her father had earned Capo.

Lucia gasped. “Did my dad kill your father?”

Boone looked at her and there was silence, then he nodded his head. “Yes, he killed my father. My dad was checking out the Bonaldi situation. He heard they were getting big. He wanted to attempt to nip it in the bud. However, he had not done his research, which was unlike him. The son of the man he killed had done all the background work he needed. My dad, the contract killer, was killed in the back alley by Enzo Valdez Senior, your father.”

Lucia couldn’t believe it.

“The cops knew who did it, but they decided to make it look like a drunken suicide,” Boone said. “They doused him in alcohol, had a load of empty bottles near him, making him look like a bum. Then, they got the gun pointed at his head, and there was a single picture in his hand when he died. It was the last picture taken of me, my mom, and my dad.”

She hadn’t realized he’d been holding something, and then he handed it to her. It was an old photo that looked like it had been folded up many times. The edges were torn, but she saw all three people smiling. Boone, as a baby. His mother was a pretty woman, and his father was handsome.

Boone was different, though. He had a smile on his face, and he looked so happy, so carefree. Her family had taken that from him. Her fucked-up, piece-of-shit family—her grandpa, her father—they’d taken away his family.

Lucia looked up at him. “Does this make you want to kill me?” she asked.

“No. I would never harm you, Lucia.”

“Why not?” She couldn’t believe she was even asking that. It was stupid of her.

He laughed. “You’re wondering why I don’t want to kill you?”

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