Blood of the Assassin - By Russell Blake Page 0,20

eyes like someone had wrecked his new car. Cruz’s easy laugh reflected that he thought he was the luckiest man in the world to have wound up with Dinah. Attractive, funny, smart, and in love with him. And willing to put up with a life that would have been a deal-killer for most – moving every few weeks, no sense of permanence, the constant danger that went with his career an unspoken irritant, like a glass sliver just under the skin.

“Are we drinking wine or beer tonight?” he asked, wiping his face with the back of his arm.

“Whatever you want, mi amor. We’ve got both in the refrigerator.” She reached across him and lifted the white plastic cutting board and then scraped the chopped onions into the sizzling pan, along with tomatoes and peppers.

“Do you have a preference?”

“I’m going to stick to mineral water. I’ve got a big day tomorrow.” She lifted the pan off the gas flame and adjusted the height, then set it back down. “Go on into the dining room. I hate to see a grown man cry.”

“Thanks. How long until it’s ready?”

“Maybe ten minutes.”

He swung the refrigerator open and peered into the interior, then retrieved a Negra Modelo. But even as he moved to the counter to open it, his mind was already on other matters. Like why his boss, who typically avoided him, wanted to see him first thing.

To say that it was irregular was an understatement.

He padded into the small living room and sat on the couch, then groped around behind him and retrieved the television remote. The flat panel flickered to life and the day’s news rolled across the screen, mostly bad – a litany of corruption, senseless violence, tragedy, and heartbreak, punctuated by soccer scores and earnest politicians insisting that they were working hard to bring change.

The same story as last night. And the night before.

With one notable exception: The slaughter at the cartel house was the lead story and was reprised at the end, with an update that unconfirmed sources had leaked – El Gato had been apprehended and was in custody. Cruz swore under his breath, but he wasn’t surprised. The news was bound to get out eventually. He’d hoped for another day or two of breathing room before having to deal with the inevitable press circus that a high profile arrest would bring, but the toothpaste was out of the tube now.

“All right, honey, dinner is served,” Dinah called from the kitchen, and then swept into the dining room and placed two plates on the table with a flourish. Cruz gazed at her with adoration and turned off the TV, taking a final pull on his beer before standing.

Whatever was going on with Godoy, he wasn’t going to let it bother him any more tonight. He’d know what it was all about tomorrow. No point in speculating.

“It smells wonderful. Let me grab another beer and I’ll be right in.”

Dinah watched as he strode past the dining room into the kitchen, and felt a warmth course through her. This was the man she loved, whom she had married, and he had proven himself to be a good and honorable mate. She felt fortunate that circumstances had conspired to thrust them together, and as she sat down and dropped her napkin into her lap, she felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. Two souls had found each other, and persevered through some difficult times. That was more than many got during their lives, she knew, and her mind flitted to the thoughts she’d been having increasingly of late – thoughts of a dog, a house, and a family, of a normal life where they could stay in one place and not have to worry about being safe. Right now, a dream, she knew; but hopefully not forever.

“Do you ever get tired of this, Romero? Moving constantly, the job, the pressure...the danger?” she asked, waiting for him to sit before taking a taste of her meal.

“Of course. I’m hoping that this will only last a few more years, and then maybe I can get a job as a security consultant with one of the big firms here, or in Monterrey or Guadalajara...”

They’d had this discussion increasingly of late, Dinah subtly lobbying for him to think about a future. A future without the job in it. A safe future together. Some days it seemed attainable. And then others, like this, when he was getting calls at night, it was a million years